#so glad i saw this before i did because if i logged back in in an undetermined amount of time to this ask i would’ve SCREAMED

[eddiesfagbriefs]

u log in, reblog one to three of the most banger posts, then log off for an undetermined amount of time. unmatched vibes bennett im obsessed

celeste 😭 this is the nicest thing anyone’s ever said to me

[thevillainswhore]

“Good girl,” he mumbles, running his fingers through your hair while looking at you.

So We Meet Again

Pairing: Lumberjack!Bucky Barnes x F!Reader

Word Count: 3.8k

Summary: A reunion between two old friends quickly turns heated.

Warnings: friends to lovers, fluff, smut, blowjob, mouth fucking, ball sucking, praise, pet names, cum eating.

Author’s Note: This is part of The Love In The Woods Collection ❄️ beta’d by the lovely @buck-star thank you my love 🥰 dividers by @saradika-graphics.

You didn’t know what to expect once your old friend opened the door to his cabin. It had been years — too many of them since you had last seen him and to say you were nervous was an understatement. 

The logs that had been carefully wound together to uphold the structure were beautifully cut, a deep mahogany that was rich in pigment. But you couldn’t help but quirk your lips at the beigeness of it all. 

A little splash of colour would do the trick. 

You had no time to internally decide what kind of palette you could imagine for the rustic cabin before the wooden door creaked open and a vaguely familiar face came into your view. 

“Bucky?” You gasped, the air knocked out of your lungs. “Is that—Is that really you?”

Far from the scrawny boy you had attended school with, your old friend stood before you transformed into a man. 

The stubble that graced his cheeks was new. The once long hair that he had chopped down into a short fluffy cut was also new. The muscle he had packed on that made the woolly coat he was wearing strain against his arms was definitely new.

All new territory that you had no idea what to do with. 

“Hey, Dolly. It’s been a while since I’ve seen that pretty, little face.” 

Oh, the deep voice was a welcome surprise too. 

“I—” You didn’t know what to say, shell shocked by the sight in front of you. “You’ve gotten taller.” 

Bucky laughed abruptly. “Well, damn. Thanks, sweetheart.” 

You let out a small huff of laughter for your own awkwardness. “What I meant to say was you look good.” 

Though a lot had changed since you last saw Bucky, one thing that had stayed the same was how bashful he got over the slightest compliments. 

Rubbing the back of his neck as a hue of red blossomed on his cheeks, he smiled. “You know how to make a man blush, don’t ya?” 

Just as you were about to reply, a gush of frosted wind made you stumble. Bucky shot his arms out and grabbed you before you could fall. “Shit, let’s get you inside before it gets nasty out there. Come on, you.” 

With his arms still keeping you balanced, Bucky brought you over the threshold and into the warmth of his home. He shut the door with his foot and continued to smooth his hands down your coat covered arms. 

“This place is beautiful, Buck. I can’t believe you made this by yourself,” you said in awe. 

“I’m glad you like it. You helped me design it after all.” 

You spun around with your mouth open. “You did not keep those sketches after all these years!” 

Bucky shrugged with one shoulder and slid his palms into his pockets. “I did. I neatened them up a little here and there when I got the planning permission. But I kept them.” He pointed towards the fireplace with his head, a fond smile curving his lips. “Look.” 

After tapping the excess snow off your boots on the doormat, you made your way towards the mantelpiece that hung above a roaring fire. Low and behold, there were the drawings the two of you had made together years ago in college. Ripped out of your notebook and framed. 

“You believed in me when not many people did.” Bucky’s voice was closer as he came up behind you. “You didn’t laugh when I told you I wanted to build my own company. It's because of you that people took interest in this house and now I get regular contracts to keep me steady.” 

Unexpected tears began to bubble to the surface. You couldn’t believe your old friend had kept something so sentimental and created something so beautiful out of it. Sniffling, you faced Bucky and hugged him tightly. “I’ve missed you, Buck.” 

Instantly, his arms curled around you, holding you with just as much vigour. “I missed you more, Dolly.” 

The two of you kept huddled in your embrace for a while, savouring the feeling of each other after lost time. 

Suddenly, a thought popped up. You pulled back, though Bucky’s arms held firm around you. “Wait. Does this mean what I think it does?” 

Your excitment began to grow at the grin on your friend’s face. “Why don’t you go and find out?” 

With a squeal, you quickly toed off your boots — not wanting to dirty the cabin — and ran down the hallway. If Bucky hadn’t changed anything about the floor plan, you were sure to find what you were looking for. 

And to your delight, once you had ripped open the door, you found your most prized possession — the library. 

You spun around, unable to contain the emotion in your voice. “You really built it.” 

“I don’t know why you’re so surprised, sweetheart. I told you I would.” Bucky leaned against the doorway, arms crossed over his chest, watching you with an unknown look in eye. 

“But—“ you tried to reason. 

Though Bucky quickly shook you down, already knowing what you were trying to say. “But nothing. You’re still my best friend no matter where in the world you are. No matter if we haven’t spoken in a while. This is for you, Dolly.” 

You swallowed the growing lump in your throat. “It's beautiful, Bucky. I love it.” 

“You’re welcome here anytime. You know that.” By the earnest look in his eyes you knew he meant it too. 

After you had explored the house some more, Bucky had ushered you to the table to get some food down you. His concern for your wellbeing hadn’t changed at all since school. He was always mothering you, making sure you were taking care of yourself. 

It was like the two of you had never been apart. Conversation came easily over his homemade meal. Laughter bounced off the walls of his kitchen. It was easy to fall back into your friendship. 

But there was something else brewing that you couldn’t explain. An added supplement to your relationship. 

There were lingering looks over the candles scattered across the dining table. There were flirtations that made you squirm in your seat. 

If Bucky wasn’t your friend, you’d have thought that you were on a date. 

But Bucky was your friend. And every time your eyes caught each other and his hand brushed over yours, you found yourself thinking of him differently. 

Snow pelted harshly against the windows and you looked outside to find the storm predicted by the weather forecast was raging in full force. You wiped your mouth with a napkin and sighed. “That’s just going to be great to drive in.” 

Bucky’s eyes snapped up to you in aghast. “You’re not actually thinking about going out in that, are you?” 

“What other choice do I have? I’ve got to get to my hotel.” 

“Absolutely not.” Bucky shook his head in finality. “You’ll stay here.” 

Your eyes widened in shock. “I can’t just stay here, Bucky. This is your home!” 

You knew you sounded stupid, especially when he raised his eyebrow at you. “My home is your home. You’re not riskin’ your safety just to stay at some deadbeat motel where the doors don’t even lock. Not a chance.” 

Bucky’s reasoning was sound. The room you had booked was kind of cheap and you shivered when you thought of the possibilities why. But after a night filled with inexplicable tension, you found yourself still weighing the options.

Bucky must have seen the indecision in your features. The groan of his chair pushing out caught your attention and you had to bite your tongue when he crouched before you to hold your hand.

“Come on, darlin’. You can’t go back out there tonight. Stay with me.” 

You would always argue it was his eyes that persuaded you. Bucky always had a way to make you give in to him with his steel blues. It was the same as college kids and you realised it was the same now. Only more dangerous. 

“Okay,” you whispered around a gulp. Squeezing his hand, you confirmed, “I’ll stay with you.” 

Bucky’s eyes lit up. Pulling you out your seat, his large arms wrapped around your shoulders and squeezed you tight. He nuzzled his nose into your hair and let go of a deep breath. “That’s my girl.” 

Your body shouldn’t have reacted the way it did. You were just glad that Bucky was too enthralled in your hug to notice anything amiss. 

Clearing your throat, you stepped back and smoothed your clothes. “Let me help you put all this away.” 

Immediately, Bucky took the plate you were about to grab. “Not a chance, Dolly. Go sit down and wait until I’m finished and then I’ll show you to your room.” With his free hand, he patted your lower back, enough for his fingers to skim the top of your ass and shooed you away. 

Once the kitchen was cleaned, Bucky lifted you off the sofa with his hand and guided you towards the hallway where the bedrooms resided. You weren’t quite sure why you faltered upon the first step, but you tried to control your breathing enough to push yourself to keep walking. 

The night wasn’t what you expected when you decided to visit Bucky. Maybe it was silly to have any sort of expectations after so many years apart from your friend. 

However, this new element came at you with no time to prepare. 

Especially not when he let you lead so he could place his hand on the small of your back. Not when you felt the movement of it gliding further down to rest on the curve of your ass. And not when he grabbed your hand to pull you back once you surpassed the open door to his bedroom. 

“So—um—the guest room is just next to mine.” Bucky looked down at you with what you could only call desire in his irises. 

“I know,” you breathed airily. “I helped you design the layout, remember?”

Bucky swallowed. “I guess I’ll say goodnight then.” 

“That would be best.” Though you made no way to retract yourself from his proximity. 

“Goodnight, Dolly.” 

“Night, Bucky.” 

The air became stifling hot, even as the cold crept in from the open windows around the house. 

Wetting his lips with his tongue, Bucky slowly moved forward with what you supposed would be a friendly kiss on the cheek. You kept deathly still as his stubble scratched against your skin, even though a shudder clawed its way down your back. But your attempts were useless when his lips hovered a little too close to the corner of your mouth. 

Bucky let himself linger before he pulled back. Though he could only manage to draw himself away from you slightly, allowing the two of you to breathe each other’s air. His eyes were blown, like he’d taken a hit and his hand squeezed your waist like it was painful for him to move. 

Who made the next move would continue to be debated for years to come. What you could both agree on with certainty was the instant connection the two of you felt when your lips finally connected. How perfect the two of you intertwined your bodies in a dance of fiery passion.

The nagging voice that had tormented you throughout the night vanished and you finally let yourself go, losing yourself into Bucky. 

“Fuck,” he murmured around your kiss. “I’ve been wantin’ to taste those damn lips all night, Dolly.”

You tangled your fingers into his fluffy hair, pulling harshly as his hands sneaked up your shirt to feel your bare skin. “Then shut up and stop wasting your breath.” 

His responding growl sent a shot of electricity between your legs and you couldn’t help but flick your tongue against his to hear it again. 

The two of you made out like a couple of horny teenagers in the hallway, unable to keep your hands off each other. It was as though Bucky was the oxygen you craved after being starved of air. You’d die if he let go of you. 

Bucky began to step back into his bedroom and the door crashed against the wall. You broke away when your feet recognised the soft carpet furnishing, a string of saliva still connecting your mouths together. 

“What are you doing?” Bucky whined while his chest heaved and his eyes were hooded in pure lust. 

Ignoring him, you dropped down onto your knees with a thud. His eyes shot open and you graced him with a sultry smile, licking your lips while you slid your palms up the denim covering his thick thighs.

“Oh, shit. You’re really gonna—”

You didn’t give him the time to finish his sentence. Adrenaline was sparking your momentum in that moment and any doubts about how fast you were moving were pushed out of your mind as soon as you tore his jeans and underwear down in one go.

Bucky’s heavy cock bounced out of its confines. He was all girth and length, a true testament to the rest of his bear-like physique. Although his dick was intimidating and you had to take at least a whole minute to stare at it in wonder, you got to work quickly.

There were no teasing licks, no hesitant strokes of your hand. You went all in, hollowing your cheeks while you began to feed yourself his cock. You held the base with one hand and slid your other further down towards his balls, beginning to massage them just as you felt the head of his length hit the back of your throat.

“Holy—D-Dolly, you gotta—fuck that’s so good—Slow down, baby. You’re g-gonna choke.”

Lifting your eyes to settle them on Bucky’s, you winked and hummed around him, watching in delight as his eyes rolled back in ecstasy.

“So that’s how it’s gonna be,” he chuckled before biting his bottom lip, beginning to gently meet the rhythm of your mouth with his own thrusts. “Ain’t gotta tell me twice, baby.”

Spit drooled from your mouth, pooling onto the hardwood floor, while your eyes began to water. Any decorum had gone out the window and all that was left in its place was raw, shameful mouth fucking. Bucky couldn’t keep his jaw shut as he towered above you, watching how his proportions bullied the tightness of your throat.

“Good girl,” he mumbled, running his fingers through your hair while looking down at you. “Good fuckin’ girl. Gettin’ all messy for me.”

His hands tightened their grip, tugging enough for a sharp pain to sting your scalp. But it only served to rile you up more. Letting his cock fall from your mouth with a wet pop, you reached further down to suck his balls. 

Bucky choked on his own spit at the sensation of your tongue flicking against the thin, delicate skin and the warm wetness your saliva provided him. “Sh-Shit, Dolly! Uh-huh, baby—Just like that.” 

Cradling the back of your head with one hand, Bucky used the other to hold his cock. He wanted to see the tears glistening over your waterline. You hummed as you made eye contact with him and the vibrations ran through his whole body and lit his nerves on fire. 

“That’s right, suck my fuckin’ balls. Look so pretty on your knees for me and your own damn spit covering your face.” With a grunt, Bucky pulled back, almost regretting leaving your hot mouth, and grabbed your chin, spitting on your awaiting tongue and shoving his dick back down your throat before you could blink. “Show me how much you missed me, baby.” 

Your body was like a live wire, sparks shocking your nerves and leaving you pent up and on edge. The pure animal had come out of your best friend — a side to him you had never had the pleasure of seeing before — and it only made you crave your own stimulation. 

Your jaw ached and your throat cinched in pain every time the fat tip of Bucky’s cock hit the back of it. But none of that mattered when you watched the harmony of pleasure across his face. How he looked at you like you were an angel on your knees, serving your god. 

You grabbed the base of his cock with your hand and pulled him out of your mouth. “Paint my tongue, Bucky.” There was a hoarse rasp to your voice but you swallowed and began pumping his length. “I wanna know what you taste like.” 

Bucky’s eyes gained a new gleam, one that frightened and excited you. 

“Fuck my life. What the fuck have we been doin’ all this time?” Grabbing the length of your hair and twisting it around his hand, he pulled, forcing you eye to eye with his crotch. “Come here, Dolly. Lemme feed you my load if you wan’ it so damn bad.”

Bucky fed you his cock and widened the stance of his legs, his free hand framed your chin — smothered in a combination of saliva and pre cum — and began to thrust. 

Spit flew out of your mouth, each squelch and gag leaving no room for anything but Bucky’s thick length to take ownership of you. Your cries fell on deaf ears as Bucky became a man possessed. 

“Gonna take it, sweetheart? Gonna swallow my cum and fill up your tummy?” 

You nodded as best as you could, moaning around his girth and trying to convey with your eyes how badly you wanted him to use you. 

Bucky licked his lips, panting viciously. “You’re mine now, Dolly. Do you understand?” 

When you didn’t answer, too drunk off his cock, he harshly tapped your protruding cheek. “Answer me, sweetheart. Do you fuckin’ understand?” 

You gargled around his length, tears streaming down your cheeks as you screamed your muffled agreement. 

Bucky swiped his tongue across his teeth and grinned. “Good. Cos’ I ain’t letting you go.” 

Your nails dug into the meat of his thighs, trying to steady yourself from the cruel thrusts. Bucky began to grind his cock down your throat, leaving you depleted of oxygen and struggling to form a single coherent thought. 

“‘M gonna cum, baby. C-Can’t hold it any longer.” Bucky’s legs started to shake with his impending orgasm, his words slurring the closer to his end he got. 

So with a sudden bout of eagerness, you slid your hands around to his ass, gripped each cheek and pulled him impossibly further down your throat until you couldn’t breathe. 

Bucky didn’t even have a chance to warn you before his cock began to pulse, not a second later shooting pearls of thick, white cum from his tip to coat your tongue. 

“D-Dolly—baby—I can’t. F-Fuck, I’m cummin’ so much. All this fuckin’ cum for you, sweetheart—” he rambled. Stumbling over his own words until his dick finally began to settle and his load had all been released. 

You struggled to hold the vast amount of cum in your mouth, some of it sneaking out from the corner of your lip and joining your tears as they rolled down your chin. Your bloodshot eyes, rimmed with red speckled veins looked up to Bucky, watching the pure elation on his face while his fingers started to carefully unfurl from your hair. 

Slowly, once Bucky’s length began to soften, he retracted his hips, letting his cock fall from your mouth. His thumb rested on the dimple of your chin, rubbing back and forth as he caught his breath, a new hunger in his eyes. “You still got my load in that pretty little mouth, baby?” 

Tightening your lips, you nodded, chest heaving and nostrils flaring with an adrenaline that hadn’t been sated. 

Bucky smirked wolf-like and kneeled down on one knee to match your height. “Wanna show me?” 

Caught up in the boundaries the two of you had surpassed, that threatened to untangle the very purpose of your being, you held your friend’s eye and leisurely stuck your tongue out. White cream, thick and musty, balanced on your tongue, exposed and vulnerable. 

Bucky’s eyes darkened and you barely had time to anticipate his intentions before he threw himself forward and kissed you. 

You squealed, panic surging through your limbs and stiffening your body. But Bucky grabbed your waist and hoisted you up onto his lap, manipulating your legs to wrap around him. 

The shock of him tasting his own cum left you paralysed, unable to reciprocate his kiss properly. However, the deep groan that rumbled from his chest at the motion of your tongues colliding and his load falling onto his own kick started your body. You kissed him back with reverence, a fire rekindling in your lower stomach. 

Your faces were a mess of spit and cum, though the two of you were more concentrated on each other, content in getting lost in the new development of your relationship. 

The kiss eventually died down, Bucky leaving a couple of intricate, slow pecks to your lips before seperating. He kept close, noses teasing each other while you caught your breath. 

Tenderly, he swiped the gooey liquid lingering around your mouth with his thumb and tapped your cupid's bow twice, a plea to open up. You complied, allowing him to enter and you were quick to enclose your lips around him and suck. 

“Good girl,” Bucky whispered, watching you with wide eyes. “You’re such a good girl for me.” 

Before you could reply, he lifted the two of you up with ease, keeping a firm grip around your midriff, and laid you down on his bed. 

“Let me see what else you’ll do for me, Dolly.” Bucky’s eyes bore into your own gaped ones, still trying to wrap your head around the events of the night. “Please.” 

There was no other answer. Not when he caged you with his thick arms and not when he delicately trailed his nose along the sensitive skin of your neck. “Okay, Bucky.” 

You couldn’t have imagined where that night could have taken you. Nor could you have conjured up how the hell the two of you ended up fucking until the early hours, singing songs of praise to each other and experiencing a pleasure that you thought would forever be a myth. 

And when you awoke in the morning, scared and worried of the consequences of your actions, you were sure you would regret it. 

But as Bucky tore your clothes off, pouring his adoration and devotion into every crevice of your body with more skin that was revealed as your heart beat as one, you couldn’t even try to muster up any feelings of remorse or anguish. 

You just wanted your best friend to fuck you until the sun came up. 

[tinytennisskirt]

Small Victories

Summary: based on a request, Stanford tennis player! reader and Art strike up a new friendship as they're both pretty lonely at Stanford. It's platonic and fun, but reader is taken out of the tennis season after a serious injury ruins her leg. Recovery is hard, but Art is there the entire way insisting you get back to tennis- and as you slowly heal, he slowly falls harder and harder. It becomes undeniable that you two belong together when you finally get back on the court and win your first game post-injury... when things left unsaid can't stay unsaid.

Warning: mentions of broken bones and blood. Mention of sex. Kissing. A little angst, and a tiny bit of miscommunication if you squint. Slowburn friends to lovers. A good amount of fluff and fun. 13k words- brace yourselves.

It was your first day at Stanford after spending your first night in your dorm room. You had some free time so you’d been spending it unboxing and putting away more of your clothes and things. You covered the ugly boring walls with simple patchwork tapestry, and carefully hung your star-shaped string lights. You set up your computer at the provided desk, moving it to the corner where it was level with the table you’d set up your microwave and kettle on. You made the bed, organized your rackets, and you would have never been this clean if you were at home, but you were a little too bored and you were racking up the nerve to go and speak to people. Meeting new people. 

It’s not like you were socially inept at all, but the anticipation was killer. Being so far away from everyone you knew, having this pressure to make friends here or being around wouldn’t be all that worthwhile. Yes, you loved tennis. Yes, you were so glad to be at Stanford. But could you enjoy it without any friends? No. When you decided your room was done, you logged onto your computer to look over the campus website to see if maybe there were any events tonight. 

You found a few as you scrolled. They had a painting class led by an instructor, not your thing. They had an acapella group info night, which could be fun, but you couldn’t carry a tune in a bucket. You scrolled down to the sports section. Football team info night, lacrosse recruitment, and you saw it, perfectly dated for today at eight, a tennis mixer for all tennis students in the far corner garden on campus, just a ten-minute walk. You shut your computer off and immediately started going through your clothes.

You ended up in your favourite jeans and a light purple tank top, pairing it with some casual Converse you’d had for two years, a nice belt, some pretty earrings, and the most dainty necklace you had. You did your makeup in the mirror, getting your eyeliner right in one try which was an absolute wonder, and finished everything off with a pairing of blotted lipstick and lip balm. You looked over everything in the mirror, fixing the curl of your hair just a bit before you packed the simple things into a small bag and headed out the door. 

The garden was cute, it was a little corner boxed in with hedges, full of picnic tables and lawn chairs. You looked up and down the edges lined with pretty pink, orange, yellow, and purple flowers. The 90s music from a radio in the corner was fairly loud, but more dull than the conversation between who you assumed were your peers. A wave of excitement hit as you looked up and around these people, not exactly watching as you stepped backward, foot hitting the side of someone else’s and tripping just slightly in the same direction. Thank god you caught your balance, because without it you might have ended up on the person behind you’s lap. 

“You okay?” He asked, hands up, ready to catch if he needed. You turned, fixing yourself, trying to hide your embarrassment. This was an amazing start, you thought to yourself, chuckling nervously. His eyes were soft and genuine, and he was asking. 

“Oh, yeah, just not looking where I was walking,” You smiled. “I’m so sorry.” 

He smiled back, “No, you’re good, don’t worry about it. I sit with my feet too far out anyway.” He said, getting up out of the chair he was sitting in with his drink. You noted just how nice his voice sounded, you’d never heard anyone with his tone. “My name is Art… Donaldson.” He extended his free hand to you and you were a little surprised but glad. 

“Y/N,” You answered, unable to control the grin that came from meeting someone already, even if you nearly tripped into him. You eyed him up and down a moment. He was taller than you, thin, with blonde curls and a big smile. Bigger than one you would have gotten from anyone else you spoke to if you had ended up speaking to anyone else that night. “You’re in the tennis program?” You asked. 

“Yeah,” He grinned. “And you too, I assume.” 

“Mhm,” You nodded back. “First year. Nervous.” You admit, feeling like maybe he’d get it. And he did, no doubt. 

Art ruffled his hair, “Oh yeah. I’m on residency, so it’s not much different from my previous school, but I don’t know anyone, so it’s a little weird. I had to check the campus website for anything to do to get out and meet people.” He spoke a lot with his hands, you noted along with the fact you had done the exact same thing. He was also just speaking to speak, you noticed as you nodded along, smiling. He was nervous too. “Are you on residency?” He asked, ending his little spiel. You’d let him talk just to hear him talk, finding his voice unique and a little bit pretty. And he was nice. 

“I am, I spent the whole day organizing and decorating my room,” You chuckled, stepping aside to grab yourself a can of iced tea, and cracking it open. Art watched as you did, studying the dainty rings on your fingers, the way the one strand of hair fell in your face when you tripped and you hadn’t yet thought to move it. “Things are a lot harder to do without a staple gun.” You told him.

He sipped his own drink, “Mmm, right? Took me seven attempts to hang up my poster today with that stupid blue clay stuff.” 

“Oh, that stuff is nasty.” He liked how you crinkled your nose. “I bought this glue-brand double-sided tape. It’s a game-changer, but so sticky.” And the embarrassment from nearly tripping eased away as the conversation enhanced itself. He was sweet and funny and kind and truly seemed like he was hearing what you said. Art was truthfully just glad he found anyone to talk to after Patrick left last night and as the conversation moved over the regular small talk, he found he didn’t really want to talk to anyone else. 

The night went on and people were leaving now and then, but you and Art sat on the bench in the very corner of the corner garden unphased, just talking about your histories with tennis. Soon you knew all of his best victories and he knew yours and he also knew you liked music more than most things, tennis included, him making mental note of what songs to listen to when he went back to his dorm room. He felt a lot less alone in Patrick’s absence than he’d expected and you were so interesting. He also knew you were a big fan of iced coffee, had a lucky tennis racket, and had a love for star-shaped things. Just as you knew his best game was his doubles at the Junior US Open with his best friend who you’d heard a lot about now, just as you heard about his past at Mark Rebatello’s Tennis Academy, how his favourite thing to do in tennis is serve, and his favourite post-game meal is chicken wings. Your conversation naturally covered all the simple things and when the night truly had to come to an end, he gladly walked you back to your dorm. 

“It’s been really nice meeting you,” He admitted, rubbing the back of his neck as you approached your door. Part of him knew he could probably tell you everything and anything about himself and you’d listen and that’s what he liked about you. “Glad someone spoke to me.” 

“Well, I tripped, so we’re just lucky, I suppose.”

He twisted his mouth to the side, “I guess so, but who’s to say I didn’t do it on purpose?” He questioned with a teasing smile. 

You laughed quietly, “It’s been nice meeting you too. I’ll see you around the court?” 

“Probably,” He replied, shoving his hands into his pockets as you leaned against the door. “I look forward to it.” A grin slowly crept up his face, unable to hide itself. He was not in a particular lack, but gaining you was something he wouldn’t regret and he knew it. “I’ll see you around.” 

You couldn’t help but grin right back- his smile was so wide it was hard to ignore. “Goodnight, Art.” 

“Goodnight, Y/N.” 

You saw him again the next day, more than enthused to see a familiar face around. You had your hair up in a ponytail, sporting a white skort and black tank top and he was in blue gym shorts and a sports t-shirt that was just a tad lighter than his shorts. 

“Hey you,” You smiled as you approached. He turned, more than happy to see you as well. 

“Hey,” he replied, setting his things down on the nearest bench. You beamed, doing the same. “How are you?” 

“I’m good, how are you?” You asked, hopping up and starting to stretch. He had his hands shoved in his pockets. “Co-op doubles today, you want to be my partner?” He asked. You were nodding yes before he even finished the sentence. 

It was that day that Art realized just how good you were at tennis and how distracting it was playing doubles when all he wanted to do was watch you play. It was almost hypnotizing to see you do your thing and he was honestly a little proud he’d made your acquaintance before you demolished the other team so he wouldn’t have had to look like a suck up approaching you afterward. 

You jumped and high fived him when you two won the scrimmage and Art knew he picked the perfect tennis partner for sure. As for you, he impressed you vastly past your expectations. He was amazing at serving so no wonder it was his favourite. 

“That was crazy,” Art huffed, breathing out. “That was amazing.” 

“Your serves are crazy,” you gushed, turning to him. “You’re amazing, that was amazing that serve at the end completely threw them.” 

Art shook his head, “As if you didn’t completely end the game with that last swing, that was incredible.” He gestured openly, then let his arms fall to his sides. “You want to go again?” 

Technically you were supposed to switch partners, but Art just didn’t want to take that chance. He had you as a partner and he would have to swap it out? No thanks. 

Your smile turned itself into a smirk, you had other thoughts. “Maybe after.” You said and jogged over to the boy you’d just gone up against and asked him to play with you and Art knew what you were doing. You wanted to play against him. 

It turned out to be a problem because now Art had a full view of how you played and it really was hypnotic. You obviously had a well-learned method for every swing and situation and you knew exactly what was in your section and what was in your partner’s. Art was grinning, watching you play and honestly hardly paying much attention to the fact that he himself was in the game. He missed a few balls just because he was watching your swing. You were good, you were really good, and that fact being distracting was not very useful to a scrimmage. 

When the game ended and you had a bit of a water break, you jogged over, “What was that?” You laughed. 

Art shrugged, chuckling. “You’re really good.” He took a long drink from his water bottle, knowing the reason he gave you wasn’t very detailed but it was honest. 

You and Art were partners for most co-op doubles that week, hanging out almost every day after or before. You two were fast friends- him enjoying how passionate you were when you talked and shared the things you liked and the way you went about tennis, you enjoying having a great partner for scrimmages and the things he talked about. Having a familiar face around all the time was the ease you needed to fully get yourself situated at Stanford. It was fun to have someone that you wanted to see every day who happened to want to see you just the same. You two were friends quicker than anyone you’d ever known, like something just clicked and fit into place- he was fun and a little bit wild when he wasn’t shy, and he loved music just as much as you did, it turned out, which was surprising. 

You’d sit in his car for hours just talking with music in the background. “Okay, so McDonalds fries versus Arby’s.” You said, picking through the McDonald’s fries you two bought on the way back to campus. Art put the car in park and you were leaned against the car door, sitting facing him. “Don’t say Arby’s, I’m begging you.” 

He smiled and shrugged a little sheepishly, “They’re thicker.” He reasoned. 

“Uh-huh, I see how it is,” you said, rolling your eyes at him. He hid his face in his hands. “McDonald's are so classic.” 

He raised his head, “True-“ he spoke with too many in his mouth and you smiled. “- But Arby’s are curly. Which means more.” 

“Okay so you’re settled on the fact that it’s more food,” you laughed, popping a small one in your mouth. “Here I was going off of taste.” 

“You can’t go off taste alone because quality is so important,” he said, gesturing with his hands. “McDonalds fries are good but the quality is shit.” 

“You’re right but you can ignore that-“ 

“I have to ignore that while you ignore thicket and curlier?” He laughed. “No-“ he couldn’t get through his words laughing, “We are done here.” 

“What-“ you laughed. “No, come on.” 

