#sorry that thought got into my head and it was haunting me for like 2 hours

[wave-man]

which mega man characters are most likely to yiik out

[lacydollette]

HIS FAVORITE PERSON ⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

pairing: bsf!rafe x fem!reader

warnings: angst, rafe having a breakdown, mentions of a dead body, trauma, ward, comfort, slight fluff, kissing, cuddling, inspired by season 2 ep 2 of obx

Rafe’s room was a storm of chaos, just like his mind. His chest heaved as he sat on the floor, back pressed against his bed frame, fingers tugging at his hair like he could somehow yank the thoughts out of his head. His palms were clammy, his heart slamming against his ribs. The body, the ocean, his dad’s cold commands—the images were crushing him. He could still hear the splash, still feel the sick churn in his stomach as they drove away from the scene like nothing had happened. Like it was normal.

But it wasn’t.

“Fuck,” he hissed, slamming a fist into the floor. The pain grounded him for half a second before the panic resurfaced again, boiling over. He couldn’t stay here. He couldn’t be alone in this house with its suffocating walls and memories of what he’d just done. He couldn’t stay under one roof with Ward right now.

Without thinking, Rafe grabbed his car keys and stumbled out the door, the night swallowing him whole. The only place he could go was yours. You were the only one who could calm the chaos, the only one who made him feel like he wasn’t falling apart.

You were deep in your slumber when you were jolted awake by a loud knock at the door. Tired, you checked the time—2:37 a.m. You frowned, your sleep deprived brain struggling to process who would show up at this hour. Dragging yourself out of bed, you shuffled to the door, your favorite oversized t-shirt, one that you stole from Rafe, hanging loosely around your figure. And when you opened the front door, your confusion turned to worry. “Rafe?”

He stood there, his shoulders hunched, his hair a complete mess, and his blue eyes wild with something dark and unhinged. He was pacing on your porch, his breathing uneven, and his hands were shaking. “y/n,” he said, his voice strained, barely above a whisper. “Sorry for bugging you this late, I just—I didn’t know where else to go.”

“Rafe, what’s wrong?” You asked, stepping forward. He looked up at you, his expression haunted. “I did something. Something bad. Really bad.” Your heart sank, eyebrows furrowing, “You’re scaring me.” Rafe was always intense—impulsive, reckless—but this was different. He looked broken, like he was barely holding himself together. You reached out, grabbing his arm to steady him.

“Come inside,” you urged, but he shook his head violently. “No. I can’t—I can’t breathe in there. I can’t breathe anywhere.” His voice cracked, and he backed away, running a hand through his hair as he began muttering. “He’s insane, y/n. My dad is insane, and now I’m—I’m just like him. I helped him. I didn’t want to, but I did, and now—”

“Rafe, slow down,” you said firmly, not understanding a single thing before stepping in front of him. “You’re not making any sense. Just talk to me. What happened?” He stopped pacing, his eyes locking onto yours. “A body,” he said, his voice barely audible. “We got rid of a body.” Your blood ran cold. “What?”

He let out a hollow laugh, his hands trembling as he pressed them to his temples. “It doesn’t matter. It’s done. I did it. I helped him dump it into the ocean like it was nothing. Like it was trash.” His voice grew louder, more frantic. “And now I can’t stop hearing it. I can’t stop seeing it. It’s everywhere.” You stood there, stunned, mind racing to catch up. Rafe was unraveling in front of you, and you had no idea how to help him. “Rafe—”

“I’m a monster,” he interrupted, his voice rising. “I’m just like him. I didn’t even hesitate, y/n. What kind of person does that? What kind of person—”

“Rafe, stop!” You snapped, grabbing his face and forcing him to look at you. His breathing hitched, his wild eyes meeting your comforting ones. “You are not a monster. You’re—” you faltered, unsure what to say. “You’re you. And whatever this is, whatever happened, we’ll deal with it.“ You nodded, saying it more to yourself than him.

Rafe shook his head, his voice breaking. “You don’t get it. You don’t know what I’ve done.” His whole body was trembling. “Then tell me,” you said, your voice softer now. “Tell me everything.” He stared at you, torn between fear and desperation. “I can’t,” he whispered. “I can’t lose you too.”

Your heart twisted painfully. You’d never seen Rafe like this, so vulnerable and raw. And yet, there was something else—a connection that had always been there, just right beneath the surface of your friendship. You’ve been best friends since forever, sure, but you weren’t just friends. Not with the way you looked at each other, the way you touched and held each other like it was normal.

Without thinking, you closed the gap between you two and kissed him. You’d kissed before—dozens of times, maybe more. It had always been casual, something you would do to calm each other down or just because it felt natural. It was soft and deliberate, a reminder that you were here, that you weren’t going anywhere.

When you pulled back, Rafe’s breathing slowed, his hands coming up to rest on your waist like he was grounding himself in you. He leaned forward, stealing another kiss, then another, his lips brushing yours with a quiet desperation while tears fled the corner of his eyes. Trying to shut up the voices in his head, and you didn’t mind. You never did. That’s just how things between you were and neither of you had questioned it before.

“Thank you,” he murmured, his forehead resting against yours.“You don’t need to thank me, Rafe.” you whispered back. “Now come inside.”

In your room, you pulled Rafe onto your bed, wrapping the blankets around the both of you as you settled in. He curled into you, his head resting against your chest, as you tried to give him as much comfort as possible, your fingers tracing soothing circles on his back.

You held him close, your arms wrapped tightly around his body as his breathing finally began to even out. The storm of his panic had calmed, but his weight against you felt heavier than ever, like he was carrying something too big for either of you to handle. You didn’t know what to say—what could you say? His words kept ringing in your ears. A body. Dumped it in the ocean. You shivered, though the room wasn’t cold.

Rafe’s head was tucked under your chin, his breath warm against your collarbone. He was silent now, but his body still trembled faintly. You tightened your hold on him, resting your cheek against the top of his head. You’d always thought of yourself as his anchor, the person who could pull him back when he started spinning out. But tonight felt different. Tonight, it felt like you were trying to piece together an already broken vase.

Your fingers absentmindedly combed through his messy blonde hair. You’d been best friends since kindergarden, your lives so deeply intertwined it was hard to tell where one of you ended and the other began. But your friendship wasn’t normal, and you began to acknowledge that as time passed. Friends didn’t kiss to calm each other down. Friends didn’t fall asleep in each other’s arms, your touches lingering in a way that always felt like it meant more.

You weren’t just friends, you thought, the truth settling heavily in your chest. But whatever you were, figuring it out had to wait. Rafe needed you now, more than ever, and you couldn’t let him down.

You closed your eyes, breathing him in, the faint scent of saltwater and his cologne clinging to him. “You’re going to be okay,” you whispered, trying to convince both of you. You wanted to believe it, but the fear in his eyes earlier had shaken you to your core.

He didn't say anything, but his arms tightened around you, his head pressing harder against your chest. You didn't push him to speak. You just stayed there, holding him, trying to give him the comfort he so clearly needed. But the storm in his head wouldn't stop. He needed more—needed to feel you, to ground himself in you, to find something real in his world that suddenly felt like it was falling apart.

Without thinking, Rafe shifted, pulling you down to him. Before you could process what was happening, his lips were on yours again, and for a moment, he could escape reality. At first, you thought it would be like the kisses you’d shared earlier—soft and grounding, something to pull him out of his head and bring him back to you.

So you started to respond instinctively, heart beating a little faster. But it wasn't enough for Rafe. The panic clawed at his chest, and his kiss grew desperate, frantic, as if he could pour everything he couldn't say into you. Rafe thought maybe this was what he needed. Maybe you were what he needed. Because it had always been you. The only person who saw him, who really knew him.

Your breath hitched, heart pounding in your chest. You couldn't deny what it did to you—the way your stomach flipped, the way your hands instinctively gripped his arms as his lips moved against yours. You couldn't ignore how your feelings for Rafe had grown into something far more complicated than friendship. But this wasn't right. Not now. Not when he was like this.

"Rafe," you murmured against his lips, hands coming up to his shoulders to gently push him back. He resisted for a moment, his desperation endless, but then he pulled away, his eyes wide and glassy as they searched yours.

"y/n," he whispered, his voice cracking. For a moment, Rafe just stared at you, your hesitation hitting him like a punch to the gut. You weren’t rejecting him, not really. He could see the worry in your eyes, the care. You were right, but it still shattered something inside him. This wasn't what he needed right now. And it wasn't what you deserved, either.

"You need to rest," you said softly, stroking his cheek with your thumb. "You're not doing fine right now, and that's okay. But this—it's not right like that."

He stared at you, his expression crumbling as the reality of your words sank in. He'd come here hoping to escape the weight of what he'd done, hoping that you could fix him the way you always had. But nothing could fix this. His chest heaved, and then, all at once, he broke.

A raw, heart-wrenching sob tore from his throat, and he dropped his head into his hands, his entire body shaking. Your heart ached at the sound of his sobs, and you reached for him immediately, pulling him into your arms again. He clung to you, burying his face in your shoulder as his cries wracked his body.

“I'm sorry," he muttered, his voice muffled and strained as his chest felt heavy. "I'm so sorry. I shouldn't have come here. I shouldn't have-"

"Stop," you interrupted gently, your hand threading through his dirty blond hair. "Don't apologize. You're allowed to feel, Rafe. I'm here." Rafe tried to believe you, tried to hold onto your words, but the guilt was suffocating. “I shouldn't drag you into this," he said, his voice breaking. "I shouldn't have put this on you.”

"Shh," you whispered, holding him tighter. "You just need to breathe, okay?” Rafe let out a shaky breath, his tears soaking into your shirt as his sobs began to calm.

You kept holding him, your heart breaking for the boy who had always seemed so untouchable, so invincible. You could feel all his shame, his guilt, his fear, and you wished you could take it away, even just for a little while.

Rafe shifted slightly, his arm wrapping around your waist like he was afraid you might disappear. “Don’t leave me,” he murmured, his voice barely audible. “I’m not going anywhere,” you promised, stroking his back in slow, soothing motions. “I’m scared, y/n,” he admitted finally, sobbing into your chest, “Of what I’ve done. Of what I’ll become. That I’ll be like him.” You shook your head, “You’re not your dad,” you said firmly, your arms tightening around him.

He’s not like Ward. He can’t be. You didn’t care what Rafe had done or how messy his world had become. He wasn’t a monster. He couldn’t be—not the boy who used to sneak you ice cream when you were sad, who called you every time he was having a bad day because he trusted you more than anyone else in the world.

But as much as you wanted to save him, a small, nagging voice in the back of your mind whispered that this might be bigger than both of you, but pushed the thought away, pulling him closer. “We’ll figure this out,” you whispered. “Together.” Rafe didn’t respond, but his grip on you tightened slightly, his breathing slowing as he finally started to relax. He didn't deserve you—your loyalty, your care, your softness. But for now he let himself trust you.

You stared at the ceiling, your mind racing even as your body stayed still. You didn’t know what you were to each other, didn’t know what might happen after this night or what was up with Ward, and maybe you never would. But right now, Rafe was yours to protect, and that was the most important thing.

tags: @gibson-g1rl @beausling @rafesheaven @rafescokewhore @rafespreciosa @rafeysbunny @rafey-baby @rafesangelita @drewspinkbunny @whinyangel @nativegirltapes @cherrygirlfriend @moremaybank @littlelamy @rafesweetie @deansbeer

[kabuki-writes]

Interlude || The Prize Of A Father's Pride

chapter: 5 chapter 1 | 2 | 3 | 4

pairing: emperor geta/emperor caracalla x acacius' daughter!reader

summary: General Acacius is forced to tell his daughter, that she will soon marry Emperor Geta and become Empress of Rome - a trade, which saved her life and that of her family, but at what cost?

warning(s): angrsty themes | semi-edited | english is not my first language, faults may occur | please let me know if i missed anything

Note: We already reached chapter 5 !?!??! Hell, yes! And we're getting further and further. So before this whole plot picks up a little more speed, i thought a small interlude feat. Acacius would be a nice little treat. The next chapter is going to be longer again.

word count: 1.7k

You stood in the archways that led to the inner garden of your family's home. The curtain of the night had already laid itself upon the sky, when you'd reached it, the haunting grin of Caracalla and the words about your father were still on your mind. He had given you no answer on why you should thank the General, and it didn't sound like it was even something to thank him for either. It was more like whatever it was it was about to benefit the Emperors. Yet you knew your father and despite him never speaking it out loud - you've noticed how much he despised the royal twins.

The night was quiet and the villa was softly illuminated by the torches, which the slaves always lit up as soon as dawn came. Your mother knew about your whereabouts, that you went off to the theater with your friends Cicero and Lydia, nothing out of the ordinary. That you met the Emperor Caracalla during your night out was neither planned nor hoped for and yet the time you'd spend alongside him in the royal box still lingered in your head. Should you tell your parents? Maybe it was best to keep it in the shadows, as you didn't want them to worry more than necessary about you.

But when you approached the garden, you heard the quiet sobbing of your dear mother from the distance. You were on your way to your rooms, yet you couldn't ignore something like this, so you stopped beside a pillar and looked down to the inner courtyard with its beautiful pond and the many plants that provided shade during the summer months. You saw between the palm trees, cedars and bushes how your mother kneeled in front of your father, while he hold her in his arms as if something terrible happened - as if someone died.

You were not able to stand it any longer without knowing what happenes, so you stepped out and made yourself noticable.

"Mother? Father? What happened?", you asked quickly, but when Acacius raised his head to look into your direction, there was nothing but pain and suffering in his eyes. The way his eyes were locked on you made your heart sink down to your feet as it was crystal clear that it might have something to do with you. "y/n...", he began, but got disrupted by the sobbing of your mother. "Tell her, Acacius! Please, you need to tell her!"

It broke your heart to see your mother in that state, huddled together and in tears. But what was even worse was the news your father would tell you right in that very moment: "y/n, you... i am sorry," he started and clearly struggled to find the right words. You've never seen your father like this. "I gave my consent to a marriage between you and Emperor Geta."

Your eyes widened and your face went pale in an instant as you froze in your position. "What do you mean?", the trembling words fell from your lips. A marriage?!

"You will marry the Emperor," Acacius repeated, his voice clear but racked with pain. And after a couple of long minutes it finally hit you like an arrow right into the heart. Your breath becme quicker and you had to sit down on one of the stone benches. In this moment you were not even able to bare the sight of your parents, while the realization kicked in. No tears came from your eyes, in fact, it even surprised your own father how you took the news. But the depiction of stoicism came at a high cost, as you clearly had to fight within you against the urge to just scream.

And your father knew that. He knew you better than anyone, you were always his sun and stars, the one person beside his wife to which he tried to come back every single time when he went off to war. Slowly your mother came back to her feet with the help of her husband, but her usual soft face was covered in tears and her eyes were swollen and red as she looked at you. "What have you done, my love... ? You need to be honest with y/n, please... i beg you. She needs to know," she whispered with an urgency in her voice and even a small amount of anger.

Your eyes ripped themselves from the pond in front of you, staring at your father, who looked at you like a broken man. "He threatened to kill you and your mother, it was the only option... trust me, i would've never agreed to it otherwise. May the gods damn me for my pride, that i thought i would be able to put them down together with the senate. It was a plan that is nothing more than dust and ashes now." Acacius rushed to you and took your hands into his, pressing them tightly as if he feared you would fade away if he didn't. "I can never forgive myself to put you into a position like that, y/n," he whispered, and for the very first time, you witnessed the fear in your father's eyes. And he feared for you.

But all those words disappeared in your ears, as you tried desperately to numb the anxiety within you. Now the words that Caracalla said to you made sense and they echoed in your head once more. Nonetheless how could you hate your father for this? You knew he did it for the sake of the people, he always fought for Rome and never for himself. This was the way he was and you would've never wanted it to be otherwise. Yet you were now the one to bear the consequences of your father's actions, a sacrifice. For the first time in your life, you were the one to protect this family... and you wanted to take this risk. Not that there was an option anyways.

So you took a deep breath and swallowed the lump in your throat, while you stood up from the bench and looked your father right into his eyes. "There is nothing we can do about it, don't we? The die is cast and we have to live with the consequences," you said, even though your voice was cracking for a moment before you took one hand of your mother and one of your father, pressing them gentle and in a reassuring way, even though you still saw how much they suffered. You were their only daughter after all and even if it wouldn't be the Emperor, a marriage always called for a daughter to leave her parents behind. "Please... i don't want you to look at me like i am already dead", you whispered with a hint of desperation as it hurt you even more that your own parents still treated you like they had to protect you from this world. If fate wanted this to happen, then you would find your way through it.

"I will marry him. If that will save my own life and yours then be it", you said again, while ran down your mothers cheeks once again as she hold your hand in ache. She said your name before her voice stopped. But in that very moment, your father stepped in and pulled you into a tight hug, holding you for a long moment that felt like an eternity. Acacius blamed himself entirely for all that was happening and in this very moment, he promised to himself that he will find a way to get you out of this situation. There was still hope, if he was able to be careful enough.

"You're my daughter, y/n... i know you will not lose yourself in this, i know it...and i will always be proud of you, no matter what...", he mumbled in reassurance, trying desperately to fullfill your wish not to treat all of this as it was your clear funeral. That wouldn't be right, he knew that too. You would live on, but at what cost?

"How much time do i have left?", you suddenly asked, while you slowly removed yourself from your father's arms. Right now the whole situation was still so unreal for you, even though you knew this will change soon enough. The brows of your father furrowed as he took your mother's hand to hold her and give her something of the strength he'd recovered - at least a bit. "Sadly Emperor Geta made sure not to waste any time with this: He expects the stipulatio (engagement promise) tomorrow, a celebration will happen at the palace to announce it publicly... and then the formal wedding will take place in two weeks, still in Juno to avoid that bad luck falls onto your union."

"As if the gods would grant him luck with a forced marriage like this," your mother mumbled, while she tried her best to wipe away her tears and regain her posture. "There are not even enough sheep in all of Rome that he could sacrifice for this..." She was still pale like a corpse due to this news, but at least she was able to regain her anger again despite the helplessness.

Your fingers buried themselves into the fabric of your pale blue toga as you recollected your thoughts. There was no time left, no real time. But did you expect it to be otherwise? In a way, a lot of women would envy you for this opportunity. Marrying an Emperor meant that you would rise up to be an Empress alongside a God, nothing was more noble and meaningful. Men fought wars to earn power and honor, women needed to take a different path in this world, marrying and bearing children - only to be sidelined by history nonetheless. You didn't want to face the same fate. And in the end you were still your father's daughter through and through, carrying the family name like a ritiualistic armor.

“Whatever anyone does or says, I must be emerald and keep my colour," you whispered a quote and your father instantly got it. With an understanding nod, a weak smile appeared on his lips.

"Marcus Aurelius...", Acacius noticed right away as it was a quote from his 'meditations' which your father had given you to read. It helped you now more than ever and the same could've been said about Acacius as well.

_________________________________

Tags:

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[inkspiredwriting]

The Diner of Destiny - Part 2

Five Hargreeves x reader

A/N: Okay, some of you wanted a second part. So I thought why not? I've never written a second part to any of my stories, so I'm not so sure if the second part is any good.

Warnings: spoilers for season 4 episode 5-6, angst

Five wandered through the fractured remains of countless timelines, driven by a singular purpose: to find y/n, the woman he had unwittingly erased from existence. He had become a phantom, slipping between realities like a shadow, his resolve hardening with each failed attempt. Every timeline, every world was a dead end, a cruel reminder of the life he had obliterated with one careless choice. But giving up was never an option. He had to find her.

Weeks blurred into months as he tirelessly pursued the faintest hints of her existence. Fragmented memories, distorted whispers, and fleeting visions of a woman whose face he had never truly known. Each clue led him deeper into the labyrinth of time, and each step weighed heavier on his conscience. He was close—he could feel it.

Finally, one day, in a timeline that felt strangely still, as though it had been waiting for his arrival, Five found her.

She was sitting in a small, secluded garden, surrounded by overgrown ivy and vibrant flowers. The sun cast a warm, golden light over the scene, but there was an air of melancholy that clung to the place, as if it remembered the things that had been lost. Y/n was there, her back to him, her head bowed as she absentmindedly traced patterns in the dirt with a stick. She looked almost like a statue—beautiful, but untouchable, frozen in a moment that he had shattered.

Five approached her cautiously, his heart pounding in his chest. His footsteps crunched softly on the gravel path, and y/n looked up, startled. Her eyes met his, and for a brief, agonizing moment, it was as though she recognized him. But then the flicker of familiarity vanished, replaced by confusion.

“Who are you?” she asked, her voice tinged with wariness but not fear. There was a gentleness in her tone that cut Five deeper than any anger could have.

He swallowed hard, his mouth dry, and for the first time in a long time, he hesitated. How could he explain the unimaginable? How could he make her understand what he had done?

“My name is Five,” he began, his voice rough with emotion. “I’m not sure how to say this, but… you were supposed to be someone important to me. To all of us, actually. But I made a mistake, a terrible mistake, and I… I lost you.”

Y/n’s brow furrowed as she tried to make sense of his words. “Lost me? I’m sorry, but I don’t understand. We’ve never met before. How could you have lost me?”

Five’s chest tightened with the weight of his guilt. “You’re right. We’ve never met. But we should have. I was supposed to find you, fall in love with you. You were supposed to be my anchor, the person who kept me—and all the other versions of me—grounded across the timelines. But instead, I got involved with someone else, someone named Lila.”

At the mention of Lila’s name, Y/n’s expression softened, but only slightly. “Lila?” she echoed, the name unfamiliar and distant.

Five nodded, his voice trembling. “Yes. I thought I was making the right choice at the time, but it was the wrong one. Choosing Lila… it erased you from our lives. You were supposed to be there, and because of me, you weren’t. I took away your life, your future, and I didn’t even know it until it was too late.”

Y/n stared at him, her eyes searching his face for any sign of deception or malice. But all she saw was a man haunted by his mistakes, a man who had come to her not for forgiveness, but for something even more elusive.

“What do you want from me?” she asked quietly, her voice laced with a sorrow she didn’t fully understand.

Five closed his eyes for a moment, gathering the strength to continue. “I don’t know if I can make things right, but I had to find you. I had to tell you what happened, even if it doesn’t change anything. I’m sorry, y/n. I’m sorry for what I took from you, for what I took from all of us. I just… I wanted you to know that you mattered. That you were supposed to matter.”

Y/n looked down at the ground, her hand still clutching the stick. She was silent for a long time, and Five feared that his words had only hurt her more, that there was nothing left to say. But then, she spoke, her voice soft and distant.

“Do you really believe we could have been happy?” she asked, almost to herself.

Five’s heart ached at the question, at the lost possibility of what could have been. “I don’t know,” he admitted, his voice breaking. “But I would have liked to find out.”

Y/n nodded, her expression unreadable. “I can’t remember you,” she said softly. “But something in me feels… something. Maybe it’s just the idea of what could have been. Or maybe… maybe there’s something more.”

Five watched her, his breath catching in his throat. This was it—the moment that could change everything. But even as hope flickered within him, he knew the truth. He had come too late. The damage was done, and there was no going back.

“I wish I could change what happened,” he whispered. “But all I can do is tell you the truth. You deserved so much more than what I left you with.”

Y/n looked at him, her eyes filled with a sadness that went beyond words. “Maybe we were never meant to be,” she said quietly. “Maybe… maybe this was always how it was supposed to end.”

Five shook his head, tears welling in his eyes. “No. This isn’t how it was supposed to be. But it’s what I’ve made it. And for that, I’m sorry.”

Y/n stood slowly, the stick falling from her hand as she faced him fully. “I don’t know if I can forgive you,” she said, her voice trembling. “But I appreciate that you tried to make things right. Even if it’s too late.”

Five nodded, the tears finally spilling over as he met her gaze. “I’ll never stop trying to make it right,” he vowed. “Even if I never see you again, I’ll keep looking for a way to fix this.”

Y/n gave him a small, sad smile, the kind of smile that spoke of acceptance and resignation. “Goodbye, Five,” she said softly. “I hope you find what you’re looking for.”

And with that, she turned and walked away, her figure growing smaller and smaller until she disappeared into the distance. Five stood there, alone in the garden, the weight of his actions pressing down on him like a suffocating blanket. He had found her, but he had also lost her—again.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting the garden in a blanket of twilight, Five knew that this was his burden to bear. He had made a choice, and now he would live with the consequences for the rest of his existence. The woman who was supposed to be his anchor, his salvation, was gone, and he was the one who had pushed her away.

And so, with a heavy heart and a mind full of regrets, Five turned and walked back into the shadows, disappearing from the world that could have been his. The timelines would go on, fractured and unstable, and he would continue his endless search for redemption. But deep down, he knew the truth—some things could never be undone. And some losses were meant to be permanent.

The garden, now empty and silent, bore witness to a moment that had passed, a possibility that had slipped through time’s fingers. And as the stars began to twinkle in the darkening sky, Five’s silhouette faded into the night, carrying with him the memory of what could have been, and the sorrow of what never was.

[strawberrychampagneglass]

Roses pt 2 - A Fragment of our Pasts

masterlist

part 1 WC: 6k

C/W: angst, pining, some fluff ig, swearing, alcohol, a man, mentions of violence, mentions of substance some sexual references but not smut, read at your own discretion but it's really not too too much I promise

A/N: SO SORRY FOR THE LATE AND VERY LONG AWAITED UPDATE I PROMISE FUTURE ONES WILL NOT BE THIS MUCH WAITING, GOOD NIGHT AND TAKE CARE YALL CUS I NEED TO SLEEP LOL I love u guys sm

October 20th, 2028

Los Angeles, California

I’m not a cheater.