He gestured wide, hand on your upper arm, sliding down to rest on your forearm, “You’ve just proven you can’t debate, it’s pointless-“ he couldn’t stop laughing, and from that point on neither could you. It was contagious and spread throughout the car like the air conditioning that circulated. It was good laughter, sweet, and unending because whenever one of you tried to stop, even looking at the other would cause you both to burst out laughing again. It was a cycle that made your ribs ache, your heart beat harder in your chest and your breath impossible to catch. The laughter only ended when you were both in too much pain to continue. 

Art rubbed his eyes, leaning against the car's center console, catching his breath. He missed Patrick but not so much when you were around. He was glad he had you and that was one of the only thoughts in his head as he looked at you, catching your breath as well. Your smile was gorgeous was the afterthought but there was no afterthought to that thought itself, just that you were and it was. You moved your hair from your face and he thought again about the fry conversation and he nearly laughed again, but he tried hard not to.

The truth was Art did have thoughts like that often. You saw him every day, you were funny and talented, and Art loved how much you cared about everyone around you. How could he not, even for a moment, think more of you than what you two were? But he didn’t notice how often he had those thoughts because they were forgotten so easily, buried under something subconsciously. 

You looked back at him, the atmosphere shifting once again. Art watched you glance at the time, “I have to get to bed, I’m so sorry,” He loved how you apologized for nothing. He’d tried to correct it at first but it was just something you couldn’t help. “I have that game tomorrow, the one I’ve been talking about, are you coming?” 

“Yeah, I wouldn’t miss it,” he grinned, pulling the car back into drive to bring you closer to your residency building so you wouldn’t have to walk. “Starts at ten?” 

“I have to be there at ten, game at eleven.” You nodded. 

“Sounds good,” He nodded back, a slight smile pulling at his lip. “I’ll see you there.”

“I guess you will. Or might. I need you there in case I need to make a run for it, I’m terrified to play that Roxy girl, she’s supposed to be so hardcore.” You pressed your hands to your face. “Thank you for hanging out, for a moment I forgot just how scared I am of tomorrow.” Your smile turned to a grin and Art’s followed. He was unable to control his smile around you. 

He shook his head, “You’ll be great. You’ll kick her ass.” 

“She’s Russian,” you replied. “She’s going to do more than kick mine.” 

Art shook his head again, “No. Can’t think that way or else she will for sure. You kick hers, no other way.”

You took a deep breath, grin dulling back to a simple smile. “Thank you. I’ll need all the luck I can get though,” You opened his car door to get out. 

“Okay, well, good luck if I don’t see you before the game, leprechauns, four-leaf clovers, break a leg, etcetera.” 

You laughed and after saying goodnight, your laugh still echoed around his head. It did so until he went to sleep that night. But he didn’t think anything of it, there was no reason to. 

The game the next day really did terrify you. This girl you were up against was hardcore, you spent the morning watching her games trying to figure her out but all you got was that she stepped twice before swinging left, no matter what as well as she was an amazing player. She had long sleek blonde hair that she tied up in a braided ponytail and icy eyes that seemed to stare into your soul when you saw her tennis poster. You wondered if her eyes followed you around as you got dressed into your pink skort and lilac purple tank top combo. Looking nice on the court helped a lot with your confidence.

You tied your hair up in two French braids to keep it away from your face and tried to take deep breaths as you grabbed your things and headed over to the Stanford court. It was a busy day, apparently, as a small crowd of people were waiting to get into the benches and you walked by them and into the building where you met your coach. 

“You ready?” She asked and you really wanted to say no, the nerves getting to your stomach. The first big game of the season meant something. This is the beginning of what you were working for. Part of you was so ready for this all to begin, other casual games with small audiences were easy, but there was a Russian girl out there ready to demolish you. You took another deep breath. 

“Yeah.” And you took your things to the court and unzipped your bag that you’d packed in a haste this morning out of pure nerves and no real rush to see that somehow, in some extreme mishap, that your lucky racket wasn’t there. You turned to your coach, who knew that when you laid all your rackets out on the sidelines that you were missing the lucky one. 

And Art in the stands looked over, knowing the exact same thing. He turned to Patrick, who was visiting as of this morning, “She doesn’t have her purple racket.” He said as if Patrick knew what that meant. Art had spent the morning filling Patrick in on who you were and Patrick listened with a knowing smirk, but didn’t say anything about what he truly thought. “Patrick, she can’t play this without her lucky racket.” He urged as if it made a difference. The game was set to start in five minutes. 

“Lucky racket?” Patrick understood. When he was younger he himself had the same thing, he knew the sentiment and the effect it could have on a game. That’s why Art, knowing Patrick, knew you were the same way.

“Fuck,” Art said, looking around to see if there was a clear path out of the bleachers, but there wasn’t. He looked back at you, talking to your coach with your hand over your mouth. He got up and stepped over a few people but was stopped by an usher. 

“Game is starting in five-“ the burly man said. 

“I know, I need to get out,” he urged. 

“Sit. Down. Please.” The usher replied. 

Art shook his head, “No, you don’t understand, this is vital to the game about to be played, that’s my friend out there-“ 

“Sir, if you leave before the first half, you won’t be getting back in.” He said. And that was that. Art couldn’t even make a run for it because this usher would make sure he couldn’t get the racket back to you. 

“Fuck,” Art muttered, having to sit back next to Patrick knowing this wouldn’t be good. It put him on edge from the stands he couldn’t imagine the anxiety you were feeling if it was already bad and you didn’t have your racket. He rubbed his face, looking at Patrick, who knew exactly what you were feeling even not knowing you yet. “This is bad.” 

You had to use your practice racket. Which was fine if you were anyone else, it worked just the same, but the feeling of confidence was hard to attain. You hit the court as the announcer called out you were to serve. You took what felt like the deepest breath, filling your lungs as you faced your blindingly blonde opponent. You let the breath go slowly, trying to convince yourself that this was fine. And you served. 

The rally was good, you both had each other moving, but she was up in points within the first ten minutes. You weren’t doing badly, you were just behind. Art and Patrick were watching from the stands at how intense things were, Art worried the entire time. 

You caught up and surpassed her points around the middle, but soon enough she bounced right back surpassing you again. You were getting increasingly more scared that this was exactly what you expected from a game without the purple racket. You took a deep breath and hit the ball as hard as you could upon serve, it going awkwardly sideways and immediately out. You tried not to swear too loudly. Art and Patrick did it for you in unison, Patrick was just as invested as Art. 

When they called the halfway point, you were below her points-wise. Art couldn’t pay less attention to the way you walked off the court with your hand to your head because he was running, or trying to, through the sea of people who were going for washroom breaks and getting food from the stands outside. He tried to push through but more people kept coming and the stress of it alone had his heart beating. That was nothing on the beat of his heart as he finally pushed through and he started sprinting across the campus grounds trying to get to your residency as fast as he could. 

He didn’t think he’d ever run so fast in his life but this was the only way he knew how to help. This was how you would save your game. He ran through the residency doors and up the stairs to the second floor and grabbed your key from behind the fire alarm trigger, unlocking your door. He knew you wouldn’t mind after this- he looked around seeing the racket leaning in the corner and he grabbed it, locking your door again and jumping the stairs, sprinting back. 

It took a lot longer than he thought. He tried a shortcut that was stupidly a dead end and he checked his watch before launching back into his sprint and he had two minutes before you were back on. He was so fucked. This time he just about shoved people as he returned to the crowd. 

He could hear the game resume and people did hurry to get back to their seats which helped a little- Art was still pushing to make it back to you, to get the racket to you before the second half truly started. He knew if he just got it out there onto the court you could switch it out between serves and that would be good enough and he was nearly through the crowd, cheers in his ears, people whooping and yelling, getting into the game and all of a sudden it was a simultaneous gasp. Art was confused for about a split second before he heard the scream in the silence of a crowd that held their breath. 

Art pushed through the crowd and the sight he saw when he laid eyes on you on the ground was something reminiscent of some horror movie. The detail was too much but visible to him, from far away, was bone. And you were screaming, it was you. 

He bolted over but not before the others did, surrounding you immediately locking him out and he looked over as your tennis partner ran to the edge of the court to vomit. The crowd was mumbling but other than that it was silence versus screams and cries and it was you. Art hated that it was you. 

He couldn’t do anything, he wasn’t any help, 911 was already called and you were crying and screaming, and thank god the huddle shielded the crowd from the blood that pooled on the court. 

Art did the only thing he knew to do and that was collect your things. It didn’t matter what it looked like he was doing, he packed up your rackets and your water bottle, numbing himself to the situation so he could at least do this for you as your screams rang out in the crowd of people still seeming to hold their breaths. He couldn’t get to you if he tried. Sirens in the distance meant it was time to get the fuck out of the way and he moved over as the paramedics worked quickly to tend to you to get you on the ambulance, doing what they could to stop the bleeding. 

Art ran faster than he did to get your racket, even with your rackets on him. It was a good thing Patrick had gotten himself out of the crowd, meeting Art at the fence doors to get him to his car. He’d only known you a month or two, but you were still a person he cared a lot about and he knew your entire family was miles and miles away. You’d be alone in this and knowing you, and talking to you every day, he knew you were afraid of doctors and hated hospitals more than anything. He couldn’t let it be something you had to brave alone.  He threw your rackets in the trunk as Patrick got into the passenger seat and Art tossed him the keys to start the car before he got into the driver's seat. 

“Fuck, this is so bad,” Art said, pulling away a little faster than he should have. “This is so bad.” 

He ended up waiting ten hours at the hospital. You needed surgery to fix your leg and nobody in your family could make it over in ten hours. It would take a flight to get to you. Patrick stayed about four hours with Art, trying to keep him occupied so he didn’t lose his mind in the waiting room, but Art wasn’t very talkative, just worried. You had easily become one of his best friends. 

He ate hospital food and he slept in his chair against the wall. The nurses knew he was there for you and came to update him until one of the nurses told him to come back the next morning because by then you’d probably be stable and awake properly without the pain meds keeping you asleep. He hated that, he slept in his car.

Patrick came back the next morning, tapping on Art’s window at close to 11:30 in the morning. Art woke with a bit of a start, his hair messed up, his clothes from the days before still on. Patrick held up a bag from Art’s dorm room where he’d stay. You wouldn’t think Patrick to think of something like it, but he brought Art a change of clothes which he took gratefully and changed into in the hospital bathroom before going back up to see you. 

Patrick gladly waited in the hallway when he went in. You were awake but you were staring blankly at a wall- it didn’t seem like you even realized he had entered. You’d gotten used to not minding the nurses and doctors that came in and out. Art approached slowly out of understanding and observed how hard you crying so silently. He thought he saw a tear but as he observed, it was a steady stream.

“Hey…” he said quietly. 

You turned your head at the sound of his voice and Art swore when you met his eyes he had never seen eyes sadder than yours. It shook him a little to see pain so obvious in someone’s eyes. “Art-“ you sobbed, putting your head in your hands, unable to say anything else. He rushed forward, dropping his backpack at your bedside to give some sense of comfort. He didn’t know what to do, so he crouched next to you and his hands rested on your forearm, careful not to touch the bruising no doubt from the fall. He didn’t say anything else for a long while and neither did you, you just cried as Art crouched next to you, his hands gently grazing over your skin where they could. Soft, back and forth, just delicately. 

It was the first act anyone had ever taken to make you feel okay, truly okay. You’d been intimidated and overwhelmed by the hospital lights, the sterile metals, and sounds and processes. 

It was also the first true act of many that was something closer than what it should have been for you and Art. It was just you and him in that hospital room, empty aside from the machines, drips, a bed, and chairs, but the silence was so full that it occupied every corner that wasn’t already taken. 

You did eventually speak, but that silence was so needed. It was a conversation about what had happened and you explained it all and how it felt, but Art informed you that you were ahead of her in points before it happened. He didn’t tell you he didn’t see it happen- he didn’t tell you anything about where he’d gone at the halfway point of the game. 

Art slept in the corner chair later that night when you slept. Patrick eventually left after waiting for so long. When you needed your privacy Art got his meals from downstairs, heading back to the dorm and coming back the next morning every day for two weeks. He came by whenever he could to see you, the conversation was good and kept you distracted. You talked about everything and nothing just to pass the time in your lonely, empty room. Art brought you your iPod and a few other things from your dorm to keep you occupied when he wasn’t there.

Art was the greatest comfort until your parents finally got on a plane and flew out to see you, urging to somehow get you home but you didn’t want to go. You couldn’t anyway, and you were so glad. Your mom was surprised by the flowers you’d received from the Russian girl from the big game, who did come to visit you and was surprisingly very sweet, unlike her teeth-bared photo from her Facebook. But other than that, Art visited almost every day right after your parents did. They stayed at a nearby hotel as you were in the hospital recovering. 

Patrick stayed nearby for Art who was fine, other than a little busy most days when he went to visit. Today Patrick came in with Art. 

“Hey,” you grinned, sitting up just a bit when the two boys came in with McDonald’s. “Oh my god, you didn’t.” 

“But we did,” Art said, kicking your tray over to your bed and putting the food down on it. “Patrick’s idea actually, which I hate- but he wanted to get Arby’s and I told him no.” 

You smiled at him slyly, knowingly, but your attention turned to Patrick. “Hey! I’ve heard so much about you, this is crazy. I heard you were at the game.”

He grinned and you noted the dimple he had when he smiled. It was nice. “Yeah. Aside from the whole bone-out-the-leg thing, you were pretty good. I’ve heard a lot about you too.”

“Well, yeah,” you nodded, gesturing to your leg. You were fun, Patrick knew Art liked you but it was finally coming to be something clear in his mind as to why. You had high spirits. But both boys had no idea how hard you sobbed the moment they left. “Thank you for bringing me food, hospital soup and chicken are somehow both dry.” You said, opening the bag. 

Art looked at Patrick for some sort of approval which he got with a look Patrick exchanged. “You’re welcome,” Art spun on his heel. He looked at the way your hair fell over your face as you peeked in, how pretty it looked the way it curved inward to frame your face. The hospital had hindered your will to do your makeup but you still somehow looked just as gorgeous, if not more. His fleeting thought lingered this time as he gathered the right words to say. “So how is your leg feeling today?” 

“Fucked,” you replied, handing the boys their fries and burgers. “Hurts like hell and I’m still on the super strong stuff.” 

“Well you couldn’t tell,” Patrick said, pulling up a chair. 

“I think if I asked, they’d give me the good stuff.” You nodded. “But it makes me so tired, it’s awful.” You bit into your burger. 

Art pulled a chair closer to you and sat in it, “So all this was just for some drugs, hm?” He teased. “And attention.” 

“Oh yeah,” You agreed with a laugh between bites. Patrick chuckled and Art grinned, “All I had to do was fuck up my knee, have a surgery and a half, and ruin my tennis career.” Both boy’s smiles fell almost immediately, watching your tongue press to your cheek. The silence was loud, but you just continued eating. Art opened his mouth to speak but nothing came to mind. It could be true, you could very well never play tennis again, or with proper rehabilitation, you could be back to playing eventually. He didn’t know, he didn’t know what to say. You sighed, your voice monotone, “It’s fine. Most people who can’t play anymore start coaching. I just have to get better at teaching it.” 

“No, you can’t just say you’re going to coach, you still have so much work to do. You could get back into it when you get better,” Art said, hating how willing you were to succumb to just… teaching. “You’re only starting.” 

“True,” Patrick said, agreeing. “Would be badass if you got back on the court.” 

You twisted your mouth to the side, not finding it very easy to even speak on the topic, even if you brought it up yourself. You didn’t want to cry, not right now, you usually waited until you knew Art was down the hall so you had a minute to cry before the nurses came to check on you. “I don’t know…” 

Art looked at you with an expression that bordered on unkind- not toward you, but toward what you were saying. He’d played tennis with you- you were amazing and to not even believe that it could even get better was almost disgusting to him. You had so much potential, so much talent, “You do know.” He insisted. “There’s no way you want this to be career-ending, so don’t let it.”  

Patrick, despite the seriousness of the situation, smiled watching Art all passionate about something. It had been a while since he’d seen Art so riled up about something even if it didn’t affect him directly. Patrick smiled because he was seeing something he knew Art himself didn’t see. He leaned against his hand propped up by the arm of the chair. And you knew Art was right, but not enough to see past the cast on your leg, not enough to see past the months of rehab, not enough to see the court again. As much as you wanted it, it wasn’t in the foreseeable future, so you let it feel impossible. 

Your parents went back home a month or so in with the promise of returning, but it was getting expensive to stay, so they’d go return to their jobs. It was back to being Art and now recently, Patrick, whom you’d grown to be quite fond of. He brought out a side to Art that was not funnier, per se, but broadened his means to be. Patrick sometimes came to see you when Art had class so he wasn’t just sitting around Art’s dorm. Art would swing by after to join the card games and be told to be quiet by the nurses. It always ended up with you laughing so hard your ribs hurt more than your knee, even for a second. It was the only pain that was welcome in the hospital room. 

It was evening and you were sitting on your hospital bed, just thinking over everything. It wasn’t rare for you to cry at random periods throughout the day, it was a little too normal, if you were honest. All of this was so hard- continuing school from a hospital room because of all the risks was awful. But tomorrow you’d be seeing a physical therapist and that would decide if you were ready for rehabilitation. You wiped your eyes from the tears that fell just thinking about whether or not you’d be fit to walk on your leg again, which would determine if you could run if you could play. 

That’s when Art knocked on the door. He poked his head, looking around, but ultimately looking at you. You had the lamps that your parents had purchased for the room to be less overwhelmingly white in the top right and bottom left corners of the room, making for dim, comfortable lighting. Art swore he forgot how to greet you when his eyes met your tear-filled ones. The way your eyelashes looked when wet was almost hypnotizing, something that wiped all of the words from his vocabulary and out of sight almost completely. “Um-” He cleared his throat, “Hi,” He started, a weird pit in his throat. “You okay?” 

“Not sure,” You confessed, wiping your tears off your cheeks. He had seen you cry too many times now, it was getting a little embarrassing. “How are you?” Art smiled just a little at the fact you asked while crying. He hated to answer that question when you were upset. 

He pulled up his regular chair, but oddly it didn’t feel close enough. The feeling of it had been creeping up with every one of his visits, every time you were alone. But it got pushed aside. “I’m fine. Class was boring and tennis sucks without you, as usual.” He said, taking a seat. “The girl I’m paired with keeps hitting on me between rounds.” 

You wiped more tears away, smiling just a little though your stomach felt just a little odd at the mention, “Really?” 

“It’s bad.” He laughed, “She twirls her hair and everything.” 

“And that didn’t immediately work on you?” You fake-gasped. Art was just glad you were smiling. “You didn’t get married on the spot?” 

He chuckled, looking at his hands, “I don’t think it’s so easy. I don’t think I even know her name.” 

“You don’t know Melanie?” 

“Is that her name?” 

“No idea,” You laughed, really laughed, and it was a gorgeous sound. “In case you didn’t notice, I’m mostly bedridden and confined to this room.” 

He covered his face, rubbing his eyes, “That’s enough.” He groaned through a laugh, leaning against his hand, just looking at you. 

“I say it’s hardly anything, imagine how fun I could be if I wasn’t broken,” You huffed. “But Melanie, whatever her name is, she’s like… she’s really pretty.” You noted. ‘Melanie’ had all your opposite features, it should be noted. She was pretty just the same, but she was your opposite. 

“Mmm, not my type,” Art replied, scooting his chair just a little closer to the edge of your bed. 

“So you have a type? What, Kat Zimmerman-like?” 

Art groaned again, “I can’t believe Patrick told you that, that’s insane that you’d bring that up right now, I hate that.” He stressed the important syllables and covered his face again. You giggled, unable to keep it in. “No, not Kat Zimmerman, jesus christ.” 

“So then what’s your type?” You asked, just curious. You weren’t sure what drove you to curiosity but you didn’t question it. 

He shook his head, “I don’t think I have one. I know who I’m not into though and she’s exactly that.” Art said. Once again, to be noticed, the opposite of you was not his type. “She’s nice but we don’t talk much aside from when she compliments my playing and my hair and my arms and… all that.” 

You felt a little twinge. It was so awful to be on the inside while life went on outside, you thought to yourself. That was only half the twinge and the only half of the twinge you could understand. The other half was something close to jealousy that went completely unnoticed, but not unfelt. “She does that?” You struggled to sound genuine and that was the only thing you questioned about any of it. 

“Yeah, I hate it. What about you? You have a type?” 

You thought for a second, “I’m the same, I think. I know sports guys… jocks- are not it.” And Art nodded. Something about it felt weird to hear. He qualified as a sports guy, right? He tried to shrug it off, but he internalized it.

The night went on and you talked about things you hadn’t before and it was all romantic context. Past relationships, elementary school crushes. It was something that was needed out in the open and it made for an occupying conversation though it was a little hard to get through when there were constant little fleeting thoughts in Art’s mind that were thoughts about how jealous he was of these boys who had gotten to kiss you, touch you, and have your romantic attention. However, the thoughts were so fleeting they flew by without being read or registered, but they were there even unnoticed. You were his best friend and nothing more and that was that. 

When the doctors okayed you for rehabilitation you were so overjoyed you cried again. It was okay this time, it felt good to cry. All of these months in pain could be undone if you could just get into this and succeed. There was no guarantee it would work, there wouldn’t be at any point a guarantee and you knew that it would be a long, frustrating process, but it felt like it would be worth it. You remembered what Art told you about not wanting that career path to end and not letting this be the end of anything. This injury, in the long run, would not be able to take you from what you loved. Ever. Because you wouldn’t let it. You called to tell Art and you could hear Patrick whoop and cheer in the background. And you had your first session in your hospital room later that week and the now-wilting flowers Art and Patrick had brought you was amazing for motivation. 

Your healing journey was up and down as expected but no matter if you could finish your session or not, Art came by to tell you how great you were doing and Patrick to reassure you that you were a badass. You even let them stay for a session and the physiotherapist told them to ‘shut up’ because they were cheering for you the second you started. You just laughed. 

Patrick, for amusement, liked to sit back when you and Art were talking. He was no master, he was not a very scientific guy but your body language when engaging with each other was crazy obvious. You’d always sit super close no matter what, you leaned toward each other when you laughed, your eye contact was completely loaded with unsaid words and when you spoke it was 89% flirting. Patrick understood Art- you were gorgeous and you were strong and that itself was hot. You were funny and took jabs but you were honestly one of the most caring people Patrick had ever met. So yeah, he understood why Art liked you so much. 

You got better every day, easing onto your crutches at this point, able to somewhat move on your own. Patrick visited that day and he had his intentions. “You heard about that girl who won’t stop hitting on Art between games?” He chuckled, dealing the cards for crazy eights. He watched for your reaction. 

You pressed your tongue to your cheek, “Mmm, he mentioned.” You said, picking up your cards. “She’s still at it?” 

“Worse,” Patrick said. “Asked him out yesterday.” 

You looked up at Patrick with telling eyes and Patrick could have gone off of that alone, but he didn’t yet. He noticed your hands bending the edge of a card as you thought it over. The idea of him and that girl was something you could easily envision. He’d been her partner for over a year now and he had to know her name, they had to have been talking for her to just ask him out. Your jealousy was a fleeting thought that did burn close to the surface. “What did he say?” 

“He said he’d think about it,” Patrick said, eyeing your response to that one. It wasn’t true, Art had turned her down at least twice now. The girl was pretty, but oddly persistent.

“Hm,” You nodded, putting down three cards right off the bat. “He said she wasn’t his type.” 

Patrick shrugged, playing his card, “He’s pretty diverse I think. Me personally-” He placed a hand on his chest, “- Dark hair, dark eyes. I’m not limiting myself to it, but I think I have a type.” 

“That’s very you, I feel,” You said, narrowing your eyes at him. “Are you an ass guy too?” 

“Oh yeah,” He grinned a wide grin. You just smiled and shook your head at him. “What about you? You have a type?” He asked, trying not to make it obvious he was playing wingman here. 

You picked up a card, “I don’t think so. Maybe tall, not too much muscle but not like bone-breaking thin.” You said. “And a good amount of hair. I can’t imagine being with someone with a buzzcut. I don’t know, I don’t think much about who I could want, more of what I don’t want.” 

Patrick pretended like that body criteria wasn’t exactly Art. He smiled just a little, “And what’s that?” 

“Okay, easy. No mommy issues,” You put down another card, “No weird patchy facial hair, nobody who doesn’t know the difference between too, two, and to, and no guys in sports.” 

Patrick leaned in just a bit. “No guys in sports? You don’t date guys who play sports?” He clarified, a little bit of hope slipping out the window for his wingman act. All of everything could be wrong, could be pointless. 

You shook your head, “I say that but I mean football, mostly. Jocks. I had a bad experience with two different football players. Broke my little heart,” You chuckled. “I’ve ruled out jocks.” 

“But you’d date a guy in t-” he almost said tennis. He wouldn’t have been a good wingman to give away something like that. “You’d date a guy who plays something else?” 

“If he’s normal about it,” You nodded. “I can’t be outloved by a sport. My ex, I swear he’d fuck a football if it had a hole.” You placed down two more cards, “Last card.” 

The game finished with your win and Patrick was fairly satisfied with his work, though he intended to ask you a few more things and was cut short from his recon when Art swung in the room with a can of iced tea for you and Coca-Cola for him and Patrick. “How are you?” You asked him, taking the iced tea gratefully. 

“I’m good, you?” Art sat at the end of your bed by your feet, putting a hand on your shin (on your good leg) just casually. Patrick noticed it, but it didn’t seem to phase you. He’d seen it the other day when you rested your head on Art’s shoulder, he’d seen it when Art moved your hair over your ear as you were reading a magazine they’d brought. It was painful how obvious this was- he didn’t have to ask anything else. He almost laughed out loud as he thought about it. He made a mental note to talk to Art about it. 

He went back to the dorm early that day, leaving just you and Art. “Hm,” You hummed, pulling your hair to one side. Art snapped out of the trance he was in, hoping you hadn’t noticed that he was staring. It was something about the way you looked in purple, it was like it made your skin glow. That and your eyelashes as they fluttered when you looked around the room, that and the way your lower lip rested between your teeth as you checked over your textbook quickly making sure you were done with your schoolwork for the day. Art blinked all the thoughts away, but they clung on to your square-necklined purple t-shirt. Something about the way you looked in purple. 

Art rubbed the back of his neck, taking his eyes off of you, but looking back a moment later. Your lip between your teeth had his full attention, his own lips parting just a little at the sight. And then there was your hair draping over your face now and Art wanted so badly to move it like he had before. At this thought, as it crossed his mind it stopped dead centre in his brain. Like a shift, but a shift from his own burying and blatant ignorance of any feelings to being completely in the know. You were here, and you were perfect and you weren’t even doing anything, and Art knew he liked you as more than a friend at that very moment. 

But that was the issue. He was supposed to be your friend. 

And that troubled him the next week or so. He was fine seeing you, being one of your close friends wasn’t an act, it was true to him with the addition that maybe he liked you but he always told himself ‘just a little bit’, he liked you a little. If it was full blown then it would be a crisis and the truth was that it was absolutely and completely full blown and there was nothing he could say to himself that would change that. He thought about you when he wasn’t with you, when he woke up, and when he went to bed. He thought about you when he saw something you liked, he thought about you in every spare moment he could get. It was so bad he couldn’t even tell Patrick- as if Patrick didn’t know and constantly teased him about it. 

You were getting better and better and it was a surprising recovery, doctors said. Your mobility was far ahead of schedule and set to stay that way. Any setbacks from this point would be minor and you were making progress almost miraculously. And you were so glad to hear it every time they’d say it. Your parents came back around the day you took a real step alone and you wouldn’t forget your mom’s shriek of complete happiness. Your knee would work again. 

Just Art brought you flowers that day, not him and Patrick. 

But things stayed the same. You could leave and come back in for therapy and you were more than glad to be out of the hospital, though you’d gotten a bit used to it. Everything was falling into place, Art was there pretty much every step -literal and physical- of the way. He was amazing support and made things feel so much easier. When Patrick came around it was fun to have two people who’d add into the motivation. You got better and better and soon enough you swore you could walk just fine aside from your slight limp. That day you walked across the room when Art turned his back, he was surprised, to say the least.

When you could go out with a wheelchair and crutch the boys took you to the court. It was your first time on it since the incident. Your eyes fell on the spot where it happened. Patrick followed your eyes, grimacing just a bit. You’d forgotten Art didn’t see it- you still had no idea where he’d gone at the halfway point of the game. “I can almost feel it,” You said, a look of disgust on your face. “I think the gasp from the crowd was the worst part.” 

“It was loud,” Patrick said.

Art looked at where they were looking. “But you almost have full use of your knee again. Who knows, you could be back out here in a few months.” He shrugged. You turned on your crutch, away from the spot, and looked at Art. “Okay, don’t give me that look, you know you just need to try.” 

“I know,” You nodded slowly. “I just don’t know to what extent. I don’t think I could follow through with Stanford.” 

“Why not?” 

“It’s so top-notch,” You answered. Patrick kicked around on the court, grabbing one of Art’s balls and rackets and dribbling it around. “The people here are here for a reason and it’s to go pro.” 

Art stepped closer to you, “But you don’t think that’s you?” 

“Not anymore,” You replied, meeting his eyes. “Recovery is amazing but the risk is so high… I’m not even sure I can run yet, let alone sprint and lean side to side on this leg. I want to, I wanted to, but going pro after something like this just doesn’t happen. If I can play again at all, it won’t be good.” You explained. Art nodded through, listening with eyes that held sympathy and a little speck of sadness. “It’s okay, I just… It’s going to take me forever to get over it.” 

He shook his head, “You still don’t need to get over it yet. There’s still so much t-”

“I know. I just can’t see it ever happening.” You said. Art pressed his lips into a straight line and he spun on his heel. Comfort wasn’t what you needed- it was a racket. Art lunged and snatched up the one Patrick was toying with and handed it to you. “What?” 