The word that Paige almost spit out haunts her. The looks that her teammates gave her haunt her. 

Buried in her hotel bed with a wet towel hanging around her forehead, Azzi shivers despite the fire that has set her body ablaze. It’s nearly noon, yet she still feels sleepy; her body is worn out from the migraine that sinks its claws into her head. Her throat feels raw and her cheeks feel sticky from the dry hotel air clinging to the tears she shed last night. But, Azzi knows she isn’t allowed to feel like this. She knows it’s unfair, but she can’t help herself.

“Azzi?” Cam’s voice is muffled but lighthearted. When she opens her eyes, the blonde stands above her with a look of genuine concern across her face. “I had to bribe the receptionist for a key, but I think I overpaid. She gave me a mint too.” The amusement in Cam’s eyes loosen a shackle around Azzi’s turbulent heart. 

“Hi Cam,” she rasps. She opens her mouth again when the two stare blankly at each other. “I’m so sor-”

“She hasn’t been doing great since she heard that you were coming to LA. I put her on alcohol probation because I knew she would do something stupid if she were drunk, and thankfully, that didn’t happen.” Cam shakes her head before plastering on a pitiful look when she inspects the shivering brunette. 

“Has she been drinking a lot?” The words escape Azzi’s mouth before her brain fully processes them. The taller blonde standing before her winces but masks it with a feigned, but thoughtful look.

“Um… not really, no.” She stammers, averting her gaze from Azzi. “What happened to you though? Where’s your fiancé?” Her stormy blue eyes scan the room until they rest on her shattered phone. Azzi swallows nervously when Cam crouches next to the debris.“Oh my goodness. Azzi, where is he?” the taller woman breathes while hunched over, inspecting the remaining pieces of her phone. 

“I don’t know,” she breathes. “We got into an argument and he…he left.” 

“Azzi…”

April 17th, 2020

Arlington, Virginia

Paige has a problem. 

She’s slowly sinking into the Fudds’ sofa with one of Azzi’s books in her lap as she “subtly” looks at her best friend, admiring how she moves, how she blinks, and even how her face contorts into a scowl around her brothers as they swarm her while waving their dirty socks in her face. Unfortunately, Paige isn’t very good at stealing glances at her best friend. Her blue eyes catch Azzi’s warm, brown ones that are narrowed at her.

“Stop looking at me like that,” Azzi sighs while plopping down on the other side of the couch. Paige’s heart drops when she sees the distance at which the other girl is sitting: away from her. 

“Sorry,” she mutters slowly while returning to the book. She can’t focus though, the constant train of Azzi, Azzi infiltrates her brain. The brunette has been off since their plane ride back from Belarus almost 2 years ago. When she woke up in the morning, a searing pain scorched through her head and throat. Her vision was blurry and all her senses were disoriented. However, the feeling of her left hand latched onto her best friend’s waist underneath her hoodie and her right hand tangled in the mess of her best friend’s soft curls seemed to cure her hangover. She suddenly became aware of Azzi’s head resting on Paige’s chest as she snored softly, sending vibrations up her spine. 

Rather than reveling in the comforting and warm feeling provided by the other body, she detached herself in a hurry as a familiar feeling of panic surged through her veins. One that only existed when the lines of their friendship began to crack. Their conversation at breakfast and on the plane was extraordinarily uncomfortable, and the tension was palpable; it felt heavy on Paige’s shoulders when they stiffly and very hesitantly hugged goodbye after landing in Minnesota.

It was a silent and mutual agreement to ignore the “incident” and continue with their friendship even though the strict lines of their friendship were now permanently impaired. The once-familiar norms of their friendship and well-established boundaries were now blurred. Neither of them wanted to admit it though, so they pretended. They pretended everything was alright. By the time the State Fair rolled around that year, they found a sense of near normalcy. Near. Normalcy. To say that Paige wasn’t hurt by it was an understatement, but Azzi had to pretend. If she didn’t pretend, everything would crumble. 

After wishing Azzi’s family good night, the two start their unbearably slow trek to Azzi’s room. There was discord between the two girls; it became excess weight that the girls dragged along, making the usually quick journey feel strenuous and even longer than normally perceived. As she plops down on her side of the pillow barrier that had been put in place since Paige arrived in Virginia, Azzi grabs the TV remote and jams a few buttons until Frozen appears on the screen.

“Do you ever get tired of this movie? Like damn, Elsa making a castle of ice to seclude herself from everything else seems kinda emo.” Paige’s snide comment earns a punch from her best friend on the other side of the pillow wall. 

“Shut up, Paige. You’ve just never been able to put yourself in Anna’s shoes,” Azzi retorts. Paige doesn’t miss the soft chords of her laughter hidden amongst the playful banter. “Isn’t it symbolic how she goes from one love to another?”

“Bro, this shit-” Her words are cut off when Azzi sticks a finger in her face. Groaning, she slumps into her pillow and closes her eyes. After a few minutes, the obnoxiously loud music is abruptly cut off. Paige’s eyes fly open as she sits up before meeting Azzi’s eyes. Her dark eyes glow in the dark and she sees every little detail of her brown irises and dilated pupils.

“I got bored.” She states before whipping out her phone. 

“You never get bored of Frozen.”

“Well, I guess you kind of got to me.” 

“Az, what’s wrong? Talk to me, c’mon. You’ve been off this whole time that I’ve been here.” 

Azzi sighs and puts her phone down against her chest. “I don’t know. Good night, Paige. I’m gonna sleep.” Instead of a verbal response, she is smothered under a cushioned weight. “Ow, what the f-” 

“Azzi. What’s. Wrong?” Paige’s face is contorted in a scowl but her voice is soft and reassuring. The brunette picks at her fingers, refusing to meet her best friend’s gaze. 

“Nothing’s wrong.” She turns so that her back faces Paige. The air weighs down on them, heavy from the exasperated breaths that have escaped the mouths of the two girls. Paige chews on her lip as she watches the other girl scroll through a myriad of Instagram stories when she sees a particularly provocative story that makes her blood boil: a close-friends story with a picture of Azzi and a guy sitting at a cafe together with the caption “sniped.”

“Is this about the night in Belarus?” Azzi’s blood runs cold and she brings her phone to her chest before turning to Paige. She closes her eyes before letting out a silent groan. “We can’t ignore it forever. It’s causing a rift between us, and we’re gonna have to address it at one point.”

“That night was a fucking mistake.” Paige flinches and whips her head in the other direction, away from Azzi. She isn’t sure if it’s the blonde’s relentless jabs for information or her frustration that still lingers that prompts the harshness in her tone. 

“Az, I don’t even know what you’re talking about. I woke up hungover with you in my arms. Bonus, I guess.” When Azzi doesn’t laugh at Paige’s sarcastic quip, she sighs but continues. “Believe me, I was confused too. I guess we don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to, but since then, you’ve been so fucking distant,” Paige clenches her jaw in frustration. When she receives silence as an answer, she slumps into her pillow and stares at the barrier. 

“You know, I went on a date the other day.” Azzi’s words break the uncomfortable silence. The blonde gapes at her before laughing awkwardly. However, the air from her lungs is sucked out of her body and she feels a force that doesn’t break through her skin or bones but shatters her heart. 

“That’s cool.” Her tone is dry even though her heart is hammering against her ribcage. “Um… how’d it go?” Her tone is dry, but she still asks. Because Azzi is her best friend, and that’s what best friends do, right?

“It was… fine. I haven’t talked to him since, though. I guess we didn’t hit it off, you know? Not like he was my type anyway.” Paige nods, averting her gaze to hide her relief. “Are you jealous?” Azzi teases, smirking shyly at the flustered blonde. “You don’t have to be. He was awkward and we didn’t have a good time. I would rather have spent the time with you.”

“Oh,” Paige murmurs while chewing on her upper lip, only half listening to Azzi. “I would’ve rather spent the time with you too. The date sounded boring.” The room becomes eerily silent and both of them begin to feel the weight of the tension on their shoulders.

“It’s just gonna be weird when you go to college.” Azzi finally mutters, burying her face into her pillow and releasing a heavy sigh. 

“We’ll still FaceTime every night, it’ll even be easier because we’ll be in the same time zone.” 

“You’ll have rigorous practices because you’re a student-athlete, Paige. You also have homework and I’m sure the college workload is a lot heavier than high school.” The blonde swallows and runs her hands through her messy hair. She hadn’t thought about that.

“Well…we can make it work, I mean, we always have,” she sputters, looking everywhere but at Azzi. “I won’t forget about you, I promise. You’re still my best friend, and you’ll always be.” Her voice grows quiet and she picks at her fingers. Azzi doesn’t miss the way Paige’s eyes seem a little too turbulent, even under the dim light provided by the glow of their phones. 

Instead of acknowledging their feelings, she raises an eyebrow, leaning closer. “Sure. You won’t forget me, right? I swear that after we saw each other in that one AAU tournament you ghosted me for 3 weeks.”

Paige groans, “That was one time. I was busy!”

“Right,” Azzi says, smirking. “Busy becoming an Instagram celebrity with 12 followers. Big league stuff.”

The corners of Paige’s mouth twitch as she remembers her Instagram posts that were specifically tailored for Azzi. “Thirteen now, thank you. And one of them might be a bot, but still, commitment.”

“Thirteen? Wow! That’s a whole basketball roster,” Azzi giggles, prodding at Paige’s ribcage. The blonde squirms away, swatting at Azzi’s hand with a yelp before she retaliates by darting at her toned stomach. “Hey, that’s not fair,” Azzi exclaims with a shaky voice before grabbing Paige’s wrists and flipping her over. Their tickle fight comes to an abrupt stop and Azzi swallows thickly. Oh. 

Suddenly, Paige is very mindful of Azzi’s hot breath that contrasts with the cool air that surrounds them. Each breath makes the skin on her neck prickle with anticipation, but she reluctantly pulls her body away. Instead, she reaches for Azzi’s cheek and caresses the soft skin, sending shivers down both of their bodies. 

“I’ll always be there for you, I promise. It’ll be us against the world, you know what I mean? Paige and Azzi, together.” Her voice is soft and wistful, yet her blue eyes sparkle with determination.

“Together,” Azzi breathes as she buries her head into the older girl’s neck, wrapping her arms around her waist and taking in her rosy scent. Paige’s hands find their way through her curls and everything feels perfect. 

“I’ll miss you. A lot.” 

October 20th, 2028

Los Angeles, California

401. 403. 

“That fucking motherfucker,” Paige snarls under her breath while sprinting down the hotel hallway. The pills in the nearly empty bottle of Ibuprofen rattle against the plastic that threatens to explode under Paige’s grip.

“Room 435. If y’all end up fucking, I don’t wanna hear about it.”

“Fuck you too, Cam.” 405. 407. 409. Paige nearly slams her knee into the sharp corner.

411. 413. 415. 417. 419.

“I’ll always be there for you, I promise.” The words she said 8 years ago just before their unspoken feelings unraveled themselves like a ribbon awaiting a very eager child on the morning of Christmas Day replay in her mind. 

421. 423. 425. 427. Every step adds pressure onto her raging hangover headache. She’s almost there. Almost. 

429, 431, 433. How long is this fucking hallway?

435. Paige stops and hesitates before extending a shaky hand to scan the keycard and open the door. 

April 6th, 2025

Tampa Bay, Florida

A collective and electric feeling of euphoria lightens the air of the gym as the UConn Women’s Basketball team celebrates their hard-fought win against a 1-seed team in the Final Four. Paige weaves her way between her teammates, giving an occasional hug here and there until her eyes land on her. A pair of warm, brown doe eyes stare back at her. Azzi stands in front of her with a wide grin carved across her face. The blonde lets a contented sigh leave her lips and grins, preparing to jump into her best friend’s arms…

October 20th, 2028

Los Angeles, California

In the middle of the room on a king-sized bed lies a familiar figure in her bomber jacket buried under the thick comforter. Her eyes are red and a damp towelette clings onto her forehead. 

“Cam?” An uneasy voice rasps. When the figure lifts herself off the mattress, she freezes. “Paige,” she says cooly, but there’s a hint of wistfulness. “What are you doing here?”

“Oh, sorry. I’ll leave,” Paige manages to stutter out as she sinks her teeth into her bottom lip, turning away and heading toward the door. “I’ll leave this for you here,” she mutters as she puts the pill bottle on the bathroom counter. “Feel better soon.”

A muffed, yet broken sob escapes Azzi’s mouth. “Stay, please. I don’t have anyone.” 

That’s all it takes for Paige to open the doors to her heart again. She cautiously walks over while refusing to meet the pair of warm brown eyes that wander over her body. The two sit in silence before it’s broken by another strangled breath that comes out of the brunette. “Shit, Az…zi,” Paige begins to panic, staring at the other woman who has broken into a frenzy of sobs. Reflexively, her hand extends, but it stops, just before reaching her face.

“I don’t get why you’re here,” Azzi chokes out between gasps of air. 

“I…I made a promise.” Paige replies curtly. Her fingers move on their own accord as they begin to caress the tears away. Inside of her head, everything is ringing, telling her that this is wrong. But Paige decides to ignore it and she hopes that this time will be different from every other time. “I’ll always be here for you. Cam told me you weren’t doing great so I came over with Ibuprofen. Paige looks around the room nervously. The alarm bells in her head have been going off for too long. “Look, I think I should go, but it was nice to-” 

To her shock, Azzi cusps her cheeks and pulls her in for a searing kiss. There’s hunger in it as they move their mouths in tandem, neither of them pulling away. Azzi lets her tongue slip as Paige lets her hands move down her torso until they reach her waist. Her fingertips dance along the smooth ridges of her skin where they etch the words “I love you.” She grips firmly, pulling the brunette off the bed and pressing her flush against her own body. “Fuck,” the younger woman moans against Paige’s lips, sending a shiver through the older woman’s body. Azzi starts to tangle her hands through Paige’s hair until-

Her eyes fly open. 

April 6th, 2025

Tampa Bay, Florida

…Until her best friend is whisked away by a mysterious man with olive skin and brown curls. Paige’s heart plummets into her stomach when his firm hand grasps Azzi’s waist. She turns away, throws herself into KK’s eager arms, and plasters a smile onto her face. 

Because it’s okay, and Paige will be okay. 

We’re not exclusive. 

October 20th, 2028

Los Angeles, California

The room is dark and empty except for the sound of familiar, anguished coughs. The pungent scent of weed smoke fills the air and Azzi stifles a gag. She lets her eyes flutter open. When she does, she catches a glimpse of shimmering blonde hair. It makes her heart beat erratically. It’s been 3 years. 3 years of separation from each other, yet she knows it’s Paige Bueckers. 

“Who the fuck are you?” The blonde whips around, startled by an unfamiliar harsh voice. 

As an olive-skinned man slides through the door of the hotel room, Paige is harshly reminded of the diamond ring that sits on her Azzi’s ring finger. “Charles.” Paige extends a hand to the man. His bloodshot eyes flicker down to her hand, devoid of any jewelry, before they meet Paige’s again. After a heartbeat, their hands clasp firmly in a brief handshake–his grip firm, too firm. Her pulse quickens, yet she refuses to flinch and meets his gaze with equal intensity. 

“Paige. Hi.”

Behind him, Paige notices three things. First, the putrid stench of weed hits her in waves. Second, she sees a pile of a white, powdery substance on the bathroom counter. Third, she sees a flushed Azzi, who lies alone in an otherwise untouched bed. The sight of Azzi in a vulnerable position sends 

Charles studies her with curiosity and a very noticeable sniffle. “Do you… need anything? Why are you here?”

Every nerve in her body begs her to stay and push the lame excuse of a man out of the way. Most of all, the only thing she wants to do is cradle the younger woman in her arms and tell her that everything will be okay. But Paige sighs and hands Charles the pill bottle before turning away. “No, Cam told me to drop this off. I’ll be heading out, but take care.” She feels a pair of brown doe eyes engraving themselves onto the back of her head, but she can’t. She walks away. 

Paige Bueckers, you’re such an idiot.

***

Three days later, Paige and the rest of her teammates are huddled around a secluded table at a local bar. It’s in a secluded part of the city, giving the team privacy despite the energy in the air. Rickea Jackson had organized the meet-up impulsively after hearing about Azzi’s plans to return to New York for the next two weeks in preparation to officially move to Los Angeles. 

The team is decently buzzed, having ordered 2 rounds of shots already. They’re ready to let loose tonight; most people had plans to visit their families in the upcoming weeks. 

As for Paige, it’s evident that she has consumed several drinks already. She needs an escape from the labyrinth of her thoughts that trap and corner her. She’s spiraling, and she doesn’t have the energy to fight against it. Cam, Rickea, and even Dearica insisted that Paige should stay sober tonight, but Paige was drowning. She was adamant about drinking after the events that occurred earlier in the week. Cam and Dearica did their best to distract her, taking her to lifts, pickup games, and even shopping after her birthday. And while it worked beautifully for a few days, the effects of the distraction were completely worn off by tonight. 

Paige sits in a secluded corner of the bar, trying to separate herself from the rest of her team. The sight of Azzi sitting across from her amplifies Paige’s heightened anxiety. Her eyes are trained on Azura Stevens, who is animatedly telling her about the children she worked with the other day while nursing a drink at the same time. Although partially disengaged, Azzi stays polite and friendly. Even if she doesn’t want to admit it, a small part of Paige’s heart flutters at the sight of Azzi assimilating well with the Sparks. 

“Paige, were you even listening to me?” Next to her, an exasperated Cam stands up and walks up to the shorter woman. Her hand rubs soothing circles on Paige’s back; a simple gesture that causes her waterline to prickle and prompts tears to form. Azzi’s eyes flicker over to Paige, noticing the dark circles around her eyes. Her blue irises have lost their luster, and her shoulders are slumped forward. The blonde glances at Azzi and offers a weak nod of acknowledgment. The friendly act sends static electricity through her body.

She doesn’t know how their relationship, or the remnants of it, got to the point where even the simplest friendly gesture seldomly happens. Azzi tries to ignore the heavy pit of if only things were different that knots itself into her stomach. But she fails and it simmers with the turbulent sea of her emotions. 

“Yo, Az!” Odyssey Sim’s booming voice catches Azzi off guard and causes her to flinch. A flicker of concern flashes over Paige’s face but it is quickly masked with a guarded scowl. It’s an emotion only Azzi can discern; the two women spent years carving themselves into each other’s skin, etching marks of unspoken promises in every crevice. They were each other’s mosaics; they spent years meticulously putting every intricate piece together. Azzi learned the meaning behind the faintest, yet most intentional quivers of Paige’s muscles from their years together. 

But now, everything about Paige seems foreign. 

If Odyssey and Paige notice how Azzi flinches at the loud voice, they ignore it. At least, Paige does. “Az, come join us,” Odyssey’s voice is softer, with tones of empathy laced under each syllable. “Truth or drink, team tradition.” Reluctantly, she hoists herself from her seat to walk over to Odyssey and the flock of basketball players passing a bottle of Devil’s Spring around. 

“Well, I’ll be damned,” Azzi mutters to Azura who laughs and ruffles her hair playfully. “Azura, I can’t play truth or drink. We’re adults, not carefree college students,” she glances at Paige who is animatedly arguing with Odyssey about getting a virgin shot. 

“Odyssey, that’s not fair. I’on even drink that much anymore,” Paige whines, throwing her hands over her head. Odyssey frowns and pours the blonde a shot of vodka, not wanting to argue with her. Paige grins triumphantly and Cam rolls her eyes from across the table. 

Azura snickers and turns to Azzi. “You’ll be fine kiddo. Team tradition.” 

Azzi groans, letting her head drop into her hands. She did not want to share too much information with her teammates, and she did not want to be completely shitfaced in front of her new teammates. After all, that’s more Paige’s fashion than hers, but not wanting to fight with her teammates, she allows Azura to pour her a shot. 

Or two.

Or three. 

Paige watches her, amused by the uncertainty painted across her face as she warily inspects the three nearly overflowing shot glasses. Azzi glances up at her, an unreadable expression flashing across her face before she turns away, her jaw tightening. Paige knows it’s unfair, but she flinches at the hostility swarming the warm brown eyes she’s grown to know and love.  

***

The bar buzzes with a faint hum of music and laughter, the kind that borders being too loud but also keeping everyone grounded in the moment. The occasional boisterous cheers after a teammate opts to throw a drink back instead of answering personal questions about their sex lives that emanate from the table earn occasional glares from bystanders.

“Alright, alright. We gotta save some questions for our princess,” Odyssey announces, cutting through the chatter as she leans forward across the table, flipping through a messy notebook full of questions. “Fudd, you’re up.” 

Azzi swallows, feeling the intense gazes of all of her teammates scouring her body as if their stares could rip all her secrets apart. She stiffens when a dark gleam enters Odyssey’s gaze as she scribbles something on a slip of paper and hands it to her. When she opens the note, she stiffens, a cold bead of sweat dribbling down her neck. 

“Have you ever ruined someone else’s relationship?” Azzi reads aloud, her voice hesitant. The table erupts with laughter and a bunch of “oohs” and “ahhs.” From across the table, Paige pretends to seem unfazed but her subtle nail-biting reveals her uneasy demeanor, but there’s a hint of a silent challenge that enters her eyes. 

“Damn, Sims. You really went for the throat for our little newbie,” Cam chuckles, earning a glare from Azzi. Azura leans back in her seat, sipping from her drink while giving Azzi an encouraging nod. 

“Team tradition,” Odyssey grins unapologetically while twirling the ballpoint pen in between her fingers. “Gotta make it memorable for our first-timer, right?” 

Azzi flips her off before glancing at the paper slip again, debating whether she should throw the shot of vodka back that sits next to her. The weight of the question settles over her like a heavy cloak. It’s not an easy one to avoid–if she drinks, her teammates will know that she’s hiding something from them. However, if she answers, she knows she will regret it tonight. Before she can let herself decide, she opens her mouth, and a single syllable rolls off her tongue.

“Yeah.” Paige’s eyebrows shoot up before furrowing as she leans forward ever so slightly. The table falls silent for a moment, a silence louder than the music and laughter in the bar. The weight of the curiosity of her teammates settles down on her, drowning and suffocating her. Cam and Paige share a knowing look with each other and cough awkwardly. 

“Well… do you regret it?” Odyssey asks, her gaze flickering knowingly between Paige and Azzi. Azzi’s fingers tighten around the shot glass, her knuckles whitening. Paige savors the way the muscles in her fingers flex for a split second before swallowing and glancing at Azzi expectantly.

“It’s complicated…” she finally mutters, desperately looking around at her teammates. Paige scoffs silently, turning away to sip from her drink. When Azzi risks a glance at Paige, guilt pools in her stomach as she notices the hurt and anger that flickers in her eyes. The tension between them is palpable, their unspoken history hanging between them like a storm cloud. 

Eventually, when it’s Paige's turn, she leans back in her chair, basking in the attention of her teammates. “Guess it’s my turn,” she mutters. 

“Alright, superstar,” Odyssey mocks while sticking her tongue out at the blonde. She scribbles down a question and slides it across the table. Paige picks it up, silently inspecting it before letting out a dry laugh. 

“What’s the biggest mistake you’ve ever made?” she reads aloud, her voice tinged with irony. The table falls into an uncomfortable silence again. Paige doesn’t hesitate and picks up her shot glass and downs the vodka in one smooth motion. Azzi traces a loose droplet that dribbles down her neck before clinging to her toned collarbone exposed by the simple tank top that frames Paige’s tall figure. The tightness in her chest grows. She knows Paige’s avoidance isn’t about the question, but more about her. The blonde slams the shot glass on the table and wipes her mouth with the back of her hand, her eyes fixed on Azzi. 

“Guess you’ll never know,” Paige says with a hollow smile, her voice piercing Azzi’s skin like daggers. The game continues, but the once-exuberant laughter begins to settle down. The tension between the two basketball players lingers and the unspoken words and old wounds simmer beneath the surface. She knows the night is far from over, but she’d rather be anywhere other than her hotel room. 

***

As her teammates began to leave their seats and move to the dance floor, Azzi and Paige were involuntarily sitting next to each other. The distance between them was only several feet, but it felt like miles of separation with their unspoken past. Surprisingly, a soft and familiar voice addresses her.

“I’m sorry ‘bout the other night,” Paige murmurs hesitantly, staring at her feet. The knot in Azzi’s chest is tightened and she feels suffocated by Paige’s words, soft but genuine. The once-vibrant atmosphere of the bar feels muted, with the steady bass of the music fading into the background. Azzi doesn’t respond immediately, her fingers curling around the rim of her shot glass as if it could anchor her. The apology hangs between them, fragile yet heavy, and Azzi can only hear the erratic drumming of her own heart. 

“What are you sorry for, Paige?” her voice is quiet but laced with sharpness. Her eyes drift to the pair of blue eyes, once so lively and full of a sparkle that has dulled out and left an almost deserted shell. 

Paige flinches at her tone, but she presses on, her voice soft and cautious. “For, well, everything,” she mutters under her breath, a lonely tear sliding down her smooth cheek. Azzi instinctively reaches over to caress the tear off of her face. At first, Paige flinches at the feeling of her warm hand but leans into her touch. The blonde finally lifts her gaze, meeting the brunette’s. The expression in her eyes–equal parts regret and vulnerability–knocks the wind out of Azzi. It was once the expression that was used to unravel the thread that tied Azzi’s defenses to her heart together, but it’s now the one that feels like a knife twisting in an old wound. 

The silence stretches between them, thick and suffocating as Azzi retracts her hand, her fingers tingling with the familiar warmth of Paige’s skin. She hadn’t meant for her defenses to slip, but the sight of Paige’s tear stirred something she thought she’d buried.

“Azzi?”

“Yeah, Paige?”

“Does he treat you well?” Azzi’s eyes widen and her body stiffens before she can nurse her expressions into a feigned happiness. Paige doesn’t miss the way her body reacts and her gaze softens with a knowing expression. The question is simple with no ill intention, but Paige’s gentle gaze stays locked to hers.

“Of course, he does,” her voice too light, too practiced. Paige’s eyebrows raise slightly in suspicion, but she doesn’t say anything. 

Paige tilts her head slightly, her lips pressing into a thin line. “Good to you,” she repeats softly, almost as if she’s testing the words. There’s no accusation, only quiet observation, but it feels like she’s shining a spotlight on all of Azzi’s cracks. 

Azzi shifts in her seat. “Why do you care, Paige?” she finally asks, her voice harsher than intended. She meets Paige’s eyes, and the question lingers in the space between them; jagged, heavy, and raw. 

Paige doesn’t flinch and instead holds Azzi’s gaze, her blue eyes shimmering with raw emotion that she doesn’t bother to hide. “Because I care about you,” she admits, her voice barely above a whisper. “And, I know you, Az. I know when you’re lying.” Azzi feels her throat tighten, and she swallows hard. The urge to protect herself flares up, but she forces it down. She stares at the amber liquid in her glass instead as if it holds the answers that she doesn’t want to face. 

When she lifts her head up, Paige leans in closer, bridging the distance between them. “You deserve better. You deserve to be happy.” Azzi’s chest aches as she opens her mouth, but no words come out. 

Just then, the bell of the bar door rings aggressively. All eyes in the bar turn to the olive-skinned man with unruly hair and red eyes standing in the doorway. 

“Azzi, where are you?” Charles slurs while scanning the area like a predator hunting for its prey. Next to Paige, Azzi’s breathing slows and her body goes rigid. She glances at Paige, panic in her eyes. “Azzi…” Before he can continue, Paige steps firmly between them. “She doesn’t want to talk to you right now,” Paige says sharply, her tone slicing through the tense air. Charles lets out a dry and humorless laugh, his lips curling into a sinister sneer. “And who the hell are you to tell me that? Her ex? Thought you’d be out of the picture by now.” When Paige’s jaw tightens, he knows he’s struck a nerve. He moves closer to her, jabbing a shaky finger into her chest. “She never fucking cared about you. Drop it.” 

Azzi sucks in a sharp breath and sinks her teeth into her upper lip as she closes her eyes. Fuck, she really didn’t want this. Paige’s jaw tightened and her hands clenched into fists by her sides. She knows she’s strong enough to take him on. “I’m someone who actually gives a damn about your fucking fiancée,” she sneers.

Charles chuckles mockingly, staggering forward until his booze-heavy breath fanned over Paige’s face. “You don’t know anything about us.”

“I know enough,” Paige snapped. Azzi’s head swam as she watched the confrontation unfold, her body frozen between the two people pulling her in opposite directions. Charles glances at the brunette, scowling. “Why don’t you back off, princess? This is gonna get messy real fast.”

Before Azzi could respond, a sickening crunch split the thick air between Charles and Paige. Startled, Azzi sits up and lets out a shriek. A silhouette of olive skin and blood stumbles and falls backward. Paige stands at the door, unscathed. Relief courses through Azzi’s veins until she notices the tears streaking down the blonde’s cheeks and her uneasy breathing. 

“Agh, fuck!” Charles screams, grabbing his nose. “Fuck, you’re a fucking maniac!” 

Azzi doesn’t know what’s going on. She’s suddenly hit by the warm, humid air of the Los Angeles night as she’s being dragged by Paige’s cool, but secure grip on her wrist. The noise of the bar fades into a distant hum, and she’s only half aware of the world around her as she’s pulled into the quiet of the night. 

Her feet stumble to keep up with Paige’s determined stride, her brain still trying to process the whirlwind of emotions. The feeling of Paige’s hand around her wrist is grounding, a tether in the uncertainty of her future. They don’t stop walking until they reach the car, the cool metal clicking open. Azzi doesn’t protest; she lets herself be guided into the passenger seat where Paige’s familiar rosy scent envelopes her. 

Paige doesn’t say anything at first while she slides into the driver’s seat as they ride in an unusual silence. It’s not suffocating, but raw and uncertain. Azzi finally glances at Paige, her shoulders slumped as she grips the wheel so hard that her knuckles are white and bleeding from the encounter in the bar. 

“Why are you doing this?” she asks, her voice barely above a whisper.

Paige glances at her, her face soft yet unreadable. “I care about you, Az. I won’t let you keep pretending everything is fine.” Azzi doesn’t respond right away as she lets the words settle in her chest. They stir up the guilt that lingers from their last encounter 3 years ago. But she lets herself relax in the quiet of the night as the city lights flicker past.

For the first time since she got to the city, Azzi lets herself breathe. 

[charlotteking23]

The Lion's Lamb - Chapter 4 - MV1/33

Max Verstappen x reader

The Lion's Lamb Series: Aesthetics, Ch.1, Ch.2, Ch.3, Ch.5, Ch.6, Ch.7, Ch.8, Ch.9

The Dutch and American couldn't keep each other out of their thoughts for the next few days.

Max found himself wanting to be around you more often. He found something other than racing, that he felt joy to be around.

You found herself drawn to the dark and mysterious aura that the Dutchman unmistakably had. Something about him made you feel something you never felt before.

In the days since they last saw each other, Max made good use of your number. Within an hour of leaving the coffee shop, he texted you.

Since then, they've been communicating nonstop. If they weren't busy with work, they were either texting or calling each other.

It wasn't until the upcoming Thursday that you felt like Max was becoming distant with you.

You were saddened by the thought. You rarely put Yourself out there, especially towards men, but something about Max made you want to try it.

By Sunday afternoon, Max had called you, extremely excited after winning the Saudi Arabian Grand Prix. It was a close race between Ferrari and Redbull, but Max ultimately won in the end.

You had spent your Sunday painting, trying to keep your thoughts clear of a certain Dutchman. You wouldn't allow herself to think about it more than you should.

You had put yourself out there and was ghosted. You wouldn't wallow in self-pity for a man You had only met once. At least that's what you told herself.

In front of you lay a painting of piercing blue eyes that stared right back at you. You stared back, getting lost in the familiar gaze before the sound of your phone ringing broke your thoughts.

Quickly grabbing the phone without looking at who was calling, you answered, "Hello?"

"Hey," you heard the rough voice of the man who has been haunting your thoughts recently.

"Max?"

"Why do you sound surprised to get my call?"

"I didn't think you would call me," You said lightly, your heart racing just from his voice. "You seemed to not want to talk to me recently."

"I'm sorry, little lamb," You heard him sigh through the phone. "I was away for work and things got busy."

"Oh," You blushed at the pet name he said, "So you weren't done with me?"

"Little lamb, you can't get rid of me that easy," you giggled at his answer before responding.

"How was the work trip then?"

"It went well, but I can't wait to come back and see you again."

"When do you come back?"

"Tonight. I'd love to see you again sometime this week."

"I would love to see you too," you bit your lip nervously. "You have to tell me all about your trip."

"I will little lamb," he chuckled.

The Redbull driver couldn't keep the smile off his face. His little lamb wanted to be around him when he came back.

He was upset that you believed him to be ignoring you when that wasn't his intention at all. Max didn't tell you that he had gone away for work. He's used to people knowing who he is.

The name Max Verstappen has become a household name overnight it seemed. After winning his World Championship title last year, especially under the circumstances, he had built a name for himself. Good and bad.

So for him, you were a breath of fresh air. Being around someone that did know him, or what he does for a living, made him feel normal. As an F1 driver, normal is hard to come by.

Daniel Ricardo, the McLaren driver, and Max's closest friend, watched him on the phone from a distance. He had never seen his friend's face light up as much as it did when speaking to whoever was on the other end.

Daniel was there for the Dutchman since the beginning of his career at Redbull. Max was his younger brother in his head and he wouldn't have it any other way.

The McLaren driver knew that the Dutchman past, knowing he hadn't had the easiest life and his life revolved around racing. After watching the Redbull driver win his first title, the Aussie watched him slowly start to become a recluse.

Riccardo knew the young driver had been struggling since his world championship title came with a lot of controversy. Max wanted to prove to everyone, including himself, that he was a great driver.

Seeing the Aussie walking towards him, the Dutchman quickly told his little lamb goodbye and that he'd call back when he got the chance.

He didn't want anyone to know about you just yet. You were his escape from reality and he refused to share that escape with anyone else in fear of losing it.

"You all good mate?" The Australian driver asked once he got closer to the other driver, noticing the small smile on his face.

"Yeah," he responded shortly, letting the smile drop from his face.

"Who were you just on the phone with?" The driver smirks at his old teammate. He couldn't help but be nosey.

Especially after noticing how quickly he got off the phone when he approached. He wouldn't be Daniel Riccardo if he didn't know any drama.

"No one," Max shook his head quickly, refusing to fall for the other man's antics.

"Did our little Dutchman find a girl?"

"No," Max deadpanned. If he told the Aussie, it wouldn't be long before Lando, the other McLaren driver knew. And the younger driver couldn't keep a secret to save his life.

"You don't smile, especially on the phone, for just anyone."

"Daniel," the younger driver sighed, knowing the smile on his friend's face meant he wasn't going to stop pushing him. "If I tell you something you will drop the subject?"

The Aussie nodded his head vigorously, his classic grin plastered on his face. He just wanted to know what was going on with his friend.

If a girl is making him this happy, he'd like to know about you.

"You can't tell anyone about her okay? I don't need this getting out especially since it just started."

"I promise I won't say anything."

"She's amazing. She's gorgeous and absolutely the most innocent human being out there," he smiles thinking about you he hopes to see tomorrow. "The best part is, she doesn't know who I am."

"She doesn't?" That surprised Daniel, seeming how almost everyone knew who he was. "I don't want to say this, but is she faking this personality to get close to you?"

"No," the Dutchman shakes his head, not even entertaining the thought, "this girl can't lie to save her life. You can see it in her eyes that she has nothing but good intentions."

"Alright," the Aussie nods, choosing to believe his friend. "Where'd you meet her?"

"Coffee shop in Monaco."

"She's from Monaco and doesn't know who you are?"

"She's American, she only moved to Monaco for work."

"An American? Should have just started with that," the McLaren driver grins, "you know how much I love Americans."

Max shakes his head at his friend's comment. Thinking to himself how right his friend is.

The McLaren driver does love Americans, everyone on the grid is pretty positive that the man is a secret American pretending to be Australian.

"Look man," Daniel says while grabbing the Redbull driver's shoulder, "if she's making you this happy, who am I to say shit."

The Dutchman gives the Aussie a slight smile, thinking about you. He can't see you fitting into his lifestyle, yet at the same time, he can't seem to want anyone but you here.

"I want to be the first one to meet her," Daniel slowly gets a mischievous look in his eyes, "I can't promise that she won't choose me instead of you once she sees this beautiful face."

Taglist: @shelbyteller, @smithieandy, @fangirlforever2000, @herexpertcollector, @vip-access

[strawberrypoundtown]

Orc x Halforc!Fem!Reader

You're the clanleaders mixed race eldest daughter. Your older brother has one of his friends watch over you as you start to get eyed by other males in the clan, only for you to eye the rugged brute in charge of protecting you.

(Part 2 here)

Contains: sexual tension, nudity, mentions of biting and scratching

Being the clanleaders eldest daughter was difficult enough, but being a half orc made your daily life annoying. Your mother was a very beautiful and brave woman, especially considering your father was one of the most feared warriors in the world before meeting her. After they had met, your father doted on your mother constantly, and still does to this day. He's still a terrifying warrior, he just doesn't go on raids as much anymore.

However, as you got older, you realized that your parents had painted a picture of your innocence for you that made finding a a partner difficult. You had always been one of the best warriors among everyone else around your age when you were growing up, but your parents always acted like you were the most fragile little thing. So what if you broke your arm a few months ago while on a hunt that got out of hand? You didn't need to have your weapons and armor confiscated.

You let out a deep sigh and rubbed your eyes, before your tent flaps are rudely ripped open, earning a groan out of you. You stubbornly rolled over in your bed and pulled the blankets over your head, not even looking at who might have stumbled into your tent.

"Go away idiot. Let me sleep." You groaned, closing your eyes as you assumed it was one of your many siblings coming to wake you up way too early. You hear the person clear their throat and your eyes shoot open. 'That's not one of my siblings'

"Grobur asked me to come and get you. He wants to talk to you." You're thrown off by the deep voice that haunts your dreams and your cheeks flush. Why did your brother have to send him everytime?

Gan. You have had a crush on him for years. Almost as long as you can remember. He was only a couple year older than you and your brother Grobur's best friend since childhood. He was always so stoic and calm around you, even when you were kids. He was the only person that seemed to actually treat you like you could take care of yourself, while still being protective over you. You loved how protective he would get with you at times, making sure the other men stayed in their place when they went too far with you during practice. Seeing him spar and beat the crap out of the person that tried to beat you put a strange thrilling twist in your stomach. Watching him fight with no armor and barely any clothes, seeing his sweaty green skin glistening in the sun. Each muscle rippling as you would think about how gently he hugs you for a big brute like him. You had to stop watching him so much when you caught yourself drooling one day.

"Today, princess." He grumbled with a hint of sass, breaking you out of your daydream. It was his nickanem for you. It was his way of teasing you. He loved calling you princess, but you always wish he would call you his princess. You grunted and pout as you sat up in bed, staring up at him as you held the blanket up to cover your body. You had picked a bad night to go to bed naked.

"How about you get out so I can put on some clothes? I don't think Grobur would appreciate you parading me around camp naked." You giggled teasingly. His eyes widened, his mouth slightly agape before quickly coughing to cover his embarrassment and turning around to avert his eyes completely and to prevent pitching a tent of his own. He kinda wished you would show him your gorgeous, bountiful breasts, but then he quickly shoved that thought to the back of his head so he could speak

"I-I'm so sorry. I didn't realize. I'll be waiting outside for you." He said softly before leaving your tent. You sighed softly as you got up, slipping into some random clothes quickly, trying to calm your blushing face by rubbing your cheeks. After brushing your hair, you exit your tent and walk up to Gan. God he was massive. He was the largest male in the clan. Your eyes wander down his body briefly, wondering how big his di-

"Are you ready?" He asks you, interrupting your thoughts as you look back up at his face. He wasn't looking at you, seemingly trying to avoid looking at you while he took a step and started to walk ahead. You smile to yourself a little. Maybe you made him flustered?

"O-oh, uh, yes! Let's go." You stammer as you jump to follow him, doing a light jog to keep pace with him.

As you walk around camp, you don't notice the longing and lustful glances many of the males your age get on their faces as you walk by. The rugged orc leading you was the only male you had your eye on.

However, Gan does notice them. It infuriates him to no end that you're subjected to being seen by other males as a plaything, a trophy. None of them deserved you in his opinion. He could tell that in other males eyes, they just saw lust for you.

Gan made sure to look as intimidating as possible as he walked through camp with you, the other males quickly looking away from you when they saw him. When you started getting looks year ago, he started volunteering to escort you wherever you needed to go, under the guise of being sent there by your brother to make sure you were safe. He didn't trust anyone else to guard you, but him. Not like you particularly needed it. Your frame may only come up to his pecs, but you still had orc-like strength. You were strong even when you two were growing up, often besting him in sparring matches when you were little until he got too big for you to pin down.

His mind wanders until he remembers how your hair and clothes would get tousled around when you two had your last sparring match a few months ago. He loved it when you looked so determined in battle, licking and bearing your short, sharp tusks as you tried to catch your breath. Seeing you all sweaty, breathing heavily because of him drove him crazy. Your body was strong, but soft to the touch. Your curves drove him nuts and the muscles under your softness were to die for. You were so soft to him that it was like you could bruise at any moment, but you never did. He could throw you around for what felt like hours and you'd leave with barely a scratch, while he was left with your scratch marks and bites all over his arms and shoulders. Your sharp little tusks had left a few scars bethind over the years. You liked to fight dirty, and he loved it. He'd never admit it tho. He had to let you get him in a hold so he could tap out when he had noticed himself getting a bit too excited.

As you approached the large dining hall tent, you heard your brother and your parents talking happily at the head table, along with the rest of your siblings. Your brother is seated next to his wife, a stunningly beautiful female orc that waves to you with one hand, the other on her swollen pregnant belly.

"(Y/n)! Good morning!" She cheerfully greets. Everyone else at the table smiles at you and welcomes you to sit at the table. You wonder what they're so chipper about.

"Good morning everyone." You say softly before yawning, rubbing the last of the sleep from your eyes as you stood next to Gan.

"We have some good news for you sweetie." Your mom says with a smile. "You know how we've been worried about you getting a mate? Well, we decided to pick someone to watch over you-"

"Mom, I can take care of myself. I don't need someone watching over me all the time." You cut her off, already not wanting to entertain the idea of having a personal babysitter.

"(Y/n), we just want someone to keep an eye on you so no one tries to hurt you. We know you can take care of yourself, but that doesn't mean you shouldn't have someone watching out for you." Your brother says before rolling his eyes, his wife harshly nudging him with her elbow, making him grunt and clutch his side.

"I don't understand why you're so worried about me all the time. I rarely ever see anyone try to look at me, let alone talk to me!" You threw your hands up in the air in frustration, having absolutely no idea that you were standing next to the reason why.

"I don't think you realize how some of the other males have been looking at you lately. You're more than old enough to find a mate now, so males are going to start trying to get your attention more. Some of them might end up getting dangerous..." your mother said softly, an empathetic look on her face as she looked at you. She knew this frustrated you, but she wanted to make sure you were protected if anything were to go wrong. You looked back into her eyes and sighed softly. You knew it was better to have protection than not, and you knew they all meant well.

"I understand. I just hope it's temporary." You say with a hopeful smile, and your father nods.

"It will be. We promise. Once you've found a mate, your guard will be dismissed." Your father states and you let out a sigh of relief.

"Who's the poor sucker that has to try and keep track of her?" Your 13 year old brother chuckled to himself before shoving more food into his mouth, earning a punch to his shoulder from your 16 year old sister.

"I will be." The voice next to you states in a low grumble, glancing at you briefly with what you could swear was a small smirk.

God damn it

[kingkat12]

unbearable (roman godfrey x reader)

WARNINGS: 18+, handjob, alcohol, graphic imagery, angst, mention of drugs, physical violence (almost), asshole teenage boys

summary: Roman had heard your no, respected your wishes, but now you were wondering how big of a blow it truly was for him to get his sexual advances rejected-- why was he blowing this so out of proportion? was something else maybe going on in that brain of his?

word count: 11,054 (am i on the brink of insanity maybe)

PART 1, PART 2, PART 3, PART 4, PART 5, PART 6, PART 7, PART 8, PART 9, PART 10

a/n: sorry for the wait!! school is driving me nuts... BUT SO IS ROMAN!!! GRRR, enjoy!!!<333

Vladimir Nabokov, the author of Lolita, once wrote to his wife; "I love you, I'm waiting for you unbearably,"

... Waiting for Roman was unbearable, too.

Shatteringly unbearable. Images of wanting to ball up into a contortion of nothingness haunted me, and the need to become a single entity of anger and despair clawed wounds into my skin. I kept imagining I would grow extra arms to help my body become a circle, an ouroboros, but not stopping at the tail-- a snake eating itself to death.

If I could eat myself, I would. Not like an apple, not with gentle nips-- no, I would sink my teeth into my flesh and tear, rip, pull with all my might. Pull, pull, until I was nothing but a gushing wound. 

This is what Roman was driving me to. 

Is this a bearable state to be in? Constantly?

If I were to ask myself that question once more, I would answer that I no longer thought anything at all. I refused to. My brain stopped working properly the first time I saw him, anyway. Therefore none of my actions actually mattered. They had no consequence. No consequence at all, just like Roman probably saw his actions.

I should've listened to him the night we got together; "I shut down," he'd said. "I retaliate when I'm angry." Maybe I needed to be diagnozed with selective hearing? It was starting to seem as though I shut my ears whenever he spoke, only listening to the muffled sound of his voice as my pupils formed into pulsing hearts. 

Still, it seemed I wasn't the only one with selective hearing. If I closed my eyes, I could live through the moment I tried to tell Roman I wasn't up for having sex with him last night. It was like he didn't hear me, didn't register it; but in hindsight, it didn't feel like it was with ill intent. 

... Maybe this hearing thing actually needed to be addressed. Maybe we both needed a trip to the doctor's office to tell them we couldn't hear or think properly.

While we're there, I think I'd also like to have him referred to a therapist of sorts. Maybe he could learn how to communicate properly and not run off into the night when he doesn't get laid?

Oh, well-- a girl is allowed to dream. Get a little lost in her head. Sometimes, that's necessary. Especially in moments like these;

I spotted Roman beneath the bleachers with some of his friends, leaning against the metal structure. His hair was styled in the usual heartbreaker style, and the two upper unclasped buttons of his shirt allowed me to glance at the small area of exposed skin-- I spotted the vial of my blood around his neck, and the longer I stood here, I remembered how soft he was to the touch; especially when he was shirtless and on top of me. I hated how I was thinking about him like a dumb cat in heat. Still, I couldn't take my eyes off him; Roman seemed so carefree, laughing with his friends, unaware of how ridiculously handsome he looked. 

He should be jailed for walking around looking like that. For life, preferably. 

My eyes focused on the way he lazily balanced his cigarette between his fingers, taking slow, careful drags as he listened to his friend talk in the heat of the weather. Now, Roman was as different from yesterday as humanly possible-- I could still see the quiet, retreated version of him he had become last night after the rejection. The one that had practically thrown a fit about not getting laid, which quickly spiraled into what I could only categorize as a mental crisis. Had he been so shocked by getting a no that he had shot himself into existential dread? 

And why was his first conclusion that I didn't want him at all?

For a girl who just said she refused to think, I sure did a lot of it. I decided that enough was enough-- I needed to talk to him. Roman was my boyfriend after all, I should be able to do so.

Still, I couldn't remember the last time I felt this small as I made my way towards him, anxiously clearing my throat before I tapped Roman's shoulder. I hadn't managed to put much strength into the tap, and I was almost worried he wouldn't notice me--

One of his friends chimed in with a nasty grin, motioning for Roman to turn around; "Pretty girl, six o'clock," 

Roman turned his head to me, and it was clear that he hadn't expected to see me. His smile fell a little as he pulled his cigarette away from his lips, making sure to exhale upwards and away from my face. I spotted my hair ties around his wrist-- knowing he still wore them gave me a sense of ease. "Hey, sweets," Roman teased, casual as ever. "The catwalk ain't here, you gotta go down to the city center for that."

I rolled my eyes, watching the smug smirk form on his face as the rest of his friends snickered. Why was he acting so... normal? "Rome, we need to talk,"

"Well, fuck," he mumbled, turning to his friends with a playful shimmer in his green eyes. "It seems I'm in trouble, guys." It was as though he was egging them on as they all collectively ooh-ed, his loyal spectators, his royal servants. 

I didn't like this side of Roman. Jock-Roman. There were many sides of him I didn't like, actually. Or was it maybe that I didn't like myself for liking him at all? This was becoming more of a mind-fuck than expected. And if we were to play mind games, I knew where to strike; "Roman, either you fucking talk to me like a grown man, or I sit down in Daniel's lap during lunch today. Your choice," 

His head turned towards me with nearly inhuman speed, no trace of any humour on his face anymore. The sudden change was chilling-- I would've shivered, had I not expected it. The oohs only got louder from the group of boys, and I watched Roman's eye twitch as he threw his cigarette down to the floor, stomping it. Still, I didn't break eye contact; I had read somewhere that dogs battled for dominance this way. Since when were Roman and I no better than dogs? 

Roman turned to his pack; "Scram," he said, nodding for them to leave. 

They were gone within seconds. 

He turned to me, a tired look about him. "Talk, then,"

"No," I placed myself before him, watching his green eyes follow me. "That's not how a conversation works. One person says something, and the other one responds. Would you like to try that out, maybe practice a little? It seems you didn't do enough of that in elementary school."

Roman scoffed, rolling his eyes as he stuffed his hands into his front pockets. "How sweet of you,"

"What can I say? I'm patient like that,"

"You'd be good with kids,"

"How great that you're acting like a child, then," I sighed, realizing that I needed a different strategy if I wanted to get anything out of this conversation. For now, Roman remained silent, probably holding back a long string of curses. I took another step forward, and I was immediately embraced by the scent of his cologne. Fuck, how I loved the expensive smell of Roman. Still, I knew I had to get myself together; I let my eyes soften as I looked up at him. "You haven't answered any of my calls or messages... I don't get what's going on in your head. I'm simply trying to understand, but you're just running away. Again."

Roman's eyelids hung heavy over his eyes, lashes fluttering lazily as he met my gaze. He let out a loud sigh; "Maybe I just need space? Did you ever weigh that option?" 

"... Do you want space?" This was so damn confusing. "You wanted to be as close as humanly possible last night, though?"