Patrick caught on quickly. “Hit the ball.” Art said. “In any form.” 

“Art…” You shook your head. 

Patrick threw it anyway and even with the crutch, you instinctively stuck out your racket the way you knew how and hit the ball back to him, your aim still on point. “That was good! What the fuck,” Patrick chuckled. Even he couldn’t hit the ball with that much precision. Art laughed, clapping once- and you had your mouth a little open at the tennis reflexes that hadn’t gone anywhere after all this time. You looked at both of them in minor shock and awe and Art just smiled. He wouldn’t let you give up. He couldn’t. You spent the rest of the evening hitting balls where you stood, feeling a lot better about things. 

Recovery continued, but so did tennis. In your spare time you were on the court, practicing your serves, hitting the ball, everything to do with arms and eventually when the therapist had you on the treadmill walking, jogging, he cleared you to do it with supervision. That was one of the biggest things you’d heard in a while. Art was out in the hall when you’d heard it and you left the doctor mid-sentence just to go tell him, Art surprised at the speed which you approached him at, being used to you only ever walking. “I can jog!” You said, enthusiasm and passion in your eyes and the familiar fire he knew from when you would play tennis with him. 

Your soft hands grabbed his forearms in excitement and Art was a little bit more than aware of it, but the news was amazing. “That’s amazing, that’s crazy, you can jog?” 

“I can jog!” You squealed a little as your mom who was in the room with you swung her head into the hallway. 

“When he said could he didn’t mean away from him, Y/N, get back in here please!” She called, but she wasn’t pulling the full mom card, she was smiling ear to ear just as you were. “And hi Art.” She said, waving to him. Being your main visitors meant they were acquainted. Art went to coffee with your parents while you were in therapy the week prior, he wondered if they had mentioned it. He hadn’t. Art just waved back. 

Soon it was you, Patrick, and Art on the court and your crutches were propped against the bench. You were still a little slow but you’d gotten good at playing where you stood, relying on reach alone and it was quite impressive. You worked on side-stepping instead of lunging and leaning and it helped a lot with having to move around when you needed. It was a lot of laughter but also took a lot of practice and focus to get right. Sometimes you could go for a while, other times not so long, but the rehab had done wonders. This time when you said you were done, Art served the ball and you did lunge for it- both boys afraid, cringing as they watched you rush and lean forward in what seemed like slow motion. But you hit the ball and it flew right at Patrick’s chest and came back into standing position like it was nothing. 

“Oh my god,” You gasped. “I’m so sorry.” Patrick put a hand to his chest but both boys looked at you in wonderment, eyes wide, mouths a little open. To tell the truth they both thought you were done for again as you lunged but you were fine, no complaints, no second thoughts- but a second gasp. You realized the move you’d pulled and the second you realized, both boys started blurting out praise and pride and disbelief and you joined in on it. That was tennis. You’d done everything a tennis player needed to do and it was completed with the simplest lunge. Small victories every day. 

Art was more than proud. Seeing you back on the court was amazing. He’d take you there alone most days when Patrick didn’t feel like it. This particular day you were both a bit disracted, but the reason why was something you both couldn’t place. Art gave up before you today and you both stood by the edge of the bleachers against the metal bar.

You took a sip of your water, “Are we going back out or are we done?” You asked. Art set down his bottle just past you, reaching around. He looked at you and for the moment he had nothing else in his mind but you. Not tennis, not anything, you. 

“You’re incredible, you know that?” He said. You smiled immediately, leaning more against the bar next to you. But it just so happened to be closer to him. And you didn’t mind it, it wasn’t anything new but it was definitely close. Very close. You were close and you were smiling at what he said. He blinked a few times, observing your eyelashes, “Your recovery… I mean. It’s a miracle you’re back here.”

You nodded, that perfect smile on your face. You knew how close you were to him, but you didn’t think much of it. You were more focused on his words. Art was always sweet, you enjoyed that about him. “I’d probably be sitting somewhere with a book on how to coach tennis if you didn’t push me this far. You, you are incredible. I am just grateful.” 

He laughed, “Me? I might have pushed but you snapped the bone in your leg but you’re out here on the court again because you’ve been at it everyday.” He said, sincerity coating every one of his words. “It’s all you.” 

“It’s not all me-”

“With help and support, yes. But if you didn’t want to be here, you wouldn’t be. You want this, getting here to this point was all you.” He swayed just a little closer, not even on his own account just because being close felt right. He wanted you to feel that it was the truth. You looked up at him and he could see his words meant something as your eyes reflected him in the golden light of the early evening. He’d never seen just how gorgeous your eyes are in this light… And you were thinking the very same thing as your lower lip found itself between your teeth.

You and Art shared a thought before stepping back and it was the reminder that you were best friends. Just friends. Good friends. And nothing more. It was the first time it had crossed your mind, but the hundredth time on Art’s. Neither of you would risk it. 

The practice continued carefully. You had rest days. You’d been lunging on both legs at this point and your game was coming back around. You were off at a meeting with the Stanford tennis coach about returning properly in the fall, having the meeting so that you could make some exceptions. Art and Patrick sat in his dorm room, Art upside down on his bed, feet up on the wall, and Patrick in Art’s computer chair, spinning. The conversation had been about what to have for lunch when Patrick sparked something else up. “Are we meeting Y/N after her meeting?” He asked. 

Art tilted his head back, “Not sure. I could call her when it’s over if you want. Why?” 

“What do you mean why?” Patrick said, throwing the hacky sack he was fiddling with at Art’s head, hitting him in the face and chuckling. Art sat up, whipping the bean bag right back at him. “Oh come on-” He groaned. “I know you want to see her.” 

“I saw her earlier,” Art deflected, recognizing Patrick’s tone. 

“Yeah and?” 

“So you want to see her?” 

“Sure.” Patrick shrugged. Art shrugged back, pulling on a sweater, whenever Patrick was over, he turned the AC in the room way up. Wasn’t relevant, but the silence while Art was putting on his sweater was near unbearable. Art had the sweater half over his head when Patrick stuck his leg out and kicked him over. “I know you like her!” 

“Huh?” Art said, sitting up and fixing the sweater. Patrick pushed him right back over. 

“You like her! Y/N!” He said. He couldn’t take it anymore, the obviousness, how clear it was that you two liked each other. It was getting to be sickening. “I know you, I know you like her and you can’t tell me you don’t because I’ve waited this long for you to-” he shoved Art over again when Art came back up laughing- Patrick couldn’t help but laugh too, “-tell me!” 

There was no purpose in a lie. “Yeah, I guess so,” Art admit, bracing himself to be shoved again and instead, punching Patrick right in the stomach as revenge. Patrick sat back in his chair in pain. “But Patrick, she’s my best friend. And your friend. It’s tricky.” 

“I don’t think it’s that tricky, I mean, she likes you too and it’s obvious,” Patrick said through his stomach pain. 

Art laughed again, “She does not. I’m not her type. We’re just friends.” 

“You are entirely her type, her criteria is tall and normal build and that’s exactly you!” He gestured widely to Art. 

“She did not say that to me when I asked. She told me she doesn’t date guys in sports.” 

“She has two football exes, of course she doesn’t date jocks.” 

“She said sports.” 

“She meant jocks.” Patrick straightened out. “She likes you, Art. She pretty much admit it to me, you can’t tell me otherwise.” 

Art just blinked. Patrick wasn’t right- there was no way. He’d had it in his head that he wasn’t even thought of when it came to anything like that with you. But Patrick was usually right, no matter how much Art hated it. “No, she’s-” he groaned, putting his head in his hands and bending to put his head between his knees. “She’s one of my best friends this would fuck everything up.” 

Patrick shook his head, “It would be fine, you-”

Art groaned again, “And I tell her I like her and then what?” He brought his head up again. “She thinks I’ve just been here to fuck her? To get on her good side, to be with her through this just to get to her? I only started liking her, really liking her after the incident but I have no way to prove that! What would she think if all of a sudden I tell her and she actually doesn’t feel the way I do? This is so bad, Patrick.” 

Patrick just laughed at him, but Art was now able to think about these things aloud. So he was loud. “I promise you she likes you. She’s flirting with you all the time, she’s touchy, she cares a lot about you- more than me, I can attest. She wants you. And as for the injury part- Art, it’s been over a fucking year. She’s not going to think you’re playing the long game.” Art just sighed, but Patrick shoved him over again. “Don’t be a pussy!” 

“I’m not a-” he rolled his eyes and shoved Patrick right back, “-pussy. I just- she’s gorgeous and she’s friendly and she’s kind and caring and amazing and I don’t want to risk losing that just because I have some fucking ninth grade crush on her, you know?” 

He nodded back, “But it’s not. I’ve seen you with your ninth grade crush and you were a lot more horny about it. You like her. She likes you. I don’t care if you tell her now, but I don’t want you thinking she doesn’t want you too. She does, it’s painfully obvious. And I’ll admit she’s hot as fuck, so I’d hate to see you miss the opportunity!” Patrick explained, hands wildly gesturing. “Plus the tension is fucking awful to be around, I don’t know how you do it.” 

Neither did he. With it out in the air Art might have gushed a bit about you. Patrick had never seen him this way- he had so much to say about you and he ended up not calling you, just talking about you for what felt like forever to Patrick. But he didn’t mind. 

You continued to get better and better and it was amazing. You felt amazing about your progress. You got up in the morning and your knee only hurt if you hit it off something. And that was normal for most people, so you took pride in it. You hurried over to Art’s dorm in a tank top and shorts, your hair in two braids. It was early morning, you knew that, but you knocked on the door anyway. Art, woken, opened the door and squinted in the light from the hall. He was gorgeous, you thought. His hair wild and messy from bed and his shirt hiked up a little too high from sleep, leaving his waist and mid-line exposed. “Hey.” He said, opening the door for you to come in, fixing his shirt. 

“Hi,” you said, trying not to grin too wide. You couldn’t wait, you couldn’t. “I got cleared for a real game!” You squealed and you covered your mouth. You’d only found out late last night so you decided to wait until morning, but it really couldn’t wait. Art took a deep breath in but before he could say anything you were talking again. “It’s a small game. It’s local, it’s a tiny game but it’s a real one and it’s singles. I thought you’d want to know!”

“I- I do want to know, that’s amazing, oh my god!” He was almost as excited as you without the squealing and bouncing around. You were cute when you were excited. “A game is a game, it’s incredible, it’s- you- I-” He stopped himself. The excitement nearly got the best of him. But you were grinning ear to ear over tennis and that was all he cared about. “When is the game?” 

“It’s next Sunday,” You giggled. “You’ll come?” 

“Is that a question?” 

“Well, yeah,” You said, your hands on his forearms like they usually were when you were passionate. Almost like you were scared the passion would sweep you away if you didn’t hold onto something. He loved it. 

“No, I’ll be there. And on the sidelines if you let me.” 

“You’re absolutely not sitting in the stands again.” You said, chuckling. He grinned. 

And when the day of the game rolled around, your mother braided your hair in two french braids for you. She had ironed your entire outfit, even your socks. It was her nerves. But the most nervous one in the room at all times was you. You couldn’t eat, you had a hard time falling asleep, but you got up in the morning refreshed and heart pounding at the impending game. It meant a lot of action but you’d worked for this. It was a small local game at a local court with a few bleachers. It was hardly anything, you reminded yourself. This was your second chance just beginning. You slipped on your dark purple skort and your purple tank top and you made sure you had your lucky racket this time. 

Your mom drove you to the court much earlier than needed because you were so on edge and you sat in the hall between changerooms under the bleachers, just doing your breathing to maintain yourself. You were more than glad when Patrick and Art showed up. They didn’t ask if you were ready, they knew it. They just asked where you wanted to go for lunch after the game and debated over if a hot dog counted as a sandwich until your Stanford coach walked in. 

“You’re ready?” She asked, grin on her face. You blinked. 

“What are you…” This was a local game, not Stanford. You looked at Art and Patrick who were bad at hiding their smiles. 

Your coach nodded, “You’ve got this one.” She said. “Now hop to it, they’re waiting.” You looked back at Art and Patrick and they ushered you toward the door. It sounded a bit like a badly-engineered fan at first, going down the hall. Your stomach was already in knots. 

They came completely undone as your coach opened the door and the roar of the crowd was near-deafening. You blinked in the daylight, half-shocked by how loud it was before you realized that it was the sound of people. And as your eyes adjusted, you realized that the tennis court bleachers were absolutely packed full of people and they were loud, cheering. It was a local game, you expected families of the players but no, there must have been hundreds of people in the stands. On the side with no stands there were people lining the fences and you could see people beyond people. You turned, taking it all in as they were calling your name, calling your praise. You covered your mouth seeing your peers from Stanford in the front row, including the girl who had been hitting on Art. You recognized all of them and more. 

You looked at Art and Patrick who were behind you, unable to control their grins at this point and elbowing each other just a bit. Art was only looking at you. You felt so overwhelmed with gratitude, it rose in your stomach like the drop of a rollercoaster. “How did this- How- there’s so many,” You managed to say. 

Patrick beamed, dimples on display, “They’re here for you, if you couldn’t tell.” 

Art tugged one of your braids. “Patrick and I might have… posted about it on facebook. But it wasn’t an invite, just the general information of what had happened and that this was your first real game, so technically it was all you.” He smirked, but it couldn’t stay a smirk, just a really big smile. It matched yours. 

“It was not me,” You sighed exasperated, but more than happy. Scared. But happy. 

“If you didn’t want to be here, you wouldn’t be,” He repeated to you. His thumb grazed your cheek when he let go of your braid. You wanted to hug him, you wanted to jump for joy and scream your head off at how amazing this all was. But you got called to serve. 

The screams didn’t die down for any part of the game. You served and the game began and the girl across from you did not feel bad for you and that was clear. She was harsh and hardcore and violent with her swings but you hit almost all of them right back at her at a force and accuracy she couldn’t handle. Art and Patrick on the sidelines were into the game, cheering, calling out remarks on your moves. The moves they’d helped you get back. You were more than grateful with every point you scored. The crowd cheered for both you and your opponent but it was your name you heard screamed out in the crowd. 

It got a bit intense at times, you fell behind for a while but came back, then went back down again, then came back up. The halfway point you spent thanking your best friends profusely while they urged you to rest and have water. You got back on the court after that, swinging, hitting, forehand, backhand, pulling a few moves that required the use of the leg you’d broken and though the crowd held their breath, they were more than impressed. Patrick watched Art stop cheering and clapping for a second, noting the way he was so honed in on you, Patrick was sure a bomb could go off behind Art and he wouldn’t notice. Art was proud, that was what he felt. Proud to know you, proud to be your friend, proud to feel the way he did about you because he knew that you were amazing and resilient and so fucking strong. He had never met anyone like you. 

You locked eyes with him before your opponent served and he swore he felt something shift, really shift. When this game ended he had to tell you how he felt. He couldn’t go without it, he had to tell you. 

The last quarter got increasingly more intense. You fell once at a move that required the leg you’d broken. The crowd gasped and Art lunged to help you up but you did it yourself. And you got right back up. The fall hurt, but no more than it would have a regular person. That was something that drove your confidence way up. You couldn’t even hear the score anymore. You just knew that you were there and you were playing and you couldn’t have been happier, even if you lost. But the buzzer went off and the game was done and it was almost like you went deaf. The cheers stopped, though they really didn’t, in fact they roared louder than ever before and the crowd launched itself into standing, their hands over their heads, mouths open wide absolutely wild. 

You knew you’d won. But it wasn’t that important. You had one thought- find Art. 

And he wasn’t hard to find. He was there on the sidelines or rather one of the many people who surrounded you when you won. Your other friends, your parents, your coach, Patrick, the staff of the game, and apparently a few nurses who came to see their patient play. But it was Art you reached for. You grabbed his forearms, bracing yourself, your eyebrows furrowing, “I won?” You questioned over the noise, over the hands that congratulated you. 

 Art, biggest grin on his face, “You won.” He answered. And he didn’t have a second to himself before you reached up, cupping his face and kissing him hard. There was nothing else to do in the presence of the win but kiss him. And he kissed you back just as hard. It felt like all the noise and all of the world was sucked away for a moment when his hands fell on your waist, pulling you closer. 

It was a small game with big victories. 

The kiss only lasted a few seconds but it was strong, and the feeling of him lingered on your lips when you parted. Nobody was surprised that you kissed. Not your mom, not the nurses, they’d known. You looked at Art and tried not to smile but it was over the second he grinned. You couldn’t help but grin right back as Patrick came in for a crushing hug. 

“That was fucking incredible!” He told you. Your cheeks began to hurt from smiling as you hugged everyone over your win. Thing eventually died down after a while, people happily funnelling out, congratulating you. But at the end of things it was just you and Art. Patrick had headed out to bring the car around. 

You twisted your mouth to the side, “I can’t believe how many people turned up.” You sighed, content. 

“You have that pull.” Art shrugged. “You are probably my biggest tennis inspiration now.”

“Mhm? You want to be me when you grow up?” You teased, stepping closer. Art smirked, but once again he couldn’t maintain it, he just smiled down at you. “I’m your biggest inspiration…”

He wasn’t afraid to put his arms around your waist. “Maybe, maybe not. But you are amazing. And so fucking good at tennis, I’m scared for your real comeback.” He said. You laughed and it was gorgeous. The front part of your braid fell out and around your face. “You’re going to kick my ass.” 

Your smile was brighter than the mid-day sun. “You bet.” 

Your heart fluttered when he tucked your hair behind your ear again. You both heard the car horn as Patrick beeped from outside the court. “Can I kiss you?” Art asked, pushing your hair behind your ear. You nodded. And this time it was his hand on your jaw, his lips pressing against yours with all of his feeling. It was a kiss untouched by the rush of adrenaline and it was sweet. And it was slow. His lips grazing over yours between kisses, his breath minty from the gum he had just spit out two minutes ago. He held you close and the kiss was full of words yet to be said. You both couldn’t ignore anything anymore. It had been a long time coming. Patrick honked again, but it took you another second before you both pulled away with small smiles. Your hands gently holding his forearms, bracing yourself. 

[kairiscorner]

(reblogs are greatly appreciated, it helps get my content out there! if you guys like what you see, please reblog it too <:D)

ok but like imagine miguel finding your social media and like

miguel was never one to initiate having a social media account, he found it as a worthless distraction from such important work, it was an idle indulgence for attention-hungry people that he found no interest in. you did a whole lot of convincing to get him to sign up for an instagram, when every time you pitched the idea to him, he always declined before you could even finish.

it was only when lyla made an instagram account for miguel by your request that he was finally introduced to the world of social media. "i still believe it was because you wanted an instagram." miguel muttered as lyla kept a tab open, scrolling and liking through the spider people in the spider society's posts. "so what if i did? you need it anyway." she responded as miguel side-eyed her. "what would i even need it for?" "stalking them!" lyla said cheerily, pertaining to you, who kept urging miguel to get social media.

"i would neve–" miguel was about to speak up, but his monitor's display was replaced by the image of your instagram's profile. "they went on vacation, right? i'm betting they posted a lot of photos about it. according to my statistics, they post every 25 minutes on the–" "i'm not looking through this." miguel said as he tried exiting the tab, but lyla had it locked on his monitor. "just give in, mig." she said with a teasing tone as miguel grumbled.

reluctantly, miguel did as the AI assistant said, and scrolled through your account. he scrolled through picture after picture, and though he enjoyed seeing these pictures of you... he was unsure of what exactly he was supposed to do. "so what do i do, just keep scrolling?" "you hit that little heart icon, see what happens." lyla suggested, and miguel did as he was told. "...okay, what now?" he asked her, confused. "wait for it..."

suddenly, a message appeared in miguel's inbox. lyla opened it for him, and it was from you. "YOU GOT INSTA??????" was your message to him, with little screaming cat emojis following the message. lyla teased miguel as he typed out his reply. "i did." he messaged, while you replied almost immediately. "and i see you liked my pic <3" "i did?" "yeah, i'm glad you like what you saw :>" "no problem and they really were adorable to look at."

"'adorable'? really?" lyla asked him, unimpressed as miguel's face got all flustered. "mind your business." he snapped back as he got a reply from you. "i'll be the first one to like all your pics, boss (｡•̀ᴗ-)✧" miguel chuckled to himself a little when he saw that kaomoji in your message and smiled as he thought of you waiting for him to post something for you to like.

the sound of a camera shutter was heard next to miguel as lyla went on her end of miguel's instagram and posted a photo of miguel smiling widely and getting all flustered in the face. your username was tagged in the caption as lyla hit 'post', and soon... miguel got the notification: you liked his photo. miguel's eyes widened at two things: you liked his photo, he posted a photo? miguel turned to face lyla as she grinned, folded her arms over her chest and mouthed him a 'nailed it' before she logged off.

miguel wasn't too mad about it, he could figure out how to delete it on his own, but a part of him didn't want to. the fact you liked it... it sent a warmth through his whole body and made him smile a little wider. maybe he'd keep this whole social media thing going, it wouldn't hurt, right?

[vhstown]

miles away

— 1610!miles morales x gn!reader

summary: Long distance is hard — even more so when your boyfriend's mom is Rio Morales.

warnings: fluff, spanish that is hopefully right??? (pls feel free to correct if not)

word count: 2k

a/n: worst eboy known to man. another miles one-shot i thought of way too late at night lmao my boy miles is STRUGGLING somewhat edited

convention boy is online.

Miles was active: the cute boy you'd met at a Brooklyn science con last year and had been talking to for the past few months — your boyfriend? He might as well be, if it weren't for the absurd distance between you two. You almost missed the call icon with how fast you tapped it, buzzing with anticipation at the thought of speaking to him again; you hadn't talked properly in so long you almost thought he changed numbers.

Riiiiiing... Riiiiiing...

You stared at your own reflection, which was frowning back at you as the call rang for longer than usual. "Convention boy" (you'd definitely have to change that soon) was probably just busy, but your day had been infinitely boring, and you really wanted to talk to him. The both of you had chatted pretty much every day after you left Brooklyn, and despite the time difference, your calls went on for hours, making conversation about school, art, the science convention you were both forced to go to, how you almost got run over for the hundredth time — nothing and everything.

Miles probably knew more about you than your actual friends. You had jokes that nobody would be able to understand even if you tried explaining them, thousands pictures saved of each other, lots of random games you played together (that you always seemed to win somehow) and so many messages where you were flirting like you were in a middle school relationship; embarrassment was a foreign concept in your chat logs. The only thing you didn't have was... Miles himself.

He was in Brooklyn, probably the most exciting place right now. Maybe it was for the fact that Brooklyn had Spider-Man, or you were getting sick of living with your parents. Either way, you were glad you were getting out of here soon; your parents hadn't told you much, but you knew you were going to New York for school. That meant you'd be closer to Miles. Maybe you could even meet up — if Miles picked up, that is.

Beep, beep, beep!

The line went dead, and you were left staring at your own string of messages. They were read, but there was no response; he was ignoring you. Did he just... give up on you, or something? Was he no longer interested? Surely not... Should you try calling again?

He was offline now, and you flopped on your bed with a groan. It had been a whole week since you'd even texted — surely he'd let you know if something was up? It was late in New York right now, but that hadn't stopped him before. Maybe you'd try again tomorrow; he couldn't be available for you all the time.

That didn't stop you from being petty, though.

Missed voice call at 10:29PM

k Read 10:31PM

You gritted your teeth when you saw that it had been read, stopping yourself from typing another text as you rolled on your side, throwing your phone out of sight. Maybe you should ghost him — okay, you were definitely just being petty. He could still have a reason for being radio silent for so long that you just didn't know about.

The lack of his voice or even just a "hey" made you miss him, though, and the pillow you held just made your arms feel more empty than usual. You were being a little unreasonable, but you hadn't exactly had the best week. Maybe you should leave his contact name as it was, because right now it seemed like he didn't want to be anything more than some kid you met at a convention. And you thought he was supposed to be your boyfriend—

Bzzzzzt! Bzzzzzt! You reached for your phone, a preview of your own face coming up on screen. "convention boy" — he was video calling you? That was weird; as much as you did video call, he was always reluctant to turn his camera on, and he never started them. He was always "on a run" or on low battery or something; maybe he wasn't today? You realised you'd been staring at your own face for too long, scrambling to fix yourself up a little and accept the call before you missed it.

Miles' face appeared on screen; he had his headphones on, brows drawn together and eyes fixed somewhere else for a moment, before he looked back at his phone. He gave you the tiniest wave and that wonky smile that always made your stomach flip.

"Hey," you muttered, hating the fact that you probably didn't sound as mad as you wanted to be. "What's up with you? You okay?"

Miles just nodded silently, giving you another smile that looked more like a grimace before glancing off to the side again. Weird.

"...Are you sure?" you asked again, raising an eyebrow at him. Whatever Miles was trying to convince you of was completely thrown out the window, his lips pressing together in debate before he mouthed something. You couldn't make it out.

"Uh, what?" You squinted at the screen, your brows drew together even more in confusion.

"I'm GROUNDED," he mouthed again, his own brows raising to emphasise what he was trying to say. You had to bite your lip to stop yourself from laughing.

"You're GROUNDED?" you mouthed back, trying to keep the teasing smile from spreading across your face.

It didn't help, Miles' eye twitching a little in embarrassment as he mouthed back "YES!"

"So you're like, grounded grounded?" you continued to mouth, making Miles narrow his eyes at you. "Like, actually grounded?"

He didn't seem to entertain your mockery, just crossing his arms at you and moving away on his chair. His phone appeared to be propped up on his desk, and you caught a glimpse of his textbooks in the corner.

You gave up, rolling your eyes. "Fine, fine, but you can't like, speak at all?"

He shook his head, before you heard his door creaking open. The camera immediately went black as he shoved his phone underneath the textbooks before you had a chance to say anything.

"Mijo, what are you still doing up?" You could recognise the voice as his mom's. Oh boy.

"Uh, just studyin', ma." You could tell he was lying by the way he was speaking, but you stayed silent despite his headphones, hoping his mother didn't catch on.

"You better be studying Español, then." Miles laughed awkwardly in response, but you couldn't tell if it was a joke or a threat. He'd only ever referred to you as a "friend" to his mom, so you turned off your camera just in case, hoping Miles had some God to pray to in the mean time.

"Yeah, uh, estoy estudiado—"

"Estudiando", she corrected, with rapid execution. You decided she was scarier in Spanish, and Miles seemed to as well, murmuring something in apology you couldn't catch.

You decided to look through your notifications while Miles was keeping his mom at bay to see that he actually had texted you back after you sent that very creative message.

sry im grounded

i dint mean 2 ingore u

dnt be mad pls :(

He must've resorted to calling you. At least your pettiness had worked.

"Estoy estudiando..." (I'm studying...) you heard Miles continue carefully. "And tired, so I'll go to bed soon."

"That light better be off, niño," (boy) she replied, and you heard the door faintly creak again. A few moments passed before you heard Miles' chair move and the door very quietly shutting all the way before he retrieved his phone and looked down at it from his lap. You had no idea what on Earth Miles had done to get grounded, but the way his mom spoke to him and the worried expression he was wearing right now didn't tell you anything good.

Miles looked back at his door for a second longer before picking up his phone, hesitantly preparing to say something. If it weren't for your own tension, you would've probably laughed at the way his face looked from that angle.

"Why's your camera off?" you heard him whisper, his worried expression still stuck in place.

"Do you really need to see my face?" You decided to tease anyway, despite his predicament, getting a sigh out of him.

"Ba—" He winced as he caught himself, eyes automatically trailing to his door again. Miles was lucky he couldn't see your amused grin. Baby? Babe? Hopefully not basta—

"Please?" he mouthed, almost looking hurt.

You turned your camera on so quickly it was almost embarrassing. You also prayed it was dark enough for him not to see the blush burning away at your cheeks; you just couldn't say no when he looked at you like that.

"Thank you," he nearly whispered. He let out another breath, shaking his head and smiling before mouthing something you couldn't make out.

"Huh?" you asked way too many times as he tried to mumble it a little louder. Both of you were too stubborn to end the call, so it was like playing charades, but with someone who really sucked at charades. He was pointing to his face, and then at you, and then trying to draw it out in the air.

"Just text me," you sighed, letting out a slight chuckle at his defeated expression.

you look cute

Your stomach flipped, cheeks tingling with warmth again as you stared at the text message for far too long, almost forgetting Miles was in the corner of your screen.

"...Thanks, you too," you mumbled out, hoping you didn't sound too weird over the call. "You sure you don't wanna just text...?"

na

wnt2 see ur face

n hear u speak

A part of you wanted to decline right now out of sheer self respect; you were so hot in the face by his... simple words that the darkness of your room definitely couldn't hide how flustered you were.

"Fine," you murmured, trying to keep your eyes on the screen as he watched you. "Can't you at least try to text properly, though?"

Miles frowned, and you could hear the gentle tap of his fingers on the screen as another text followed.

tryin 2 keep up w u gimme a break

The two of you shared a smile before you talked for a bit through this awkward system. It was good enough for now; at least Miles didn't have to watch his back so often.

ur cute

"You already said that..."

cutie

"Dude." Miles seemed to forget you could see him, sporting the biggest, stupidest smile on his face as he scrambled to keep texting you.

dont call me dude

my pride

thought we were passed that

past*

convention boy is typing...

hol on gank is txting me

"Gank...?"

romm mmate

You decided to let it be, watching Miles' cheeks puff with air as he switched over to text his "romm mmate". It was taking a little long and you didn't want to start missing him when he was right in front of you (albeit just on your screen) so you decided to talk anyway.

"Uh, there's something I wanted to tell you," you started, and Miles' eyes flicked upwards for a second, kind of like if you were actually sat opposite him.

"I'm moving states soon — for school." He raised an eyebrow, the tapping of his fingers slowing down a little. "New York. I don't know where exactly, but I should be getting an email soon? I was thinking maybe we could like... meet."

Miles stopped texting entirely, eyes wide as a grin spread across his face.

"After you get uh, un-grounded."

The smile faded just as fast. His eyes fell in defeat, lips twisting awkwardly as he got back to texting "Gank".

"I haven't checked my emails in a while actually, let me see..."

You scrolled through your email— well, it was a shared email (an email you often deleted a lot of school-related stuff from.) An email you'd missed ages ago caught your eye; you assumed it was from the school you were supposed to go to, the sender titled "Ms. Weber."

"We would like you welcome you with open arms to our academy..." The email bored you with its formalities and packing list and many many flourished attachments. You didn't read through it properly — most likely because you didn't want to face the fact that you might actually miss your home here.

What caught your attention, though, was the school name; it was in Brooklyn. Miles was in Brooklyn.

"Miles — the school's in Brooklyn, that's even better!" You couldn't hide your giddy smile, Miles' eyebrows raising in interest as so many thoughts swirled through your head. You could actually meet up again. Maybe you could even go on dates that weren't to do with science conventions. Maybe you could actually be a couple.

Bzzt! Miles' text appeared at the top of your screen.

what school is it?

"Uh..." You paused, unintentionally dramatically as you checked the name again. "Brooklyn Visions Academy."

"WHAT?!"

Miles' mouth went agape as you saw him roll back on his chair, bringing his face towards the camera to look at you almost hysterically. You were about to ask why he was so taken aback before—

"¡MILES! ¡¿CON QUIÉN ESTÁS HABLANDO TAN TARDE?!" (WHO ARE YOU TALKING TO THIS LATE?!)

Maybe your meet-up would have to wait a little longer.

🕸️🔭🎧

omg this was ... longer than expected anyways i could not get this idea out of my head haha i wrote it partly for myself and my friend chewy (who helped me w the summary ily i suck at em) and now its for u! hope u enjoyed (also if the spanish is weird pls correct i literally take spanish as a subject but i suck)

reblogs appreciated as always i get so happy when ppl reblog lol <3 catch the rest of my atsv stuff here!

[seeingivy]

enchanted 

satoru gojo x f!reader 

**part of my debut concert event 

**part one of this fic here icymi (read before or its kinda confusing)

**part of my satoru as taylor swift songs series

content: satoru and your parents are annoying, like in the last part, readers mom just says a bunch of mean shit (including comments on body image, etc), gojo being defensive of his wife but also corny asf, babies megumi + tsumiki having lil nightmares and wanting to sleep w their parents 

an: KING OF MY HEART IS ONE OF MY FAV FICS EVER. so glad the pookie who requested this asked for it bc I was so excited writing it. also corny lil enchanted lyrics are at the end. mister satoru gojo is enchanted to meet you and ur lil babies megumi and tsumiki just love you

- 

“Dr. L/N?” 

You look up from the computer, breaking away from your sheer focus of charting all the patients you just saw in the past hour (nine patients - which sounds mediocre, but in actuality is insanity on earth). 

Because when they’re sick, their parents ask a lot of questions. Which you understand and always honor - but that means you’re always running on a back log, running from one room to the next with no breaks in between. Satoru thinks that you’ll collapse on the floor one day while doing it. And you tell him that he’s praying on your downfall. 

“Yes, Sarah? What’s up?” 

“Your husband’s here to have lunch with you.” 

“Ah. I still haven’t caught up on my charting and I really need to-” 

You feel a hand on your shoulder, your senior advisor, Dr. Aoki, giving you a warm smile. She’s almost thirty years your senior - soft wrinkles and grey patches spread throughout her hair. 

And she really, really loves Satoru. Which you know because she doesn’t shut up about him, always going on about how sweet he is. 

“Go. Have lunch with your husband. I’ll finish off for you.” 

“Ah. Dr. Aoki, I can’t let you. Plus, you don’t even know-” 

“You take detailed notes. And I’m old, but I’m sure I can figure it out. Now go eat lunch with your sweet husband before I do it for you.” 

You smile, giving her hand a squeeze, before dragging your feet to the breakroom - suddenly hyperaware of the tension in the back of your knees, your shoulders, and the back of your eyes. Satoru’s waiting for you at the center table - two glass bento boxes and two iced coffee’s sitting on the table. 

He’s scrolling aimlessly on his phone and you’re more than positive that he’s playing Cut the Rope. A game Megumi begged him to download, but now he plays more than Megumi. Which just pisses Megumi off, because Satoru plays so far ahead in the game that Megumi can’t even remember which level it was he stopped at. 

You look down at the cup of iced coffee, Satoru’s handwriting inscribed on the side. 

pookie &lt;;3 

Bastard. He knows you hate it when you call him that.

Satoru looks up and smacks his phone down at the table as you take his side, placing your head flat against the clear, white table. Satoru immediately directs his hand to the back of your hair, his fingers soothing into the tense muscles in the back of your neck. 

“Hello my little workaholic.” 

“Good afternoon my little pain in the ass.” 

He laughs, lifting your head up as he opens up the boxes, sliding forward the food he made and sticking the fork in your hand. You look down at the line up - egg fried rice and a wild assortments of fruits and vegetables on the side. They’re all cut into sweet little shapes - the cucumbers in hearts, the strawberries in flowers. 

Right. You had tasked Satoru with making Megumi and Tsumiki’s lunches for one week when you were on the night call. When you had returned, all he did was scold you for making very boring lunches for Megumi and Tsumiki. 

Granted, you thought they weren’t half bad. You always made sure to give them a little treat - strawberry gummies for Tsumiki and sour candy for Megumi - and left sweet little notes in their lunch boxes, saying you were proud of them, that Megumi was going to do great on his presentation, and that Tsumiki looked pretty today. 

Satoru resolved the situation by heading to the store and buying the special little cutouts, shiny new metal tin boxes for Megumi and Tsumiki, and even glittery stationery to leave them both notes. 

Yeah and he never let you make their lunch again. He’d often drop by to the office to eat with you, since he knew that was the only time you would eat anything, and bring you by the third box he arranged with theirs in the morning. 

“Hard day, my love?” 

“Yeah, Satoru. And it’s not even over yet.” 

He places the fork in your hand again, instructing you to eat as you keep talking, tasking himself with mixing up the layers of the coffee he brought you. 

“What’s the point of working so hard? Didn’t you marry me for my money?” 

“Well, obviously but-”

“Hey!” 

“What?” 

“That’s so rude to admit. You should keep that type of stuff to yourself.” 

“Okay, Satoru. You married me as a cover for your girlfriend and-”

“Stop throwing that in my face! So you have one girlfriend and suddenly you’re the bad-” 

“It is when you’re married!” 

You both laugh, Satoru ruffling your hair, as he opens up the second box, sliding it towards you as you keep eating. 

“You don’t want, Toru?” 

“No. They’re both for you. You really do work too hard, Y/N.” 

“Well. Our parents could cut us off - we don’t exactly do everything they want. And I want to be self sufficient and be a good role model for-” 

“Tsumiki and Megumi. I know, my love. I’m just saying.” 

You lean into Satoru’s touch, placing your aching head against his shoulder as he leans over, pressing a kiss to the top of your forehead. You finish off your own box (and Satoru’s) and down your iced coffee (and half of Satoru’s, before he starts scolding you about healthy caffeine intakes). 

He gives you a sweet kiss goodbye, giving soft smiles to the rest of your coworkers, as you buckle in for the rest of your shift. 

- 

“Satoru.” 

“Hm.” 

“Look at what my mom texted me.” 

He untangles himself from his position - which is just using you as a third pillow - and peaks his head up, squinting his eyes at your phone in the dark. 

Your mom, heinous bitch she is, sent you a text reminding you about all the things you need to do for your dinner with the Gojo’s tomorrow. 

Wear a dress. Make sure it’s appropriate, but enough to keep a guy like Satoru interested. You don’t want your husband running off just because you’re boring him. 

Make sure to wear the wedding ring Satoru gave you, not the engagement. You’re going to look tacky otherwise. 

Fresh flowers, that haven’t bloomed yet. Don’t embarrass me by bringing flowers that’ll die in a day. 

And please don’t leave your hair fully down. It washes you out. 

Satoru glares at the camera, looking up at your face. He finds it hard to read you in situations like this. Because in all honesty, he knows that you hate your parents. But he doesn’t miss the way you act differently when it comes to them. 

Because when you’re mad at Satoru for not picking up Tsumiki on time or at Megumi for not telling you he had a project due tomorrow until nine pm, you get a reasonable amount of mad. Pink in the cheeks, a little bit of scolding, followed by fixing the problem and talking it out. 

But with them you, you don’t really talk about it. And he’s not sure if it’s because he’s not privy to the conversations that you have with them, but for some reason, he thinks there aren’t any. And that you just take it, when it’s them. 

Which he understands. Too well. That’s part of the reason he’s with you, in this bed right now. Cuddled up in your arms, pressing lazy kisses around your shoulder. 

Because his parents asked you to marry him. Because you told him you didn’t mind if he kept his own life outside of it, that you were just doing what you had to do. 

And now that he…loves you, parts of it all make him sad. That you’d take someone telling you what to do - telling you that you don’t look good with your hair down when you look good all the time and that you’re tacky or boring or- 

“Hey. Y/N.” 

“Hm, Satoru?” 

“You know I…love you right? For real?” 

“Yeah. You told me.” 

“But like, for real, okay? Not just because we’re…married or whatever. I actually really, really love you. You’re very pretty and you’re always so good with Megumi and Tsumiki and you’re so good at your job and-” 

You stop him in his tracks by cupping his face in his ands, quirking your head to the side. You lean down and peck at his lips, pressing your fingers into his dimples. 

“I love you too, Satoru but what’s this about?” 

He frowns, placing his head back in your lap as you start running your hands through his white locks of hair, soft to the touch. You can feel his cheeks are warm from his face lying against your bare legs and you can’t help but smile at the fact that he’s blushing. Even after one year of marriage (and eight months of real marriage), he’s still nervous around you. 

“I don’t know. Your mom’s just stupid. You’re not boring or tacky and you look very pretty with your hair down.” 

“Thank you, Toru. For getting so offended on my behalf. But I don’t care, let’s go to bed, yeah?” 

He nods, shuffling the sheets around you as he sprawls across the bed. One thing about Satoru, he has to touch you when he’s sleeping. 

Not in the…dirty way. It could be the coldest night of the year and he has his entire body weight on you, treating you like a stuffed animal he was sleeping with. Or it’s the hottest night of the year and he’s as far away as he can be from you - just placing his hand on your forearm or tangling one of his legs with yours. 

Touchy. Even when he’s asleep. 

After not even five minutes of sleep, you feel a tapping on your nose, your features crinkling up from the sensation. 

“Toru. Quit tickling me.” 

He murmurs back incoherently, tangling around in the sheets as a response. Right. Satoru also sleeps like the walking dead. And he can and will sleep anywhere and everywhere, almost instantly. It’s actually a talent. 

“Um. That wasn’t him.” 

You flutter your eyes open to find Megumi, standing awkwardly at your side. You immediately sit up, clicking on the light as Satoru starts groaning behind you, smacking his hand on the bed to get you to turn the light off. You look over at the clock and realize it’s well past three, meaning Megumi should have been asleep hours ago. 

“Megs. You okay?” 

“Uh, yeah. But Tsumiki, she’s like crying a lot. Usually, what I do works but she just won’t stop.” 

You shake Satoru at your side, his eyes finally fluttering open as he looks at you and Megumi in confusion. 

“Megumi-chan. You better be interrupting our sleep for something good.” 

“Satoru, stop it. Go get Tsumiki. Now. I think she’s crying.” 

Satoru immediately stands up, stalking out of the room as you turn back to Megumi, taking his tiny hands in yours. He looks like he usually does - blank expression on his face, avoiding eye contact, tiredness on his face. 

You wrap one of your hands around his cheek and squeeze, feeling his skin warm under your touch. 

“What do you think happened, Megs?” 

“She had a bad dream. Usually, we kind of just stay with each other till it stops. But, it didn’t really work.” 

“Have you had them while you were here? Or her?” 

“Yeah sometimes.” 

You can feel your heart clench in your chest and you immediately wrap Megumi in your arms, brushing your hands through his soft, black hair. You can still smell the shampoo in his hair from earlier, the fresh smell springing into your nose. They should be coming to you. Not each other. Megumi’s only five. And she’s just seven. 

“Megumi. You know you can come to us about that stuff. Both of you. And you should be because we know how to help you and-” 

You stop talking as Satoru walks into the room, craning your head to the side to survey the situation. Satoru’s carrying Tsumiki in his arms, something he doesn’t do very often, and you can hear her soft sniffles as he places her on the bed between you, rubbing circles into her back. 

You take the cup of water on the nightstand (that Satoru leaves out for you everyday so you can stay hydrated) and hand it to her, directing her to calm her breaths. She’s shaking so hard and her eyes are so pink that she can barely hold the glass, Satoru taking it from her hands and tilting her head up so she can drink it. 

You look over at Megumi, his eyes twitching as he looks at Tsumiki, and you direct him to sit on the bed next to you, right next to Tsumiki and in between you and Satoru. 

You never really know what to do in situations like this. And neither does Satoru. I mean hell, you’re only twenty-three and Satoru’s only twenty-four. And they haven’t been your kids for too long. 

Other parents, the ones who come into your practice, talk about how they know somethings wrong. They can feel it in their gut. Their parental instinct. But you don’t have any of that, especially not with Tsumiki and Megumi. 

And you know it’s not something you can learn and something that just comes from being their parents, but you sincerely wish it was. Because Tsumiki and Megumi deserve to have someone who can read them like that, who knows what’s wrong with them, and talks for them when they don’t know how. And-

Satoru opens up his arms, with Tsumiki crawls into his lap and curls herself up against his chest. She looks so small, barely covering his entire frame as she hiccups into his chest, pushing the back of her hand against his eyes. 

Satoru beckons Megumi to join her and he awkwardly crawls up, the two of them nestled in Satoru’s arms. Maybe you spoke too soon. Because it always seems like Satoru knows what he’s doing. 

“You too, goofy.” 

You roll your eyes as you scoot closer to them, laying your head against Satoru’s shoulders as you start running your hands through Tsumiki’s hair, rubbing soft circles into the small of her back like Satoru was earlier. 

“Hi Miki.” 

“H-hi Y/N.” 

“How you feeling, sweet girl?” 

“O-okay.” 

You soften your hands in her hair, focusing on braiding the ends as you talk, the three of them hanging on to every word you say. 

“Miki, Megs. I know you’ve…been together for a long time. Before me and Satoru came around. And I’m sure you have your own ways of…being there for each other. But, you can let us be there for you too, you know?” 

You feel Tsumiki stiffen under your touch and you pull back, holding the braid in place on your head. 

“I don’t mean to let each other go. You’re siblings and that’s one of the most important relationships you can have. But just know, Satoru and I can be smart sometimes. Well, I can. I don’t really know about him.” 

“Hey.” 

Tsumiki and Megumi laugh, which stops Satoru’s protests all together. It’s working. And Satoru’s jealous of you, because as always, you know the right thing to say. To get them to smile again, tell you what’s wrong. And sure, you’ve always had that effect on Satoru but he loves that you can do it with them too. You’ve clearly got this parenting thing more figured out than him, he thinks. 

“But, we can help you too, you know? I’m a big girl. I can deal with whatever you give me.” 

Tsumiki turns to the side, crawling out of Satoru’s lap as she crawls into yours, squeezing herself in your arms. 

“Th-thanks, Y/N. But maybe not right now?” 

“Whenever you want, okay? Let’s just go to bed now, it’s late.” 

“Can I sleep with you, Y/N? And Satoru?” 

Satoru leans forward, squeezing Tsumiki’s hand in hers as he nods, opening up the covers for her. Megumi awkwardly looks between you and Satoru and you catch on fast, signaling for him to join you under the covers as well. The four of you are squished together, Tsumiki clinging on to you and Megumi clinging on to Satoru. 

They both fall asleep fast and you give a weary look to Satoru in the dark, which he returns with a smile. 

- 

You hate leaving at a time like this. And you hate your parents and even Gojo’s parents for making you come to a stupid dinner like this. 

Your kids, that they don’t know about, need you. You had tried your best to make Tsumiki comfortable, making her a stack of warm, strawberry pancakes and letting her pick what you guys ate for lunch. 

And when you had to leave her with Nanami and Shoko to go see the Gojo’s, you swear you could feel your heart clench at the thought of leaving her. And Megumi. And of the two of them being uncomfortable without you there. 

You could tell from the look in Satoru’s eyes that he shared your sentiments, his gaze weary as he said goodbye, lingering by the door until you two really had to leave. And then you both made your trek to the Gojo Estate. 

And god do you hate it here. In all but ten minutes of dinner, your mother, assfucking clown she was, had already found ten different things to pick on. 

Your hair has split ends, you should cut it. 

You should slow down on the food. 

You could have worn a more flattering color. 

Every spiky comment she makes, Satoru squeezes his hand in yours under the table, grounding you in the moment. If it wasn’t for him and the soft looks he was giving you every few minutes, you’re sure you would have broken the centerpiece in the middle of the table by now. 

“Say, Y/N, Satoru.” 

You look up to find Mr. Gojo beaming at you, the smile not meeting his eyes. You can feel Satoru’s hand tense in yours under the table and you know it’s your turn to protect him from his dad. 

“Did you start trying for kids?” 

“Dad.” 

“What, Satoru? It’s an important question. You guys have been married for a year now and surely there’s no better time than now to start trying.” 

You can feel your mouth dry at the thought. Kids. Kids of your own. Like, a crying, pooping baby - half parts you and half parts Satoru. 

How in the world could they think you were ready for that? Because in all honesty, Satoru’s your husband in name but he feels like your boyfriend. 

You’ve been together for eight months. You haven’t gone on a vacation together or met his college best friend and you don’t know what his favorite smoothie flavor is or what the first car he drove was and they want you to start popping out kids? 

You and Satoru aren’t ready for kids. And really, you already have two kids. That need you right now. And you have all the time in the world to have more and you really, really just like things the way they are. For now, and-

“They’ll get working on it.” 

You feel your eyes boggle out of your head as you crane your neck to look at your mom, a self-assured smile placed on her face. She can’t really be serious, can she? 

“Oh, how sweet! A grandchild. Oh, I do hope it’s a boy. So we can pass on the Gojo name and all.” 

It’s Satoru’s turn to glare at his mother and you’re sure that he has the same bitter taste in his mouth as you. Sure, they were the reason you guys got married but they had no right to treat you guys like this. Like you were put together to make some offspring for them to fawn over. 

“Although, I wouldn’t mind a girl. Boys can be rowdy and insensitive.” says Mr. Gojo, a matter-of-fact tone in his words. 

“That’s not true. Boys can be sensitive too. You just have to raise them right.” you respond, muttering the words under your breath. 

Megumi’s sweet and sensitive. He always avoids stomping on flowers growing out of the cracks of the cement and he always writes cards for his teachers on holiday’s and always says please and thank you after every little thing you and Satoru do for him, even if it is under his breath. 

“Well, I hope it’s a boy. Girls come with attitude.” your dad responds, the implication in his tone clear. 

“No daughter of ours would take back-handed comments like that.” 

Because Tsumiki’s never done that. Because Satoru remembers the day someone tried to pick on her in her class and all she did was calmly respond. Stand her ground, surely but firmly. Something he’s sure that she learned from you. And to think someone could dismiss that off as attitude is so fucking-

You squeeze Satoru’s hand under the table, signaling him to stop. Because he’s being rude. Because he shouldn’t talk back to your father even if he’s wrong and-

“Satoru. Stop.” you whisper, awkwardly eyeing the four of them as he deflates. 

The four of you awkwardly sit in silence, the forks clicking against the plates. Satoru’s crushing your hand into oblivion under the table and you can see that he’s agitated from the way his shoulders are all scrunched up. And when his dad talks next, he really can’t hold it in anymore. 

“Satoru, son. All you have to do take her to bed one time to pass on the Gojo na-” 

Satoru smacks his fist against the table, the glassware making a loud noise against the surface. You look over to find Satoru smoldering, the way he often did when he was near his dad. 

“Don’t talk about my wife like that. She’s not some thing for you to use. You can try that shit on anyone else but you know damn well I’m not letting you do it to her.”

Mrs. Gojo’s features scrunch up in frustration, a pinched look on her face as she starts massaging the bridge of her nose. Satoru stands up, pulling you up with him as he stomps out, dragging you out with him. 

- 

You two drive in silence the entire way home. Satoru’s still smoldering in his drivers seat, jaw tight against his skin as he clenches his fists on the steering wheel, knuckles going white. And you’re unsure of what you can say to him to ease it, make him feel better. 

He parks the car in the driveway, leaning his head against the seat to look up through the sunroof, the stars glittering in the sky above you. He makes no motions to get out of the car, the engine and lights still turned on despite the fact that you and Satoru were home. 

“Y/N.” 

“Hm, Satoru?” 

“You-you okay?” 

“What? Yeah. Are you?” 

He doesn’t respond and instead loosens his tie, the fabric hanging from the sides of his collar. 

“I just…hate them. So much. Why would we rush having a child when we aren’t ready? And who are they to talk about you like that? Like all I keep you around for is to bear my children.” 

You’re not sure what to say so you snake your hand into his, leaning over the glove box to lean onto his shoulder. You can feel him deflate under you, leaning his head on top of yours as he presses his hand against your waist, his hands rubbing back and forth on the fabric. 

“Satoru.” 

“Yeah, love?” 

“You feel like my boyfriend, right now. I know you’re my husband but…we’ve only been together for eight months. And I know it’s weird to say but…I’d like to have a kid with you someday just…not now.” 

His hand comes up, angling your face up so you’re looking at him, a big smile spread across his face. You can feel your cheeks burning from the admission and you clench your eyes shut to avoid seeing the teasing look on Satoru’s face. 

“Y/N. You’d want to have kids with me?” 

You nod and Satoru’s face splits into a big smile, his hands shaking in yours. 

“Well, yeah. It would be cute, when the time is right. Megumi and Tsumiki can have a little sibling and it’ll be like…a little us. 

“A little us?” 

“Your nose, my eyes, hopefully all of my looks and none of your annoyingness.” 

“You’re so sweet, Y/N. I don’t know how I ever lucked out with such a charming girl like you.” he responds, sarcasm dripping from his voice. You laugh in response, beaming at him as you talk on. 

“I love you, Satoru. And I’d love to have kids with you but we’re just…we already have two kids and I think they need us right now. They haven’t opened up yet and-” 

“I know, sweet. I agree. Trust me, I’d love nothing more than putting a baby in your right here, right now in this car but-” 

“Pervert.” 

“Why are you so rude? Every word is like a bullet wound in my chest.” 

You lean over, pressing a kiss to his chest as you lean back and glare at him. He smiles at you, a sweet look on his face. 

“What was that for?” 

“You said bullet wound in your chest. I was just kissing your ego better.” 

He leans forward, cupping your face as he kisses you, hanging off the ends of your lips as he squeezes his face in your hands. He pulls apart, pressing kisses all over your face as he talks, his words making your cheeks burn. 

“You’re so-” 

Kiss. 

“Damn cute.” 

Kiss. 

“I hate you sometimes.” 

Kiss. 

“When we have kids, I hope they’re all like you. Pretty eyes, soft hair, snarky attitude. She’ll be so easy to love, all goofy and idiotic like you.” 

“She, Satoru?” 

“Oh, she’s totally going to be a girl. My three girls. You, Tsumiki, and her.” 

“Sounds like you have it all planned out already?” 

“Well, I’m waiting. For when you’re ready and I’m ready and all that. But yeah. I’ve already seen how our entire life is going to play out. You and I are going to grow old together. Sick it to our parents. Have the type of love kids dream about. All that lovey-dovey stuff.” 

You and Satoru, hands pressed together, pad into the dark of the house, slowly climbing up the stairs. When you amble into your bed room, you can hear soft snores in your bed - Tsumiki and Megumi fast asleep under your sheets. There’s a tiny little sticky-note pressed to the light switch, which you and Satoru both squint at. 

They want to sleep with "their parents”. Their words, not ours. - Shoko 

You and Satoru quickly peel out of your clothes and climb under the sheets - Satoru leaning over to press a kiss to all three of your heads before fluttering his own eyes shut. 

And you hate to say it, because all in all the night wasn’t perfect, but you really, really don’t want to let it go. Every part of this night is…sparkling in your mind. Satoru defending you, telling you that he loves you, that he wants to have kids with you. You-

You count yourself lucky. That you don’t have to wonder if Satoru is in love with someone else or what he thinks about you or any other thing. 

Because you know the person he’s waiting on is you. 

- 

the satoru as taylor swift songs series masterlist

taglist: @porridgesblog @platrom @k0z3me @kayleegomez @yihona-san06 @bsenpai @sweetenertea @skzismyhome @mykyoon @violetmatcha​ @rebeccawinters 

[bagerfluff]

I Notice You

Nico di Angelo x Half-Blood Male Reader

Prompt - "I notice you all the time"

You were sitting on a log in front of the fire.

The fire was blazing a bright orange mixed with yellow because everyone was happy. Apollo kids played instruments while people sang from the top of their lungs. The people that weren’t singing were sitting with friends and family talking while having a laugh.

Make the fire blaze bright and hot. It got so hot that people had to move their marshmallows away from the fire or else they would turn black and brown. You tried to do that but unfortunately you didn’t and you lost your marshmallow.

But you were still having a nice time.

You were talking to your siblings and friends as you all talked about your day. You happily talked to your friends and family but you couldn’t help but feel like someone was watching you. You first played it off as just being near so many people. Being near lots of people can make you feel like at least someone was watching you.

But you felt it the whole night.

You looked around multiple times but saw nothing. No camper or anything else looking at you. It made you feel a bit weird but after a few more minutes you had an idea of who was watching you. But you didn’t say anything. You kept talking and hanging out with everyone till it was time to go to bed.

You bid everyone a good night's sleep but you didn’t go to bed. You didn’t enter your cabin with the rest of your siblings. Instead you walked over to a secluded part of the camp and walked over to a tree. The sun was almost fully set, meaning that it was getting hard to see. Everything seemed to have a dark, almost evil look to it

But this tree seemed to have a darker look to it. Like the wood was a dark brown and there was no light. You looked into the darkness and it almost seemed like it was looking back at you. You smiled, “Hey Nico”, after speaking a boy appeared out of the shadows. He had black hair, brown eyes and pale skin.

He wore black pants, and an aviator jacket with a black shirt with a skull on it under. “Hey Y/n”. Nico greeted. You smiled at him “If you wanted to hang out with me or speak with me you could have asked instead of staring at me?” You said, your friendly smile now turning into a cocky one.

You swore that you saw Nico blush but he turned around and it was dark. The sun still setting in the background. “How did you even notice me?” Nico asked, completely ignoring your question.

“I notice you all the time” you responded, and it was true.

You always noticed Nico, no matter what.

Even when he was off in the shadows, you still knew he was there. It was because you cared about Nico, more than anyone. Nobody knew about your crush on the pale boy but you wanted that. You didn’t need your siblings or anyone teasing you, plus, you didn’t even know if Nico liked you back.

It was really hard sometimes to tell what he was thinking or feeling. You had gotten better at it since you first knew him but it was still hard. Nico blushed a bit harder at that but you didn’t notice. “So, are you going to answer my question?” You asked, looking over at the sea.

You saw that the sin had fully set and that it would be dangerous to set out this late, even with the Ghost King. “Actually. It’s getting late, you can tell me tomorrow”, you smiled at Nico before walking away, waving to him as you walked towards your cabin.

Nico slightly waved as you left but you didn’t see it and Nico was glad, if you saw him waving then you might have seen the fact that Nico’s face had turned a light pink. Nico sighed, he sat down and leaned on the tree where he was hiding.

Nico knew the reason he was watching you, he just didn’t want to admit it. Admitting it would make it more real, it would make his feelings more real. Nico had liked you since he first arrived at Camp Half-Blood. You were only a few months older than him and one of the only people who didn’t ignore him.

He didn’t know what it was back then but knew that he did. Nico didn’t even know if you liked guys. He’s seen girls flirt with you before but you never seemed to reciprocate it. Plus if you did like guys why would you like Nico.

Nico kind of wanted to not know.

His life was hard enough, he didn’t need to worry about this too. Nico tried to ignore it and Nico thought he was doing a good job. But these feelings were getting a bit too hard to ignore. So Nico tried to ignore you, but you always found him.

It’s like you told him, You always noticed him. Nico hated and loved that about you. Nico sighed and leaned his head back against the tree. What was Nico going to tell you?

You were expecting an answer but Nico wasn’t sure what he could tell you. Should he just admit that he had a crush on you, or lie?

Nico would have to think about this.

 You were woken up by the sun shining into your cabin and right in your face. You cursed Apollo, which you were probably going to regret, and your past self for not closing the blinds last night. You sat up and looked outside the window.

You saw that the sun was just starting to rise and that no one was outside. You groaned, and tried to go back to sleep. But apparently Hypnos decided that you stay up for some reason so you couldn’t go back to sleep.

You were smart enough to not curse Hypnos but you were still mad.

You rubbed your eyes and yawned as you removed your blanket and placed your feet on the floor. You shivered at your bare feet touching the ground but got up anyway. In between yawning and cursing Gods you got dressed and out of your cabin.

Since you didn’t feel like laying in your cabin and breakfast wasn’t going to be served you decided that you should get things ready for the day. You were tasked with training some demigods in archery so you needed to get that ready.