Roman scoffed again-- was it a laugh? He didn't say anything as he looked away, possibly to think. Like this, I spotted the vial again; I let out a relieved breath. To be honest, a part of me was worried he'd take it off. 

Finally, he spoke; "I need some time. Time to think,"

"Think about what?" This was making my heart speed up. "Roman, you're worrying me."

He shrugged, still not meeting my gaze. "Just... time. Is that so damn hard to give?" 

God, how I hated his tone. Hated the way he spoke to me right now, hated it all. It pushed me to say my deepest fear out loud; "If you're seriously breaking up with me because I didn't want to sleep with you with my parents on the other side of the wall, I sure hope you think very, very carefully,"

"What?" Roman seemed to snap out of it, finally looking at me. His brows were drawn together, confused; "I'm not breaking up with you. Aren't you breaking up with me?"

"What?" 

"... What?" 

We both looked at each other with bewilderment. It seemed we had both come to very, very different conclusions. 

"Roman, I'm not breaking up with you?" 

"... Why not?" 

"What?!" It felt like my brain was actively melting-- I groaned, rubbing my temples. "What on earth do you mean, why not?"

"I don't know!" Roman's brain seemed to be malfunctioning as well. He kicked off the metal of the bleachers, his mouth opening and closing as he frantically tried to find the right words. His hands were pulled out of his pockets, flailing; "Fuck, I'm confused! I'm gonna-- gonna hyperventilate, so I need to go. Need to-- Yeah, I'm leaving."

I couldn't believe how fast he took off. I hadn't seen anything like that before. Roman wasn't even running, he was simply walking with very, very long steps, and that was enough to be out of reach for me within seconds. 

I wanted to scream up at the sky-- what even was that conversation just now? The urge to drive my head into the bleachers became overwhelming, unbearable, but I opted to simply kick the structure instead. 

That was a miscalculation on my part. I hissed as the blow to my foot sent jolts of pain up my spine, and I winced as I suppressed the need to jump around on my other foot and look like a clown in the process. I cursed, leaning against the cold metal as I tried to steady my breathing.

This day was not going very well so far.

And it certainly didn't get any better when I heard the shuffling of small footsteps along the grass nearby. 

I should've known-- Letha stopped a few steps away from me, her blonde hair moving away from her face with the passing breeze. I blinked through the pain multiple times to make sure it really was her, that she actually had the nerve to walk up to me again. Sadly, I didn't have Roman to hide behind this time. But she looked so sweet with her hands clasped behind her, along with the unsure little tilt back and forth on her feet; "That didn't look very pleasant," Letha mumbled.

I didn't want to entertain this, yet I did. "What, the kick?"

"Well, that too," Letha's trying smile nearly broke my heart. I hated that we didn't know how to talk to each other anymore. "I meant the fight. Is he acting out?"

"... He's not a child, he's not acting out,"

"Didn't you just call him a child?"

"... He's my boyfriend, we're allowed to fight!" I gnarled. "And who the fuck are you to talk to me about this? How much of that conversation did you hear?"

Letha looked like I had just kicked her. "I always do my homework on the bleachers. You guys chose to fight right beneath me,"

Fuck. "You should've moved, then!--"

"It usually helps to dig into what set him off. And then, when you think you have the answer, rip it apart and look through the pieces," Letha's green eyes bore into mine, shimmering with traces of dimmed hope. "I have no idea what you're fighting about, but I've known Roman my whole life. That's how he operates, and... that's all I wanted to say. Hope I can be of some help."

An awkward silence fell over us like a damp blanket-- this was uncomfortable. Nonetheless, I stilled. A part of me recognized that Letha would've been the first to know of my problems with Roman, had we not had a falling out. Had she not iced me out, made me an outcast, turned all my friends against me, and practically shoved me down into the dirt. I would've confided in her, asked her for guidance, support-- I grieved our bond all over again. I gave in, shrugging; "Okay. Thanks,"

That seemed to take a weight off Letha's shoulders. As we stood in silence, simply gazing at one another, until her eyes slowly landed on my necklace. Roman's blood. It dawned on me that it was too late to tuck it beneath my shirt, and I awaited some sort of grief from her about it if she recognized what it was--

"Oh," she breathed. "It makes a little more sense, now."

"What does?"

"If he wears your blood around his neck as well, then it all makes perfect sense,"

"What does, Letha?"

The look she gave me sent a cold set of shivers down my spine. It was ominous, like I had been marked by death. Letha shrugged; "Of course he's... on edge, then,"

The chase was getting frustrating. "Care to go on, or are you just going to keep saying cryptic shit?"

"I can't!-- It's hard to explain!" Letha's shoulders slumped in defeat as her inner turmoil streaked her face. "Just imagine you're really, really broke, but you have a hundred dollar bill hanging around your neck... and under no circumstances can you use it." Her eyes nearly drilled holes into mine. "Would it not drive you crazy?"

Why did it sound like she was insinuating that Roman was a?--

No. 

No.

I didn't want to hear this. I didn't bother to give Letha a proper answer before I kicked off the metal of the bleachers, glaring at her as I passed her. "Stay away," I hissed, harshly nudging her shoulder. "Fuck off back to Barbieworld or wherever it is you came from."

As I marched back to the main building, I found it nearly impossible to steady my breathing. My heart was beating rapidly in my chest as I grasped the vial of blood around my neck, rubbing it between my fingers as my mind raced. 

It was only when I finally got to class and slumped down on the last free seat that I could think back to last night with a clearer vision than before.

The Avoidable Vampirism - The Upir had kept me up long enough to see the sunrise. I wanted to blame it on the author for writing such a captivating book. 

Still, the one thing I hated about literature such as this, was that it never actually said anything straight-forward. It always had to be a nonsense passage with lots of filler words and even more dancing around the actual message;

"Blood's effect on a upir is as much psychological as it is physical. Upirs tend to escalate small arguments in hopes of an eventual physical struggle, a battle that may wound, without properly understanding why. This may lead to a strong sense of insecurity which often settles in the upir's mind and festers, only drawing them forth to the dark road the curse wants them to venture."

That's what was written in the passage about upirs and blood. Nearly impossible to understand, and even further confusing, right? The worst must've been the passage that was written like a self-help book. Did the author seriously think upirs were real?

... Did I?

"And what happens when a upir is exposed to blood, you may ask? There are levels of control which range from person to person. Some may have gotten accustomed to the smell from having cut themselves in earlier years, and some may go into a spiral which is often misdiagnozed as mania in urban psychological trials. But some upirs are so assimilated, they can do experiments with blood or carry vials of it with them wherever they go— which is an inclination that should not be encouraged. The more the upir is around blood in a constant flow, the more the irritation festers, the anger boils, and the innate aggression settles."

And this is where I had to stop. I remember putting the book down to stare at the moon in the distance, wondering why on earth I had fallen into a loophole like this. I couldn't believe how many similarities I could draw between these supposed upirs and my boyfriend-- what did that say about Roman? He was possibly edgier than I had initially thought.

The more I thought about the similarities, the more insane I felt. 

... I needed to return this book to the library. 

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ

"The both of you are like two rabid raccoons fighting over scraps in the New York City sewers," Peter grumbled, lazily sweeping the floor with his broom. 

I blinked, no longer rolling up cables as I turned to him. "... Do you have to use the craziest metaphors? And why is it always an animal?"

We had been assigned to clean up after an assembly later that same day, a task I had been able to evade up until now. So, when I spotted Peter also being forced to do this, we both huddled up in the corner of the auditorium backstage and started doing the most mundane tasks with the least effort to pass the time. However, it seemed he had been informed of my petty fight (or whatever the hell this was) with Roman, which was why he was back to making animal metaphors again. "Rabid raccoons..." I mumbled, reaching for a new cable to roll up. "Why the New York City sewers? Why raccoons?"

Peter shrugged; "Uh... Because raccoons are cool?"

Well, that's the thing with boys, isn't it-- there's pure static noise in their brains. I sighed, suppressing a chuckle as I continued my task. I glanced over my shoulder to make sure the teacher wasn't catching us slacking off before I turned back to Peter. "Did Roman maybe mention that he thought I was going to break up with him over this?"

"Yeah," Peter also looked over at the teacher just to double check. "I told him it was nonsense, but he's spiraling. He's also gotten obsessed with the idea of joining a raw meat eating contest."

It was impossible not to roll my eyes. Boys. "Seriously, what is up with him these days? Please, bro-code aside, what the fuck is happening?"

I was sure the stupid upir book was the reason my heart jumped when Peter's gaze went straight to my necklace. It almost felt like he was wordlessly trying to hint something-- no, I needed to get this out of my head. 

Still, it chimed in my mind like an old clock;

There are even some upirs that are so assimilated, they can do experiments with blood or carry vials of it with them wherever they go— which is an inclination that should not be encouraged.

Should not be encouraged.

Should not be encouraged.

Peter's voice snapped me out of it-- "I think he's just going through withdrawal,"

"Withdrawal?" I echoed, turning my full attention towards him. That didn't sound good. "What do you mean, withdrawal? From what? He hasn't stopped smoking, if that's what you're talking about."

It seemed to dawn on Peter that he had said something he shouldn't have. His brown eyes widened and he cleared his throat, no longer sweeping the floor as he stopped in his tracks. "You don't know?"

"... You're killing me here,"

Peter sucked in a sharp breath, nodding to himself in defeat. "I would make you promise not to tell him I told you, but I bet you'll want to talk to him about this, so I won't even bother," His grip around the broom tightened; "So... Roman and I used to do coke together. A lot." When he didn't get a reaction, Peter grew visibly nervous. "It used to be the usual thing at parties. Roman always had a stash, and I'd join in from time to time... And he hasn't had a hit for a while, probably since you two got together, so all of this is probably just a part of the withdrawal."

Oh. I had forgotten about this. I blinked, tilting my head to the side as I gazed up at Peter with furrowed brows. Was that supposed to be a big reveal of sorts? Did he seriously think I didn't know that they used to do drugs? That I hadn't seen the both of them leaning over tables, snorting lines as I passed the room to check whether Roman was in there with a girl or not? This confirmed that they didn't notice me that one time I walked in on them in a bathroom while Roman was making the lines neat with his credit card. "Ah, so that's what that was?"

Peter's eyes widened; "... What?"

"The stuff you two were always snorting," Shrugging, I watched the look on his face distort into one of shock. It hit me that he hadn't known the true depths of how obsessed I used to be with Roman, and that I needed to get myself together before I revealed anything further damning; "Peter, I have a little something called vision. And a brain, for that matter. You guys aren't slick."

"We... aren't?"

It was impossible not to laugh, and I reached forward to nudge his shoulder. "Not in the least," To be honest, I was relieved to hear that Roman was coming off drugs and that my ridiculous upir-suspicions had been untrue. Maybe I could finally put all of that behind me and return the stupid book?

... Please. I was afraid I was going crazy.

He scoffed, moving away to continue sweeping the floors with a grumpy look on his face; "Anyway. That's the only explanation I have for you concerning what's up with him, but it's only an assumption. Maybe you should take a step back and let him come to you when he's done freaking out?" Peter glanced at me, almost as though he was plotting something. "Actually... I think I have the perfect thing to take your mind off this."

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ

I regretted it the second I said yes, and I regretted it even more right now.

I had never been the biggest fan of parties, mostly because I was used to constantly getting smacked in the face with the truth that Roman was a bit of a whore (an understatement). So as I stood on the front porch with Peter later that night, surrounded by his friends as I listened to them talk about football (I wasn't paying attention, so I wasn't actually sure of the subject), I couldn't help but feel that same dread as before. I knew that Roman was my boyfriend now, that he wasn't upstairs with some random girl at this party, but the smell of alcohol yanked me right back to the memories. Actually, he wasn't even here at all.

Clutching the empty can of my finished drink, I gently yanked at the hem of Peter's sweater to catch his attention. "This isn't helping," I mumbled, meeting his big, brown eyes. "I feel bad being at this party without Roman... If he finds out, he's going to think I'm here to cheat on him or something. He's insane like that."

Peter sighed, rolling his eyes as he pulled me aside from the group. "Look, you need to relax, okay? I have it all under control,"

"You... what?"

His mouth pulled into a straight line, realizing he had said too much. Again. "Remember what I said about Roman not being here?"

Oh no. Peter had watched too many rom-coms. "For fuck's sake," I breathed, feeling my heart speed up. "Please don't say you told the both of us to come here?"

As annoying as the situation already was, Peter only made it worse by grinning in my face. He shrugged, brushing the severity off; "Last time I saw him, he was playing beer-pong,"

I was two seconds away from wrapping my fingers around Peter's neck and strangling him to death. "So Roman is running around this party drunk, and maybe also high on coke again while he's ignoring me?" Now, I was even closer to ripping my hair out of my follicles; "Oh, what an amazing idea this was, Peter! What a genius you are, this is just fantastic!"

Peter huffed, placing a condescending hand on my shoulder, squeezing it. "He's not high, okay? Just go find him, preferably before he falls over in the pool. I've let him marinade for long enough."

I grimaced-- "Marinade?" I needed to learn to stop trying to decrypt whatever Peter was saying. It never made sense, anyway. "First of all, fuck you. And second..." I took a deep breath, realizing what I was about to do; "... Wish me luck."

My head started pounding to the same rhythm as the song blasting through the speakers when I made my way inside and waded through the crowd. I hated that I was in this situation in the first place, hated that I hadn't spoken to my boyfriend in about twenty-four hours, but most of all...

I hated Roman Godfrey.

I hated the way he made me feel, hated how crazy I had become in my pursuit of him, hated, hated, hated him. However, amid my rage storm, I got a whiff of the scent of cinnamon cigarettes-- that brought me out of the inferno. I could recognize that, mixed with Roman's cologne, anywhere. I instinctively turned, realizing I had passed by the door to the kitchen, and I could be sure my eyes nor sense of smell were deceiving me as I now stood frozen, staring up at my boyfriend's broad shoulders. 

Roman's back was turned to me, but I could see that he was playing another round of beer-pong with a couple of friends scattered around the table. He hadn't noticed me, and I made sure he wouldn't. Still, the one person that caught my eye, was the girl by the counter next to where Roman was standing. I hid my body around the corner, peeking in past the door to catch another glimpse of the girl--

Fuck. It was Jessica. The girl Roman had flirted with to make me jealous the same day I told Letha I had feelings for him. Everything about her made me sick; the way she was dangling her long legs off the counter, staring up at him with literal hearts in her eyes, and how she twirled her blonde hair around her pinky as she tried to catch his attention with multiple calls of his name.

Roman seemed calm, unbothered, until he finally acknowledged her with an annoyed hum. It was only when he turned to face her, having just finished his turn in the game, that I saw that he was now pulling a cigarette out of his signature red box. I let out a shaky sigh of relief as I spotted my hair ties still hanging around his wrist, but I didn't get much time with my comfort before Jessica spoke up. 

Her voice was so painfully nasal; "So are you really seeing her?"

Roman's brows drew together as he balanced a cigarette between his slender fingers. God, how I missed his hands on me. "Who?"

Jessica said my name, followed by a pout. "If it's true, then that's really fucking unexpected. I have English lit with her, and she doesn't seem like your type,"

Had I not been desperate to hear Roman's answer, I would've grabbed the nearby lamp and bashed her head in-- alcohol didn't seem to have the best effect on my thoughts tonight. Still, Roman didn't react much, now patting down his pockets for his lighter. "Yeah, I'm seeing her. She's my girl,"

She's my girl. It echoed in my head over and over. My girl.

However, Jessica didn't seem too pleased with this revelation. She rolled her eyes, letting go of her hair; "She's not even a cheerleader," 

"And? I'm tired of you lot," 

"Romie, come on!" The nickname nearly made me puke in my mouth, effectively wiping my smile off my face. I watched as Jessica proceeded to reach out and put a hand on his arm, pursing her lips like a dumb fucking bimbo-- "I don't think a girl like that could handle you... sexually."

Ew! I wanted to slam my head against the door. Would that relieve the pain of hearing this conversation?

But Jessica continued; "Everyone knows she's been crazy about you for some time now. Everyone except Letha knew, actually, but that girl is more gullible than a lamb! But you must be aware that your girlfriend thinks you walk on water? You're dating the epitome of your fucking stalker. But does that turn you on, maybe?"

Roman blinked twice before brushing Jessica's hand off with a silent scoff (finally). He found his lighter in his back pocket, lighting his cigarette as he rolled his eyes. "Shut your filthy whore mouth," he grumbled, cig sitting between his lips. When he was done lighting it, he held the lighter out dangerously close to Jessica's face-- "I'll burn your disgusting extensions right off."

She didn't seem too phased by it on the outside, but I could see the slight tremble in her hands as she now gripped the counter. Was this how Roman talked to other girls? How had I not noticed this before? "No need," Jessica said, gulping. "I can see you're taking her... seriously." She cleared her throat, letting out a shaky breath as Roman moved away. Jessica didn't have much time with her usual clean air before he blew the smoke from his cigarette in her face, and she quickly fell into a coughing fit.

I realized what I was watching when Roman smiled with evil glee at the sight of her pain. The version of Roman he used to be. It felt like I had opened a portal back to two months ago, before anything between us had happened and he was running around stabbing people with needles to get a rush.

"Of course I'm taking her seriously," Roman said, letting the cigarette rest between his lips. "I actually like her this time, unlike anything I've ever felt for you. She's sweet, and you're like... maggots crawling out from the depths of hell compared to her."

... Ouf. 

Jessica didn't seem to be taking this very well. Her blue eyes hardened, traces of tears welling up in her eyes as her grip on the counter tightened to the point where her knuckles started to whiten-- "You're lovely tonight, as always," she mumbled, hurt. Her voice grew bitter; "But where is your girl, then? Did you leave her at home to come here alone? 

Roman exhaled the smoke through his nose with one quick breath, turning to his friends when they called his name. He was thrown the beer-pong ball, and he effectively ignored Jessica's questions to play his turn in the game.

His lack of answers seemed to give her hope that he might stray. Jessica sat forward on the counter, drying any traces of welled-up tears as she lit up. "Oh, Romie," she purred-- I nearly threw up in my mouth again. "It's nice to see you don't change."

"What is that supposed to mean?" Roman turned to her, brows drawn together. 

Jessica sighed, once again reaching out to rest her hand on his bicep. The worst part was when she gave it a little squeeze and her eyes locked on him-- fuck. "One girl will never be enough for you. You're aware of that, right?" She moved further to the edge of the counter (could she not fall off already?), batting her lashes; "If you're here tonight because you're not satisfied, I know a few ways to... satisfy you."

That was it. This was sickening. Had I not been so nervous to hear Roman's response, I would've lunged forward and slammed her empty head down to the floor. However, I could only press my body against the wall I was hiding behind, listening to the dampening of my breath as my heart thumped harshly against my ribs-- this was torture. This was complete and utter torture. 

I'm waiting for you unbearably.

Unbearably. 

This was unbearable.

It felt as though my chest was caving in on itself, threatening to make me a ball of nothing again, until Roman finally moved; gripping Jessica's hand with two fingers, he removed her off of him as though he was disgusted to even be touching her. "Are you maybe a little hard of hearing? Perhaps you hit your head really hard when you were younger, I have no idea, but I'll make it nice and comprehensible for you, okay?" He exhaled another cloud of smoke, fogging up Jessica's face as he leaned in dangerously close, lowering his voice as he spoke; "I don't want you or your cheerleaders, and I never will again. Never."

I was two seconds away from fainting out of sheer happiness-- my cheeks reddened. This was everything I had ever hoped to hear from him, and my anxieties floated out of my body with my next sigh of relief. I was ready to step into the kitchen and save Roman from this situation, hoping he'd be happy to see me now that he'd had this conversation about his feelings for me, but my plans were abruptly stopped when I heard a familiar voice call out my name.

My anxiety zapped itself right back into me as I froze to my spot, waiting for the wall to swallow me whole, never to be seen again. No, no, no!

I could only watch as Daniel approached me, giddy as ever with a beer in his hand. Were the Gods above playing tricks on me, perhaps? It was clear that he was drunk, and he tried to get his blonde hair out of his eyes repeatedly as he now stood before me, a broad grin on his face. "Well, don't you look nice," 

Why was he speaking so loudly? I was afraid Roman would hear and come out to check if his suspicions were correct. "Thanks," I mumbled, anxiously wavering back and forth on my feet as I pondered whether to flee or not. "Look, Daniel, you shouldn't--"

"What, talk to you?" He leaned down a little, his mood immediately shifting as he said my name once more like venom. It was clear in his eyes that he had come up to me with an argument in mind. "Don't tell me the rumours are true and you're actually with that guy?" 

Oh, how little I wanted to have this conversation. I so desperately didn't want to. Not with Roman at hearing distance. "Yeah, I am,"

Daniel snorted, rolling his eyes as he pulled back with a pretentious chuckle. With the way he was swaying, I could see that he'd had at least five beers or so. It explained the disgusting ramble of words that ensued; "Shit... Didn't think you were brainless like that. You're just a dumb fucking slut just like the rest of them, aren't you? Can't believe I ever thought you were different... Nice guys truly finish last, don't they?" 

Nice? I grimaced. Did this guy genuinely think he was nice? I was shocked to realize I even thought so of him at one point. My lips parted in shock; I hadn't heard him talk like this before. This was nauseating. Still, I knew I had to snap back-- I was about to speak up, protect myself unlike how I had handled myself during the whole Letha-mess, but I didn't get a chance to. 

I didn't even have to look to know who was now standing in the door to the kitchen, leaning against the frame with his arms crossed over his chest. Roman's eyes narrowed, locking in on Daniel's with a chilling look; "What did you just say to her?" he said, voice low, dangerous.

Daniel's smirk was immediately wiped off his face. "Fuck-- Fuck off, Godfrey. This is none of your business," 

"None of my business?" Roman echoed, tilting his head to the side as he feigned confusion. "Nah, that's not how this is gonna go down." He stepped away from the door, nearing Daniel with threatening steps. "You get a little drunk, and suddenly forget you fucking crumble at the sight of me? You're shaking, Goldman, but you have balls enough to insult my girl?" 

Now that Roman had pointed it out, I immediately saw it. Daniel's hand had a slight tremble as he clutched the can of beer harder with his next words; "You know she could do so much better than you, right?"

I held my breath, watching Roman's every movement. At this point, I was scared Daniel had hit too big of a homerun on that insult. 

I wondered when Roman would-- oh, there it was. With one last step forward, he managed to yank Daniel forward with a choking grip around the collar of his shirt. I felt my breath escape me with a gasp, unsure whether to intervene or not. "Roman, don't!--"

It was too late. Roman wasn't hearing me. Selective hearing. "If you wanna go, Goldman, then we're gonna go!" he raged, tightening his grip as he yanked Daniel forward like a ragdoll. "Don't be a fucking pussy, fight me if you're so keen on walking around with a black eye!"

I was both mortified and scared as I watched Daniel's face turn a peculiar shade of purple. I had never seen such a prominent look of fear in my life. His hands were clawing at Roman's as he sputtered incoherent squeaks, and after five seconds too long, Daniel was let out of the death grip. It took even less time for him to sprint out of our sight. 

Roman turned to me, brows still drawn together in fury. He was catching his breath, and he was not yet out of fight mode when he practically barked at me; "And since when have you been at this stupid party?!" 

"Ask Peter!" I squeaked. "It was his plan, all of it! He wanted us to talk!" Watching the confusion spread in Roman's green eyes, I cleared my throat before I continued; "Actually, I want us to talk as well... Could we please just?--"

Within a split second, he was gone. Gone. I stood by the wall, lips parting in complete and utter confusion-- how had he managed to disappear like that? Run off like that? Suddenly, my mind shot in a passage from The Avoidable Vampirism;

The classic traits of a upir:

Enhanced strength

Heightened senses

Mesmerization

Unnatural speed

-- No, stop it! I had to physically smack my head to snap out of it this time. Roman wasn't a fucking upir, he was just in withdrawal as Peter said! 

... Right?

The alcohol was certainly not helping my state right now.

As I stood glued to the wall like the biggest wallflower known to man, I pondered the question that had haunted me all day; why was Roman so scared to talk to me? After I had heard how he spoke of me to Jessica, and how he had just called me his girl to Daniel along with the whole fight for my honour, it surely couldn't be a question of his feelings towards me?

This seemed to be an evening of many flashbacks; Letha's words were suddenly ringing in my ears-- "It usually helps to dig into what set him off. And then, when you think you have the answer, rip it apart and look through the pieces,"

... Fine. Let's start.

What had set him off? It was clearly that I didn't want to sleep with him last night, right?

Okay-- Now I had to rip it apart and look through the pieces.

"Aren't you breaking up with me?" he'd asked earlier today. Roman seemed genuinely confused that I wasn't there to dump him. Had he really expected me to discard of him so quickly over a simple miscommunication? 

Then it hit me that Roman might be crazy enough to have avoided me all along because he thought the next conversation would be the one where I'd finish the job. 

With a loud groan, I started my search around the party. Idiot! I was going to find this man no matter what. If I had to pin him down and scream some sense into him, so be it.

He wasn't downstairs— I could exclude that after a quick swipe of the floor. I somehow managed to make my way through the dense crowd on the stairs, now checking every room. To be honest, I was terrified of walking in on something I didn't want to see, but a tiny part of me thought it might even be good for me to see just a snippet-- I didn't know much about real sex, anyway. Still, I let out a relieved sigh when I scoured all the rooms without having violated my vision. 

But my relief didn't last long. I allowed my shoulders to slump as I came to a halt, realizing I had circled the upper floor with no trace of him. The deafening music was starting to hurt my ears, and I was about to cover them when I suddenly heard a loud bang coming from the closet to my right followed by a breathy, angry shit. 

Oh my. Gotcha. I approached the door with careful steps, holding back a beaming smile as I knocked twice; "Roman...?"

I heard him shuffling around, a short groan following; "... Nope," 

It took a lot of concentration to not burst out into a fit of laughter. It felt as though all my anger left my body, unable to concentrate on anything other than how ridiculously cute he was when he was drunk like this. "Can I come in?"

"... That's what he said,"

"Come in? I think you might've gotten it a little twisted,"

I could almost hear him rolling his eyes; "Who are you to argue, virgin?"

Enough was enough. With a small creak, I opened the door to the closet--

Oh.

This was certainly not the sight I expected to see. Roman's green eyes immediately found mine, big with embarrassment. There he was, splayed out on the floor of the tiny closet with a hot pink crop top on his head. I assumed it had landed on him after he fell over, and I tried to take a mental image for later amusement. 

I was about to laugh-- However, as I closed the door behind me and stared down at Roman's flushed face, almost the same colour as the ridiculous pink crop top, I just melted. Easy as that. All the pent-up anger, all the frustration I wanted to take out on him, it all liquified into molten lava and became one with the earth.

What a mess he was. What an absolute, utter mess. Roman's green eyes were big, huge even, as he stared up at me, his breath coming out in small, ragged heaves. He looked terrified of my next words, like he was bracing for a good verbal beating--

I crouched down, making space between his long legs that practically took up the whole closet. With careful movements, I pulled the crop top off his head and cupped his pretty face; "Rome," I cooed. "You thought I was going to break up with you?"

It felt like I was talking to a child. I was aware I risked Roman exploding on me for taking that tone with him, but I figured he was too drunk to really sense it. "Yeah," he breathed, keening against my touch. "Makes sense that you'd want to."

Fuck, he was unbearably cute, like a lost little puppy. "No, it doesn't," I murmured. Why was it so hard for him to understand? "I'm not breaking up with you. Is that why you've been avoiding me today? Were you worried I was going to do that?"

Almost like a child, Roman nodded. "I just... don't want to lose you. But I fucked up again," he whispered, practically pouting. "I was so mean. Last night and today."

I stroked my thumb over his cheek, watching his response to my attempts at comfort. Something told me he hadn't been held like this before. "Roman... You're not losing me any time soon, and you were obviously a little hurt too. I guess it's a... vulnerable thing to initiate. You're allowed to feel what you feel,"

"But it was wrong,"

"What was?"

"My feelings," he mumbled. "It's just-- I'm not used to caring about a girl like this. Previously, if I didn't get my way, I could leave with no repercussions. But this time, it hit me about ten minutes later on the highway that this was you and not some random girl. You. And I was just so consumed with the urge to... ugh, I don't want to say it out loud, but you know. It gets unbearable at times. I haven't wanted anyone like this before, I just don't know how the fuck to behave!"

I was sure my cheeks were burning. Holy fuck. "Ah... I see," My knees got tired from crouching, so I sat down on the little free space left on the floor. "Look, your feelings aren't wrong. They never are. Your feelings are your feelings. But what I don't get is that I told you I wasn't up for... sex simply because my parents were on the other side of the wall. I would totally be up for it if they weren't. Did you not register that, maybe?"

"I don't know, but... it's not really about the sex. I guess it got me wondering whether you're just a little shy, or if you secretly don't want to be with me anymore," Roman took my hands into his before his gaze shied away. His voice lowered into a barely audible whisper as he closed his eyes and leaned his head against the nearby wall; "You didn't once say you wanted me too. I guess I just concluded you didn't want me at all."

I fought the instinct to freeze. I saw his point, recognized his anxiety (and severe attachment issues), yet I needed to point out one very simple truth;  "But... I'm crazy about you. You know I want you,"

"No, I don't," he breathed. "You make me feel like a fucking rapist."

"A... What?!" I gave his hands a harsh squeeze-- "Roman, what are even you saying?"

He scoffed, eyeing me with his head still leaning against the wall. Hiccuping from all the alcohol, he spoke; "I'm always on you like a fucking dog in heat. You never initiate, and I'm constantly worrying whether I'm taking advantage or not. And to make that clear, that's not what I want to do,"

All of this was beyond shocking to hear. Was this maybe also the supposed withdrawal speaking? "Rome, you're not taking advantage. Not at all! I'm just... shy, I guess?" I brought one of his hands up to my mouth, pressing my lips against his knuckles. "I never thought you needed to hear me say it too. I'm sorry."

Surprisingly, Roman pouted-- "Say it, then," he whined. Had he been standing, I was sure he'd stomp his foot like a toddler.

I couldn't help but smile. I liked whiny-drunk Roman. "Say what, Rome?"

"Spit it out,"

"Would you stop running away from me then?"

"... Yes,"

I took a deep breath, suppressing a nervous giggle. Roman's green eyes drilled into me, holding me still as I tried to find the courage to say it to his face. It was nearly impossible, and I felt my cheeks flush a rather peculiar shade of pink, similar to Roman's alcohol-flush. And also the hot pink crop top. I was definitely stealing that one.

I let go of Roman's hands, crawling over to straddle his lap. My arms draped around his neck, and he shifted as he looked up at me with those gorgeous, green eyes of his. My Roman. "You already know I'm crazy about you,"

"Yeah, you tree-carving freak," 

"Hey!" Now, it was impossible not to laugh. Thankfully, he laughed with me. "But sure, I'll take it. I carved our initials into a tree, and I'd do it all over again. And you know why?"

Roman's eyes practically sparkled; "Why?"

I lowered my face to hover right above his, feeling his hot breath against my parted lips. "Because I crave you. Carnally," I whispered, watching his pupils rapidly widen. "What am I if not yours? Yours to take, yours to claim, yours to... fuck."

Roman's signature smirk was back, shinier than ever. "Now, now, don't be shy with it," he purred, his arms snaking around my waist to pull me flush against him. "Say more."

Fucking hell. There was certainly no space to hold back any longer. "Yeah, you want more?" I had to bite back a smirk of my own. "Don't be a fucking brat, then. Kiss me if you do."

Roman's eyes widened, not expecting me to say anything remotely close to that. Still, his lips parted as his smirk morphed into a blinding grin. With one smooth move, he ran one hand up into my hair, pulling me in for the shortest, sweetest kiss known to man. "I'm impatient," he said. "Go on."

"Brat," It felt nice to finally say that out loud. From the first time I had a proper conversation with him, that word had been stuck in my mind. 

Roman rolled his eyes, letting me laugh into the needy kiss that followed. It didn't take long before I melted, relishing in the soft pillows of his lips against mine, the feeling I had longed for ever since he stormed off my roof last night. "I want you," I said, mouthing my words into the kiss. "So bad. So, so bad."

Roman moaned-- "More,"

My hands went up into his hair, fingers reaching for the tips of his dark locks to press him further against me as the kiss deepened. I had never felt this desperate before in my life. Still, I somehow found the strength to pull away; I got an idea. "No. We're playing a little game first,"

Roman groaned, glaring at me as he rested his head against the wall. "For fuck's sake," he mumbled. "Now?"

"Now," I placed my hands on his chest, unable to hold my laugh. My little idea was genius. "Have you noticed where we are?"

"... At a party?"

"Where?"

"In a closet?--" Roman's words came to a halt as his eyes widened, and a knowing grin spread across his plush lips. "Oh my."

I hummed, pressing my fingers into his chest. Right now, I was sure I had adopted the classic Roman-smirk; "Up for a round of seven minutes in heaven?"

"... Isn't it a little blasphemous to play without the bottle?" Roman proceeded to laugh, rubbing circles into my thighs. "Actually, fuck yeah. I’m up for it.”

"Seven minutes," I purred, grabbing my phone and putting on a timer. "You once said that seven minutes with you were enough to show everything I needed to know about being with you in that way..." 

To be honest, I had no idea what had come over me. Was it perhaps the alcohol? But the intrigue shimmering in Roman's keen eyes told me all I needed to know-- I watched his pupils expand as the hands I had rested against his chest started traveling down his body. And Jessica thought I couldn't handle him sexually? Hah! "It seems it's my turn to show how it would be with me, no?" 

Roman's lips parted, staring up at me in disbelief; "If you're just teasing me now, I'm going to die on the spot. I swear. My death will be on your hands,"

I could only laugh, biting down on my lip to lower my voice. "Don't you dare," I said, slowly reaching for the clasp of his belt. 

Watching the widening of Roman's big, green eyes never failed to amuse me, especially not now. "Baby," he breathed, his lips curving into a smile. "Don't fuck with me, I swear--"

"Am not," After unbuckling Roman's belt, I decided to tease him by trailing my hands away from the zip of his pants, my fingers ghosting over his hard-on. It seemed the excitement was getting to him already, and to my surprise, I could feel him hardening beneath my palms. 

The loud music was so far away now, just as everything else was-- My mind was even further away, possibly residing on the planet Neptune, because how the hell had I managed to convince myself I knew how to do this? 

Fuck it-- it can't be that hard, right?

Certainly not harder than Roman was now, anyway. 

This was an enigma to me, all of it. I could only go off instinct; and just as I was about to slide my hand beneath the band of his boxers, Roman grabbed my hand. "Hold on," he breathed, bringing my palm to his lips. "Step one is to never go anywhere dry." His green eyes locked on mine, not breaking eye contact as he placed several wet kisses against my palm, slicking it. Shivers ran down my spine as I felt his tongue swipe along my skin, because fuck, this was intense-- my breath hitched. Roman's soft laugh rang in my ears as he let go of my hand, giving back the control. 

Fuck. My heart was pounding. Were my hands shaking? I had no idea-- it felt as though I had blacked out for a few seconds, and when Roman pulled me into a heated kiss and brought me back to my senses, my fingers were gently brushing against the hard tip of his cock. 

I could feel Roman's breath hitch just slightly against my lips, and it immediately made my cheeks burn. What the fuck was I doing? I so desperately hoped no one would walk in on us like this, me straddling him with his dick in my hand. That would certainly only taint my reputation further-- no, actually, fuck that. I wanted to stay connected like this forever, Roman's soft lips moving against mine with a need I didn't remember in him. 

It took a lot of willpower to break the kiss even just for a second, but it was too damn fucking dark in this stupid closet. I watched as Roman's lashes fluttered, how his chest raised in heaving motions, how the vial of my blood rested against the peak of his sternum-- I decided to go for the wish to kiss him right there. 

Roman's skin was so unbelievably soft. There was no flavour to it as I swiped my tongue against his collarbone, not even a trace of alcohol from his perfume, and this was the moment it dawned on me that this might be my favourite place to kiss him. I didn't often have access, but when I did, I could feel the soft raise of his shoulders with his every breath-- and fuck, how I loved his shoulders. I finally wrapped my fingers around his length, deciding not to toy with him any longer. 

He let out a shaky breath just as I sucked down on his collarbone to leave a mark; Roman was long gone now. His head lolled to the side, his breath escaping him with a short huff. "Fuck," he whispered, bringing his hand up to twist into the nape of my neck, pulling me away from him to press the soft pillows of his mouth against mine in another hot, needy kiss.

This was certainly a big difference to the last time we had played this game. We had barely kissed properly, and our lips had only grazed each other compared to whatever this was. I couldn't believe how unbelievably scared I had been the first time.

I smiled into the kiss, remembering our first. 

Roman cursed against my lips, his hips bucking just slightly into my grip around his cock. With his free hand, he placed his on top of mine, guiding me to pick up my pace.

I realized my heart was almost thumping to the exact same pace as the music downstairs-- "Is this okay?" I whispered, relishing in the short breaths of pleasure spilling from his mouth.

Roman shot me a look, although it didn't look as intimidating as he probably intended; with his lids halfway closed, the hunger for me shone through. "You know damn well,"

It was impossible not to smile. God, I was so crazy about this man. "Rome?"

A hum.

I leaned in closer, pressing a sweet kiss against his ear; "I want you so bad," I whispered, feeling his breath hitch as I kissed down his jaw. "I need you to know that. Rome, I always want you." Never in a million years did I think I'd ever see him like this, panting beneath me, pre-cum spilling from the slit of his cock. Never in my wildest dreams. But he had driven me near mad with his stupidity these past twenty-four hours, so I had no problem bringing him down to the depths of vulnerability with me-- finally, we had switched places.

Roman's hands traveled up my thighs, giving my ass a proper squeeze as he groaned just slightly; "Want you too," he breathed, letting his head rest against the wall as I worked my digits around his length. His lips parted, his eyes shut as his lashes fluttered just slightly; "Always. Always want— hah, want you. You know me."

Had I not been so taken with the sheer beauty of him right now, I would've swooned. I was shocked I hadn't fainted from how hard my heart was beating, anyway. "I adore you, Rome. Do you know that?"

A small yeah was Roman's only reply, his head rolling back and forth, thighs clenching, cock twitching. He was close. His next words were rushed, quick; "Fuck, where do I...? Fuck--" 

"Don't think about it," I murmured, my free hand running gently through his hair. Slowly, I reached for the pink crop top nearby; this was my only solution at the moment. "Just enjoy."

Roman practically whimpered; "Shit, shit, gonna--"

I watched as he threw his head back, panting hard as he spilled into the top. I felt his warm cum running down the inside of it as I stroked him through his high. "Fuck, fuck--" Roman was rambling at this point, failing to steady his breath through it.

My lips parted, feeling as though I had bitten into the forbidden fruit. The image before me gave me a high, unlike anything I had ever had before. It was probably similar to the feeling Roman used to achieve through cocaine use. I took another quick mental snapshot, knowing this was a sight I wanted to keep for later-- only in case of emergencies, of course. I couldn't help but feel a little proud that I had figured out how to do this stuff to him.

Roman blinked twice, his mind slowly returning to his body. He laughed a little at the sight of the hot pink crop top, shaking his head. "Damn," he breathed. "I'm a little horrified I didn't last seven minutes."

Oh, silly boy-- "Nah, I'm glad you didn't. My hand would be cramping up," I leaned forward with a soft giggle, kissing the tip of Roman's nose as he let out a sigh of relief. "And I also proved my damn point."

He blinked up at me as I pulled away. "Which was...?"

The timer rung-- "Seven minutes are more than enough," 

"Right. That's my line," Roman tucked himself back into his jeans with a huff, laughing softly in a state of denial. "Definitely didn't expect this tonight... Good job." The corners of his mouth slowly curved upwards as he placed a sweet kiss against my cheek. "I'm just so damn glad we're not breaking up."

I had forgotten about that situation for a few minutes, and being reminded of it again was like being slapped out of a nap. "Of course we're not, Roman," I kissed the tip of his nose as I rolled up the crop top-- that felt wrong on all accounts. "If you get all manic about something like that again, please don't shut me out. I nearly went mad."

Roman's pupils dilated further as he reached for the vial of my blood around his neck, twirling it around his finger. "Yeah, we can't break up... Or else that poor tree would've been vandalized for nothing,"

I rolled my eyes. He was never going to let that go, was he? "Alright, that's enough," I mumbled, watching as Roman brought the vial to his lips to press a short kiss against my blood-- it felt odd but intimate. Was he maybe still a little drunk? "Let's get you home, okay? I'll drive your car." With shaky steps, I got up from his lap, bunching up the crop top in one hand. 

Roman hiccuped-- drunk. It was confirmed. "I don't want to," he whined. 

"Come on, Rome, we can't stay in this cramped up fucking closet all night!--"

"Well, what are you gonna do? Throw me over your shoulder and carry me downstairs?"

For fuck's sake. It was impossible not to laugh at that mental image. "We can't stay here any longer! Peter's gonna think we're fucking somewhere, and I certainly don't want to be known as the girl that has sex at parties!--"

"My mom is out of town," Roman said, effectively cutting me off. "Sleep over."

My eyes widened. I knew what that meant. Clutching the damp crop top in my hand, I felt the green of his gaze swallow me whole; "Come on. It'll be fun," Roman got up from the floor, tilting his head a little as he slowly inched forward, making my back hit the wall with the two only steps there were possible to take in this closet. He continued; "Nothing has to happen, but I just... I want to roll around in bed with you in the morning. No interruptions, no parents, nothing. Just us."

I was shocked I didn't become a puddle of mush on the floor. "Just us?"

"Just us," Roman breathed, leaning down to press a short kiss against my lips. But what came next was unexpected; "... And my pet tarantula."

"What?!"

Roman only laughed, his pupils widening with pleasure at the sight of my terror. Some things never change. "Just kidding, baby," he purred, placing a hand on the small of my back as he opened the closet door. And before I had the chance to properly step out of it, he leaned down to whisper against my ear; "It's actually a giant centipede. Lovely pet."

I nearly squirmed out of his grip, shivering. "Please tell me you're joking!" 

Seriously, when will I ever learn? Roman continued to laugh, waving to a few people who passed us by in the corridor as we walked down the hall. "Of course I am,"

"I'm not leaving with you if you have some creepy animal there, I swear!"

"Fine, fine!" He kissed the top of my head, and I felt him smile against my hair. "There are no scary animals there... Just me."

Before I had the opportunity to answer, Roman groaned loudly as he glanced at the crowded stairs when we approached, rolling his eyes. "Ugh, why do people always crowd the goddamn stairs?" He turned back to me; "I just need to find Peter and swipe my keys--"

"Why does he have your keys?"

"... I was threatening to jam them into the side of this guy's head earlier, but that's not important," Roman shot me a charming smile as though he hadn't just said that. "But just hold onto me, okay? I'll wade us through." 

So that's what I did; I clutched onto Roman's hand, feeling his long fingers wrapping around mine as he made way through the crowd, occasionally turning to greet a few people he knew. I was so damn ready to get to his place, to lie down on a bed, and get away from this loud music. Still, a part of me knew we wouldn't be able to stay away from each other tonight, and I felt my chest swell with warmth at the thought of what might happen. What would happen.

But just as I was finally relaxed again and the two of us almost made it down the stairs, I felt another hand on my shoulder the same second Roman turned away to say hi to a friend of his. I turned, gasping just slightly at the shock of a cold touch, and the rest of my breath followed as it dawned on me who I was facing. 

Letha's green eyes were wide, almost as though she had seen a ghost. For a second there, I thought she could read my mind and understand why I was clutching onto a damp crop top. It was still warm-- why was I finding that hot right now? God, I was going insane. But I knew that the sight of Roman and I together would never be a pleasant one for Letha, so I stared back at her with the same bewilderment-- why had she stopped me? 

Letha's following words were almost icy to the touch, hollow to the ear; "Was I right?" 

It felt as though my world stilled. Time stilled. Just for a second, I felt as though I could wade my free hand through the coldness of her phrase, and I could wave away the mirage. She was concerned, curious. Had she genuinely wanted to help me get through this fight with Roman? 

I realized that tonight might be a night of many firsts. My first handjob, my first... time (possibly), and my first step of forgiveness. "Yeah," I breathed. "You were. Thank you." 

Letha's face softened as a relieved sigh escaped her, nodding her head slowly. It had been a long time since the last time she had heard those words from me. "Any time," 

Had Roman not squeezed my hand, I was sure I'd continue standing there, just staring into the eyes of my previous best friend. They looked so, so similar-- Had Letha not been blonde, I would've mistaken them for siblings. Snapping out of it, I turned to my boyfriend who was too busy scowling at his cousin to notice how calm I was about meeting her. "Let's go," he mumbled, repressed jealousy dripping from his voice as another squeeze of my fingers ensued. 

"Yeah... Let's,"

(a/n: thank you so so much for reading!!! here's PART 1, PART 2, PART 3, PART 4, PART 5, PART 6, PART 7, PART 8, and PART 10 if you're interested<333 mwah!!)

tagging those that seemed interested!!<333

@mentallyscreamingsincebirth @putherup @corawithfanfiction @vladsgirlxx

@iamaslytherin0 @sexualparkour @the-universe-is-complicated @heavenly-bratt

@lafemme-nk @namiusedbubble @useyourwandbro @strmborns @literally-lani

@virgosapphire79 @star-girl-04 @veyzus @ddipotassium @pecxiebu

@mil88691 @iloveyoutodeathbutimdrowning @katifefe @sn0wybowie-blog

@moochiester @zizuras @blackbluerose666 @rosecoloureddudez

[maxzinn]

FOUND FAMILY TROPE

⇀ tags ; fem!reader, developing relationships, found family, reader is yanqing's mom, jing yuan being a bit emo, slight angst, fluff, happy endings!

⇀ note: here's part 2, sorry it took a while sdjhfjh

part 1

jing yuan never liked the quiet, but he doesn't hate it as well.

sometimes, to him, it's peaceful. the gentle rays of sunlight slowly making its home in his abode, the gentle rustle of the wind, curtains fluttering from the gentle breeze, and the chirping of those tiny little finches that seemingly found comfort in his windows.

but sometimes, it's unsettling. his abode is far too huge for his liking. far too big that despite his huge stature... it makes him feel so small. the quiet seems to haunt him, its silence deafening. The halls are way too quiet, every nook and cranny - every room he barely used...

he was never used to the quiet, never ever got used to it. to jingyuan, the silence was a hard pill to swallow - one that haunted him, one that enables the lonely thoughts and regrets he has in his head. to him, it's a terrifying gamble. one that he doesn't risk, and a risk he doesn't want to take.

yet, he doesn't like the noise either. not when the screams and cries of his people fills the air, not when his friends mourn for their lost friend, not when the final verdict was placed, and not when their hatred and vengeance spoke louder that it drowned the voices of their joyful laughter.

not when chingzu scolds him for the nth time for setting his duties aside, not when fu xuan complains about his sleepiness, and not when another trouble arises in the luofu.

but then suddenly... the noise doesn't seem to be as unbearable as before. when he met you, as cheesy as it sounds.

"yanqing! don't run too fast!" you scolded as yanqing continued to run away from you, laughing and giggling as he played in the general's garden. you sighed in defeat and placed your hands on your waist.

the general chuckled, "it's fine y/n, let the little man play to his heart's content. I don't mind at all"

"you spoil him a bit too much, general. i'm afraid he'll get more and more demanding" you let out a small laugh.

the quiet was slowly filled with noise, ones that came from you and your son... ones that echoed through his oh so empty halls, ones that vibrated through his walls, ones that filled his abode with the color of your tone, ones that replaced the seemingly monochromatic energy of his own home... and ones that he always looked forward to hear in the mornings, afternoons, and nights.

the way you and yanqing would greet him with a sweet "good morning, general!" was something that brought warmth and comfort to his lonely heart. something that gives him peace as you began to serve breakfast on the table with yanqing helping you set up the table...

the way you would sing your lullabies to lull your son to sleep, the way you would hum as you cook in the kitchen, the way you would read yanqing bed time stories, and the way you keep him entertained with your company by telling random stories and tales about yourself...

these are the moments and memories he forever wants to keep - ones that he never intends to sacrifice. one that he will forever engrave and etch on his heart and mind, body and soul.

but then suddenly, the silence doesn't seem to be as unbearable as before. as he watches you and yanqing sleep.

the corner of his lips twitched upwards and turned into a warm smile as he observes the mother and son duo sleeping about in the garden without a single care in the world. your forms are relaxed, the children's book in your hand slipping out of your grasp, your arms wrapped around yanqing as he sleeps on your chest, and the soft snores you both let out wasn't something he was able to miss.

and suddenly, jing yuan hated to not hear the quiet.

"general, you've done enough for me and yanqing throughout my whole recovery. i'm truly grateful for your kindness and care, which is why I think it would be best not to further burden you anymore with our situation as I have recovered” you said with an almost disappointed and apologetic smile, and jing yuan froze in place.

“I already told you, I don’t mind at all as long as you have fully recovered. that would be the only favor I ask of you in return” he said, trying to convince you while trying to mask his desperation

“you’re too kind general, truly. I can’t thank you enough for letting us stay just because of my son’s insistence and tantrums…”

jing yuan could have left you both to the care of the healers of the alchemy commission after he had rescued you and yanqing… but the little man’s cries of fear and worry over his mother made it hard for him to leave. so he held him close, and chose to look after him until you wake up because yanqing who found comfort in the general’s presence - doesn’t want to part with him.

jing yuan could have agreed without any hesitation to your offer, he could have allowed for you to leave his home… but he got so used of your presence that it made it hard for him to agree. those moments where he feels himself truly relax in his abode, the fact that he have someone to come home to… for him to keep on bearing the burden and weight on his shoulders, for everything to be much more bearable than before…

he couldn’t bear coming home to an empty house anymore, where only silence and noise greets him in mockery.

and suddenly, jing yuan hated to silence the noise

as you filled the empty rooms and spaces in his abode, leaving your mark on every corner of his home… driving away the silence that haunts him as he hears your skittering and humming in the kitchen while making dinner, as you read your bedtime stories to your son, as you sing while taking your sweet time in the shower…

for once, jing yuan felt fear.

for once, he lets himself be selfish.

“…I plan to take yanqing as my apprentice” your jaw drops.

“g-general? what are you- that’s too much to ask of you!” you exclaimed.

“the little man wants to become a cloud knight does he not? I don’t see the problem with that” he said with his familiar smug and relaxed demeanor.