It wasn’t hard and it felt nice to slowly feel and watch the sun rise into the sky. The sounds of birds and satyrs calmed you. After doing that you looked around, no one was outside yet but you were sure that at least some people were awake. But as you were looking around something caught your eye. Over by a tree a boy was leaning against it.

He seemed to be asleep.

You placed the bow you were holding on the ground and started to walk over to the boy. At first you had no idea who it was but as you got closer you realized who it was. It was Nico, he fell asleep against the tree where you guys had your talk. Did he really fall asleep here? Why didn’t he go to his cabin?

You sat down in front of Nico and looked at him. Nico’s head was leaning on his right shoulder and his legs were up to his chest. But they were also leaning to the right.

You smiled, Nico looked cute.

He looked relaxed like this, almost like there was nothing to worry about. It made you feel like there was also nothing to worry about. These nice thoughts were interrupted by not so nice ones. You still didn’t know why Nico decided to stare at you last night.

Was everything okay?

Was Nico okay?

These thoughts worried you, you cared about Nico. He was one of your only friends. Plus, you might have a slight crush on him. You kept thinking about what might be wrong, you were so caught up in your thoughts that you didn’t realize that Nico had woken up.

He had snapped his fingers in your face to get your attention and he had to do it four times to get your attention. “Good morning Neeks” you said with a smile. “Morning,” Nico said, rubbing his eyes. Nico then looked around, before looking back at you.

“What time is it?” He asked, pushing himself off the ground. You looked towards the sun, “I don’t know, but I say we only have about half an hour before everybody else starts coming out of their cabins”.

You noted.

Nico nodded and started to walk away but you grabbed his wrist before he could leave. “Hold on there Death Boy. You still need to answer my question”, Nico slightly flinched. He had hoped that you forgot that.

But it seems that you didn’t.

Nico turned back around and you dropped his wrist. Nico looked at you and tried to speak but nothing came out. He was scared again. He hated this. He hated being a half-blood, he hated his feelings, he hated you.

There was so much he had to worry about already. He was a child of The Big Three. Life was already harder for him than normal. But these feelings make it worse. But he really likes you. He wants to be around you, he feels better when he’s around you. But it also scares him.

Why do feelings have to be so complicated?

You and Nico stood in the trees for what seemed like hours. You stayed silent and tried to show Nico that he could take all the time he needed but time was running out. Nico didn’t know what to say but you did have stuff you wanted to say.

You could see that Nico was struggling with something and you wanted to help him, but you couldn’t help him if he wouldn’t tell you. You heard something behind you and saw that everyone was getting ready for breakfast.

You sighed, “Whenever your ready you can come talk to me Nico”, You smiled before starting to speak again, “And next time why don’t you join me at the camp fire instead of looking like a stalker. See you later, Neeks!” You yelled as you made your way to the Mess Hall.

Leaving Nico by the tree, wondering what to do about his feelings.

For the entire day you couldn’t stop thinking about Nico, no matter what you did. During breakfast, you didn’t see him at his table so you assumed that he left to eat somewhere else. When you were teaching the younger campers archery. When you had lunch, and when you were training.

You couldn’t stop thinking about him.

You still wondered what was wrong and why Nico wouldn’t tell you. You wondered if Nico didn’t trust you, that hurt more than when you fell on the ground during sword practice. You had tried to be friends with him and show him that you were his friend but what if he didn’t see you as his friend.

Nico was really closed off and didn’t really talk to anyone besides you. These types of thoughts kept appearing in your head no matter what. And you were getting sick of them. But about half way through the day you noticed something.

A feeling.

A feeling like someone was watching you. You knew who it was. It was the same feeling you felt by the fire last night. But why was Nico watching you? Could he not get you out of his mind? It got a bit annoying because every time you tried to get closer to Nico he just shadow travels away.

You stopped after the third time, you were sure that much shadow traveling couldn’t be good for someone. You wished that Nico would show himself during dinner, taking advantage of what you said and joining you but he didn’t. That made you sad and you didn’t really talk to anyone during dinner.

Your friends and family noticed but you didn’t tell them what was wrong. You didn’t feel like talking about it. You didn’t feel any better when you knew that Nico was watching you. You only saw Nico again when you were walking through the strawberry fields.

The smell of the berries and the sound of the satyrs calmed you and took your mind off everything. But after you wandered a bit too far into the forest you saw Nico waiting for you. You walked up to him, wanting to ask him what the fuck was going on but he held up his hand

“Wait. Before you say anything just let me speak” Nico said and you did just that.

You waited.

Once Nico realized that you weren’t going to speak he started talking. Nico had been thinking about what had happened and he felt sorry. He felt sorry that he didn’t tell you anything. He had been watching you and he saw how you were affected by what happened.

He wanted nothing more than to apologize when he first saw you. But he wanted to wait till you two were alone. Nico had an idea of what to say. He was going to confess to you, get these feelings out of the way. He had enough to worry about and he had to get these out of the way.

If you didn’t like him back then he could focus on other things and never come back here again. Nico started to talk but nothing came out again. Nico really meant to say something but nothing came out again. Why was this so hard? You got annoyed again.

How many times was this going to happen?

You rolled your eyes and started to walk away. “I love you”, Nico said, just loud enough that you heard him. You whipped your head around and stared at him. You heard what he said, he confessed his love for you.

At first you didn’t know what to do, he loved you back. Was that why he watched you during the fire? Was that why he had such a hard time telling what was wrong? After your confusion wore off you were happy.

Joy filled your heart and you smiled.

But Nico took your silence as you rejecting him and he moved to shadow travel away. But you caught his hand just before he left and pulled him closer to you.

“I think you’ve done enough shadow traveling for today”, you said before kissing him. The kiss wasn’t perfect. This was yours and Nico’s first kiss. But the two of you wouldn’t have it any other way. So you two spent the rest of the night together.

Kissing under the moonlight. 

[expresso-bean]

(EXTRA) The Man Out of Time [A ShadAmy and Silver Story]: Answers

Pairing: Shadow the Hedgehog x Amy Rose

Description: It has been seven years of peace following the grueling war with Eggman and his army. Though it took time to rebuild what they have lost, life for the Freedom Fighters could not be better. Whether it's finding love or trying to run from their past, celebrating post-war times has been different for each of them.

All is well until a silver hedgehog comes knocking on Amy Rose's door to deliver the tragic news about an incredible force that seems to be the cause of the future's destruction.

Will anyone believe the mysterious hedgehog's cry for help? Or will he be left to fight for his future alone? Read to find out!

Warnings: None

Word Count: 13.3k

POV: Third Person

Context: Future!Silver's Timeline

!! I do not own any of the art/gifs/borders used in my chapters. All credits to the rightful owners !!

Masterlist ✦ Memories

'Mental M.S. Log Entry 4703: It's been SEVERAL days since the failure of Trail #13, and I'm starting to lose a bit of hope. Although I don't want to give up, I'm beginning to wonder...'

Silver set his empty glass of chocolate milk aside. The glass was still sticky with syrup since he didn't mix it all correctly. He stared it for a moment before continuing with his log entry.

'Aside from that, the side-effects from this trail are somehow worse than the other previous jumps. Could this be because of what happened?'

Silver held his stomach uncomfortably. He felt as if something inside of him would burst. It was normal after a time jump. Despite all the trials he has endured, he never gets used to the after-effects.

Brain fog, jitteriness, nausea, static-like body, fatigue.

The symptoms mostly meant he couldn't eat anything for the next 12 hours unless he wanted to get extremely ill. Liquids, mostly chocolate milk, would sustain him until tomorrow morning. He would be in the bathroom until the next day if he ate any solids.

'This isn't working. What if it never works? What if something worse happens? If I try again, and I can't find a way out, what will happen to me? More importantly, what will happen to this timeline?'

To say he was feeling defeated was an understatement. Silver was a complete mess. Trial #13 was supposed to be the breakthrough trial. However, a last-minute malfunction almost cost Silver his life.

What he saw left him slightly shaken, but he couldn't admit that. Not even to himself.

'What even was that place?'

'KNOCK. KNOCK'

"Son!? Have you returned already?"

'Oh! End Log Entry!'

Silver rushed to open the door, not even realizing he had locked it upon his return. Standing behind the door, ready to embrace Silver, was his father, Shadow.

"Father! I'm sorry, I didn't realize I had closed the doo-," Before Silver could finish his sentence, his father hugged him tightly. Silver melted slightly into his father's arms and whisper a quiet "hey."

"You're home," His father sighed with relief. He shakily pet Silver's quills and sighed before tugging him closer to him. It was difficult to rest his head anywhere since Silver was an inch or so taller than him. "I'm glad you made it back safe, my son."

He could hear the relief in his voice and the nervous shake in his touch. It was familiar to him. He did this each time Silver returned home safely from a trial.

"Wait," Silver pushed his father away to look at him for a second. His father smiled as big as he could and nodded for Silver to continue speaking. "how did you know I was here?"

"You left the chocolate syrup out."

"Oh."

Silver let go of his father to scratch the back of his neck. Then, he was able to get a good look at him.

His father hasn't changed much since he was little. The most was a couple of new scars on his body now and again. But he's always had the same two thick scars on his left shoulder and a thin, almost faded scar on his right eye that nearly left him blind if it weren't for Tail's astounding technology.

There were no new marks on his father. The only thing that stood out was his empty, tired eyes that forever had sadness embedded within them.

'Another hard battle no doubt,' Silver contemplated for a second, unsure of what to say next. 'If I don't say it now, I won't ever.'

"Father," Silver bit his lip, and Shadow looked at him, waiting for him to continue speaking. Silver was nervous, but if he didn't ask now, he would never get another chance to. "Do you still think this could work?"

"It has to. There's no other way."

Silver was taken aback by his father's bluntness. His words were so fast and cold, almost like they were rehearsed. Silver felt that his father was preparing for this question, and the fact he already had an answer ready to tell him bothered him slightly.

'Is this going to be like all those other questions? Where he gives me vague answers and refuses to tell me the whole truth? He expects me to risk my life for this cause, and still, he wants to keep secrets.'

"But-," Silver stopped himself. He knew what he wanted to say, but fear prevented him from uttering another word. Frustrated, he sighed and muttered a quiet "never mind" under his breath.

"No, don't say never mind," His father interjected. "What's troubling you? You can speak to me about anything, you know this."

"I know," Silver tried not to groan or seem ticked as he knew his father would see that as a sign of disrespect. He knew his father would pay extreme mind to him if he acted rudely. His father was always respectful to him, and even when he wasn't, he apologized and communicated what was bothering him. It was something that Silver had a hard time replicating. "but I'll be alright. I don't need to talk about it."

"It pains me that you don't trust me enough to tell me what's wrong." Shadow tried to look into Silver's amber eyes, but his son refused to look at him. "I will always be here for you. As your father, you ne-"

"I'm scared, okay!? I'm scared! You want me to risk my life and the fact you're still hiding things bothers me! You tell me to trust you, but you why won't you trust me, your own son!" Silver paused to take a breath. He didn't bother to look at his father's face as he attempted to collect himself again. "I didn't get to meet them, and I know that isn't my fault, but you have no right to keep so much from me."

"So-, Silver. You should have told me."

Silver couldn't respond. He only stared at his father silently. There was a deep sense of shame in what Silver had to say. He wanted to take the words back, to frame them differently. But he was sick of keeping it all in. There was no other option but to allow the emotions to burst out.

'How could I? You go through enough already. I don't need you to have to take on my emotional burdens when you still hold your fair share.'

"I'm going to go clear my head for a bit," Silver looked away from his father and darted towards his bedroom door. "I'll be back as soon as I can."

His father stood before him for a second, eying him into submission as his arms crossed over his pumped-out chest. Silver quickly got the message, lowered his body, and stepped back as a sign of respect. He could tell his father wasn't angry with him, but he didn't like that Silver was being emotional and not communicating why.

"We don't part ways while angry, son."

"I'm not angry, I'm overwhelmed!" Silver gritted his teeth, not wanting to cry or embarrass himself further. "I promise I'll tell you later, but I need some time to think, please."

His father looked reluctant at first but gave in and let Silver pass. He was timid as he brushed passed his father and entered the kitchen.

'I'll apologize later, but I need to know how to make this time watch work. If he really wants me to go and fix everything, I need to know how. And even more about this whole time thing.'

His father uttered nothing as Silver rushed out of the room and darted towards the door. Before leaving, he took the pair of black and red keys off the table.

A part of Silver wanted to leave without saying anything to his father. But that would again come off as disrespectful to him. He wanted to avoid as much conflict with his father as he could.

'Hm. I don't want to tell him where I'm going.'

Silver jiggled the keys in his hands as a signal that he would be leaving. His father stared at him blankly, waiting for Silver to say something to him. He sighed, nodded, and waved him off, permitting him to go wherever pleased.

"You may go, just be careful, and come back when you can. And please-"

"I know, father. I just need some time to myself."

Silver quickly gathered himself and left. Silver could feel his father's eyes on him and even caught the quiet "goodbye," his father sent his way when he walked out the door and shut it quietly to mask his emotional state.

Silver eyed his father's signature red and black motorcycle. He has only used it a handful of times, mostly because his father constantly uses it to get around. Not that he can't run, but his Uncle Tails modified it to be a stealth tool. It's completely silent while riding it and has a feature that allows you to blend the rider and the bike into the surrounding area.

'I need to make this quick. Knowing my father, he is probably waiting for me to get home.'

Silver hopped on the bike, adjusting his body and hands to fit the bike. The ignition softly roared at him, and after shifting the hand bar twice, he took off towards his uncle's old lab.

'I need to look for notes, blueprints, or a manual maybe. There must be something I'm not getting right. Why else is this not working?'

Luckily, the roads were empty, which was expected since there weren't many people around this area. People avoid this place like the plague. It was where the first attack was, after all. Silver couldn't blame anyone. He would want to get out of this area too. But his father refuses to leave. Everyone has their reasons; he only wishes to know why his father continues to live in a place where most of his friends are buried.

'I wonder what they were like... If it all goes well, I get to meet them, right?' Silver eyes widened a bit at the thought. His father had told him the plan thousands of times, but he still gets anxious about meeting her. 'I wonder what Mom will say. When she sees me. If anything, I'm more worried about what I will say. I have so much to ask her... and so little time to do all of it.'

Silver let out a shaky breath. He only knew his mother through the questions he would ask his father. But now he will get the chance to meet her. Really MEET her. He gets a bit overwhelmed whenever he thinks about it.

'I'm going to crash if I don't start paying attention to the road...'

There wasn't a single thought in Silver's mind when he pulled up to the old laboratory. A broken, decaying red plane was still parked in the driveway. The lab itself was still in good enough condition other than the door being slashed open.

'It looks like someone broke in. But then why would the plane still be there? There are plenty of valuable parts still on it even if it is a bit run down.'

Silver carefully hopped off the bike. He looked around the landscape of where he was at. There wasn't a soul in sight. Just miles of dirt and the ever-so-often tree.

'I should get inside. I don't want to call attention to myself.'

Upon opening the heavy and slashed door, a flood of memories came rushing back to him.

'So much happened here. I spend some of my best days here with Uncle Tails and Aunt Cream,' Silver pushed the bike inside and took the keys out and  shoved it into his pocket. Silver took a moment to look around for a second. 'I've only come back here a handful of times with my father, but I've never dared to come here alone. Not since that day. Still, it hasn't changed much.'

Silver didn't bother to look for a light switch. Tail's workshop had been abandoned for years. The natural light inside the lab was barely enough for Silver to see properly, but he was willing to work with what he was given.

'Where do I even begin?'

Silver squatted down near a metal desk and began rummaging through the drawers. There were folders upon folders of notes, but none related to the time device.

He continued to search on the desk and found nothing but tools he didn't know how to use and blueprints for devices that never got the chance to be made.

'This is interesting... but still not what I'm looking for.'

Silver got up and placed his left hand softly over his mouth.

"Uncle Tails, where'd you hide everything?"

Silver slowly got up and leaned against the cold, metal table. He let his right arm hang loose as he ruffled his brows to try and think of where more he could search.

'I don't know what I'm looking for,' Silver softly groaned in frustration. 'Uncle Tails... you were the only one who knew... why did you have to leave everyone so soon?'

'SNATCH!'

Silver shivered as the cool metal was ripped away from his wrist. Panicked, Silver swished his arms around into the open air around him but couldn't feel anything or anyone.

"Hey! What was that?" Silver looked around. There wasn't a single dim corner in the shed. He would have known if there was someone in there with him. "Give that back!"

"The time device."

A sultry, deep voice echoed through the workshop. Silver jumped a bit, freaked out by the mysterious voice. He looked around the room, and still, he couldn't see anyone in there with them.

"That means the stone was real," Silver couldn't recognize the voice. It ticked him off since his sense of control over the situation was at a minimum. "Where did you obtain this?"

"I'm not going to give out information like that to just anyone.  I don't even know who you are!"

Something  moved from the wall opposite him. It was faint, but he could barely make out the unstructured outline of a figure in the dim room. When the outline moved again, Silver stepped to try and get away from it. 

'What the? What is that?'

The outline glowed  purple and  covered the being's body and revealed... someone. Their skin was fuchsia with a peach body. Where a nose would be, there was a broken yellow horn, the same yellow as his barren eyes framed with black. He wasn't wearing much gear. Just some tattered purple and black shoes and white gloves with beige bandages wrapped at the end to keep them from slipping off.

'He's too small to be a rhino... and too big to be a beetle... what is he?'

Silver kept staring at the person in front of him, who had a hard time maintaining eye contact with him. Silver sensed a bit of fear from him, but he couldn't have any sympathy for someone who stole that precious device of his.

"Who are you?"

He stepped away from Silver for a second, carefully clutching the device in his hands. Silver put his hand out gently, and he noticed the man untensed his body, and although his nerves were calm, it wasn't enough to return the watch.

"My name is not important," The man spoke. "I would have remembered it if it was."

"Oh," Silver blurted out. He shook his head and then continued. "I'm sorry you can't remember."

'This is awkward. I want to help him, but I have to get the time to watch back.'

"You said 'he' earlier. Did you know my uncle Tails?"

The man tried to think, his forehead wrinkled while trying to recognize if the name rang any bells. He shook his head and looked at the watch closely before flipping it over. He took a second to read the lettering on the back. Still, even long after reading it, he stood still.

'What is he doing?'

He walked up to Silver and grabbed him by the wrist. He clipped the device back on.

"I know that name. That person is deceased. I do not remember him as you do, but I cannot take this. This is yours now."

'Mine? If uncle Tails isn't the 'he' this guy was talking about, then who is?'

"You never answered my question," The man looked at him, confused. Silver thought about each out touching his shoulder, but doing that might staler him, so he decided to smile at him softly. "Did you know my uncle Tails?"

"He was murdered. I feel like I should know who he is," The man gripped his head with a shaky hand. "But I do not."

"It's okay, um, let me see if this helps. His name was Tails. Tails the Fox? This was his lab and he liked to make gadgets and planes. Uh, he made a lot of devices, like this watch. He was friends with Sonic the Hedgehog and married Cream the Rabbit. Does that help at all?"

"Tails. Sonic. Cream," Silver looked at him, anticipating what he had to say. "There were several of you. But, no, they are not the ones I search for. He wasn't the one who proposed the idea of the Time Stone."

'He remembers several of them. That's progress! Who does he remember though?'

"You are different. You were not there when it happened." The man walked over to him and looked him up and down. Silver tensed when he gripped his waist and patted him down along his frame. His face turned hot and he tried to look away to hide his embarrassment. "No, you're too young. You could not have even been alive then."

"Y-yeah, I-I don't remember you either," Silver stepped away from him and cleared his throat. He took a breath to try and relax. He didn't want to embarrass himself further. "I-I wouldn't worry about it. I don't remember a lot of them either. But I know what group you are talking about, at least, I think I do."

"You do?"

"I think so? There were several groups, at least, according to my father,"

'I know their names. Rouge the Bat, Knuckles the Echidna, Sally Acorn, and Vector the Crocodile, but nothing about who they were or what they did in their life. Everyone kept me in the dark. And he doesn't remember either. We'll need to help each other if we want to reveal the truth.'

"You said you didn't remember Sonic, Cream, or Tails. Does Amy or Shadow ring a bell?"

The man's eyes practically lit up. Silver could tell he had recalled something.

"Shadow! I need to speak with Shadow!" He gripped Silver's shoulders,  scaring him a bit. "Do you know where I could find him?"

"You remember! That's great!" Silver smiled, happy he was able to make a bit more progress with the man. "Yeah, I know him. He's my father after all."

The man looked confused, at tilted his head.

"Father?" The man seemed surprised. Silver couldn't blame him. According to his aunt, Shadow wasn't known to be the 'lovers' type. "You're his son?"

"The one and only," Silver stepped away from the man and looked himself over, trying to find a feature that would relate to his father, but realized there was really nothing they physically had in common. "I don't look like either of my parents, so, I understand the confusion."

'I also wonder how black, red, and pink made silver...eh, maybe a relative on my mother's side.'

"But, you remember my father, correct?" Some hope fluttered in Silver's chest seeing the man nod his head. "My mother was also a great fighter, just like him. Her name was Amy, Amy rose. Do you remember her at all?"

Silver looked a bit hopeful. He longed to hear about his mother, to learn as much as he can about her. She lives through the stories of his family. He wants more of her memory; that's all he could ever ask for.

"Amy Rose," The man thought about it again. Silver felt that the name sounded familiar, but it seemed that the man couldn't come up with anything. "I'm sorry, I do not."

"It's okay, I don't either. I never really go to meet her."

"That must... be difficult."

"Sometimes."

Silver stretched out the word awkwardly, trying to mask the sadness. 'Difficult' was an understatement. Even if he wanted to get into how he felt, he wouldn't know where to begin. There are so many emotions, too many questions, and way too many thoughts that he could write a book about it. But even that wouldn't be enough. He'd run out of pages and ink.

"I can empathize with how you feel. Though I should know these names, it's as if I have never met them. It's a lonely feeling. I fault myself for not being able to understand."

The man tensed his fists until his arms were bulging from emotion. He looked panicked. Silver knew he had to do something before he had a panic attack. That or something worse.

"Hey, no, don't do that," Silver grabbed his hand in his and laid his other hand atop his. "None of this is your fault. You didn't ask to be this way."

The man didn't say anything. Silver could feel his blood warm through the gloves. It was the heat of humiliation.

'Should I ask him? Does he blame himself because he knows, or because he doesn't?'

"You don't happen to remember how you lost them, do you?"

The man looked down in shame. Silver's intuition was correct; he didn't know how he lost his memories.

"My mind is a puzzle I cannot fix. A piece appears every now and again, but I have no idea how to arrange it, or where it should even go, or if it is even real or not," The man scoffed at himself, probably frustrated with his own scattered mind. "I wonder if the memories are worth uncovering. Perhaps it is trying to protect me. But I supposed I'll never know."

'He looks sad...' Silver looked around the room for a bit. He understood the man more than ever. The man longs to remember, while Silver wishes to attain unspoken memories. There is something admirable about that. 'My father knows about him, he must know what happened.'

"If you want to remember," Silver nodded toward the man. "Then I'm going to help you get your memories back. You said you knew my father, right?"

"I believe so."

"If there is anyone who could help you, it's him. He knows... he knows a lot of things. He probably knows what happened to you," The man's mouth pursed. It was difficult to explain what the man may be thinking, but Silver could tell he was in pain. The mention of how he lost his memories makes him tense. His mind doesn't remember, but his body certainly does. "I would take you back to the house, but you don't fit on my bike. Just say here, I'll be back for you."

"He'll be here?"

"Yes, he'll be here. I promise."

"Okay," The man took a breath, almost as if he were worried about something and trying to reassure himself. "Just, come back. Even if it isn't with him."

"Hey," Silver placed an arm on his shoulder, ensuring eye contact. "I promise, I'll come back for you. No matter what."

"Mhm."

Silver nodded at him and let go of his hands. The man clutched his fists and backed away slightly.

"Just hang out here. And hide if you see them pass by,"

Silver could feel the fear in that man's soul. He didn't even have to say their names. He knew who they were. Everyone knew who they were.

'He knows about Ace and Anti. I wonder if that's how he lost his memories. He doesn't remember them, but he has to have fought alongside them if he remembers my father and time device.'

"I'm off. I'll be back as soon as I can."

The man didn't look back at him. He had the same expression as he did when he wanted to remember something but couldn't.

'"Please be careful. I need your help more than you know.'"

"I will, don't worry about me."

The man looked at Silver, confused.

"I-I did not speak?"

Silver simply blinked at him.

"Huh?"

The man looked away and waved him off. Silver blushed as he quickly left the garage with his bike in tow. He could tell the man didn't want him lingering around him anymore, and truthfully, he needed to get back to his father before he worried him more than he already has.

'He spoke to me. I swear I heard him,' Silver fished the keys out of his jacket pocket and hopped on the bike. The road in front of him was vast. Just as he expected it to be. 'I must be hearing things. Maybe I'm stressed, or crazy, or something... Ugh, what's crazy is that I'm hearing voices in my head.'

It wasn't the first time Silver had heard voices. When he was little, he could swear he heard his father talking. But whenever he asked about it, he would deny ever speaking. As he grows older, it is harder to ignore. He hears the voice clearly, like they are within his mind. But he never hears an echo or vibration in the area around him.

'Maybe I am crazy. Psychological stress maybe? I did grow up in a war zone. It wasn't completely out of the realm of possibility.'

Silver began his journey back to his house. He picked up the pace a bit, going fast enough to not draw too much attention to himself. 

'Why would you come by the lab if you don't remember the person who lives there?' He tried to focus on the road, but a thought kept nagging him. 'He remembers my father, that's a given. But why the lab? Unless he was after the device and just hoped my father would be there.'

Silver bit his lip. He wasn't sure what to make of the situation. He sympathized with the man as he knows the struggle of wanting to connect with people he doesn't know. The man could have easily hurt him, or worse. Yet, he didn't. He seemed to have no mal intentions. He could have killed him from the beginning. He could have taken the time device and ran. He could have turned him in and sold him for profit.

'But he didn't. He's looking for my father for a reason, and I'm going to help him figure out why.'

Silver was quick to park the bike in front of his house. Still being careful enough so that it wouldn't fall or tip over. He ran up to the door and opened it, hoping to see his father waiting for him. Luckily, he was. He was resting at the table with his eyes closed, his arms crossed around his chest, and his head tilted backward.

"Father!"

His father jolted up and looked at Silver, who most likely looked like a sweaty maniac by now.

"Son, what's wrong? Did something happen?"

"No, I'm okay, I'm fine, but needed to ask you something!"

Silver was so out of breath that he took a pause. He wanted to spill out his sentences as fast as he could, but his body didn't let him say everything he wanted to.

"Calm down, you're worrying me."

"No! I'm honestly okay!" Silver took one more breath before speaking again. "I need your help. I met someone, someone really cool, I think! He knows about Anti, Ace, the time device, EVERYTHING! I have a picture of him, do you think you can identify him?"

"I suppose? What did he look like?" Silver pressed a couple of buttons on his wristband, and an image of a mysterious fuchsia man appeared in a small projection above his wrist. He was glad he snuck in a scan of the man when he did. "Espio,"

'Espio. At least I can give him a name now. What does he have to do with me traveling through time?'

"I haven't seen Espio since I found the stone."

"You do know him! I knew it! You are the only person he seems to remember!" Silver laughed in relief and shut off the projection. "He's looking for you."

"He is?"

"Yes, and I want to know why."

His father looked somber while staring at the projection. The same look of guilt on his face when he talked about his deceased friends.

'Something happened. He knows why Espio can't remember things. Are you going to hide things from me, or are you going to tell me what happened?'

Silver took a seat down in front of his father. He followed suit and sat back down in the chair he was dozing off in minutes before.

"Espio the Chameleon. I've known him long before the war even started. He was an old friend of Sonic. He was truly a good man of his time. He was among the first to help us back when this war began. He was as smart as he was skilled," Shadow paused for a second. Which meant he was measuring the words he wanted to say. Meaning that he was looking to hide more information from Silver. "However, that made him a threat to Ace and Anti. You know what they like to do with people they deem threats."

'A chameleon, huh? That explains the horn.'

"A threat," Silver paused for a second. He's only known Espio for less than an hour, yet, he could tell he had a fighter's spirit in him. Silver couldn't even sense him back in the lab. And when he expressed distress over the Time Device, he gave it back with zero hesitation. He came back for a reason, a noble one, no doubt. But that doesn't explain why they would go after Espio specifically when there were other fighters like Sonic and his father. "What would Ace and Anti want with Espio? Is that why he can't remember anything?"

"You already know about Ace's abilities, and when they figured out how could manipulate hordes of people to fight her battles for her, Espio was her first target," Shadow took another pause. Silver wanted to roll his eyes. Was he trying to hide information again, or was it because it hurt to remember? Silver liked to think I was both, but unfortunately, his father would never tell him. "Extreme intelligence and strength were exactly what she needed to help her manage her army. She got into his mind and searched for his weakness. When it got down between letting the love of his life live or giving himself to Ace, he choose to sacrifice himself."

'Why did I expect anything less from Ace. Espio doesn't seems like the type of person to give himself up. What did she do to him?'

"Did those monsters kill them anyways?"

"No, Mighty is still alive. I lost track of him years ago."

'That's a first. Maybe she needed alive in case Espio got out of line.'

"Wait, so if Espio chose to give into them, how is he still alive? And how does he know about the time device?"

"Espio promised Mighty he would find him again. The one thing you should know about Espio is he puts honor above all else. He told Mighty he would find him again, but he needed to escape Ace and Anti if he wanted to do that."

"Hm," Silver was impressed. Not only did he endure Ace and Anti for years, he escaped, and then went on to keep living. Be it with no memories but alive, no doubt. "He's the luckiest, most unlucky, guy around."