“but yanqing has not made any feats worthy of him being your apprentice! general, I ask you to please reconsider”

“I disagree, I see great potential in him and I have no doubts he will reach great heights and perform great feats… I only wish to nurture his talent at a young age” he stepped towards you.

“there are plenty of spare rooms for us to make use of… and I don’t mind you using them. so fret not.”

maybe, this is his way of asking you both to stay. as you look in his eyes, he looks at you with such gentleness… desperation… and longing. for once, the general looked truly lonely, but he couldn’t be anymore sincere of his feelings.

and maybe, just maybe… you might give in to his wishes too.

sksjdh finally complete, sorry it took so long 😭 I don’t know if I did well in writing part 2 but this is the best that my brain could think of 🥹

should I do a part 3 as well??

[burningred1989]

CHERRY SCENTED VINYL SHOP

A/N: Part 2 of “She”

“She” was just supposed to be a oneshot but y’all seem to like it and wanted to know more, so here ‘ya go!

Weeks after being disappointed from missing his dream girl at his show, he went to a vinyl shop where he suddenly caught a whip of a cherry scented smell.

PART 1: She

MASTERLIST

<<<<<

Weeks after his show, Harry couldn’t get her out of his mind. Every time he closed his eyes, she was there—the girl with cherry-red lips, carefree energy, and a presence that haunted his dreams. He couldn’t shake the feeling that she was meant to be more than just a fleeting face in the crowd.

One afternoon, in an attempt to clear his head, Harry decided to visit a vinyl store tucked away in a quiet corner of the city. It was one of his favorite spots, a place where he could lose himself in music and nostalgia. As he browsed the shelves, flipping through the rows of records, he suddenly caught a faint, sweet scent—cherry. His heart skipped a beat.

He turned his head, and there she was.

She stood a few feet away, wearing a black leather jacket and jeans, her hair tucked behind her ears. She had headphones on, bobbing her head slightly to the music playing in her ears. In her hands, she held two vinyls: The Neighbourhood and Cigarettes After Sex. Harry couldn’t help but smile at her taste.

But then, his breath hitched as she reached for another vinyl—a copy of Fine Line. His album. She studied the cover for a moment, her cherry-red nails tracing the edges before tucking it under her arm. Harry’s heart raced. It felt surreal, like fate was playing a trick on him.

As she walked toward the counter to pay, Harry acted on impulse. He quickly grabbed his wallet and followed her. Before she could hand her money to the cashier, Harry stepped forward and placed a few bills on the counter.

“Put it on me,” he said to the cashier, his voice calm but his heart pounding.

The girl turned, startled by the sudden gesture, and her jaw dropped when she saw him. “Oh my god,” she breathed, her wide eyes locking with his. “You’re… you’re Harry Styles.”

Harry chuckled softly, scratching the back of his neck. “Guilty as charged,” he said, flashing a small smile. “I couldn’t let you pay for that. One of those is my album, after all. I just had to show my appreciation.”

She blinked, her shock melting into a shy smile. “That’s… wow. Thank you.”

“Of course,” he replied, his voice warm. “It’s not every day you run into someone with great taste in music.”

The girl laughed softly, her cheeks tinting pink. Harry took a step closer, feeling a strange mix of nervousness and excitement. “Would you, um… would you want to grab a bite with me? Maybe we could talk about music or something.”

Her expression faltered, and she gave him an apologetic look. “I’d love to, but I have to get to work. I’m really sorry.”

Harry’s shoulders slumped slightly, but he quickly recovered with a nod. “No worries,” he said, trying to mask his disappointment.

She turned to leave, her vinyls tucked under her arm, but before she could exit the shop, Harry called out to her. “Wait!”

She stopped and turned back, her brows raised in curiosity. Harry walked up to her, his hands fidgeting slightly as he pulled out his phone. “I know you’re busy, but… would it be okay if I got your number? Maybe we could grab that bite another time?”

Her lips parted in surprise, and for a moment, Harry thought she might say no. But then she smiled, pulling her phone out of her pocket. “Sure,” she said softly.

Harry’s heart soared as she typed her number into his phone. When she handed it back, he glanced at the screen to see the name she had saved: Cherry.

He looked up at her, his brows furrowing in confusion. “Your name is Cherry?”

She laughed, shaking her head. “Nope. It’s just what I thought you’d remember me by. You know… cherry-red lips, cherry-red nails.” She smirked, her eyes playful. “I figured it fits.”

Harry’s grin widened, and he nodded, a warm laugh escaping his lips. “Fair enough.”

“Glad you approve,” she teased before turning to leave again.

As Harry watched her disappear into the street, he couldn’t help but feel like the universe had just handed him a second chance. The girl from his dreams was real, and now, she was just a phone call away.

PART 3: Vogue Cover

[anonymousewrites]

A Not-So-Disastrous Romance (Book 2) Chapter Seventeen

Saiki Kusuo x Reader

Chapter Seventeen: Occult Love versus Sweet Loves

Summary: (Y/N) and Saiki get dragged back into the Occult Love.

            “Saiki, all of the clubs must submit their reports,” said a teacher, shaking his head in frustration as he caught Saiki in the hall.

            I’m not in any clubs, thought Saiki.

            “Don’t slack off in the Occult Club,” said the teacher.

            “Oh, I forgot about that club,” said (Y/N).

            “I thought only presidents and vice-presidents submit reports,” said Saiki, furrowing his brow.

            “You’re the present,” said the teacher, exasperated.

            “What?”

            “That’s what Toritsuka said,” said the teacher. “He said you became the president.

            That bastard.

            “Rude not to tell you,” said (Y/N).

            “Rude to do it,” grumbled Saiki.

            “That will be all for today.” The teacher walked away.

            “That idiot,” grumbled Saiki. “I’m going to turn him into a ghost.”

            “A perpetual president for the Occult Club,” giggled (Y/N).

            “Hey, Saiki, (Y/N)!” said Yumehara, walking up.

            “Oh, hi, Chiyo,” said (Y/N), smiling. They noticed the papers in Yumehara’s hands. “Are you the vice-president?”

            She nodded. “Thanks for helping. Toritsuka never shows up. You two should show up at the club more, too. It’s always just me and Arisu. The two of us wait every day.”

            “Every day?”

            She has an intense look on her face… thought (Y/N).

            “We’re left wondering whether you guys will show up,” said Yumehara. “Always waiting. Just the two of us. Why don’t you come? Why? Did you forget about us?”

            She sounds like a ghost…

            She sounds terrifying. “Alright, I got it.” Saiki didn’t want Yumehara’s ire if she was this intense already.

            “I’m sorry for missing so much!” said (Y/N) quickly.

            “You’re going to come?” The dark aura around Yumehara dissipated into a smile. “Yes!” The one I really want is Kaidou, but this is fine. Better than nothing!

            I want to go home.

            “This is our club room,” said Yumehara, leading them down the hall.

            “We have a club room?”

            “I thought our club room was the woods or haunted houses,” said (Y/N).

            “You’ll be surprised at the inside,” said Yumehara.

            Who knows what that means.

            “Here!” Yumehara threw open the door to reveal a room of cuteness rather than creepiness.

            It was pink, filled with stuffed animals, covered in soft rugs, and lit by sparkling lights.

            “Wow! Not scary at all!” said (Y/N), beaming.

            “Saiki, (L/N), it’s so nice to see you!” said a girl with barrettes in her hair.

            “Who is that?” said Saiki.

            “Hello, Makino!” said (Y/N), greeting her easily. True, she used to have her hair over her eyes and generally be more intimidating, but they recognized her.

            “Oh.”

            “I wanted to ask you about boys,” said Makino, looking at Yumehara.

            “Oh, are you making progress?” said Yumehara excitedly.

            “Ah.” That was the reason for the changes.

            “A little, but he’s ignoring my texts,” said Makino.

            “Let’s interview a boy and someone who likes girls today to see how they think!” said Yumehara, smirking.

            “She’s talking about us, isn’t she,” said (Y/N), sweat-dropping. Their panromantic-ness was biting them in the ass.

            “Yes,” said Saiki.

            “Saiki, (Y/N), will you please sit down?” said Yumehara, smiling at them “innocently.”

            “We should just finish the paperwork and go do homework—”

            “Sit down.” A dark aura radiated out from Yumehara.

            “We have a few minutes.” Saiki and (Y/N) sat.

            “The other day I saw Ayabe with a girl and texted him, ‘who is she?’ ” said Makino.

            “And he ignored you, I see,” said Yumehara. “I mean, you’re not even dating him, so…”

            “But we’ve been flirting,” said Makino.

            “Maybe you’re being too pushy?” said Yumehara. “Saiki, (Y/N), what do you think?”

            Saiki felt like drifting away into space. I couldn’t care less.

            “Maybe just ask him how his day was?” suggested (Y/N).

            “Hm…” Yumehara and Makino seemed dubious.

            “I know!” Yumehara clapped her hands together. “Let’s try the usual. We can ask Sayaka.” From below the table, Yumehara pulled out a cracked doll that looked like it had been buried and dug up about a hundred times.

            (Y/N) and Saiki watched in horror as Makino and Yumehara rolled out a Ouija board, took a crystal on a string, and dripped blood from their fingers into a bowl.

            “Let’s play, Sayaka,” said Yumehara.

            “Let’s have a chat, Sayaka,” said Makino. “Here’s some sweet red water.”

            “Nope,” said (Y/N), standing. They didn’t like the doll, and they didn’t like rituals.

            “This is something,” said Saiki. This was beyond what even Toritsuka had planned for the Occult Club.

            “Sayaka, will I hear back from Ayabe?” Makino held Sayaka, and the string from her mouth swung around. “She said yes!”

            “That’s great, Arisu!” said Yumehara. “What a relief.”

            “They’ve been absorbing the worse attributes of the other. They’re both boy-crazy and into the occult,” said Saiki, the realization sending a shiver of horror down his spine.

            “I’m out,” said (Y/N), going towards the door.

            “Right,” agreed Saiki.

            “Saiki, (Y/N), where are you going?” Yumehara spoke with a dark tone, glaring at the pair. “You can’t leave while Sayaka is here.”

            “Sayaka might curse you,” said Makino.

            “Seriously, who the hell is Sayaka?”

            “Kusuo, I’m scared,” whispered (Y/N).

            “I am, too,” admitted Saiki.

            “You should consult Sayaka, too!” said Makino and Yumehara, synchronized.

            “Maybe something about dating,” said Yumehara.

            “We want to hear about you two, too,” said Makino.

            “This is scary in a different way,” said Saiki.

            “I don’t think they’ll let us go,” said (Y/N), eyes wide.

            Yumehara grabbed Saiki, and Makino grabbed (Y/N). The pair made eye-contact and shivered. They were shoved into their chairs, and Makino and Yumehara grinned evilly.

            “So, tell us. You must have crushes on someone, right?” said Yumehara. “(Y/N), you’re always so tight-lipped.”

            “You must like someone!” said Makino.

            “I like to keep things close to myself,” said (Y/N), sweat-dropping.

            “Saiki, then. Tell us!” demanded Yumehara.

            “Stop trying to push this topic onto us,” said Saiki.

            I know! This is a good chance. I’ll find out what he thinks of Kokomi! thought Yumehara. “Fine, not a crush, but is there someone you think is really cute?”

            “I think all my friends are cute!” said (Y/N) with a wide smile.

            So wholesome, thought everyone present.

            “…Saiki?” said Yumehara with renewed fervor.

            “I care about more than that,” said Saiki. But (Y/N) is cute.

            “Really? Are you sure? Not even a girl whose name starts with ‘t’ and ends in ‘i’?” said Yumehara. Why can’t you figure out who I’m talking about?

            Your questioning just lacks any tact. Try harder. No, actually, don’t. Leave me alone.

            “They’re both hiding something!” declared Yumehara.

            “We have no choice,” said Makino.

            “We’ll ask Sayaka.” Yumehara had the wild look in her eyes again as she held Sayaka up and pendulum swung. “Who does Saiki like?”

            “The first syllable is ‘te!’ ” gasped Makino.

            “She’s moving it herself, isn’t she?” whispered (Y/N). Saiki nodded.

            We’ll get you to confess! Yumehara had a devious edge, that was for sure.

            “Next syllable is ‘ru,’ ” said Makino excitedly. “Teru? The vocalist?”

            “There’s more,” said Yumehara. “The next one is ‘ha.’ ”

            “You’re right!” gasped Makino. “Wait, how did you know?”

            “Let’s see what the last one is,” said Yumehara. She moved it towards “shi.”

            Saiki’s telekinesis dragged it to “n.”

            “Teruhan?” said Yumehara and Makino.

            “Who the hell is that?” said Yumehara.

            Yare yare. You might anger Sayaka. Saiki smirked slightly. If they wanted to play with his “feelings,” then he’d play, too.

            “Let’s try again,” said Yumehara, raising Sayaka.

            The lights turned out. (Y/N) grabbed Saiki’s sleeve, confident in that fact that he was behind this but surprised nonetheless.

            “I can’t see anything!” cried Yumehara.

            “Hey!” said Makino, reaching out.

            They bumped into each other, and Sayaka fell to the ground. She shattered into a million pieces, and the girls gasped.

            “Is this a sign?” Makino trembled.

            “It might be.” Yumehara shivered.

            Saiki shook the locker, and the two girls gasped in fear.

            “Sayaka is angry!” cried Yumehara. “Because I messed with the ritual…”

            “How could you?!” said Makino, almost afraid.

            “My face is shattered.” The pieces of Sayaka rose into the air, and Saiki spoke with a feminine voice through the doll. “Why did you do this to me?”

            “A-Arisu, did you say something?” said Yumehara slowly.

            “No…did you?” said Makino.

            “Then who’s that talking?” said Yumehara.

            “You’re so mean to me,” said “Sayaka.” “Don’t you like me?”

            “The doll’s not there!” cried Yumehara, looking at the ground where it had fallen. “Where is it?”

            “Die!” cried “Sayaka,” eyes glowing red.

            Yumehara and Makino screamed and ran for the door. Throwing it open, they raced out of there for their lives.

            The lights flicked on, and Saiki smirked as Sayaka hovered in the air. “That was me, of course.”

            (Y/N) breathed out a sigh of relief. “Still creepy.” They shivered.

            “Now we don’t have to deal with the Occult Club,” said Saiki, putting Sayaka down. It was repaired now. “We’re finally done.”

            (Y/N) followed Saiki to the door, paused, and frowned. They looked back at where the pendulum had landed on the Ouija board. They swallowed. “Uh…maybe not.”

            Saiki looked back and saw the pendulum pointing at the world “no.”

            “…Let’s leave.”

            “Yeah…”

l

            Yare yare. Saiki sighed and flopped down on his bed after dealing with his parents’ “who loves who more” competition all morning. He had even had to bring out the Love Meter to judge it, which had almost ended badly for him when they made it a competition of who loved him more. Saiki glanced up at the device, still floating and displaying a zero since no one was around. Why are some of my powers so weird?

            Ding!

            Saiki glanced at his phone, and a text message from “baker<3” popped up. ((Y/N) put their name in his phone like that. He was too lazy to change it back. Obviously. …And it was cute). Saiki smiled slightly upon seeing the message.

baker<3: I’ve packed up the picnic basket! Where are we going to see the cherry blossoms?

Mr. Coffee Jelly (Again, his name in (Y/N)’s phone. It was whatever. It totally didn't matter to him): I’ll come pick you up.

baker<3: Awesome! I’m so excited

            Dring!

            Saiki glanced at the Love Meter. It displayed the number “38095” now, as bright and intense as his parents’ love for one another. He looked back down at his phone. Back at the love meter.

            Oh, wow.

l

            “The cherry blossoms look so pretty,” said (Y/N), smiling as they sat down beside Saiki.

            They had sweets, sandwiches, and fruit laid out for a nice picnic with their boyfriend. To avoid being interrupted, Saiki had teleported them to another city to enjoy the cherry blossoms, that way they could just have a normal date together.

            “Thank you for making sure we had a spot and got some time together,” said (Y/N).

            “Of course,” said Saiki.

            (Y/N) lay back and popped a strawberry into their mouth. Saiki watched them smile, and the wind blew the pink petals up around them. Due to their pink pants and white sweater, they looked like a blossom themself. Saiki’s gaze softened, and a small smile appeared on his face. He really was so lucky for the moments he got with them.

            “Thank you for baking,” said Saiki, picking up a cookie.

            “I love doing it, and it makes you happy, so it’s a win-win,” said (Y/N), grinning at him.

            “You do a lot for me,” said Saiki, looking at them intently. “Thank you. I don’t deserve it.”

            “Kusuo, you do,” said (Y/N). They took his hand. “You help everyone around you, and you’re always so sweet to me.”

            “I’m sweet?” Saiki was doubtful. Even his own parents knew he could be cold.

            “Yes,” said (Y/N) honestly. They gestured to their earrings. “Do you need me to take these off to make sure you know I’m telling the truth?”

            “I believe you,” said Saiki, though the vulnerability exposing their thoughts with him would show made his heartbeat quicken in adoration.

            “Good, then stop thanking me and come and enjoy our date,” said (Y/N). “That’s all I need from you.”

            Saiki lay down next to them and looked up at the pink trees. He handed (Y/N) another strawberry and took another cookie for himself.

            (Y/N) snuggled closer to him, holding his hand tightly and leaning their head on his shoulder. These were the moments they loved the most. Any time with Saiki was wonderful, but these soft moments where they were just themselves, in love—

            Oh, god. (Y/N) froze for a moment. I love Kusuo? I love Kusuo. I love Kusuo!

            They were head-over-heels forever and ever in love with Saiki. They had always liked him, had come to care for him as more than a friend, and had realized the real word now—love. (Y/N) smiled. I love Kusuo.

            Gently, they caught a falling flower blossom. “Kusuo.” He looked at them, and (Y/N) sat up a little, turning to face him. Softly, they tucked the flower behind his ear.

            They grinned. “Adorable.” They loved him.

            Saiki smiled slightly as they looked at him. It was such a simple action, but the mere idea that they thought of him and were so gentle with him set his heart aflutter. He really didn’t deserve them. He watched (Y/N) pulled out their phone and turn their camera around for a selfie.

            They leaned in and kissed his cheek, the flower in his hair and the petals fluttering around them framing them. Saiki’s telekinesis held the petals in place as (Y/N) snapped the photo, eyes closed and lips on his cheek. Saiki smiled slightly just as the subtle ‘click’ of the camera went off.

            (Y/N) grinned as they looked at the photo, pocketed their phone, and lay back down next to him. “Thank you, Kusuo.”

            Saiki gazed at them as they looked back up at the pink trees. Saiki’s smile didn’t fade. They were the best thing that happened to them. Saiki loved them—

            He blinked.

            He loved them. Saiki loved (Y/N). The word hadn’t appeared, but the feeling—oh, the feeling was there. Saiki smiled slightly and held (Y/N)’s hand tighter.

            (Y/N) looked at him. “Kusuo?”

            “I’m glad I’m here with you, (Y/N).” He loved them.

Taglist:

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[winwintea]

nct vs haunted house (who you picking to go with you?)

pairing ↬ ot25 nct (127, dream, wayv, wish)

tags ↬ cussing, i roast everyone (sorry not sorry)

author’s note ↬ very lax and lazy shitpost. can y'all pretend like i posted this before november 1st to spare me the embarrassment and shame, thanks. also in no apparent order so you might have to dig for your member. this is the first time i've posted for all the members... also only seen the wayv and dream haunted house videos so it might not be fully accurate.

sakuya

nah why the hell would you pick him. this shit is gonna make a bolt for it and leave you alone inside to defend for yourself. if it's a haunted house walkthrough, he's gonna speedrun it and save himself, not you. if it's a horror escape room he's probably gonna get jumpscared, but will distract himself by laughing at you. NOT HELPFUL AT ALL, somehow manages to break everything. (0/10 partner, made me cry afterwards. this is why i hate children /j)

winwin

you've got like a 50/50 chance of surviving this thing. winwin's scared out of his wits when it comes to haunted houses, but in an actual stressful situation he thinks very logically. given the right circumstance, he doesn't make dumb choices, and can actually progress through the haunted house fairly easy. his only flaw is that when he gets jumpscared he has extreme reactions and always is on the floor. (6/10 partner, just make sure he isn't pulling you to the ground as well.)

haechan

no sane person would pick him, are you okay? i mean he's kinda unpredictable. either cackling and laughing his ass off or sobbing or straight faced the whole time. when he's scared he demands to be carried, like tf? thought you were supposed to protect me. whatever. actually kinda smart and helpful though like if you're lucky you two can get out just fine. (7/10 partner, because at least he isn't gonna leave you alone to die, you'll die together.)

doyoung

get ready for snarky comments on everything, "i wonder if these people are getting paid minimun wage." or "whoever designed this place needs to go to jail why is everything so ugly looking." he's a NERVOUS WRECK though. starts yapping when he's scared. telling the scare actors to "wait pls" (they won't love you like i love you) they don't listen to him though... very tense, movements are stiff, he has like a 25% chance of actually being helpful. (2.5/10 partner, someone tell him to move faster.)

jaehyun

you picked the nonchalant king himself! he'd probably be a bit scared, maybe a few jerks or flinches from the jumpscares, but nothing too bad. probably laughs at the actors or at the situation, but it's not a mocking laugh. very helpful and you'll definitely make it out of there alive! if you're easily scared no worries! he'll be fine carrying you if he has to. give yourself a pat on the back, you picked well. (10/10 partner i have no complaints)

jisung

someone save this poor baby and you because you two are also not making it out alive today. not very loud screams, but oh my god he clutches his chest and bucks his knees like he's heard the worst news of his life. 15,000 mental breakdowns in the span of a minute. asks random obvious questions and is curious about everything. he's too lost in his own head and thoughts to be really helpful, plus he's too scared to try anything so you really aren't progressing further unless you lock in. (2/10 partner, i love you ji but i gotta survive)

riku

honey idk who lied to you but riku is not brave at all. another stumbler, he's tripping all over the place, sometimes you wonder whether it's on purpose or not. no cause this man spends more time on the floor then actually on his feet. when he's collected himself and believes that there's no reason to be scaried he's gonna aegyo his ass off. which doesn't work lol. might as well use him as a meat shield atp. (3/10 partner, good meat shield /j)

yushi

also a 50/50. very very very helpful and knowledgeable when it comes to solving clues and mysteries. but when it comes to progressing forward and interacting with the scare actors he's not in his element. asks "who's there" as if anyone would answer. also in denial half of the time, "oh it's not that sc- AHJH SHHHH-" runs around and clings to something, probably your arm. (7/10 partner, just the two of us, we can make it if we try! )

hendery

i asked to survive not a distraction for my fears and worries. why is bro singing???? we're supposed to be working and solving the puzzles, no more distractions pls!! he's going to terrorize you just because it's funny, but i'm in a haunted house NOT A COMEDY CLUB. when it comes to solving clues he cooks dogshit!! nobody let him back into a haunted house thanks! (0/10 partner, i need the scare actor to mercy kill me atp)

chenle

why. you know better than to pick him. 100% will scream as loud as he can and sacrifice you in -119 seconds. laughing mess. he's like sakuya and will leave you to fend for yourself. he dngaf. will also terrorize you because it's "funny". unless it's a competition he will not help you at all and pretends like he's helping but he's not doing anything except goofing around. try again. (-143/100 partner, except he doesn't love you like in the skz song)

johnny

you make it out of there purely off of johnny’s dumbass luck. i’m serious. as soon as he’s jump-scared he puts his hands up and turns around like “helll naahhhh” and then he starts scolding the scare actor like he’s their dad ???? or something ?? why the fuck did this turn into a big ass therapy session about how the scare actor could turn their life around and use their talents for something more rewarding in life? (9/10 partner, you only make it out of there because the scare actor tearfully tells you the answers to all the clues and promises johnny he’ll work on bettering himself.)

kun

if you thought his leader mode self would activate you are wrong. completely wrong. first of all he TRIES to act calm and mature, but fails miserably. also he forces you to do everything, go first, because bro is ACTUALLY A COWARD ISTG. at least he's pretty decent at solving problems, but when he gets jump-scared he's too terrified to function, like if was by himself he would get himself killed. (-4/10 partner, i asked for a good partner not a manchild)

yuta

going with the other non-chalant king is also a fairly good choice! except he's even more unbothered and unfazed than jaehyun, you're wondering if you should be more scared of him than the actors. feel bad for the actors though like they get a kick out of scaring people and he's just like "heh. that's funny" not very helpful with puzzles though so you might have to do that yourself! (8/10 partner, you'll probably survive, but you'll do most of the work unfortunately.)

renjun

i think the only other person you could pick that's worse than him on this list is taeyong. CONSTANTLY CLINGING TO YOUR ARM. savagely trying to crack jokes but is scared out of his wits for sure. he's okay with solving clues, renjun is smart, just don't pressure or tease him or he might actually snap. honestly just don't pick renjun to be your partner. (-127/10 partner, why are we still here? just to suffer?)

taeyong

you are 100 percent getting killed today !! congratulations !! or maybe you wanted that? poor bubu was not cut out for this line of work okay. he screams the loudest screams you've ever heard, does not function normally after the first scare. you could've picked anyone else and maybe you would've had a 99.99% chance of dying instead of 100. (-553/10 partner, PICK BETTER PLEASE. i'm so fucking mad /hj)

ten

he's a runner he's a track star !! he's literally a cat. what else did you expect? him to not be a scaredy cat? when u call him out for being unhelpful or too scared he'll gaslight tf out of you. he'll also deflect and start saying everything you're doing wrong as if you aren't the ONLY PERSON DOING ANYTHING AT ALL?? “stop pushing me” EXCUSE ME? YOU PUSHED ME? makes me so mad, but at least he sometimes is helpful i guess. (-40/10 partner, you should know better than to pick him.)

sion

better than kun maybe on par with winwin i'd say. his leader mode is definitely more active here, also tries to play up and be brave, gets scared very easily but it's okay. he reacts quickly and that's honestly all that matters in a haunted house bc if you can get out of that inital shock and think logically about the situation you can survive about anything. very good with puzzles i don't think he's a bad option! (8/10 partner, jaehyun maybe enlisting in a couple of days but at least we have sion)

jeno

might be the one of the best options out of all of these clowns. but again nct is a circus and they are so unpredictable. i would feel safe with jeno though. he's suspiciously quiet, and not very reactive when it comes to the scares. very smart too like he solves the puzzles in seconds too. take jeno with you and you are LIVING TO SEE THE LIGHT AT THE END OF THE TUNNEL! (12/10 partner, very satisfied would recommend. )

xiaojun

you picking xiaojun is like whoever tf seulgi is singing to that knows 28 reasons to run away but chooses to depend on her anyways. LIKE CMON. xiaojun definitely scares himself. also he's really loud in general like you need something to shut him up with. bad at puzzles, okay with scares, idk if you're gonna survive broski. (2/10 partner, maybe xiaojun has dumb luck and you'll survive, who knows.)

ryo

way more mature than sakuya, i'm convinced you will actually survive! this little maltese is very brave and will definitely go first if you're too scared. also willing to throw hands but let's talk about that later you will make it out of there in decent time, and not struggle that much. may get a little bit scared, but he regains his courage very easily! (10/10 partner, guys i love ryo a lot. he's literally my child.)

jaemin

yes jaemin is a good pick, he’s not that phased by scare actors and will even try to talk to some of them about their day. spreads positivity but will probably mock you for being too scared if you get scared by the jump-scares. if you can deal with that you should be fine. he’s not as good as jeno is with the puzzles but can hold his own weight fairly well. “can we go again?” absolutely not. (8/10 partner, would’ve been higher but for that last comment he’s getting marked down a couple of points.)

jungwoo

just because this man isn’t vocal when he’s scared does not mean he isn’t shitting himself right now. instead of screaming, he opts to stumble and fall instead. any little noise will make him jump, even if it’s caused by himself. closes his eyes because “i can’t get scared if i can’t see them!” he was incorrect. jungwoo can in fact get scared if he can’t see them. (0/10 partner, no negatives for jungwoo but you probably won’t survive.)

mark

best option in my opinion. the only leader who calms down the fastest and reacts the best. i mean he deals with haechan and chenle on a daily basis so he has some practice. all his years of testing his patience has prepared him for this moment. deep inside he’s paranoid as hell, but that really doesn’t distract him from getting you two out of there as quickly as he can. extremely motivated and works hard to solve the puzzles. (17/10 partner, much better than his egg making abilities!)

jaehee

he thought it was going to be fun. it was not. “this was NOT a good idea. oh MY GOd-“ pointing to every little thing, “did you see that”. okay but his prediction game is kinda on point though. thanks to his paranoia he manages to predict all the jumpscares. so eventually you two come up with a plan to scare the actors themselves which actually works surprisingly, and lessens your worries about the whole thing. maybe it was fun after all. (8/10 partner, you got banned from coming back though)

yangyang

now most of y’all might think that yy will whine and scream and cry in a haunted house. and, you’re not wrong! but in terms of the pussy-ness scale against the rest of these clowns, yangyang is actually pretty good at this. he’ll flinch, react, scream, and run away, but he takes the lead. willingly to go first, even if he himself is shaking in his thousand dollar shoes the entire time. good at puzzles too! (7/10 partner, so good so bad like whatever zb1 said!)

perm taglist ↬ @lyvhie @aquaphoenixz @ldh0000 @galacticnct

[starstruckloverz]

DID I MAKE YOU SCREAM?

-ˏ͛⑅　‧̥̥͙‧̥̥ ̥ ̮ ̥ ⊹ ‧̫‧ ⊹ ̥ ̮ ̥ ‧̥̥‧̥̥͙　⑅ˏ͛--ˏ͛⑅　‧̥̥͙‧̥̥ ̥ ̮ ̥ ⊹ ‧̫‧ ⊹ ̥ ̮ ̥ ‧̥̥‧̥̥͙　⑅ˏ͛-ˏ͛⑅　‧̥̥͙‧̥̥ ̥ ̮ ̥ ⊹ ‧̫‧ ⊹ ̥ ̮ ̥ -

SUMMARY - How is Rafe Cameron, your sweet, loving, boyfriend, who seems to have done no wrong, the most wanted serial killer in the world?

WARNING - slight smut, fluff, arguing, Dark!Rafe, f!m

A/N - my first Tumblr post.

ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚.˚◦○˚ ୧ .˚ₓₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚.˚◦○˚ ୧ .˚ₓₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚.˚◦○˚ ୧ .˚ₓₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚.˚◦○˚ ୧ .˚ₓₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚

ACT I

A SCREAM echoed through the house.

Y/n sat on the leathered couch as she gripped her boyfriend's arm yet again, "it wasn't even that scary." Rafe sneered, laughing at his trembling girlfriend, "Yes it was!" she shouted, punching Rafe's arm harshly, "Can you change it now?" Y/n questions, but he refused, "I did not pay 30 dollars to watch Nun 2 just for you to tell me to change it." he argued, Y/n pouted, trying to find his lack of sympathy, "Are you trying to kill me?" Rafe frowns, "I would never." he responds, relaxing his body.

Rafe pushed a piece of hair out of Y/n's face as he gracefully rubbed the index of her warm cheek, "you'll be the death of me Y/n L/n." he stated, watching as her face turned a bright shade of red. His eyes softened as she gripped his arm, pushing his arm down so she could get a better chance at connecting their lips.

"Mmm." he hummed through the kiss, although when she pulled back, all she could find was a blushed-out Rafe Cameron. "How about, we don't watch the movie and.." she started, trailing her finger down his stomach, "Maybe go upstairs to your room?" Rafe sneered, rolling his eyes vastly "Nice try Y/n, were not missing the movie." Rafe motioned himself to kiss her again but she turned her head away.

He chuckled it off, but it kinda hurt inside. Rafe placed his hand on her back, pulling her big shirt all the way up to her shoulders just so he could cress her skin with his fingernails softly. Y/n stuck her head inside Rafe's chest, unable to watch the next jump scare that would happen.

Rafe trailed his hand all the way up her spine, then back down and onto her curves, "Ow!" Y/n shouted, pushing her face out of Rafe's chest in a swift move. "What?" he asked, unsure whether he did something wrong or not. "Watch the hands, Mister, you hurt me," she told, showing Rafe a huge scar that was on her side.

He gave her a confused stare, "Where did you get this from?" he questioned, touching it so gently, trying hard not to harm her. "Remember when I was at the haunted house? well, I kind of ran into..." That's when it hit him. Rafe knew exactly what she was talking about.

Ghostface crept out the corner, grabbing his next victim, the room was dark, and he knew that Y/n was safe at home, or at least that's what he thought. He gripped Y/n so tightly that she could barely breathe. She tried to scream, be he had already shoved the tip of the knife so far up her hip.

Rafe knew that he'd regretted that decision for the rest of his life. Not long after He got a call from the hospital, saying that his girlfriend got into an 'accident' he told her not to go, knowing this would have happened. If only she had listened.

"I'm so sorry Y/n," Rafe spoke, apologizing. "why? you didn't do this to me," Y/n declared, kissing his cheek, then pushing herself off of him and walking her way to the kitchen. "Yeah... I know, but I'm your boyfriend, I should've been there to protect you ya know?"

"You did protect me, you told me not to go, and you made It very stated as if you knew that psycho killer would've been there." Y/n giggled, pouring herself some glass of water that came from the fridge. "You my own little psychic," Rafe scrunched his face, "Yeah, and from now on, you gonna listen to me when I tell you not to go anywhere, like Toppers party, for example,"

Y/n vastly lifted her head, her eyes wide open, "But it's a Halloween party, Rafe, I bought a costume just for it." She groaned, irritated and upset, "Y/n, you not going," Rafe's voice engaged, turning loud, "You're not my dad Rafe Cameron, and plus, Ghostface hasn't been seen since last year," Rafe rolled his eyes, he already knew that trust me, however, its more of the guys, he doesn't want anybody looking at Y/n especially Kelce, he had a thing for Y/n before Rafe and she even started going out.

"No means no." "This is such Bullshit."

Rafe made his way to his girlfriend, kissing her forehead, "Wouldn't you rather spend your night soaking in a bubble bath?" He questioned, holding his girlfriend's cheek with the index of his palm. "No," Y/n stated, pushing his hand off her cheek, and making her way to the couch, "Cmmon babe, you know I hate when you're mad at me." she only rolled her eyes in response.

"Please, I promise I'll make it up to you." Rafe gripped her shoulders, rubbing them as he leaned in to kiss her soft neck, Y/n let out a soft whimper, biting her lip as she leaned her head back, creating more room for his lips. "Please?" he asked again, finding her soft spot, Y/n could feel her legs going numb, and her heart racing out of her chest.

"Pretty please." Rafe then made his way to the front kissing her chest lightly, "fine," Y/n said, smiling at him as their eyes met, Rafe smirked evilly, grabbing her from the bottom of her thighs and picking her up from the floor. Y/n made a little squalling sound as he pushed her up against the cold wall.

Y/n pulled Rafe by the neck into a kiss, as their lips collided they moved in sync, he kissed her so roughly it was as if she was the last thing he'd ever eat, Y/n started tugging at his greasy curtain bang hair as she moaned into his mouth.

Rafe pressed up Y/n rinding on her as she was helpless against the wall, her legs still in the air, Y/n gasped at the feeling, Rafe's boner was pushing against her core harshly.

"Room." Y/n managed to get out, the overstimulation was bearable but still harsh, Rafe nodded, taking her back off the wall and walking up the stairs, slamming the door behind him.

˚ · • . ° .˚ · • . ° .˚ · • . ° .˚ · • . ° .˚ · • . ° .˚ · • . ° .˚ · • . ° .˚ · • . ° .˚ · • . ° .˚ · • . °

ACT II

...

Y/n was obviously not gonna listen to Rafe, especially after they had sex, I mean common now, does he think she's naive, or easily tricked. Y/n stood in the mirror, looking at herself.

She had a stupid sexy prison guard costume, Rafe was supposed to be her prisoner, but I guess he didn't care to show up with her, he still didn't know that she was even there in the first place.

"Hey!" Sarah Hollard from the other side of the room, making her way toward y/n, "Hey," she replied, "Where's Rafe?" Sarah then asked, confused, "he... couldn't make it," Sarah could taste the tension, she saw that Y/n wasn't happy, and normally she would just leave it because she knew her brother would be there to save the day, but it felt different, it wasn't the same.

Y/n carried her red cup in her hand, Sarah's face lightened, and the song Gasolina started playing on the speakers, basically blasting through the whole house, a grin came upon the two girls' faces, considering the fact that the song was there.

"Common, let's get you out of this corner and have some fun." Sarah tugged on the girl's costume, pulling her to the dance floor, Y/n gave Sarah a waring look, putting her cup on the table as the Cameron girl basically dragged her to the middle of the room.

As they reached the middle, Y/n was surrounded by unknown people, somewhere making out on the couch others were just taking shots from clear glass cups. Bottles of fireball and vodka filled the kitchen tables while beer cans filled the floor.

Y/n danced with Sarah to the music, swaying her hips back and forth in a swift motion as she ran her fingers through her hair, "I missed you." Sarah said yelled over the music, trying to make sure her voice was loud enough for her to hear.

"I miss you too," Y/n shouted back, giggling. The blue and purple light flickered veraciously as the two danced with one another, everything felt in slow motion, she healed onto Sarah, laughing historically.

"What happened with you and Rafe?" "He couldn't make it," Y/n answered.

Sarah stopped her moving, completely going still, "that's weird." Sarah started, biting the bottom of her lip as she made her way to her red cup, chugging it down in one sip.

"What?" Y/n questioned, raising an eyebrow, Sarah looked hesitant, she looked at Y/n and just shook her head, "Sarah what is it." Y/n asked again, this time her voice was louder, she knew something was up, and it wasn't good news, "I'm probably seeing shit but, I swear I saw Rafe hanging out with Topper by the pool." Y/n shook her head, laughing at the fact.

Rafe couldn't be here, he told Y/n he was gonna stop by her house after the gym. Except, Rafe doesn't work out at the gym, he works out at Topper's house. Rafe wouldn't lie to Y/n, would he?

Y/n shrugged it off, remembering that she had already checked her GPS, he was at home, "Rafe's at your guy's house, I already checked." Sarah raised an eyebrow, confused as always, Sarah decided to try and change the subject, just in case she was wrong.

"uh fuck him, he couldn't even show up for his girlfriend, then he's a piece of shit," Y/n cringed, that stung a little because she knew that Rafe changed his frat boy ways just to be with her and he barely parties, plus Y/n hadn't seen him drink since that incident when he got into a fight with some guy and ended up getting jumped.

"Its alright," Y/n said, trying to set some ease to the conversation, "Who needs boys," Sarah yelled, chugging down the rest of her cup of beer and grabbing the nearest girl she saw, and kissing the living shit out of her, Y/n stood there, in shock.

Sooner or later Y/n couldn't stand the sight of her friend making out with a random person, she thought they would've stopped already, I guess not. "Sarah I'm just...gonna go," Obviously Sarah was too drunk to comprehend that she wasn't making out with her boyfriend John B.

As Y/n walked away she felt eyes on her, and it wasn't the type that was checking her out, it felt like their eyes were staring into her soul, pricing it roughly, that's when she got that feeling, that unsure feeling in the pit of her stomach. She tried to walk away, but it was almost like it was following her every move.

Y/n rolled her eyes as she pushed through the crowd, shoving everybody, she was about to get sick, and Y/n rushed, the light glowing blurry, as everybody's voice was screaming it echoed through her head, giving her a massive migraine.

"Fuck," Y/n swore, pushing her hair that was sticking up down with her hand. A scream. Somebody screamed. And now, Everybody screamed. As y/n pushed her head up to see what was causing the commotion she met Kelece, except, his throat was slit, and he was stabbed at least 5 times in the stomach. Y/n threw up everywhere.

She looked back up, watching as his blood started spilling everywhere, and standing above the body was.... Ghostface, Y/n was so close, it was almost an inch away from the crime scene. Y/n screamed, Loudly, Ghostface looked up vastly to meet eyes with the girl.

"Y/n?" the unknown voice said, however, it wasn't so unknown anymore, Y/n knew that voice from anywhere, she knew exactly who that sounded like, however, as she looked up she didn't want to believe it, how can her sweet loving boyfriend, be a killer, especially murdering one of his closes friends.

Y/n's eyes widen, she was in shock, and not the good kind, was Rafe Cameron, the boy that she had known since she was three secretly the masked killer, the boy who made her flowers from paper because he spent all his money on designer bags that Y/n doesn't even use.

The boy who calls her mommy to try and get her turned on because he wants her so bad, the boy who basically craves her taste on his lips early in the morning.

Rafe Cameron, Y/n's Rafe Cameron.

As she looked up she found herself wishing to god that if she looked at her GPS he was still at home and she was just overthinking, as Y/n rushed out the door she found herself cramming through her phone, she went on Life360, pressing on Rafe's location.

Rafe Camerons current location 453 Brooklyn Street. Aka, Toppers address.

Y/n dropped her phone, so when Sarah said that she saw him, she actually meant it, all the goodness and the things that Y/n thought about him went out the door, that day, at the haunted house, Rafe told her not to go, the room was dark, and he grabbed ahold of Y/n stabbing her, however when the light finally turned back on, Ghostface saw Y/n's face and Ran.

Everything was starting to make sense, it wasn't so messy anymore, it was all Rafe Cameron, her boyfriend, she's dating a fucking serial killer.

...

ACT III

Y/n walked through the doors of her house, still traumatized as tears streamed down her face, Kelce was a dick, but he was also a good person, most of the time, actually, nevermind, he was a person, and that was all that matters.

She threw her keys on the island, making her way to the kitchen to grab herself a cup of water, that headache still acing his skull. "Y/n thank god you're safe," Rafe Cameron said, grabbing her by the waist. Y/n quickly threw him off, "Rafe, don't fucking touch me, I know." Y/n told, pointing her finger in front of his face.

Rafes worried look quickly vanished, "Are you scared?" He questioned, his tone growing dark and mysterious. "n..No," Y/n says, her voice trembling in fear.

" Good, because I love you Y/n, and I would never hurt you." "your not even gonna deny it?" "Why would I ever lie to you?"

Y/n rolled her eyes, "Why?" she asked, her voice cracking, everything Rafe was to her, all the goodness was gone, and all that was left was the darkness. "I'm doing it for you," Rafe answered, Y/n didn't say anything, her face downgraded as she backed up the closer her boyfriend got.

"Bullshit, how could killing people help me?" Rafe made a noise, it sounded like a laugh, however, it wasn't, "That night, at the haunted house, I heard those girls, the girls you thought were your friends, they were talking about you, saying that you're a slut, and a whore." Y/n shook her head, in disbelief.

"I couldn't let them get away with that."

Y/n's back hits the wall, giving her no room to move back from him, "And Kelce, I heard what he did, he was groping you, why didn't you tell me?" He questioned, pushing a piece of hair behind her ear as his tone got softer, and he noticed that she was trembling.

"Because I knew you would overreact, and I was so right, he was drunk Rafe, and he apologized saying that he didn't mean to...touch me without consent." Tears streamed through her eyes, remembering the eye-flashing sight of his blood spilling out of her throat.

"See what's where you're wrong, he was planning on doing stuff to you, I saw his text message on his phone, he was gonna rig your drink."

He said, kissing her forehead lightly, "So you kill him?!" Y/n asks, shouting at him, "Yes! you make me so crazy Y/n L/n that I would literally kill for you."

Rafe backs up, watching his now crying girlfriend as tears stain her rushed cheeks, her massacre ruined, Rafe then bends down, his knees touching the floor, "But, that night at the haunted house, you...you stabbed me, Rafe,"

"I told you not to go, Im so sorry Y/n, Im so, so so sorry." Rafe grabbed her hands, kissing her fingers one by one, praising her, not wanting to let her go, "There isn't a line, in this world, that I wouldn't cross for you," he cried, Rafe Cameron cried.

"I want to spend every minute with you Y/n L/n, I want you, all the time, every day, every hour, every minute, every second." Rafe then began kissing her arm, all the way up to her shoulder then back down.

"Will you marry me?"

[littlemissmentallyunstable]

Would you be making a Part 4 of the dancer and the angel🥺🥺

so many people have asked about this so I’m sorry it’s taken me so long to piece it together BUT it’s here so I hope you love it 🤍🤍

title: the dancer and the angel part 4

pairing: grayson hawthorne x reader

synopsis: crying sucks and you needs somewhere to just let your hair down but when gigi goes missing, all hell breaks loose and things don’t stay exactly to plan

parts: part 1 part 2 part 3

warnings: SPOILERS FOR TGG, swearing

a/n: I’m dedicating this to @midiosaamor <33 ilysm belle thank you for your endless love for this fic, I’m so grateful 🤍🤍

tag list: @bewitchingkisses @whatsamongus @wish-i-were-heather @inmyheaddd @never-enough-novels @notshortbutsweet @midiosaamor @sweetreveriee @emelia07 @f4iry-bell @zaraaaabear @thoughtdaughter3 @benny1989fredd @elysianwayy77 @maybxlle @sheisntyou @anintellectualintellectual @aleatorio1234 @adalia-jaycee @off-to-the-r4ces @lyra-kane @reminiscentreader @lyrakanefanatic @imaseabear @elizaa31 @loveinalocket

YOUR POV

I’m tired of crying. Tears are overrated anyway.

I’m sat with Avery, my cheek resting against her shoulder, her head resting on top of mine. It’s peaceful. I can hear her soft steady breathing in my ear and it’s oddly comforting. Maybe it’s because I’m used to sleeping on Grayson’s chest and hearing him breathe so rhythmically.

I need to get him out of my head. His stupidly perfect face is the only image running through my mind. That angular jawline, those velvety lips and those silver eyes that made me melt every damn time. Every inch of him is too engraved in my soul to get rid of him so quickly.

“Let’s go somewhere,” Avery says suddenly, like she’s been reading my mind this whole time.

“We’re on a secluded island,” I scoff.

“And I happen to be a billionaire who owns many modes of transport,” she winks at me, helping me to my feet.

“You wouldn’t,” I say.

“I already have,” she winks, “there’s a helicopter that should be showing up in about…” she trails off checking her watch, “five minutes.”

“You’re joking!” I gape.

“Do I look like the kind of girl to joke about ordering a helicopter?” she asks, raising her eyebrows.

No. No she does not.

***

We arrive at our destination thirty short minutes later via helicopter of course. And as if by magical transformation we’d gotten changed into some variant of sparkly party dresses inside, a sentence I never thought I’d ever say aloud. We walk down a cobbled alleyway towards a tall establishment.

“A club?” I say tilting my head to the side.

“A club,” she nods.

“I’ve never been to a club before,” I admit, feeling a little nervous.

“Neither,” she shrugs, “but there’s a first time for everything right.”

“Right…” I trail off.

She takes my hand eagerly and together we walk in. Lights flash, music pulsates and my ear drums nearly burst. It’s so lively, so upbeat, so full. People are grabbing drinks, making out, dancing and all the in between.

Avery glances at me, “drink or dance?”

“Drink,” I don’t hesitate, having already spotted the bar, “please.”

“You got it,” she grins, linking her arm into mine as we go over, weaving between throngs of half drunk sweaty bodies.

The bartender offers us a welcoming smile, “what can I get you two ladies tonight?”

“Vodka martini dry with a twist,” I reply, the order bitter on my tongue when I remember how Gray and I would usually order these together.

I feel so pathetic. Linking everything to him, but I couldn’t help it. He’s just there, but not properly. It’s like some sort of ghost of his has decided to haunt me for fun.

“And a mojito please,” Avery says, forcing me out of my thoughts.

He nods sharply and turns to make our drinks. I fiddle with my necklace trying to figure out how I feel in this very moment. A weird mix of emotions are settled heavily on my chest. Notes of sadness and bitterness, building up anger and fury as well as a pathetic self pity and loneliness. I don’t like that none of the feelings are definitive, it makes me uncomfortable. I don’t know how to be, my brain is too preoccupied trying to work out what emotion to act on.

The bartender hands me my drink. I take a long sip closing my eyes as the flavours hit my tongue. The sharp burst of lemon mixed with the kick of hard vodka feels like someone is slapping me across the face. I’ve never felt more awake.

“How’s the martini,” Avery asks.

“Much needed,” I smile, “your mojito?”

“Divine,” she replies taking another sip.

“Never pictured you as a mojito girl Ave,” I mention leaning against the bar and surveying the room.

“Jamie got me into them when we went to Greece,” she replies naturally.

A sinking sensation hits my stomach, I know it shouldn’t. She’s been with Jameson forever it shouldn’t hurt. They were beautiful people with beautiful souls that belonged to each other. So why is it suddenly so hard to digest? I knew about their trip to Greece, heck I’d helped them plan it. But Avery mentioning Jameson sends this rippling pain through my upper chest. She loves him and he loves her. It’s the same both ways, they’re devoted, they’re each other’s everythings. And it reminds me of what I don’t have. I think I hide it well but she sees it on my face.

“Oh god I’m sorry I didn’t mean to bring up-“

“Hey it’s fine,” I shrug.

“That was so stupid of me,” she winces putting her drink down.

“Avery you don’t have tread on eggshells around me, it’s okay,“ I try and laugh it off, “no big deal.”

“Okay,” she replies, but I can see she still feels bad.

Neither of us say anything for a few beats until the music changes and I recognise the song.

“Oooo you love this song, come on,” she laughs, tugging my hands forwards.

I sigh, “I don’t know Avery, I’m not much of a dancer.”

Not like Lyra.

“Doesn’t matter,” she shrugs, swigging her mojito, “let’s let our hair down, have a bit of fun.”

“Fine,” I crack a smile.

She squeals excitedly, practically dragging me forwards as we fall on the dance floor. We move to the beat, hips swinging from side to side, arms in the air. I wish this could take it all away. I appreciate what she’s doing. But despite her best efforts I don’t think it’s working. This distraction, this attempt of respite isn’t hitting like it should. I feel buried under too many layers of him, each time I did myself out of the first in into another. And digging is exhausting.

“Why don’t you just kiss a random guy?” Avery says bringing me back to the present.

It takes me a few minutes to process what she’d just said and when I do I can’t form a response.

“How much of that mojito did you have?” I laugh.

“No seriously,” she says, a deadly true look in her eyes, “it might help you get… him out of your mind.”

“You can say Grayson,”I roll my eyes, playing it off coolly. I didn’t want her to know that this was affecting me this much, because it shouldn’t be.

“No,” she shakes her head, “the name holds too much power, he’ll get all in your head again.”

“He already is all in my head,” I tell her with a sigh.

“That’s why I’m saying,” she continues, “so just go and kiss someone for the hell of it.”

“How do I even go about doing that?” I say. I can’t believe the words are coming out of my mouth.