"That poor soul," Shadow uncrossed his arms from his chest and relaxingly crossed them on the tabletop. He leaned his body forward, maintaining his posture as he did so. "Espio fought hard to gain his control back. Fighting against an old friend like him is complex. But even forcing my hand against him, it felt like fighting a cheap imitation."

"Do you think he still remembered you?"

"I would like to believe so. but no one can be sure. What I am certain of is how, through all of the battles and agony, he was determined to gain control over his mind. It could be why he was not fighting to his full potential."

'I knew it. That explains his reactions and how he remembers to fight and remain stealthy. His mind might have forgotten, but his body still remembers.'

"How long did he stay like that?"

"Years, too many years," Shadow sighed, looking down at the table. "It broke his mind. Completely shattered his psyche. When he regained some sense of control, he came looking for me, but by then, it was far too late. Tails was gone. He didn't know who he had lost, but he still grieved upon hearing the news,"

'He didn't remember who he was. If it eats at him now, I can't believe how he must have felt then.'

"Espio, most likely, doesn't remember it, but I certainly do. He knew he had a mission, but he will never know what it was."

'...He knew about the time stone. He only remembers my father. Could it be that it actually... Espio's idea?'

"Father," Silver paused. Did he really want to know the answer? Not that it would change anything; he was worried that his father wouldn't bother to tell him the answer. He never specifically said it was Tails' idea; it was mostly just assumed. But could it be that Espio figured out how to travel back in time, and Ace found out about it? Was that the real reason he was targeted? "Whose idea was it to travel back in time?"

Shadow seemed a bit taken aback by the question. Like physically taken aback. Silver didn't realize it was that serious of a question.

'Is he actually going to tell me something important?'

"Dr. Robotnik would talk about the time stone as many times as he talked about the chaos emeralds. He believed if he got his hand on that stone, he could bring back Maria,"

'It was his idea?! Why would he hide something like this from me?'

"I thought it was nothing but a myth of an insane man gripping at straws to escape his own grief. I called him a loon for searching for a stone that might not even be real," Shadow laughed bitterly at his words. Silver could sense the sadness in his father. He was undoubtedly going to talk about his mother next. "I understand him now more than ever. I too followed him and did whatever possible to bring back someone I loved dearly. The difference is I found the stone. I was prepared to bring back your mother, to fix this war. Even if it killed me,"

'But, what does Espio have to do with this?'

"Eventually, I confided in Tails to set the device up for me. He believed me to be too reckless to send me back. So, I had to make the choice to send someone else."

Then, it hit Silver. Clear as day, he knew why Espio was at the lab. There was no other reason.

"It was supposed to be him, wasn't it?" Silver asked slight annoyance in his voice. "You wanted him to do this, not me."

"I never wanted you to be a part of this, any of this," Shadow shook his head and leaned forward in his chair. "You were still an infant when I mentioned the time stone, and still a toddler when I found it. How was I supposed to send you off to fight for a future when you barely understood the world you were living in?"

"So that's it? I was nothing but a replacement to you?" Shadow looked offended and gave him a look to calm down. But Silver was feeling hurt, and he refused to keep his mouth shut any longer. "I thought YOU choose me. I thought I was special to you. But no, it turns out I was just the second choice. You expect me to risk never seeing you again for a job you NEVER wanted me to do?"

"That is not what I said, you know-"

"No! I don't know, DAD. You never want to tell me anything! It's always something. 'I can't tell you that Silver', 'You'll find out later Silver', 'You understand, right Silver?'. Well, no! I don't understand. Because you never want to explain ANYTHING to me."

"I tell you plenty! I say what I must to maintain order," Shadow sighed, hating the way his voice raised at Silver. But Silver kept staring at him in silence, waiting for him. "I did not want you to fight in this war. I never wanted this life for you. I chose Espio to protect you from all this. But now you are a part of it, I have to hide some things to preserve both the past and future. You need to respect that."

"The more you hide from me, the less I trust you! I would have known this if you had just told me! Now I look like an idiot because we don't communicate!" Silver felt a rush of heat form on his face. He didn't know how to phrase it, his words. They wanted to rush out and get the conversation over with. But he still had so much to say. He needed to preserve his dignity and stand up for his feelings without an apology. "What was the plan for me? To stand around in an empty wasteland forever without knowing about mom? Or what happened to her friends? To wait around and die? No, I'm not doing that! I'm going to help this future, and I don't care that you never wanted me to!"

"You listen to me. All of that is far from the truth and you know it. Tails wanted you to do this job. He designed the watch for you. He wanted to train you. He sacrificed EVERYTHING for you. I never want to hear you say that you were second fiddle. You were never that to him."

"I know what I was to him, I never doubt that Uncle Tails loved me dearly, almost like a son. But not to you. I was second choice to you," Silver eyes filled with hot tears. He wanted to cry, but he couldn't. Not in front of his father. And not at a moment like this. "I bet you never even wanted me."

"Silver, do not EVER say that I did not want you. I love you, I loved you even before I saw you. Your mother and you were my world, my pride, my love. That never changed when she passed away. You are my son. Mine alone. You are what I live for; the same goes for your mother."

"Why should I listen to you? I'm starting to think all of this lying is to protect yourself rather than me," Silver squinted his eyes, and he saw Shadow hesitate for a second, and it suddenly clicked for him. "This was to save her, right?"

"Silver, that isn-"

"That's why uncle Tails couldn't trust to send you back. You were too reckless to go back on your own."

"If all you are going to do is assume I will not participate in whatever conversation you think you are having with me."

"This wasn't about stopping them at all. You wanted to save her," Silver felt his eyes water. He looked over at his father. He hadn't noticed he had been crying. "What did Mom die from again?"

"I am done talking about this," Shadow stood up from his chair, making it squeak loudly. "Go to your room Silver. That is an order."

"Well, that's you. I for one am not done talking. I-"

Shadow slammed his hands on the table, demanding Silver's attention. Silver didn't flinch as his father's eyes glowed with anger. Rather, Silver squinted, letting his father know he wasn't scared of him.

"Go. To. Your. Room." Shadow's voice seethed with frustration. Silver didn't care. He wasn't scared of his father. He respected him, but Silver knew he wouldn't lay a hand on him. "Before I make you."

"I was just leaving."

Silver shoved his fists in his pocket, feeling around the empty space for the keys to the bike outside.

'I made a promise to Espio. I will go back to him. Although, my father is choosing not to join us. At least I can tell him what my father knows about him. I hope Espio will understand.'

"Silver, do not go outside this house!"

"Too bad!"

Silver slammed the door behind him. He heard nothing as he rushed to the bike. He quickly turned it on and took off without looking back. He just wanted to forget everything he said to his father. He doubted his father even cared about what he had to say.

'I am not going to let him play me for a fool like this! He wants to do all of this to get her back, not because of me,' Silver blinked away some of his tears. He didn't want to ride the bike with tears in his eyes. He's done that before and it didn't solve his problems. It left his eyes puffy, sore, and dry. He wasn't about to make the same mistake twice. 'What does that do to me? Does he love me for being me? Or because I am the last thing she left behind?'

"WOAH!"

'What the hell was that!' Silver squinted his eyes and focused on the figure in the mirror. His breath hitched. He knew that black and red frame anywhere. 'Is that-?'

"SILVER IF YOU DON'T PULL OVER RIGHT THIS INSTANCE I WILL-"

'He'll what? He wouldn't hurt me... right?'

"NO! I'M GOING TO TALK TO ESPIO!"

Silver yelled at the image of his father from the mirror, which was becoming a bit closer with each word he spoke. Silver could feel the heat of fear grow on his face. He knew what he was doing was wrong.

'I made a promise. I'm not going to hold off on it because of him!'

Silver turned the handle and placed the bike to maximum speed. He didn't have time to conceal the vehicle, not that it would do him any good anyway. His father was already hot on his trail.

"AND YOU CAN'T STOP ME."

Silver did a hard turn. In his mirror, he could still see his father trailing behind him. His eyes squinted from the harsh winds and he began to regret not putting on some glasses before his plan.

'I got to lose him. And fast,'

The longer stared at his father's figure, he almost gasped at what he noticed. His father was sporting his house slippers rather than his rocket shoes.

'Wait,' Silver looked toward the road ahead and rolled his shoulders back to relax. 'Although I'm impressed, I still might be able to lose him.'

"SILVER I-"

What Shadow was about to say was out of earshot. Silver slammed his foot on the gas. The way the tired ripped beneath the dirt road made him cringe. It was too loud for his liking, and a sense of dread warmed his body. He understood the risk he took, but the last he heard of Ace and Anti, they were far away from this part of the city.

'I'll add that to the list of things I'll be getting an earful for tonight.'

Silver slammed on the brakes next. He held onto the handles for dear life as the bike stopped. His bottom lifted off the seat briefly before he regained his balance.

"Eek!"

'I hope no one saw that. That was embarrassing.' Silver felt a sense of relief when he turned around and saw a vast field of nothing and no one. It wasn't to say his father was not on his way to get him, but that he still had a chance to make sure Espio knew he stuck to his promise. 'I'm done hiding how upset this makes me. I know what will happen once I fix everything. Before it ends, I want to know as much as I can.'

"Shadow?"

"No," Silver quickly closed the garage door behind him. Thought the lights didn't work, the afternoon sunlight lit up the room through the slashes in the door. "it's Silver again, remember?"

"Yes," He nodded. Silver noticed he was in sitting right in the same place he had left him, as if he hadn't  moved a muscle in the entire time he was gone. "you were just here, weren't you?"

"Sure was," Silver felt a sense of relief go to his face as he smiled. "So, I told my father about you!"

"Really?" 

"Yes, really!"

Silver nearly took a step back when Espio stood up. The chameleon breathed out an airy chuckle of relief. What surprised him the most was his smile. It was bright and soft as the sun hitting his face. He was so deep in his emotion he his hand to his cheek and clawed at the corner of his mouth. 

'I guess he couldn't believe it either. I don't blame him.' 

Silver's guilt didn't even let him crack a smirk. He was so nervous about his father bursting through the door at any moment he could only stand there in fear. 

'What will I even say to him? It isn't like he isn't coming.'

"What did he say about me?"

"So what I found out wa-"

'BANG! BANG! BANG!'

"I KNOW YOU ARE IN THERE SILVER! OPEN THIS DOOR OR SO HELP ME I WILL BUST IT OPEN!"

"Is that Shadow?" Silver quietly nodded. "Is he... okay?"

"Nope," Silver turned around timidly. He could make out his father in between the slashed metal. Luck would have it that his father didn't notice Silver looking right at him. "but I don't want you to know what will happen if I don't open that door myself. You don't mind, do you?"

"I am not equipped for this."

Silver sighed, not knowing why he even asked. Espio hadn't seen Shadow in years. The last thing he would want to see from his long-time friend is his angry face because of a mistake his son did.

"Right," Silver exhaled sharply. He was so nervous he couldn't open the door himself. "I'll just get the door."

He reached out his hand and a blue mist illuminated around the door. He moved his hand up slightly, and the door followed suit, making a loud screech echo through the room. Shadow stood there with his arm crossed watching Silver with an unamused look on his face. Silver let go of the door and stepped aside as his father walked in to stand in front of him. He noticed as his father's chest rose and fell and wondered if it was from how angry he was or from being out of breath getting there. 

'Just say something. He isn't going to hurt you or anything.'

"F-father. Hi."

For how Shadow was yelling at him earlier, Silver expected him to scream at him from the moment he opened the door. Yet, he didn't. In actuality, Silver noticed his father was unusually calm.

'He's... quiet.'

Shadow was standing at the doorway in silence. His arms were crossed, and his eyes were shut forcibly, undoubtedly from all the pent-up emotion within him.

'Too quiet,' Silver started at his father, waiting for him to say something to him, anything at least. 'he's scaring me a bit.'

Silver noticed his father wasn't acting as he usually was when upset. His foot wasn't tapping, nor was he looking at Silver. Silver's shoulders tensed up slightly when he realized the position he had put himself in.

'Oh shit. He's livid.'

"Silver. I am very, very, VERY upset with you. And I will not yell at you in front of company. But I am sure you know what we will discuss later at home."

'There it is,' Silver held in a sigh. One part of him knew it was his own doing that his father was so upset. The other part, however, still blamed his father. 'If he had just talked to me more, none of this would have happened!'

"Yes, father, but before we do," Shadow looked unimpressed as he opened his eyes just to glare at Silver. "I stand by everything I said."

"Not now Silver," Shadow groaned as he turned around toward Espio. For a moment, he forgot the chameleon was witnessing the entire interaction between him and his father. He would have been embarrassed, but he was too busy looking at the reunion between the two. His heart melted at Espio's reaction when Shadow walked toward him. The way his eyes were widened Silver would have thought the other was looking at one of the world's wonders. "Espio. It's been some time."

"Shadow. I-I remember you," Espio looked Shadow in the eye before bowing to him like royalty. His father wasn't bluffing when he said Espio was a man of honor and respect. "I remember what I had to do."

"My old friend, you have nothing left to do," Shadow lifted Espio up and pulled him into a hug. Espio's body tensed up, but he soon sank in. Silver could tell Espio had forgotten what a hug felt like. And his father just reminded him how it felt like to be cared for. "You could rest easy now."

"Wait, that isn't right," Espio released himself from Shadow. "I...I had to complete the mission. It is what... I was meant to do. Was it not?"

"Not anymore," Shadow shook his head. He then looked toward Silver. He sighed. "Whatever mission you were to complete will be fulfilled by my son, Silver."

Espio looked at Silver long and hard. It was clear that he was analyzing the sixteen, almost seventeen-year-old. Silver paid no mind to it; he could always rely on his senses to tell him what Espio was feeling.

'You know, I'd rather not know what he thinks of me right now.'

"Shadow, are you positive? I understand that I know nothing of your son, yet, I wonder if he is capable of completing something like this?"

"Why'd you say it like it's a bad thing?" Silver mumbled, kicking a stray pebble to the other side of the room. 'I am more than capable of defending myself against him. I didn't know I was supposed to fight him with everything I had earlier.'

Shadow sighed and looked toward his son. Silver still refused to make eye contact with either of them. Shadow could tell his son was still fuming from the comments earlier.

"He has his faults and irrationalities, I admit that he had some maturing to do," Shadow tried to reach out for him, but Silver was too distracted to notice and accidentally stepped away. It made Shadow frown slightly, but he hoped everything could be cleared up after dinner. "But Silver is my son. He is capable of doing what he pleases with that mind of his."

"Both literally and figuratively."

Shadow gave Silver the side-eye, which wiped off the little smile on his face. Silver just rolled his eyes and crossed his arms, again beginning to mumble angsty jargon under his breath.

"R-right, I believe in your judgment Shadow. I meant no disrespect to your son,"

'Sure,' Silver mocked in his head. 'I hope we get to train together so I can show you how I really fight.'

"I would never disrespect the person who promised me so much."

"Oh," Silver uncrossed his arms, and both men turned to look at him, wondering what else the silver-quilled hedgehog had to say. "Espio...."

"Yes?"

'I think it would be best for everyone, right? Just say it, I should just say it.'

"Come home with us."

Silver looked at his father, surprised at what he had said. It was exactly what he had been thinking and contemplating since he met the chameleon.

'Yes, this way I won't get yelled at by my father!'

"Home? With you?" Espio glanced at Shadow, who nodded at him. "Shadow, am I honored, but I am in no need of your assistance. I still have one mission left to complete before I could think of resting."

'Mission? Is that why he needed the time device?' Silver looked at his father's face. His eyes looked sad. 'No, it's something else. It seems personal. If he really needed the time device for it, he would have taken it and ran.'

"Espio," Shadow shook his head. "I have lost track of Mighty five years ago. If you are so instant on finding him, I will help you," Shadow looked behind him, signaling over to Silver, looking through some files on his wristlet. "Believe me, if you continue searching, you will only lose more of yourself."

Espio's pupils seem to shake at that statement. Silver could sense a deep anguish within him. Within them both.

'They're alike, aren't they? My dad and him. The only difference is...'

"You lost track of him..." Espio chest battered out an empty chuckle. His eyes pooled over with tears. A memory resurfaced. No one could tell what it was, but Silver felt content knowing that Espio had found a piece of himself again. "I-I remember now..."

"You remember?" Shadow visibly restrained himself from jumping on the man. He cleared his throat and mumbled a soft apology. "What is it that you remember?"

"It-It's not important to what we are trying to accomplish. Mighty was one of the most impatient people I knew. I should have known he would not wait around for me forever."

'He was supposed to stay. He said he would wait, that it could have been forever. How long has forever been?'

"Ow." Silver's whisper went unnoticed by Espio and his father. Though he was looking right at Espio, Silver didn't see his lips move at all. Yet, it was his voice clearly playing in his head. "What was that?"

'Mighty,' Silver never heard the name before. He most likely didn't fight in the war. His father would have mentioned him by now if he was. 'Whoever he was, he was important enough to Espio to look for my father. Time device aside. My father knows who he is.'

"He said he would wait for you forever, right?" Espio nodded and mumbled something under his breath. "Someone who loves you would wait forever."

Espio moved his hand toward his heart. Silver's words had greatly touched him, yet, Silver could still see his face scrunched up with hurt.

"I suppose so."

"We should get home," Shadow interrupted. "You must be starving if you came here all the way from the ruins in Mobotroplis."

"I came from the Temple."

The room went silent for a moment. Silver looked over to his father who had a frown on his face.

The Temple was something Silver knew so little about despite it being the reason he could time travel in the first place. His father rarely mentions the place, only bringing it up when talking about acquiring the stone. It wasn't surprising to Silver that he never elaborated on where the Temple was or what else could be inside.

'Whatever it is, that look he's giving Espio means that whatever was near that Temple is bad news.'

"The Temple? As in the one I found the stone from?"

"Is there...another one?"

"No, it's just, that's so far from here. What were you doing all the way out there for?"

"I was retracing my steps, trying to remember why I only remembered you so vividly,"

His father's face strained, and Espio kept his eyes fixed on that look. Silver could not bring himself to say anything. Not the look, not the temples, or how his father keeps his secrets even to his friends.

'It's strange.'

"It's strange."

'That's what I'm saying.'

"We...We'll discuss this later. Son, take him home. I'll meet you there."

"Yes, father."

"And Silver," Silver straightened his posture as his father approached him. Shadow pointed to the bike parked outside the lab. "If you know what's good for you, go straight home. Don't pull something like that with me again."

"Yes, I know."

"I forgot how off putting he makes others feel."

"Yep, that sounds like a memory I would have kept repressed," Silver looked to him to see if he'd even react. But there wasn't even anger in his stone-set face. Silver smiled awkwardly and began walking to his bike. Espio followed suit. "Sorry, bad time to be making jokes," Silver mounted the bike and adjusted the mirrors before turning it on. Silver looked at Espio and patted the back seat. "Just hold on tight. don't need you falling out."

Silver had to stop himself from shivering from how cold Espio was. His hands rested lightly on his shoulders. But before Silver could ask him to tighten his grip, he saw his father approaching them. He didn't even look at Silver; he grabbed Espio by the hands and adjusted his grip on Silver's shoulders.

"You have to grab on the right way, or you'll fall. Now, let's get going."

"Right," Espio answered meekly. Silver kept his gaze on the open road ahead of him, waiting for his father to take the lead before he even thought about moving.

Neither of the three spoke to the other, which was fine with Silver as he was so focused on not going. Silver was careful to try to match his father's speed. He was scared of what he might do to him if he did not follow him to a t.

"We're here," Silver whispered. He hated being the one to always break the silence. He turned around to look at Espio. The chameleon's eyes were doing circles with the way he was taking everything in.

'I wonder what that feeling is like. To take in everything as if you were seeing it for the very first time.'

"Do you remember this place?" Silver said a bit louder than before. Espio vision finally settled on him. He shook his head.

"For me, it is like looking at it for the very first time."

"I don't blame you for not recognizing it," a voice from behind bellowed. Silver sunk into himself a little bit as Shadow approached. He, too, was now standing in front of the house. His eyes made the same circles as Espio's did moments ago. "I don't. Not anymore. This is not the same home I created with her."

"With who?"

"With his mother," His father looked at the house a little longer. "Amy Rose."

Silver nearly gasped when he heard the name from his mouth. Shadow rarely addresses his mother by her full name. Not that he never mentioned her before this. Silver always heard 'your mother,' 'the love of my life,' 'Silver's mother.' She was always intertwined with one of them.

'When was the last time I heard him say her name? Has it really been that long?'

"Amy. Rose?" Espio looked at Silver. He stared at him like he was trying to complete a puzzle on his face, which was visible only to him. "Amy Rose." He repeated. "The pink hedgehog?"

"Yes, her, that name," Shadow tears his eyes away from the house to look at Espio. It was a dead-eyed stare. Silver almost felt a bit scared for Espio. The last time he saw that look on his father's face it didn't end well for the other party.

'It was the first time I saw him fight. That day in the anti-zone.'

"What do you know about that name?"

Espio didn't answer. His head dropped toward the ground and his eyes closed. Shadow kept staring at him with that look, his chest heaving more than before.

'He's trying to remember something. He feels like he should know, but he doesn't. I know what that's like.'

"Nothing," His eyes opened. He looked at Shadow and shook his head. "I don't know her from the past. But he mentioned that name to me. Even showed me a picture."

"I-I never showed him a picture?"

Shadow looked at  Espio, who was still looking confused as he stared between the two of them.

"Y-you didn't?" He whispered. "Did I..."

"Espio, you remembered!" Silver laughed out. "You do know her!"

"You both fought in the last battle in the war for the Quartz Emerald in the Seventh galaxy together. You both have so many memories together. I'm glad that she still lives through your memories," Shadow's voice was so low he almost didn't hear what he said. That was until he turned over to Silver. "What prompt you to ask him about your mother?"

Silver felt his face grow hot the longer his father stared at him. It might have been out of embarrassment. Truthfully, Silver was desperate to know anything he could about her. His aunt and uncles were gone. The only uncle he has around is Sonic. And the last time he mentioned her, he threw a glass of water at his face.

"I-I," Silver stumbled over all the thoughts in his head. They all screamed so loud. All longed to learn about her. "I wanted to see if he remembered her. I don't hear a lot about Mom from you."

"You never ask."

"You never seem in the mood to talk about her!"

"Silver," Shadow sighed out. He didn't sound angry. Not like before. Silver could tell his father was exhausted. A part of him felt guilty. The other part, however, felt like he wanted to push more.

"I'm just saying. You got to know her. We both lost her, but I only know of her through pictures on the wall. How is that fair?"

"Silver," He repeated, almost like a warning.

"What?"

"Get inside now."

Espio remained quiet as he followed Shadow up inside the house. Silver stayed outside, looking up at the house. He tsked, kicking the dirt underneath his foot so forcefully he thought it would get in his eyes.

There were so many emotions brewing up inside of his stomach. It wasn't like any post-mission nausea he had ever felt before.

'What did I even do? Why do I have to sit through another one of his lectures?'

"Silver! Get inside here, now!" Silver tensed up. He sighed, clenching his fists. He stomped up the two steps leading up to the front door. And closed it shut without even touching the knob. Shadow was standing at the kitchen table with his arms crossed and a fire in his eyes. "I'm going to get Espio situated. Do not move from this chair, do you understand me?"

"Yeah, I do," Silver mumbled out.

"I mean it, Silver. Do not get up." 

'Well, this is going to be a long night.'

Silver was so angry he wanted to kick the chair before him to pieces, but he knew that would only worsen his case. The emotions in his stomach kept getting stronger and stronger. He rested his arms over the area. It didn't feel like any stomachache he'd ever had.

'I swear, I'm going crazy,' Silver tapped his foot slowly against the floor, trying his best not to make too much noise or sound too annoyed. The last thing he wanted was to make the whole situation worse for himself. 

"Silver?"

Silver was so lost in his own thoughts he didn't even notice his father walk in.

"Yes?" He responded, trying to bite back his sour attitude as much as he could. Silver could see all over his father's face that he was doing a poor job at it.

"Son," Silver stared at his father as he sat in front of him. "Do you want to know why I am so upset?"

"Because I ran after Espio and parted ways upset with you?"

"That is one of the reasons," Shadow sighed out.

'What else could there be?'

"Moreso, I am upset you do not trust me."

"I do trust you." Silver retorted.

"Silver, I taught you better than to be dishonest with me. You do not trust me. If you trusted me, you would not have kept this from me."

"But-"

Shadow raised up his hand before Silver could give a reply. Silver jaw clenched.

"Truly, did you really think I am such a terrible father that I would risk the life of my only son to fix what happened?"

"I never said-!"

Shadow stood up from with such force the wooden chair he was sitting on flew back. The screeching and tumbling rattled the entire house and made Silver's breath hitch.

"I would do anything to trade places with you! I have risked everything and everyone to keep you safe! Yet still, I see the anger on your face whenever I have to hold my tongue so that the trials run their perfect course and we can give a chance at the future everyone deserves. Why, Silver?! Tell me why you hate me so much?"

"I don't hate you, father." That's all Silver could muster to say while his throat grew warm and scratchy. If he said another word, his words would break, and his eyes would pool over with tears. He didn't deserve to cry. Not there in front of his father who was pouring his heart out with dry eyes and his voice stable and clear. He could even muster a couple of words without becoming a pathetic mess.

"Do you think I get gratification from lying to my son? Believe me, I don't! It breaks my heart to have to keep things from you. It tears my soul in two to know that one day, I will stop waking up to your face. But..." Shadow sighed, shaking his head. "What must be done will be done. We'll be happy in our other life. But for now, please, my son. Don't waste these moments we have together being angry at me."

"I'm..." Silver couldn't hold it any longer. A tear strayed down his cheek. "I'm sorry."

Shadow looked behind him and dragged his chair back to be right in front of his son. He wiped the tears off of his son's warm face. Silver's lip quivered as Shadow looked at him with his tired eyes. Those same old, ruby eyes that have been him like this since he was a little boy.

"I accept your apology," Shadow said softly. He caressed Silver's cheek as he continued to wipe the tears from his face just like he used to when he was a boy. "You should have told me, Silver. I assumed my son would trust me enough to tell me his fears."

"I'm starting to realize I should have done a lot of things differently," Silver laughed softly, his face still warm and wet from crying. His father took his hand and instead rested his arm on the table. "I really am sorry, dad."

"Silver," Silver looked towards his father from across the table. "Do you remember what I told you when you were young?"

"I think so?" Silver crossed his arms and began to think. His father had told him a lot of stories, mostly about the past he had before meeting his mother and before the first time he met his uncle Sonic. "Is this about your time with the doctor and his granddaughter?"

"Yes," Shadow's voice grew dark, and his eyes began to glow red. Silver could tell his father was deathly angry. "I detested that man with every fiber of my body. I could never understand how heartache and the fear of losing someone could destroy a person," Shadow shook his head. "Even when I lost Maria, I was able to come back to my senses."

'He never really talks about her. From the databases, she died from a government-initiated raid.'

"That was not the case when I lost your mother,"

'Mom...'

"Only then did I understand the man I hated. I never thought it was possible to lose her. And when I did, I went mad with grief. Sick with rage. The time stone was something Dr. Robotnik would speak of, all to reverse what happened."

"It never was the stop of the war, was it?" Silver began to remember when his father would cry alone in his room. Although he would see his father be strong around him and even stronger on the battlefield, he could not imagine all the pain he was going through because of his mother's death. "It was to get her back."

"I knew it." Silver whispered. His father looked rather ashamed of himself at that moment. Silver held back a gulp, too afraid to make any noise.

"It was selfish, yes, but I could not forgive myself for what happened to her. The simple thought of you growing up without her broke me apart like nothing ever has," Shadow's eyes began to tear up. He clenched his fist, not wanting to cry. Silver stared at his father, riddled with shame. He tried to comfort him, but his guilt prevented him from offering him a comforting touch. "I went mad trying to find the stone. To prevent the death of your mother and those of my dear friends. I proposed the idea to Tails. He was the one who explained to me my plan could not come to fruition."

"Well, yeah. What would be the point of stopping Mom from getting killed if the war is what killed her."

Shadow nodded in agreement.

"As I told you before, we were unprepared. We were at peace. No one had even bothered to pick up a weapon after the first war ended. That was our downfall."

"No one could have known," Silver reassured. "No one could have blamed you guys for wanting to retire after fight 'the war of all wars'."

"What is funny is your mother was the one person who never stopped fighting."

"She didn't?"

"No, not ever. She would say her strength was a gift, and because of that, it was her calling to use that strength to help those who could not help themselves."

Silver adored the way his father talked about his mother. Though melancholy, a light sparked in his eyes and a permanent smile appeared on his face at the mere mention of her. In these moments, Silver can glimpse into the past and see what his father used to be before the scourge.

'She sounds awesome.'

"Your mother could solve anything she puts her mind to. She'll be able to fix this mess we're in. Whatever threat comes, she'll stop it. You have to let her know that."

"I know," Silver muttered. He has heard the same speech hundreds of times. It tears him up inside that he will only see what his mother is capable of in another life that isn't even his.

"Son?" Shadow sighed and placed his hand atop his son's. "I have been too hard on you. For that, I owe you an apology."

"It's okay, dad. You do what you have to do, right?" Silver whispered.

"I am changing your mission."

"Huh? To what?"

"You are to stay in the past and help them win. You can spend time with them, meet them, and get to know all the things words will not be able to justify."

"Wait, really?" Silver stood up in surprise. Shadow nodded as his eyes shut, lost in thought.

"I write a list of everything there is to know about them. I hope that will make you happy."

'Stay with Mom and her friends?'

"Really? You're not joking?"

"You should know that jokes aren't my strong point."

"Thank you!" Silver  grabbed his fathers hand and brough him into a hug. His father's surprise chuckle rang through both of their bodies. "You have no idea how much this means to me, Dad."

"Anything for you, son."

Shadow patted Silver's head before letting him go. Shadow stares into Silver's eyes for a moment.

"You look just like her," Shadow whispered. A small smile on his face. "I can't wait for you to meet her, son. She will love you."

"I hope so."

"She will. I know it." Shadow reaffirmed with confidence.

Silver smiled sheepishly, not knowing what else to say. He felt like a weight had been lifted off his chest. The talk he had wanted with his father had finally been had, and now he didn't know what to do with himself.

"Let's hope we didn't disturb Espio too much. He is still getting used to his room."

"Oh, I almost forgot about him. How is he doing?"

"Adjusting would be the best word," Shadow sighed out. "We should let him rest; he traveled miles to get here."

"When was the last time you saw him?"

"His body was dumped out in a landfill about three years ago. It was then I learned that he had lost most of his memories. His mind was gone, but the body doesn't easily forget. He knew how to claw his way out of a dangerous situation."

"But he remembers you now. What happened in between those three years?"

Shadow shook his head. "I wish I could answer that. I don't know why I am the only one he can recall. I wasn't even the one closest to him."

"Hm," Silver hummed. "Memories work in weird ways."

"You both have met before this."

"Huh?" Silver blinked. "What do you mean?"

"You were still small, barely able to make out a babble. He held you in his arms and nearly cried when he saw you open your eyes. He said you reminded him of your mother. Mighty was there two. He made you those wooden toys you loved so much as a child."

"What? He did?!"

"He did," Shadow nodded. "I wish you both could have remembered all that."

"So do I," Silver got up from his chair. His legs were wobbly from all the nerves, so he steadied himself on the top rail of the chair. "Do you know if Uncle Sonic knows about Espio?"

"Of course he does. They were close before the war."

'I wonder what he'll say about him?'

"Before you go on saying anything, I wouldn't bother bringing it up to him. You know how he can be."

'Of course, I know how he is. I have to bring him his food. Not that Dad doesn't talk to him. I can hear them fighting through the walls.'

"But while you're there," Shadow stands up from his place at the table and makes his way to the food safe. It's a basket of assorted foods from the rations station. "Take this to him."

"How did-?"

"You think I wouldn't know my own son?"

"Yeah, yeah, I know," Silver grabbed the basket, taking in the scent of semi-stale bread and metal cans that stunk of dirty copper. "Dad?"

"Yes?"

"I'm sorry. Again."

"You're okay, son. Remember how much I love you."

"Me too, Dad." 'I love you too.'

Silver took the basket off the table and walked to the door. He silently creaked it open and walked outside. The sight of a disheveled shed made him sigh.

Silver is usually the one to deliver him his dinner, but whenever he comes back from trial runs, it becomes harder to ignore his Uncle's annoyance with him as it becomes a fight of 'the trials are pointless' or 'how dare you leave your father in charge of my meals.'

'As if I have any control over what he and my father fight about when I'm not here.'

Silver knocked on the door first before pushing the heavy wooden door open. There was an audible groan coming from the shadowy lump curled on the bed. To Silver's surprise, the room smelled as if it had been freshly cleaned.

"You two will never let me starve to death, will you?"

Sonic was turned away from the door. All Silver could make out were faded, blue quills. Silver couldn't remember the last time he saw his uncle's face. It could have been months or even years. From all the years of Sonic yelling at him or giving him silent treatment, he has learned it is best not to visit his room often.

"Hey, Uncle Sonic. I'm sorry I haven't been around too much."

"Yes, I could tell. Look what your father came and did!"

'Cleaned?'

Silver heard him grunt from his bed. His body shook with the vibrations of his voice.

"I came to ask you something."

"Whatever it is, I don't know."

"It's about Espio."

There was a pause. Silver could not even hear his Uncle's breath. It was so deathly quiet.

"Espio?" He finally spoke. "What about Espio?"

"We found him. He's alive and staying with us."

"Oh? What, he wants to see me or something?" Sonic let out a low chuckle. Silver had never heard a laugh so devoid of emotion. "Tell him no thank you."

"No, he came looking for my father?"

"Shadow? Why would he want to look for Shadow? He despised the guy."

'Really? They seemed pretty friendly before. I wonder what changed.'

"He doesn't remember much, but he knows who my father is," "It got me thinking that, if he sees you, it might trigger some memories. It happened when he saw my father; maybe it can happen with you, too?"

"I don't think he'll want to see me like this," Sonic rolled over to look at Silver, who nearly gasped at looking at his face. The former hero's eyes were sunken deep in his skull, far deeper than his father's. He could see the thick outlines of battle scars that had begun to lose their pigment and texture. As Sonic frowned, Silver could see the wrinkles in the corner of his lips. Anyone could see that grief has aged him. "I wouldn't.''

"Please," Silver pleaded. "He needs to remember."

"Don't pull that with me, kid. It won't get you anywhere," His words were laced with a sadness the anger was trying to cover. Silver was sure his uncle had to know that he could look past it. Yet he still tries to keep up the facade. "Espio should be grateful he doesn't have to remember. Leave him like that, you'll do him a big favor."

"That's the thing. He wants his memories back," Sonic raised his brows, seemingly remembering the name. "I can't force you to see him, but at least tell me what you know about someone he's looking for?"

"Let me guess. This is about Mighty, isn't it?"

"How did you-?"

He's been trying to protect that guy for years, Of course he'd be looking for him," "Sonic tsked. "Just leave it be, kid, trust me."

"Please, I need to know everything you know about him."

"Ugh! Fine," Sonic hosted himself up and was now sitting upright. Silver stopped himself from gasping. It's been years since they had a conversation that warranted his Uncle to sit down like that. "but I'll only tell you this once so pay attention!"

'Woah, I didn't think it would be that easy!'

Silver looked to his wristlet and began to type something onto it. He looked up and waited for him to speak. His uncle looked back and rolled his eyes.

"He's an armadillo with black fur, a red shell-hair thing that goes down to his back, and black eyes. I met him way back before the four-year war. He used to be a part of a team with Charmy Bee, Vector the Crocodile, and Espio, which is probably why he's looking for him,"

'That's a bit of an over-explanation, at least I know what he looks like.'

"All I know about him is that he's a bit of a treehugger. He used to live up in the forest before this war, and the last time I knew anything about where he was, he was living up in Emerald Groves. When Espio was captured, he left everyone to look for someone named Ray. Probably a friend that Mighty hoped would help him get Espio back, but that isn't any of my business,"

'Ray? I've never heard of that name, not even from father. So who could that even be?'

"Look at a forest of something. Maybe he'll fall out of a tree."

"Thank you, Uncle Sonic. I'll bring it up with my father later."

"Whatever," Sonic grabbed a piece of bread and shoved it in his mouth while waving Silver to get out of his room. "Thanks for the food, kid."

"Anytime."

Silver rushed out of Sonic's room and made his way back into the house through the back door. His father was still sitting alone in the kitchen. A glass of fig wine sat in front of him. His attention drew towards Silver, who had a wide smile on his face.

"Dad! I know how to find Mighty."

"Shhh!" Shadow nearly lunged at him. "Someone is sleeping in here."

Silver tensed up and tried to keep his footsteps quiet as he approached his father. "Sorry!"

"What do you mean 'you know how to find him'?"

"Uncle Sonic told me."

"What did he tell you?" Shadow asked, confused.

"That he'll fall out of a tree!" The look of confusion only deepened. Silver smiled awkwardly, knowing how weird all of this must sound to him. "I know this all must sound weird, but I'm going to make this right. Dad, I'm going to get Mighty back."

"I lost track of him years back, but I know if anyone can find him, it's you," Silver stifled a chuckle as his father petted his head like he would always do when he was a child."Did you make him a promise or something?"

"No, but how else will I get the person who was able to one-up me so quickly to train me?"

"Always the clever one. You're her boy, alright."

'Mom...I can't wait to see you.'

[silverynight]

Welcome home

<---Previous

Chapter 4

Izuku steps out of his cubicle and stretches for a couple of seconds before sitting back.

It has been a really productive morning, but also a difficult one; a couple of pro heroes have finished three out of ten missions on his list, a few cases have been successfully closed and now Izuku has to deal with the paperwork.

Pro heroes usually send him the reports, but he has to make sure they're in order and save them in the correct file.

Also, Aizawa told him they were going to start searching for the missing students in a new area; Todoroki and Hagakure are going to be in charge of it.

Since they have just one lead, a young girl who saw a "suspicious" person walking outside her school a few days ago, the situation hasn't been classified as a rescue mission. The pro heroes will be sent to locate and assess the situation first.

However, since they have to be ready for anything, Izuku has to be online the whole time, prepared to send more pro heroes if necessary.

At least he'll have time to eat something because the operation will start in a couple of hours.

As soon as he listens a couple of his coworkers sigh and start whispering among themselves he looks up, momentarily distracted.

"It's good to see you again, Midoriya."

"Good morning, Todoroki!"

The pro hero smiles softly at him before leaning over the cubicle a bit to see him better.

"Aizawa told me I can be in contact with you if I need anything during today's mission," he says, prompting Izuku to nod.

"Yes, I think you'll have to pay a visit to the support department so they give you what you need," he explains. "They'll provide you with an earpiece, but that's only in case things don't go as planned."

Izuku is not usually in constant communication with heroes unless the place is completely unknown to them and Izuku has to gide them through it with a blueprint. Sometimes, they need quick information on the villain's quirk and others he has to send assistance.

However, most of the time Izuku remains quiet while working on other cases because pro heroes take care of everything most days.

"Alright, thank you," Todoroki's lips quirk up a little again. Izuku doesn't usually see him smiling in interviews, so he's glad to know he does like to smile every now and then.

Perhaps it's because of what he knows about his family life (two years ago, a reporter found out serious and concerning stuff about Endeavor's behavior towards his wife and children) but sometimes Izuku feels the need to give Todoroki a hug. They're not friends so he knows he can't offer that kind of comfort, but he hopes one day he can.

Todoroki seems like a good person.

"Good luck on your mission!" Izuku beams.

"Thank you," the pro hero nods, looking slightly flustered. "I have to go see Aizawa now."

"I thought you already did!" Izuku mumbles, feeling a little bit mortified. He hopes his boss doesn't scold him for distracting a pro hero. "Sorry for keeping you!"

Todoroki's smile gets slightly wider; he looks amused.

"No, it's fine. I wanted to say 'Hi' to you first. Have a good day, Midoriya!"

"You too!"

***

He logs off before getting his bento box; he just needs to buy something to drink and then head to the break room.

"Great!" Ashido grins, startling him. "We arrived right on time!"

Behind her, Uraraka shows him her own lunch box before both pro heroes take him by the arms and drag him towards the elevator.

Pro heroes have their own break room; Izuku shouldn't be there, but his two friends are very persistent that day.

The room is almost empty anyway, due to their complicated schedules, pro heroes' breaks aren't usually at the same time as their coworkers'.

Ashido and Uraraka got lucky that day.

"Here, we got you something!" Uraraka hands him a can of green tea.

"Thank you!" Izuku beams, happily opening his bento; he's starving.

"Is that Tamagoyaki?" Ashido looks at his lunch with envy. "It looks delicious!"

"Yeah, you have gotten a lot better at cooking lately! I'm so proud!"

"Actually..." Izuku mumbles, scratching his cheek nervously as he looks at the eggs, the perfect cut vegetables and the sausage. His lunch really looks mouthwatering. "Kacchan made it for me. He picked me up this morning and gave me this before dropping me at work."

Ashido's smile morphs into something almost mischievous.

"Interesting."

"Wow," Uraraka blurts out. "Honestly, it's wild to see Bakugo acting like this. I never thought he'd be one of those besotted boyfriends when I was in high-school, in fact, I wasn't sure he was going to get himself a significant other and yet here we are."

Izuku chokes on his tea before staring at the two women sitting in front of him. They look too amused for his liking.

"You're right. I mean, we weren't even sure he was into... anything really because he never showed interest in anyone, but I guess his type is green haired cute beans!" Ashido chuckles, pinching Izuku's cheek affectionately.

"Please, stop," he pouts, turning completely red. "You know we're not dating! We're friends!"

"Of course you are, darling," the pink pro hero pats him on the head, like he's a stubborn kid.

"What's the meaning of this then? I can smell the love from here!" The brown haired woman asks, pointing at Izuku's beautiful bento box.

"He... Kacchan worries about me a lot," Izuku tries to explain. "He did this because he was mad I had noodles for dinner the other day. He says it's trash food."

"Well... Blasty is kinda right, they are certainly not good for you. Although he tends to overreact too," Ashido comments, resting her chin on her palm as she keeps looking at Izuku with amusement.

Flustered, he looks down at his lunch and keeps eating in silence for a while. He wonders why everyone seems to think he's dating Katsuki lately.

"Anyway..." Yellow eyes meet his as she sighs. "I think you should know that you make him really happy."

"He makes me happy too!"

They fall into a comfortable silence for a while, until Uraraka asks:

"Do you know if Todoroki is coming today? It's been a long time since I last saw him and I wanted to talk to him."

"So you were in the same class!" He says, glad to have guessed correctly as he watches both pro heroes nod. "Well, I think he's still in Aizawa's office, although he must be preparing for his mission."

"Have you met him?"

"Yes, he's really nice," he mumbles, after finally leaving his box empty. He needs to thank Katsuki for it again.

Both women nod, Izuku can see in their eyes they're having flashbacks of their time in high-school.

"He was a bit cold at first," Ashido says after a while. "Claiming he wasn't there to make friends, but he eventually warmed up to us!"

"Yeah, he doesn't trust people easily," the other pro hero nods after taking a bite of her mochi. "But he's really kind to those he decides to trust."

He wants to say something about his first meeting with Todoroki, but his phone vibrates then.

"Oh, it's Aizawa!" Izuku jumps from his seat after looking at his notifications. "Sorry, I have to go!"

Todoroki and Hagakure will be heading towards the place earlier than expected.

He needs to be ready.

***

It's been a couple of hours without news; Izuku's leg is bouncing under his desk, but he tries to focus on Kirishima's report.

The truth is, like probably everyone there, he can't stop thinking about those students. It's even worse when a new plan makes them hopeful.

He almost drops his black tea, the one he made before logging back in, when his earpiece makes a sound.

"Hagakure?"

"He keeps them here, Midoriya," the pro hero whispers. "But I think the villain is not alone so we'll probably need back up before proceeding."

"Let me transfer you to Aizawa," he says before checking the other pro heroes profiles. There are two of them on patrol, but they don't have any missions at the moment.

"How many?" Aizawa asks as soon as Izuku answers the call.

"Two available right now."

"Who?"

"Uravity and Dynamight."

"Alright. Send them the location and explain the situation to them briefly. Remember that our priority is to rescue the students."

"Yes, sir."

He decides to send them texts so they can focus better, well... he also does it not to fall into the temptation of wishing Katsuki good luck or ask him to be careful.

Izuku has to be professional.

Now comes the worst part of it: waiting. He knows a couple of his coworkers are monitoring them thanks to the tracker in their hero suits, but Izuku forces himself to stay in his station.

If things get... noisy the reporters will find out, and it'll be on the news in minutes. But Aizawa forbids them to look at the news while they're working because sometimes the reporters don't have all the information on what's going and can lead the people in Izuku's department to give the pro heroes wrong instructions.

They must act based on the data they have and the details the pro heroes themselves provide when they're dealing with the villains.

But it's difficult to stay there without doing anything and not knowing what's going on.

After almost an hour, he gets another call, this time from pro hero Shoto.

"Midoriya?"

"Yes?"

"We have five teenagers here. Can you send us the information on the missing students to make sure they all are here?"

"Of course. Are they alright?"

"Yes, I think they have a few scratches and some of them haven't eaten in hours, but they'll be fine."

As he says that, Izuku can hear a few explosions in the background and a familiar voice cursing at the top of his lungs.

He sighs in relief.

After sending the information to the four pro heroes in the scene, Uraraka texts him back that they are, in fact, the missing students.

***

By the time he has to leave, Izuku is desperate to see Katsuki. His coworkers told him that they took the students to the hospital and they are with their families at the moment.

Also, the villains have been taken into custody and are currently waiting for trial.

Perhaps he can ask Katsuki exactly what happened while they have dinner together.

"Izuku!"

"Kacchan!"

"Come here, I deserve one," the pro hero says with a smirk, spreading his arms in front of him as he steps out of the elevator.

Izuku doesn't know how their little routine started, but he gives Katsuki a hug after a successful mission; what he doesn't tell him is that he does it mostly because he's happy he didn't get hurt.

Since they're still in the building, Izuku is determined to give him just a quick hug, but Katsuki lifts him off his feet easily, prompting Izuku to giggle.

"I want a hug too."

"What the fuck are you doing here, half and half?"

"I came to see Midoriya and thank him for his assistance during the mission."

Izuku tries to get back on his feet, but Katsuki refuses to let him go and even moves him away from Todoroki's reach.

"Can I get a hug?"

"Of course, Todoroki!"

"Fuck off, half and half!"

"Kacchan, be nice!"

In the end Izuku does give the other pro hero a hug, although Katsuki pulls him away by the hood of his jacket rather quickly.

They're in the hallway, but he can see his coworkers trying to get a glimpse of what's going on from the office.

"Do you want to go celebrate with us, Midoriya? Uraraka says we should go out."

"Sure!" Izuku is tired, but Todoroki looks happy about the perspective of hanging out with friends that he can't say no. He has the feeling he doesn't do that often.

Katsuki growls before pulling Izuku aside.

"But I thought we were having dinner at my place! I was going to cook Italian for you!"

"We can do that tomorrow, Kacchan. Let's hang out with our friends!"

He pouts, but Izuku knows he will go anyway.

"Tch! Fine!"

Izuku puts both hands at each side of the pro hero's face and grins at him; the fact that Katsuki has to bend over a little so Izuku can reach him makes him feel warm inside.

Then, Katsuki pulls him into another hug as he flips Todoroki off.

"Kacchan!"

***

Next-->

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[olivianyx]

I didn't knew u were a respawner! That's so cool, I've been on my respawn journey for like 1-2 months, I hope this is okay to ask but how is your respawning routine? Currently I am taking a break but I would love to hear abt your respawning journey so far :>

Heyy! I'm glad I find many people who are into respawning! Actually mine's a long ass story and you might wonder how am I even doing fine to this day 😭

Okay so long story short, let's begin.

Back in 2022, I discovered shifting. After finding out about loa in 2021, I was anticipated to shift realities just to escape this one. I hated being here. I was suffering with depression, bi polar, avpd, anxiety and maladaptive daydreaming, and I was from a toxic household with narcissistic, toxic and strict parents and fake af friends. It was really hard for me to even open up to somebody. It was hard for me to handle (actually I'm tearing up rn while I type this... Especially those traumas are the worst thing I ever experienced)

When I started my research about shifting, I got into amino. I saw the word 'respawn' and I was like tf is this?? I thought it was some gaming shit and then when I researched it on amino, I really wanted to go away from here and be happier than ever. I wanted to be in peace and do whatever I want in my reality. And no one should judge or stop me from getting what I want. I quickly scripted the place I wanna respawn, and other stuffs. I decided that I will get tf outta here.

Well because I had a reason that I'll respawn, I completely ignored my 3D circumstances. Like I stopped taking care of myself, stopped talking to people around me, stopped studying, stopped doing everything. I just was desperately trying to respawn every night telling myself that I will.

When in fact I was wasting my time and energy into lack. I almost didn't study for my finals and wrote the exams and hope that I'd respawn before my results will be declared. I used to keep time crunches to respawn, and when I didn't, I used to get so depressed, that I attempted to take my own life for the first time ever back in may 2022.

My brother accidentally entered my room and saved me from doing that. When I say I've almost attempted to take my own life for like 10+ times that same year, I still didn't give up. My exam results came and I luckily passed my exams.

So after all these I decided to give a break for 3 months completely for my own mental health. Ik my journey for 2 years wasn't smooth, it was full of ups and downs, and it messed my mental health up. I wasn't even using loassumption in a proper manner at that time. Ngl, I was so damn desperate for manifesting even the smallest stuff (I just wanna time travel back in time and slap the shit outta that version of me that I was back then 💀)

So when I got into a medical university in 2023 January, I completely forgot about respawning for a while. And again in October 2023, I logged into Tumblr, and became friends with one of the respawner Julie. She was so sweet, that she even answered every stupid doubts of mine (God give me Julie's patience 🗣️🗣️) she had respawned back in October 2023.

She was the one who told me 'SELF CONCEPT IS THE KEY!' so I started working on my self concept for like 1 and a half-ish months.... Well, I wasn't even perfect with it, but I tried. I did many challenges but the meraskii one had a good effect on my mindset. So last Christmas, I even learnt about the void (I hate implying it as void, I'd rather say it as I AM state) I wanted to enter it so bad.

I just did my affs, persisted in it, and listened to subs, and on Christmas Eve, I got into it successfully.

This year, I find respawning a very relaxing topic. Like I don't even get bothered by it. I know I'm already where I wanna be. And don't worry, my mental health has been good for a few days now. I was thinking of changing my script, so for the past 2 months, I've been scripting my new reality, well still it's only half way done hehe.

By the end of this month, I'm planning on respawning through the void. So till then I just wanna be thankful for everything here and enjoy every moment here without regrets.

Everybody's journey is different. All you have to do is embody your desired state. You just have to be the version of you having your desires. Be the one who already has it. For me, that took 3 years to click. I just had to relax and give myself in. Let go and enjoy the fact that I already have my desires in the 4d.

Ig this helped... any further doubts, you can ask me! Lots of luv 🤍🤍🤍🤍

- olivia 🤍

[thetombedspirit]

SPOILERS FOR AVATAR: FRONTIERS OF PANDORA - TAP CON-1 AND THE SARENTU MOOT MASSACRE

I wanted to post my full thoughts about the game after i finished my first playthrough, but I can not just keep what I just learned in my head, so be forwarned; Spoilers ahead.

Let me just say that the entire TAP CON-1 quest made me feel... disgusting.

That word perfectly encapsulates how I felt the second I heard how they made the children shower in disinfectant, as if they were diseased. I felt gross, and messy and just absolutely disgusted.

And then the massacre happened and I was just... I don't know how to describe it. Like, I knew Alma was involved, but the way that it all just poured out. That she was there during the whole slaughter, how she admits to playing ignorant, how she let the children believe the lie that their families abandoned them and it just made me think of everything else she's done since knowing her.

She did nothing as the RDA barged into the moot and slaughtered the entire clan.

She did nothing as the children were literally shoved into cages like animals, shackled like prisoners and then washed and striped of everything that made them Sarentu.

She proceeds to teach them what she sought out to teach, knowing damn well the consequences of wanting her school program to work.

She did nothing as Mercer and Harding trained/abused the children.

She did nothing when Mercer killed Aha'ri (which should have been the breaking point at this rate)

She left the children in cyrosleep for 16 years, not once thinking to check if they were actually alive.

She proceeds to keep her secret, and even expresses confirmation in an audio log that "they made the right choice" when bringing up how the Sarentu children are adjusting to the resistance. Basically implying that she's glad her teachings worked.

She tells Ri'nela that the Kame'tire can't be trusted, alienating the clan that she indirectly ruined with her ambitions.

And when she's finally figured out and Alma's Avatar is killed, she laments about never experiencing Pandora freely anymore, as if she expects Ri'nela and MC to lament with her.

After the whole funeral, I began rummaging it around in my head, and in the end, I concluded that the death of Alma's avatar and her actions are in direct parallel to Jake's.

Jake wanted to be part of the Na'vi because he got to actually connect with it's culture and worked to become a part of it. And when he screwed up, he worked to earn the Omaticaya's forgiveness, eventually becoming a true Na'vi.

Alma pretty much already saw herself as part of the Na'vi, despite barely doing anything. When Nor happily shows them the Sarentu knife and then laments how it was kept as a trophy and Alma said it was back with "us", like she was implying herself as part of the Sarentu. And she did very little if nothing at all to amend her mistakes, instead opting to play the victim here.

I also thought about Grace here, and her own sins with her own school. But the difference there is that she actually worked to make a friendship with the Omaticaya before taking in students. And her school was out in the forest, made from wood and full of life and learning. Alma's school was indoors inside metal walls, cut off from the outside world and they were taught one-sided knowledge that boosted the RDA's image and tarnished the Na'vi's.

And then Grace's School failed, she to seemed to loose herself to her avatar, preferring her avatar body to her human,, but she never once tried to cover up her mistakes. And she tried to make things work.

Alma did nothing but cover up the truth until it couldn't be hidden anymore.

In the end, the fact that just one quest could make me feel like this and have me think about all this really shows that the story works.

So it's gameplay is a little too simular to Far Cry. Who cares? So long as the story has me feeling complex emotions like this, I will play it.

Even if the glitches get a little annoying, I still enjoy every bit of this game.

And I will post my full thoughts on the game once I've finished it.

Anyway, thanks for putting up with my train wreck of thoughts!

[not-the-conversation-starter]

The Death Of A Website.

tl;dr click source to see an AU of my blog.

As many of you may not have heard, Cohost has gone read only. The website infamous for "Zero Discoverability" and its users "Not Being Funny." Servers will close down at the end of 2024, if not earlier, being backed up on the Internet Archive before that. Since their user counts were still low after 2 years (about half of all sign ups ever were from people evacuating twitter, which then didn't know how to use the site so most left almost immediately. Kind of hilarious) they didn't feel like anymore money bleeding OR the fact that a staff of only four people being on call 24/7 was worth it anymore.

However,

the people who DID use the site loved it. And they did some genuinely cool things on it, far cooler than anything I ever saw even in the glory days of Tumblr. You know, like Finn and Jake hi-fiving between 2 posts. Stuff like a playable maze, or a fully navigable 3d room you move around in with your mouse entirely within a post. They really did some cool stuff.

There were also a ton of really talented people, people like the composer Lena Raine(Celeste/Minecraft) who loved the site because you could just. Actually talk to people on it! Without an algorithm to boost their posts, the only people who saw it were genuinely looking for it.

Also some of them were just good posters, we did get Pikmin 18 billion and eleven from Cohost after all.

The point is, I think if anyone outside of Cohost actually knew what was being done on Cohost, it would of succeeded. There would of been enough active users for them to invest more. If I knew about all of this I would of been there way more!

But rather than just you blindly believing me, I decided to spend (almost) every hour I would of on Tumblr, on Cohost instead. Clicking that link, or the source, or the link on the source above in the tl;dr, will take you to my Cohost blog. At least while it's still read-only.

You should check it out. I reblogged a lot, but the first page or 2 (every 20 posts, I kept trying to stop but I got sentimental and reblogged more) is pretty much just people's last posts. I'd say give it 3 pages to see if you're interested or not in exploring more of what the website has to offer.

If you've ever wondered what people would post on a dying website,

If you ever wondered what some of the best posts people were making on Cohost that got shared again in its last dying moments were,

If you want some reference for what inside jokes would look like to an outsider,

If you're just bored and need something to scroll through,

if you ever wondered what I would of reblogged on that website if I remembered my password easily enough to log back in easily...

You could think of my blog as a small encapsulation of a small website. There's only 60 pages, including the ones from before the announcement from me just rarely using the site!

I reblogged all kinds of posts. Goodbyes, sarcastic hellos, mourning, long speeches about the spirit of Cohost set to sad music, nothing burgers, inside jokes I didn't understand, The New Garfield, posts I flat out didn't read past the title because they were too long and I just wanted to move on really there's a lot of posts to archive, CSS crimes, stuff I found funny, "Where to find me" and webrings and website posts for people I never knew, Love Honk, reviews for movies and games I never intend to play or watch, 88x31 buttons, music recommendations and history, entire games, signing up for RSS feeds, asks and answers related to other stuff I didn't share on accident, regular memes, Intern Secretary Eggbug, a post that's just an image hosted off-site so it'll update even after readonly, and so on.

(Nothing overtly NSFW. Tag search still works if you want that)

One that I, personally, am sad is gone. That I'm glad I got to see at least in its dying days. That I genuinely hope someone makes another attempt at creating.

[fandomsandflyingstingrays]

Reposting yesterday's fic because I accidentally published the first, highly unedited draft... it's Fine

Also, it's now on AO3!

Raine had been counting down to the Day of Unity all year, had burned the number of days and hours remaining into their mind, but somehow, it still felt like they should have had more time. Headquarters was in chaos, people calling out over each other, the air a mess of requests and worries. A blessed, momentary silence occurred when Katya dropped her tambourine— only for the panic to double as she realized it left her without an instrument.

“Can you play the bell cittern?” Raine asked. At her nod, they wove their way through the crowd to the back of the room where the beds lay, the only truly peaceful corner, where Eda was sitting with Luz.

“Eda, I was wondering if I could borrow— why do you have a box of toenails?”

Luz gave a muted laugh. “She was using it to hide this,” she said, holding up a log of blue wood.

“And the mystery of who depleted the Bonesborough Garden Club’s precious stash is answered,” Raine said, casting an amused glance at Eda. She winked, and they quickly turned their gaze back to Luz. “What are you going to carve?”

“I… don’t know. Eda taught me the basics, but…”

She was quiet for almost a minute before Raine realized she wasn’t going to finish the sentence.

“So,” Eda said finally, “what was it you needed?”

“Oh— I was wondering if Katya could borrow your bell cittern. Her tambourine was a… casualty of rushed preparations.”

“I’d love to say yes, but I don’t have it on me. I was so busy grabbing my fabulous toenails from the Emperor’s stash of all my stuff that I didn’t have time to look for anything else, and obviously I can’t just summon it anymore.”

Raine drew a circle in the air, and the bell cittern fell into their arms. It was Eda’s turn to look away.

“Right. I forgot that you still remember its magical signature.”

“Of course I do.”

I never forgot you, they wanted to say. I’m sorry for making you believe that I did. I’m so glad you never really believed it.

But the Day of Unity was in two days. There was no time for distractions or regret, only what needed to be done.

“Could you give it to Katya and make sure she knows what she’s doing?” they asked instead. “She’s a talented musician, but any bard worth their bile sack would still benefit from your expertise.”

A smile tugged at the corners of Eda’s lips. “You got it.” To Luz, she added, “Give me a shout if you need me, all right?”

The young human nodded, not looking up from her wood. Raine had a million other things to do, a million questions to answer, but for reasons they couldn’t quite explain, they found themself perching beside her, taking the spot Eda had vacated.

“You know, Eda taught me how to carve my palisman, too. Her dad taught her a few months before our class was supposed to learn, and she couldn’t resist passing on the forbidden knowledge.” They said the words in a low, dramatic tone, and were rewarded with a faint smile. “It still took me a while to figure out what I wanted, though.”

“That’s my problem, too,” she sighed. “Your palisman is supposed to represent your future, but for the last month, I haven’t been able to think about anything beyond the Day of Unity. I have no idea what my future is supposed to look like… or my palisman.”

“I get that,” Raine said, the words coming out a little more bitterly than they intended. To soften them, they added quickly, “but Eda told me that you both know about the portal the emperor has in the skull. As soon as we defeat him, we’ll take control of it. We’ll be able to get you home.”

Tears welled in Luz’s eyes, but they didn’t look grateful or hopeful. Just sad.

“Luz?”

She wiped her eyes. “I want to go home. I do. I miss my mom so bad, but… she made me promise, the last time I saw her, that when I went back, I would stay there for good.”

“What? But… you have a family here. It sounds like you two love each other a lot. Why would she want to take that from you?”

“That’s not how she sees it,” Luz said quickly. “It’s just… things are different in the Human Realm. You can’t do magic, or tell anyone about magic, and if you disappear or get injured by like… detention monsters or plants with fangs, that’s not normal. That’s not something you can explain.” She shrugged. “I want to be with my mom. I know she loves me, and I love living with her. But… that would also mean I couldn’t be a witch. There are no human witches.” She laughed quietly. “Besides the one who’s trying to kill everyone, I guess. What I’m trying to say is, the Demon Realm and the Human Realm… they’re what my teachers would call mutually exclusive. I have to choose.”

“That sounds a lot like Belos’s thinking, you know.”

Luz flinched, and Raine tried to make their next words as gentle as possible. “I’m not trying to compare you to him. I’m just saying, this whole business of needing to choose sounds a lot like what he’s been telling us all these years. That we can only take one path. That works for some people. But there are lots of people who can never fit into it, and they shouldn’t be ignored.”

Luz’s expression didn’t change, and they tried again.

“When I was born, I was given a set of words to identify me that didn’t feel right. For a while, I thought that meant I should go the opposite route, but that didn’t feel good either. What finally made me feel settled was choosing not to choose. To just exist, without any expectations or labels that would make people feel like they knew who I was before I got the chance to tell them.”

That made Luz let out a long breath, and something seemed to loosen in her when she looked up at them. “I get that,” she said quietly. “In the Human Realm, they have a lot of rules. A lot of people think you should stick with the identity you were born with. Follow the role they lay out for you. Love the people they want you to love. And like you said, that works for some people, but it never really worked for me. Getting to come here, getting to be away from that, it was nice, but… I never fully belonged here, either.”

“But you made your own way,” Raine told her. “Eda explained about your talent with glyphs. You found your own magic. I’d bet the Human Realm could use some of that, too.” “Glyphs don’t work in the Human Realm.”

“They wouldn’t work without you either. You are the magic I was talking about, Luz. You’ve done so many impossible things during your time here. What’s one more?”

Finally, she gave them a real smile. “You know, I think you’re the first person I’ve met here who’s just as sappy as me.”

They winked. “I can tell we’re going to be good friends. But only if you come visit from time to time.”

“I’ll think about it.”

“That’s good enough for me.”

Luz released a shaky breath and turned back to the wood in her hands. “Could you… show me how to round the top? Eda went over it, but I want to make sure I get it right.”

“Of course. Round, huh? Are you carving a chicken?”

Luz laughed. “You know, that’s sort of close. I’m going to cave an egg.”

“An egg?”

“Yeah. I still don’t know what I want my future to look like… or theirs. But I want us both to be able to choose.” She waved a hand at the maps on the tables and the banners on the walls, at the assembled revolution. “That’s what this is all about, right?”

A sigh of their own escaped Raine, the words snapping a tension they’d carried for so long they’d almost forgotten it was there. “Right.”

Years of subversion and sacrifice had led up to this. Raine had lost things, people, and parts of themself that they could never get back, all in the hopes of winning a single battle. And now that that battle was finally approaching, they worried they’d done too much, or not enough, that they wouldn’t win, or that winning wouldn’t be worth the cost. But beyond all those regrets, all those fears, was the simple truth that in two days’ time, the people of the Isles would be able to choose a future for the first time in half a century. It was enough. It had to be.

Raine placed their hand over Luz’s, guiding her knife to the top of the log. “Shave the wood away from you,” they instructed, “until you get a gentle sort of slope.”

Luz clenched the wood and the knife so hard that her knuckles turned white, but she made the first cut. “Like this?”

It was wobbly, uneven, less a the start of a smooth egg and more the top of a swirling orb. It wasn’t the way Raine would have done it.

“That’s perfect.”

[satureja13]

Ji Ho is back from his first Therapy Game session and couldn't be happier! And Saiwa is relieved they have him back in one piece. He was so worried and felt so bad Ji Ho, their most fragile, had to have his therapy before him, their oldest and leader. Ji Ho: "Don't worry. It was amazing! Tiny Can did an amazing job, you really should try." Saiwa drew in a deep breath: "Ok, I will go next then."

They went over to the living room their office. There are a few things to consider. First that their avatars obviously have a life of their own when they are not logged in. Jack saw Ji Ho as NPC Princess watching his fight at the Arena. So it's possible that they have encounters and experiences they aren't aware of because they are not logged in. Best they prepare to act unsuspicious when they are confronted with their avatar's actions ingame. And then Ji Ho had to tell them that it's the best for all of them when they don't share everything that happens ingame. So the therapy of the others doesn't get spoiled/contaminated. (Jack and the Queen, for example. It's probably better for him he doesn't know that the Queen and Greg are together ingame too. The Queen wanted it to be a secret anyway and maybe it's an important experience for Jack to try to woo the Queen.) But he also talked about his positive experiences and everything that was safe to mention. And they all agreed to make it a habit to take their time to follow their hobbies at least once a week.

Mood at dinner was subdued. Seems they don't take these news well. Jack wanted to know everything about his Queen and Vlad thinks Ji Ho and Caleb did ineffable things together and Ji Ho keeps it from him because he doesn't want to hurt him...

After dinner, Jack and Ji Ho went to the beach to relieve Jack's pain and Saiwa soaked Vlad in the hot tub to relieve his stress.

But Vlad was inconsolable. He knows it's just a game and that it's necessary for Ji Ho's healing and that they finally can be together when this is over and Ji Ho found his buried feelings. Saiwa: "Vlad, I know it's hard but try to hang on. Just for a little longer, hm? It will be worth it in the end. Don't let Ji Ho see you like this. He might stop his therapy and that would be a loss for all of us. We can already see the silver lining on the horizon."

Vlad: "Fine! I already went through hell and back for him. I can do this!" Saiwa: "That's my boy."

Nothing is easy in this world - or the others... But at least they are very beautiful worlds.

Jack: "Ah I can't wait to go back ingame. I miss Lou. And the Queen! Oh, have to make a plan what to say when I see her again! It's so amazing that I can be a totally other me ingame. I'm not damaged there, I'm a highly regarded fighter. And she doesn't know me as an abandoned pup. I'm a grown, strong, handsome wolf. I think I really stand a chance with her!" Poor Ji Ho! This is harder than he expected ö.Ö'

He tries to change the subject and told Jack that he really thinks this therapy game could be a great step forward for all of them. And no matter what happens ingame with Caleb, he's glad that Vlad encouraged him to go for it so he can heal. And how happy he is that he has the Bond with Vlad. No matter what happens, the Bond will keep them together. And how that gives him the strength to keep on going.

They talked about how different their experiences with a fated/bonded relationship are. Ji Ho feels secure to be bonded to Vlad even though they barely talk to each other or spend time together. And even though Ji Ho is not able to love Vlad yet. He never felt stability in his whole life and he cherishes Vlad's constant presence and love over the Bond. Whereas Jack never felt his fated bond between Kiyoshi and him. He is still highly attracted to him (and he hates himself for his weakness!) and he did love Kiyoshi a lot. But that bolt in the chest that should have hit him - nope - never happened. Jack: "Well that's over now. Kiyoshi became a deity and I don't think dieties have fated mates. And I don't want to relive this madness ever again. I'm glad I'm finally crawling out of this bottomless pit."

Then it was time for Vlad to go back home to care for Jeb and Kiyoshi. And to charge the Bond... Vlad: "Jack, wait..." Vlad can't be alone with Ji Ho right now. Not when when he's so upset. Jack sighed. It's about time for their next date, so they can get more comfortable around each other.

Vlad is having a hard time charging the Bond and letting Ji Ho touch him. Who knows what he did with Caleb. And even tough Saiwa told him to not bother Ji Ho with his jealousy, he just couldn't help it... Last Winter Solstice, Ji Ho even agreed to bond with Caleb! Well, he did not really have a choice because Vlad had been lost with Jeb in the Otherworld and wasn't able to protect Ji Ho, but Vlad knows how crazy they all are about Caleb! Omg Vlad!

Saiwa: "They are driving me crazy." Jack: "Well, we all act stupid at times, don't we?" Saiwa sighed: "I guess that's what we do... Oh my, I can't wait to see what Tiny Can has planned for me. Let's hope it helps. It's about time we go back home." Jack: "It will help. Look how well Ji Ho and I already do."

And eventually Ji Ho calmed Vlad through the Bond so they could charge... Vlad feels so stupid and he tries to apologize over the Bond and to reassure Ji Ho that he really means it when he told him that he will endure everything so Ji Ho can heal. And Ji Ho hugged him a bit tighter. He already knows that. We will overcome this too, the Bond said.

The Therapy Game Master Post with the sessions and places so far is -> here

From the Beginning  ~  Underwater Love ~  Latest Current Chapter: 🕹️ 'The One' from the beginning ▶️ here 📚 Previous Chapters: Chapters: 1-6 ~ 7-12 ~ 13-16 ~ 17-22 ~ 23-28

[senka-mesecine]

Another short on Barnes in domesticity with his wife. The last two were delicious. Please and thank you. You are appreciated. Xo

Hill Country.

Robert Barnes x Reader.

-

You run as far and as fast you legs carry you down the slippery slope of the grassy mountainside, dodging trees and branches, occasionally halting and leaning down, placing your hands on your knees to catch your breath before continuing because even out here, there were schedules to be made, dates to be met and you tell yourself you didn't intend to stop until you saw the muddy, freshly rainsoaked road opened up in front of you in the bosom of the valley carving the forest in half. Old tire tracks paved the wild woodland path into a straight line disappearing into a darkness on the rare occasion a vehicle did pass through here which was once in a blue moon anyway. Coal trucks, pickup vans logging wood and the odd mountaineering trekkers weren't your concern --- the silhouette of a single man trudging down the road in your direction was. You've made it. On time! You don't even bother running down the precipice of the hill just yet, overtaken by excitement, practically hyperventilating with exertion and joy; you merely wave, shouting at the top of your lungs even though you were certain he saw you long before you've ever seen him. He had an uncanny way about him like that. Must've heard you sprinting this way a mile away, dried branches, drenched, rotten leaves, pebbles and rocks thumbling around your clumsy feet. Heck, must've smelled you.

-"Hey there! You!"-

You yell jubilantly.

That was your cue to sprint fast and sprint hard and you do, knee deep in grass, keeping your arms slightly up, bent at the elbows for balance, your feet guiding your down steeply and quickly until you reach a flat point, landing on the road only a couple of feet in front of him. You have to smile at the sight of him. You always smiled at the sight of him. He halts too, slowly, like someone not at all in a hurry. Assessing you. His eyes looked like he intended to ask what bush you fell out all while simultaneously not at all minding that you did. Like he was strangely glad he's rubbed off on you. He leans on one leg, throwing the other one slightly forward, toolbox and pickaxe clasped behind his back in his hands, lifting his chin up, cigarette dangling askew in his mouth, body posture strangely condescending; like he was about to insult you and what's worse, you'd like it.

-"That simple sonofabitch oaf you call your husband ---"-

He drawls.

-"S'he 'round?"-

-"No."-

You interject immediately, feeling the heat and the blood rush into your cheeks.

-"Just wandering the hills picking up handsome men that walk by."-

You dare yourself to step closer, doing so slowly, feeling fidgety, maybe a bit sheepish; wasn't hard to be --- even in the shadows of dusk and the light blotted out by the thickness of the canopies above head, the man's eyes seemed piercingly light, a strange, pale kind of blue. Like he could see the net of veins running rampant underneath your skin. -"Hoping he won't notice while he's at work."- You add, teasing, looking away because you found looking at him was a bit too much; you usually couldn't do it too long without feeling some sort of way. The tip of his cigarette's engulfed in a cloud of white smoke engulfing his mouth and nostrils as he speaks, though you swear you catch the hint of a smile there in the mist. -"I'd be watchin' out if I was you to avoid getting him all torn out of frame."- He cocks his head and shoulders slightly sideways saying that, like he's heard rumors; like he's heard the worst of them, like he liked what he's caught wind of instead of giving you a fair warning. He moves closer himself; footsteps made no sound. He does spit the excess accumulated saliva on the ground in front of your feet almost like he was spitting on the very gossip he was talking about even though he talked about them with veiled glee.

-"Heard he's a real killer, girl."-

The course yet honey-drenched condescension is back and something about the patronization of him calling you girl causes your entrails to coil causing you to remember just how out of breath you still were, breathing labored. You came two miles from up the hill with periodic breaks just to be here today.

-"Sometimes."-

You manage, chuckling into your own chin, not about to deny it.

You place a shaky hand on his face, tracing a pattern of scars.

His eyes look at you. Really look at you. Sharp as needlepoint.

-"But I think everyone would be surprised at just how sweet he can be if they knew him like I do."-

Yeah, you yearn, sensing your own lip quiver from underneath his scrutinizing gaze, judgmental, stiff jawline still hanging above you like a cruelly chiseled mountain edge; nonetheless, you reach out and touch him, coiling careful fingers into the hem of his collar. His jacket. The very fabric of it. Anything on him. He smelled like sweat. Long hours of work. Cigarette smoke. Pine tree. And you needed him. Needed him badly. In the grass, here and now. Up against a tree. The type of need that overridden common sanity leaving you wondering if all spouses felt like this when their other half left them for several hours. Couldn't have been. The world would've gone insane if everyone did. Your words come out half-pleading, half riddled with desire. -"I miss him so much."- You murmur. How long were you going to keep talking in third person about him? He didn't seem to mind. In fact, Bob was the one who started it from the get-go. Seemed to be enjoying himself even though his face barely showed it. He cocks his head to one side, grabbing your wrist. Suddenly, you're dragged alongside his tools up the rocky slope, back into the woods, back towards the house nestled on its top. -"Well, ain' gonna have to miss him for much longer."- Bob states matter-of-factly semi-jovial, causing you to erupt into a fit of giggles once you were effortlessly picked up and hauled back and straight over his shoulder.

[mrsclearwaters]

Paul Lahote x Emmett Cullen imprinting fic

Paul imprints on Emmett at a meeting and tries to fight it.

Some angst, fluff

3,068 words

(I originally uploaded this like a month ago on another account that I’ve had for years. It was my first ever post but I’m stupid and the email I used for that account was from when I was 13 and I don’t have access too it so now I’m logged out permanently which is kinda heartbreaking. Luckily I still have the story in my drafts so I’m reposting).

Paul was unable to make it to the treaty meeting after Jacobs imprint and didn't witness Seth and Leah's imprints but he was less than pleased when he saw it replayed in the shifters minds.

He likes to think he could've stopped this madness, not the imprints but at least the treaty mishap, if he was there.

The leeches claimed 3 of his friends, his family, and it pisses him off to no end. He knows he can't blame his pack mates for their imprints but he can sure as hell blame the vampires for choosing Forks, for meeting the pack, for everything that led to this moment.

Sam decided to make them come to this meeting in their human forms, something he'd argued against for hours but eventually had to give in to his Alphas decision.

Seth, Leah and Jacob seem to have warmed up to their imprints, Leah more reluctantly than the others and as much as it infuriates him, he can't exactly expect them to deny their fated mates.

This meeting is to discuss fighting techniques for future issues that both may encounter and he reluctantly follows Sam and Jacobs trucks on his bike, with Seth clinging onto him as he drives and the others riding with the Alphas.

When he finally pulls up and Seth runs towards his imprint before he fully stops, he groans at the inevitable torture.

Leah and Jacob stay put on either side of Sam but they aren't as tense as Paul in front of the vampires.

"Hello Carlisle," Sam addresses their leader who smiles and greets him back.

"I'm glad you're open to building trust with us." Sam nods,

"It'd be best for the future of both of us. You said we we're going through fight techniques?"

"Yes, Jasper is a trained general, he knows how to fight vampires, specifically newborns who would be a great threat should we ever come across them. It would be a useful tool to learn."

"Okay so let's do that." Carlisle nods and Jasper steps forward, he goes into an explanation and then a demonstration with all of the Cullens.

Paul thinks this is a pointless exercise, they know how to fight, and vampires are their natural enemies, they don't need tips.

He watches Sam go against Quil, Embry against Colin, Rosalie against Jared and Alice against Seth until Jaspers eyes land on him.

He rolls his eyes and steps forward, cracking his knuckles.

"Who am I fighting?"

"I think Emmett should be a good fit against you." He learns that Emmett is the brute when he steps forward with a shit eating grin but his eyes shift when they land on him.

Edwards eyes widen and he looks at him confused, the mind reader just shakes his head as if to tell him to wait.

He shakes it off but he feels them eyes stay on him as he goes behind a tree and shifts before coming back to face his opponent.

When he does he regrets everything. He should have skipped this meeting too, because the universe clearly hates him.

His imprint, his whole world, his sole purpose for living, is a fucking leech. That must have been the reason for the shift in the brutes eyes, he'd mated and when Paul shifted so did he.

The shifters who'd already had their matches started exclaiming their shock in his mind until Sam silenced them all.

'Oh my god! Paul, you too man?!' Jared, he didn't fucking ask for this.

'This is so good!' Seth, and he rolls his eyes because this is anything but good.

'Maybe this is a good thing,' Colin, he appreciates the effort but he wants to fucking scream at the thought of this.

'Come on Paul, he's your soulmate, there's clearly a reason for this.' Embry, yeah and the reason is that the universe has it out for him.

'I still don't get how this shit is possible,' Quil, the voice of fucking reason.

'Everyone Quiet!' Sam, now he's going to get a lecture about accepting this and not breaking both of their hearts or some shit.

'Paul-'

'I don't wanna hear it Sam.'

'I won't lecture you. Just talk to him before you do anything you'll regret.' Too late.

As soon as his imprint steps forward, he moves back and then before he knows it he's running.

He hears the pack shouting for him, and Jacob telling his imprint to, "give him time," but he doesn't dwell on any of it.

He's outside his house and he's unshifted. He thinks about it for a moment and decides he'd rather not face his parents right now, he's too out of it too make anything up.

So he does the next best thing, and climbs in through his bedroom window.

The only thing he can think to do is sleep, he doesn't want to think about what just happened and what it means.

He's fated to a leech, what a fucking nightmare.

When he wakes up his head is throbbing and he knows it's not normal but he ignores it and goes out for his usual run, pushing through the pain and ignoring the occasional tug from the new link in his mind.

Every day that goes by with him ignoring the imprint, the pain gets worse but he forces himself to push through it.

His heart feels like it's being ripped apart every time he thinks about Emmett's face when he ran away but all he can do is push it to the back of his mind and ignore it.

On day 5, Sam asks him to do patrol, he's avoided shifting for this long knowing how much worse it will get when his wolf has control. He's been pushing his wolf down for so long and it's been fighting back, pushing him towards Emmett.

When he finally shifts with Quil and lets Jared end his patrol he feel's everything tenfold. The pain from Emmett is mixed with a hunger he's never felt before and he realises his mate hasn't been feeding.

'Ffs, I need to hunt for him now.'

'Mate, you should just speak to him. Clearly it's affecting you. You can barely function.'

'I'm fine. Quil, you need to give this to him. I can't be near him.'

'You can't trust yourself with him?' Quil laughs and he gives him a deadpan look knowing how weird it looks in his wolf form.

'Alright, I'll do it.' He rolls his eyes and begins his search for prey.

He comes across a deer and slowly sneaks up on it, attacking the jugular and making sure it's dead before dropping it in front of Quil who grabs it and runs towards the Cullens house.

He watches through the pack mind as Quil comes to a stop in front of the mansion and a confused Carlisle opens the door.

"Quil, right?" He nods and Carlisle smiles still confused before Edward joins him and reads his mind.

"Paul knows Emmett hasn't been feeding, he sent Quil to give him the deer. He hunted it himself."

Emmett steps onto his balcony as soon as he hears his mates name and jumps down in front of the wolf who drops the food in front of the vampire.

"Thank you." They all know it's aimed at Paul and he practically swoons at the small smile sent his way.

'You're already sappy for him bro.' Quil laughs.

'Shut the fuck up.' He watches Edward laugh a bit at the conversation and tells him to fuck off too.

Quil nods at them all before leaving and making his way back.

Slowly the hunger Paul could feel through the link dissipates and the pain that has been lingering for days also dulls slightly.

He repeats Emmett's smile in his head through his whole patrol and Quil practically runs home when they're done, glad to be done with his pining.

'Just talk to him man,' he hears before the pack mind is empty. He rolls his eyes and unshifts himself to go back to his usual routine, sleep, eat, and then sleep some more.

Sleep is the only thing that dissipates the pain, heartbreak and throbbing head alike.

But at the 2 week mark his mind is playing with him, his days consist of staying in bed, his parents and the pack forcing him to eat, he can't shake the squeezing of his heart and the feeling that his very being and soul is hurting, his dreamless nights have turned into a nightmare.

Emmett being chased by some random vampire, she's right on his tale until she starts jumping through trees in the preserve and then finally lands on him and rips his head off.

He wakes up screaming and sweating when it happens. Sam comes running in with the rest of the pack in tow, they were discussing what to do about Paul's imprint when they heard his cries.

"Paul! Paul, what's happened. Calm down, tell me what happened."

"Em-Emmett. He died- ahhhh." He thrashes and screams at the pain that fills his whole body now, his heart is breaking, the guilt of not being there, of not saving him is overwhelming.

He hears muffled talking and shouts until Jacob and Leah are in front of him, "Paul, he's okay. He's alive. We just saw him."

He looks up at them, trying to find out if there's any truth in their words, and he finally feels the link in his mind still exists. His heart rate picks up in relief and he lets out a sob.

"Paul, please. It's killing you. Just go see him." Sam begs and he looks at the alpha.

"He's not doing well either." Seth starts, the look Jacob and Leah share with him doesn't go unnoticed.

"He's been begging us not to tell you, to let you figure it out on your own. But you haven't shifted, so you haven't seen it. When you told Quil to give him that deer because you felt the hunger when you shifted. It's the last thing he let himself eat because you got it."

"He's been getting worse, like he's punishing himself for not being good enough for you. He won't leave his room, he shouldn't get sick but he looks paler every time we see him, like he's disappearing before our eyes." Jacob adds and he reels in anger, shock, and guilt.

He knew ignoring his imprint would hurt him, he didn't know that mates worked the same way, he thought Emmett would be okay without him. Albeit hurt but okay nonetheless.

"What the fuck?! Why hasn't he been feeding? Why does he think he's not fucking good enough?!" Before the pack can say anything else he storms out and shifts.

He pauses when it hits him, agony. He feels like he hasn't eaten in months, the link between them that's stronger when shifted is weak, he can barely feel him.

His wolf cries out and he runs as fast as he can towards the Cullen house.

When voices pop into his head one by one he ignores them and pushes through, finally reaching the mansion.

He shifts back, pulling his shorts on and speeding to the front door, where Alice opens it with a sympathetic smile.

He doesn't deserve that, he's pissed at himself more than anything. He could take the pain, but how dare he cause his mate the same fate.

"Where is he?" She points to the stairs and he rushes past her, the rest of the Cullens scattered across the living and the pack piling into the house behind him.

"It's the second room on the left," she says to him as he goes and he mutters a small thanks as he runs up.

He barges into the room, and the sight he's met with makes him want to throw up.

Emmett quickly stands from his bed and smiles softly, "Paul." He looks so pale, even for a vampire this doesn't seem natural, his eyes are bloodshot, there'd be tear tracks down his cheeks if he could cry.

Paul rushes forward and shoves him into the wall next to the balcony,

"Why haven't you been feeding?!" Emmett looks confused and shakes his head,

"How could I? I don't deserve to feed. I'm a leech remember, you could never love me." Paul reels in shock, his grip loosens and he feels a lump in the back of his throat.

"You- you're."

"Im sorry you had to come here Paul. You can leave if you want." He knows neither of them want that. He can see in Emmett's eyes that he's hurting at even the idea.

He doesn't know what to say so he does the next best thing, he holds out his arm. Emmett looks even more confused now, eyebrows knitted together, it's kind of cute.

He shakes the thought out of his head, right now he needs to help his mate, and his blood should bring back his strength faster than anything else.

"Eat." He demands and Emmett's eyes widen. "I- I can't. I haven't fed, I don't think I could stop myself."

"I'm willing to take that risk... and.. I trust you." Emmett shakes his head,

"I'll hurt you. I can't."

"Emmett, you're weak, this is the only way to bring your strength back. I'm your mate, I know you won't hurt me."

Emmett looks at him, his eyes conflicted and he brings his arm too his own mouth, using his sharp wolf teeth to penetrate the skin, hissing a bit, before pushing his arm closer to Emmett's mouth,

"Eat." He says again and finally he gives in, gently holding his arm and bringing it to his mouth. He hesitates for a second before licking the dripping blood and then allowing himself to continue.

It doesn't hurt the way Paul thought it would, it's like the more his mate drinks, the more satisfied he feels. When Emmett finally feels the liquid he worries for a second that he won't stop. It's better than anything he's ever tasted, and he knows it's because it's Paul. But he also knows he could never hurt him and allows himself to enjoy it for a moment.

Paul feels weak, not from his blood being drained but from the feeling of giving his mate strength. It's overwhelmingly good.

He rests his head on Emmett's shoulder and feels the vampire pause, "it's okay, keep going." He says it in the softest tone and he doesn't think he's ever heard himself use that tone with anyone.

When Paul actually starts to feel lightheaded he lets Emmett keep going for a few seconds before he stops him.

"Emmett.. that's enough." He thinks the vampire can't hear him for a second but then he feels the fangs retract and Emmett licks the wound to clean it up.

When they look at each other they realise what just happened, Paul can't help the blush that spreads across his cheeks. He'd ignored it for so long and when he finally gave in it was so intimate that it was overwhelming.

"I'm sorry I caused you pain," he whispers and Emmett just smiles at him,

"You don't understand how long I've wanted this."

"I think I do." Paul can't help but steal a look at his imprints lips before looking back into his eyes.

"You're the most stubborn man I've ever met you know." Emmett says. He laughs a bit and nods.

They're so close that their breaths are mingled and Paul can't help it anymore, he leans in and closes the gap, catching Emmett's gasp and deepening the kiss.

When they pull away so Paul can catch his breath their lips are bruised and Emmett is beaming at him.

Paul feels even more lightheaded after that and stumbles the tiniest bit, but Emmett catches on and helps steady him, moving them towards the bed.

"Did I go too far," he panics and Paul shakes his head, "no, I'm fine. It's fine." He whispers softly.

"Do you want to sleep?" The thought of climbing into his imprints bed and being surrounded by that smell is so tempting. He nods and moves to get under the covers.

When Emmett sits on the chair next to the bed he looks at him confused and the vampire looks back with a similar look.

"Why are you over there?" The vampire grins cheekily, "you want me to lay with you?"

The growing smirk makes him blush and he rolls his eyes indignantly, shaking his head.

"Nah, I'll just sleep on my own." He turns to his side and hears a laugh that makes his heart race.

"Paul?" He ignores it, "pauul," and he shakes his head.

It's silent for a second but then he hears ruffling and their's a breath on his neck, "Alright, I'll lay here with you." The hairs on his neck rise and he turns around quickly. His breath hitches at how close they are again.

"I didn't think you'd want me too." Emmett tells him honestly.

"I just let you drink my blood. I think sharing a bed is a small step compared to that." He whispers back and Emmett laughs a bit.

"That was a hell of a way to start wasn't it?" And Paul just nods in agreement, closing his eyes.

"Does this mean you've accepted me?" Emmett asks after a few moments of silence. Paul peeks an eye open to see if he's being serious and when he realises he is he looks at him incredulously.

"Okay, okay. You have. I was just making sure you won't leave again." Paul feels a pang of guilt hit him again when he realises how much he's hurt his imprint and shakes his head.

"I'm sorry. I should have come sooner." He whispers and Emmett smiles softly, "I understand." Paul shakes his head, "no, I won't ever forgive myself for putting you through that." Emmett rolls his eyes now, "you put yourself through it too. You're just stubborn." Before Paul can speak, Emmett kisses him softly.

"Sleep," Emmett tells him when they pull away and he sighs but obliges, closing his eyes and falling asleep comfortably for the first time in weeks.