“I don’t know, never done it,” she shrugs with a wicked grin.

“I don’t think it’s a good idea,” I reply.

“Who cares?” she laughs, “yolo.”

“Yolo? Since when do you say yolo?” I scoff, wondering if she is drunk or just spending too much time with Xander.

“Since now,” she sticks her tongue out.

“I could be kissing a serial killer,” I point out, “or an axe murderer.”

“I don’t think they’d murder you in front of everyone, it’d be a bit off brand for them,” Avery replies, “besides everyone would know who they were then. Do you really think they’d risk jail time to specifically murder you in a club? “

I think about it. Contemplate the idea of kissing someone else. Maybe she had a point, someone else’s lips on mine, hands in my hair… they won’t be his. I won’t have to associate those actions with him anymore. Would it hurt? It’s one stupid night and one stupid kiss. What’s the worst that could happen?”

“You know what, you’re right, why the hell not,” I say suddenly.

Surprise flickers across her face for mere moments before she breaks out into a large smile.

“You get them girl!” she shouts.

I scan the room, or all the faces I could see at least. I spot someone. He’s fairly attractive. Dirty blonde, tanned, muscular. He didn’t look too old either. I couldn’t tell the colour of his eyes but from here they looked light. I hope he isn’t taken as I approach him.

“Hey,” I shout over the music.

“Hi,” he shoots me a smile.

It’s in that moment I realise how unprepared I am for this. Why did I think this was a good idea? How do you just kiss someone?

So I blurt out the only thing in my mind, “do you want to kiss me?”

“What?” he replies.

I feel like an idiot but I say it again, “do you want to kiss me?”

“I can’t hear you love, speak up,” he yells.

I don’t know what comes over me but I just grab his face and kiss him. It’s probably the most impulsive thing I’ve ever done. But he doesn’t pull away, in fact he kisses back. His lips are rougher than what I’m used to and he’s a more aggressive kisser. When his hands hold the small of my back it’s more like he’s grappling onto my body than holding me gently. This didn’t feel as natural, as tentative, as loving as when Grayson kisses me.

“Well that was quite something huh?” the man smiles as I pull away.

Maybe for you I want to say, but I bite my tongue.

“Fancy doing it again?” he asks.

“Maybe another time,” I force a smile, walking away.

He doesn’t follow much to my relief. I’d chosen someone who wasn’t a serial killer at least. I make my way back to Avery who pretends she didn’t see the whole altercation to save my dignity. Though she’s very bad at hiding it.

“I know you saw,” I sing song, giggling a little.

“You went for it girl,” she says eyebrows raised.

“I did,” I nod, chewing my bottom lip tentatively.

“And?” she prompts me. I don’t know what she wants to hear. So I tell her the truth.

“It’s not the same,” I shrug.

“It won’t be but sometimes that helps you get over it,” she replies.

“It’s not working,” I sigh, “also he tasted like beer and that was gross.”

She scrunches up her face, “oh ew,”

“Yeah 100% ew,” I agree wrinkling my nose as I still taste the residue of it on my lips.

She senses how I feel even though I don’t quite know what it is I’m feeling, “you want to get some air?” she asks.

I nod, feeling that my cheeks were flushed and my everything was sweating. Hand in hand we swim upstream through dozens of people before we reach the door. The cold night’s air hits us as we slump down onto the pavement. I take a deep breath in, closing my eyes tasting the fresh air in my lungs.

“Well that was a bust,” Avery sighs.

“Not completely,” I tell her, “the dancing was fun.”

“But you’re still thinking about him, aren’t you?” she replies. It’s a question that she already knows the answer to.

“How can I not?” I say, leaning my head against the back wall and looking up at the sky.

“I don’t know,” she replies sadly.

Silence envelopes us, swallowing us whole like a whale shark to plankton. A thought recurs in my brain like an annoying decimal that wasn’t supposed to be the answer. I keep thinking, if someone had told my yesterday self that I would be here today I never would’ve believed it. Hours ago he was my person, the one. And now? Now what? I was in a club kissing some random trying to get over him. Trying and pathetically failing. How can I still love him? After all of it, how is it possible?

“That guy I kissed, it just reminded me of how I don’t have him to do that with anymore and I never will,” I say, glancing at Avery.

“Do you still love him?” she asks me, some sort of morphed pain and pity bleeding through her eyes.

“Of course,” I reply with no hesitation, “I’ve always loved him, it’s always been him and I can’t stop now, I’m in too deep. But I have to make myself.”

She gently pulls my body into her arms, “this will get easier, it’s still the first night. The feelings are fresh, the wounds are new and they need time to heal.”

“I just don’t understand,” I whisper, “I love him so much my heart bleeds but he never felt it back that same kind of love… and I was stupid enough to think he did.”

“I think he did,” she murmurs, “I really do.”

“You don’t have to do that, you can be honest,” I say softly, “it’s not like it can hurt anymore.”

“I’m serious I promise,” she replies, “you don’t see it as clearly we do. When you came into Gray’s life he changed in the best possible way. I mean I’ve not known him as long as his brother but I saw it. And they definitely did. He wasn’t the same, he was in love. I know it.”

“He kissed another girl,” I laugh bitterly.

“It doesn’t mean to say he never loved you like that,” she says.

“Suppose so,” I mumble into her.

“And for the record he was an absolute idiot for doing what he did,” she replies, a flicker of anger I wasn’t used to in Avery sparking for a fraction of a second, “actually there’s a list of words I would use that are way worse than idiot but we’ll keep it PG tonight.”

I crack a weak smile.

She softens her tone, “But seriously sweetie he’s losing the best thing he’s ever had in his life.”

“But Avery,” I say, my voice shaking, “I’m not sure I want to be lost.”

She hugs me tighter. There are no words that can fix my state we’ve both silently agreed, so she hold me as I stare up at the stars. Some glow, some twinkle, others gleam. Then they all blur as water fills my eyes. I blink away the lousy tears. I’m not going to cry.

“Avery…” I murmur hesitantly “can I ask you something?”

“Yeah sure,” she nods.

The questions are so weighted on my chest, it’s physically hurting me, “why do you think he chose her? What did I do wrong? What does she have that I don’t?”

“Oh sweetheart,” she murmurs sympathetically, “it’s not like that.”

“Then why,” I choke, trying to keep my tears at bay, “why would he…”

I trail off, the tears I was trying to express rolling down my face. The sobs get stuck in my throat and I’m unable to make a sound. I silently shake in Avery’s grasp, my lungs aching.

“You cannot sit here and think you are the reason for this. I won’t let you,” she shakes her head, “I don’t know why he did what he did, that I can’t tell you, but I do know for sure that it wasn’t you. You have no faults, you did nothing wrong, you’re beautiful, you’re brilliant, you’re smart and brave and kind and perfect. He’s the biggest fool of them all.”

“You think?” I snivel.

“I know,” she says, wiping away my tears with a gentle hand, “now come on, let’s go back in, have one final shot and a dance and then we’ll hit the streets at midnight, do something crazy fun and stupid, no murder please, and just breathe a little you know, forgetting all of this.”

“Okay,” I nod, biting the inside of my cheek to prevent more tears from spilling over.

I am strong. I am strong. I am strong

She stands up and dusts her little dress off before hoisting me up behind. She flashes a smile my way that reminds me of Jameson for a split second. I eagerly take her hand and we re enter. The lights feel as if they’re flashing brighter than before. The fluorescence stings slightly. The familiar aroma of sweat mixed with all manner of alcoholic drinks hits us as well.

Just as we’ve reached the dance floor Avery says, “Jamie’s calling, give me a second.”

She rushes off out of the back door, probably to hear him better, leaving me alone on the dance floor. I don’t really feel much like dancing so lazily drag my feet to the bar and take another shot. The liquid burns my throat and I feel somewhat alive as I slowly swing my hips and move my arms to whatever beat is playing.

I feel dead. I don’t understand how in the space of mere minutes I can go from feeling so emotive, so distraught, so melancholy to nothingness. A wave of coldness from empty voids and bottomless pits.

I hand touches my shoulder and I jolt as the unfamiliar touch makes me jump. I look up to see a man stood there, but he’s a little fuzzy. The alcohol is getting to my head.

“You alone sweetheart?”

Sweetheart. The word cuts like a poisoned blade. Grayson calls me that.

“No,” I respond calmly, positioning my back more towards him, hoping he’ll gage my body language and kindly leave me be.

“Well you’re very pretty,” he grins, flashing white teeth I’m sure he paid a lot for.

“I’m sure my boyfriend would agree with you,” I say coolly.

“Which one’s yours then?” he asks, clearly still not catching onto the several messages I’m sending him.

I shrug, “why do you care?”

“Maybe you’re wasting your time on him,” he smiles. Something about the smile makes goosebumps rise on the surface of my skin and an icy shiver run down my spine. Something about him isn’t right and I didn’t like it.

“I highly doubt it,” I reply nonchalantly, “but thanks for the offer.”

“Come on sweetheart,” he says, making my skin crawl, “you can ditch your boyfriend for a night, I promise I’ll be better. Ask anyone in here.”

My stomach twists and something goes off in me. Like a ticking time bomb that’s finally hit zero.

“Look here mister,” I snarl, “there’s hundreds of other women in this place that would love to get into your bed, find one and do it, but leave me alone. I’m not interested and I’m taken.”

“You heard her Dex, back off,” shouts a new voice.

I look up to see another man, with a striking resemblance to the one I was talking to, behind him. Brothers, I infer silently. Dex glares at his brother and then turns back to me.

“Okay, until next time then,” he says with a wink.

He skulks away as I roll my eyes. I go to turn back to my drink when Avery comes crashing into me. I gasp audibly before I catch a glance at her. She looks pale.

“What? What’s wrong?” I ask quickly, checking over her to make sure she was physically in tact.

“We have to cut our trip short,” she tells me, regret and apology lacing her tone.

My heart thumps in my chest and a million thoughts race through my mind.

“Gigi’s missing.”

And suddenly I’m very very sober.

***

LYRA’S POV

Finding out he was with someone else made me feel sick to my stomach. I can’t explain it exactly. It’s just this horrible awful tug in the gut. I am the other woman. I shiver at the thought.

I thought everything was going to be okay, that for a change, life might be on my side. I deserve it don’t I? To be happy, to be free, to be in love. I thought wrong. I always think wrong. I am the fool of a flower that let her pretty petals be plucked by anyone who pleased until she became a stem. Until no one wanted her. The tender truth of it all burns violently all over my skin.

So I dance.

Dance is my way to escape all of this, my freedom. The music begins and my heart aches louder, screaming in my ears. The pain coursing through my limbs that delicately dust the empty air. I reach out to touch something that doesn’t exist. I relax into a deep plié letting the music seep through my throbbing soul and form the moves. I do a gentle three step turn on pointe and the pace of the music picks up.

I hurt an innocent girl, who fell under the same loving spell that Hawthorne’s are so good at casting as I did. But I didn’t know. I didn’t know. I didn’t know. How was I supposed to know? I thought he looked at me differently, I thought his gentle touch he only used for me, I thought his words were mine to cherish. But I’m just another trophy in his grand cabinet. Another meaningless prize to collect on the journey to greatness.

I developpé sauté to perfection. I am nothing to him. And now, he’s even less to me. I pirouette and pirouette and pirouette, spiralling into furious thoughts. I’m angry. How dare he turn me into someone I am not. Making me betray my own morals. As if he has that right, that power. Men always feel so entitled, so deserving of power. He couldn’t just have one girl and be happy, no he had to find another. He had to act of his greed, the fatal flaw that poisons so many men. How many more will fall into greed’s bloodied hands?

I grand jeté until my thighs burn but I keep perfect positioning. I hate the fact that I’m feeling so deeply, that my emotions are so raw and intense. It’s too much for my mind to take, I’m so overwhelmed and head is splitting, pounding, screaming. My breath picks up the more grande jetès I do. My chest is so tight, so constricted, so suppressed. It feels as if an invisible force is choking me. I come to a halt suddenly and find myself paralysed in an arabesque, unable to breathe.

The music has silenced. Nothing dare move and the world comes to a standstill. I let myself get wrapped up in feelings I shouldn’t have had. I’m an idiot. Lyra Kane doesn’t fall in love, she doesn’t trust people with herself, she doesn’t let people in. Especially not Hawthornes. Never Hawthornes. I intricately move my feet. On pointe, pivot, flat, up, on pointe, down, in, out, over, up. At some point my mind hits a blank, a white room and I just move to what feels most natural. My mind doesn’t properly register the moves. I become aware I’m performing rapid battements and sissones when I’m deep in analysis. I should’ve seen the signs sooner.

The way he stared at her while we were dancing, the look of distraction and captivation in his eyes. The guilt that flashed across his face every time he got that little bit closer to me. The minute he had to take after our lift in the room we’d been locked in with Odette. It all made sense now.

My legs extend naturally as I leap with great height across the room. It was so pathetically unfair. Everything in his life is perfect, he’s got the money, the face, the family, the support. People would kill to be in his position, quite literally. And he takes it all for granted. God, how did I think I could love someone like that?

I travel with light and airy sauté passes. Everything to a Hawthorne is a game. Including people. I was his game. And he played me. Just like he played y/n. I only wish I could talk to her, tell her I understand how she feels but I’m probably the last face in this earth she’d ever want to see.

My movements are now sharp and staccato, jagged and uneven. The opposite of what a ballerina should be. Catherine Howal wouldn’t let me forget that if she were watching me today. My old dance teacher was always strict on me, but right now I missed the sharpness of her voice and her minor corrections. She made me the dancer I am today. I push the bittersweet memory of her away and my rage over Grayson bubbles over. Even his name now disgusts me. It used to be one that I craved to say, to feel my mouth curve in the shape of each and every letter. Now it’s just a reminder of my sheer revulsion for him.

I pirouette I don’t know how many time on pointe. I’m dizzy, but not from the turns but from the idea that I let myself be so easily tempted by a pretty face. I begin a fast paced sequence of fouettés and chainés across the space, desperately trying to hold myself together. I’m poised, I’m professional is what I try to tell myself. If only I had known, I wouldn’t have. Ever. I wouldn’t have even looking into those stupid gray eyes. But he knew, he knew how to manipulate my feelings, he knew what he had the power to do. I was a marionette that obeyed every string he pulled without even knowing it. He lead me on. He had a girlfriend and he lead me on. Why did he lead me on?

God, he’s even more of a jerk than I’d given him credit for. Hawthornes never change. With this painful honest realisation my movements gradually return to more fluid and flowing motions, interspersed with slow gentle turns. It’s ruined, the moment we shared. It’s now tainted. How can I even imagine such a beautiful kiss without feeling regret? Without tasting the bitter aftertaste that coats my mouth even now? I pirouette for the final time, getting so lost with each spin I’ve lost count of how many I’ve done. It’s an everlasting void of blurry scenery and my messed up mind.

I collapse into a helpless heap on the floor, finishing the routine. There is no fight left, no anger, no pain, no momentum. Just space. The little girl in her ballet flats is long gone. The teenager locking her pointe shoes away has also disappeared. The woman who lent her heart to a Hawthorne for far too long will never return again. Every part of me is lost. I’m not sure I even know who I am anymore. All I know is that, the dancer in me is broken.

***

YOUR POV

“Any word?” I rush in, Avery close beside me.

“We need to know everything,” she says, dominance in her tone.

We had arrived back on the island practically in a flash. My head is all over the place, jumbled with attempts to remember things that could help us find Gigi. My heart dropped when I found out. We couldn’t lose out Gigi.

“Y/n!” Xander exclaims.

He looks in shock to see me, both burnt and unburnt eyebrows raised, jaw dropped. Jameson wears a similar expression and so does Nash. It’s like they’ve seen a ghost.

“Yeah?” I reply bluntly.

“You’re here,” he says, eyes bulging.

“Unless I’ve magically become a hologram in the past 2 minutes,” I say looking at my watch, “yeah I’m here.”

“Right,” he nods slowly, before turning back to his computer.

“So Gigi,” Avery says, steering us back to the present.

“We’re just about to scout for her,” Jameson explains.

“And I’m attempting to search the security footage,” Xander calls, eyed glued to the screen.

“If someone kidnapped her wouldn’t they cut it?” I ask.

“The main footage has been cut but we’re Hawthornes,” Nash flashes a very Hawthorne grin, “there’s always a back up camera where they least expect it.”

“Unfortunately for us, it’s a very blurry back up camera,” Jameson grimaces.

“Oh,” Avery sighs.

“With horrible sound,” Nash adds.

“Fantastic,” I smile sarcastically, walking behind Xander to look at the screen.

They are right. The screen is black and white and pretty much the blurriest thing I’d ever seen. Our situation is looking quite dismal.

“I’m putting better back up security on my to do list,” Avery murmurs.

“I’ll second that,” Jameson says, kissing her cheek.

“We have to find her,” she says, leaning into him, “Jamie we have to.”

“I know heiress, we’re going to, don’t worry,” he soothes, giving her that look. The look that only men in love can master.

My heart feels sore and I turn. Then I realise why. The room suddenly feels so empty, so hollow. And I feel alone despite being surrounded by people. He’s not here. My head had been so caught up on my millions of thoughts that I hadn’t registered it.

“Where’s Grayson?” I ask out of the blue.

The whole room stands still. Everyone is frozen by a force I didn’t know existed until this moment. No one dare move, let alone breathe. A sickening chill rolls down my spine and I fear the worst.

“He’s outside,” Jameson finally says.

“He won’t move,” Nash adds quietly, looking down at the floor.

Xander sighs, “and we had to take the whiskey away from him.”

“You left him alone!” I yell, not meaning to sound so attacking.

“We didn’t know what else to do, he isn’t exactly a joy to be around right now and we need to find Gigi,” Jameson reasons.

“We thought it’d be best to focus on that, the sooner we get Gigi found, the sooner he’ll marginally snap out of dark era,” Nash explains further.

“I’m going to talk to him,” I reply, my tone sharp and definite. No one was going to tell me no.

Eyes snap up at me. All four pairs. I can read all of their emotions so clearly it’s painful. Elements of confusion, shock and pity wash over me, but I push it all to the side. What they thought didn’t matter.

“Y/n, you don’t have to do that…” Jameson trails off.

“No,” I tell him softly, “I do.”

He opens his mouth to argue.

“I can help him, you know that and so do I,” I say before he can get a word out, “so that’s what I’m going to do.”

***

He’s sat on the rocks, looking over the choppy water. The wind whips the hair across my face and back again. My cheeks grow rosy with the cold. He hurt me, but he’s hurting. I can’t let him hurt alone. As pathetic as it may be I physically can’t. Slowly I approach from behind. I know he can hear me but he doesn’t turn, he doesn’t even move a muscle. He just sits and stares.

I cautiously sit beside him, my legs hanging over the edge. The reflection of death’s face snickers at me in the water. Still, Grayson does not move. He remains a stationary block, robotic almost. I look towards at him and analyse his features. He’s sober. But oh lord is he broken. I turn away, any longer and I might’ve done something stupid.

“Are you okay?” I murmur, looking out to the moon kissed water miniature waves bobbing up and down.

“You’re asking me?” he almost scoffs. I can tell he’s been sobbing, his tone is thick and swollen with grief. It stings my soul, like antiseptic to a fresh wound.

“Why shouldn’t I?” I reply quietly.

“Because I hurt you,” he says, his voice barely a whisper.

“Just because someone hurts you doesn’t mean you have to hurt them too,” I respond, finally turning to look at him.

To my surprise his eyes are ready for me, already locked onto my every move. They meet and something washes over me, something that probably shouldn’t.

“How are you so kind?” he asks, something tender in his voice. It makes my soul squeeze.

“People need to be nicer to each other in this world,” I shrug in response.

“They do,” he says quietly, playing with his fingers.

“So,” I exhale, “are you okay?”

I already know the answer. He’s not. He’s filled with guilt and sorrow and hatred and anger and upset and conflict. He’s the furthest from okay you can get.

“Not really,” he breathes, “are you okay?”

“Not really,” I grin.

A ghost of a smile haunts his features. Who gave him the right to look so beautiful?

“Gigi will be okay,” I tell him confidently.

He shakes his head as pain constricts his features, “ we don’t know that.”

“She’s stronger than you think she is,” I reply quickly.

“She’s just a kid,” he growls.

“No, she’s not Gray,” I snapped fiercely, “she’s bold and she’s brave and she can handle herself, but we will find her, we won’t stop until we do.”

He stares at me. Eyes fixated, like I’m worthy of being looked at. My heart rate picks up and that’s when I realise that this is all wrong. I can’t be the idiot that lets him back in, I won’t be.

“What?” I ask.

He says nothing but his silver eyes still remained glued to mine.

“What is it Grayson?” I whispered, the wind barely carrying my words.

“I still love you.”

The words hit me like a tonne of bricks. I can’t respond. All the air is knocked out of me. His hand is in my chest and wrapped around my heart. He’s squeezed it between his fingertips and licked my blood greedily from his fingers. He stills loves me. And I know I still love him too, but I can’t say that. I won’t.

“How can I trust you?” I scoff, letting my rage take hold. It’s better than my love.

“I don’t know,” he murmurs softly. Did his voice have to be so soft?

“Fool me once, shame on you,” I state, “fool me twice, shame on me.”

“I’m sorry,” he tells me. I can hear he means it, I can see he means it but I can’t believe it. He was too good of a liar before, too talented of an actor. I can’t afford to fall for it again.

“Sorry isn’t good enough,” I press on.

“I know…” he trails off, voice hoarse, “but I don’t know what other words to say.”

“Then don’t say anything,” I snap, shooting him a fiery look.

“But I love you,” Grayson says, too much emotion decorating his tone.

“If you loved me you wouldn’t have kissed her,” I say, throwing it all back in his face. He needed to face the truth and so did I.

“I don’t expect you to forgive me, I don’t expect you to love me too, but I need you to know and hear it from my lips that I love you,” he confesses, his eyes not wavering for a second, pinning me down with their addictive nature. It feels like my hands are tied. I’m a prisoner to those eyes. I always have been.

“I’ve heard it from your lips a thousand times before today and you still did what you did,” I spit back, the words rolling from my tongue before I gave them permission to.

He falters, there’s no words left to say.

“I want you to be happy, that’s all I care about,” I tell him, my tone still slightly jagged, “so drop the guilt, I forgive you. But things can’t go back to how they were, not after this.”

They are all lies. Every single sentence. I’m avoiding the truth beating so loudly in my chest. I’m ignoring its petulant screaming. I’m such a hypocrite. I loathe him for his lies and then I return them with my own tongue.

“How can I drop the guilt when it’s all I know now?” he murmurs.

“You’ll find a way, you’re stronger than you think Grayson. You doubt yourself too often,” I sigh.

He doesn’t say anything for a while, but runs a hand through his hair, then over his face. After one too many best of silence he turns to me one final time.

“Why are you so good?” he asks me.

“It’s not a question of good or bad it’s a question of what’s right,” I say impatiently, “I’m not going to just sit here and let you wallow because that’s not you Grayson and you know it.”

“You’re an angel,” he murmurs, almost in a daze.

But you chose the dancer. The words are on the tip of my tongue but I don’t say them.

“No time for flattery, we’re wasting time,” I sigh, “let’s go and find Gigi.”

***

GRAYSON’S POV

We search for four hours straight until all of us are too exhausted to speak. We need to sleep, though we’re all too stubborn to admit it. As a collective we decide half of us are to get some rest whilst the other half stay up two more hours, then we’ll switch. I take the first shift, searching with Jameson. Xander is still inside still attempting decipher the body on the mini security camera or placement of Gigi’s phone and everyone else has gone to sleep.

Jameson and I are on the edge of the island, calling for Gigi with raw throats and pounding heads. I can’t believe I’d lost her. I was meant to protect her, look after her. Things like this weren’t supposed to happen when I was around. I’ve failed as a brother.

“What did she say to you?” Jameson asks snapping me out of my thoughts.

I look up. I knew exactly who ‘she’ was.

“Who?” I reply plainly.

“Don’t play dumb,” he rolls his eyes at me.

Sometimes it was annoying how well my brothers knew me.

“She asked me if I was okay, comforted me about Gigi and helped me pull myself together.” I pause, “she told me that wallowing isn’t what I do.”

“Are you sure she knows you properly?” Jameson raises an eyebrow with a smirk.

I try to crack a smile but can’t.

“I told her I still loved her,” I blurt out.

I don’t know why I say it, the words just come out. Jameson has that effect on me. Lying to him has always been difficult, I feel so transparent in his presence. And I know he’ll be honest, he won’t sugarcoat what he really thinks. Maybe that’s why it’s easier.

His eyes grow to the size of saucepans, “what?”

“I told her I st-“

“I know what you said Gray but are you crazy?” he asks me, looking semi-genuinely concerned.

“I don’t know,” I shrug, “maybe.”

“That was selfish,” he seethes, eyes blazing with fury. Similar to how they looked earlier.

“Selfish?” I furrow my brows, “she deserves to know!”

“No, you needed to get it off of your chest in a last ditch attempt to get her back,” he snaps.

I’m not fighting the truth this time. He’s hit the nail on the head. My silence unfortunately speaks volumes and my brother understands.

“So…” he exhales, “what did she say?”

“If I loved her I wouldn’t have kissed Lyra,” I say, her words rubbing through my head again.

“She’s right,” he sighs.

“She always is,” I say, my voice catching slightly.

“I don’t think she’s okay,” Jameson murmurs, “I don’t think Avery does either.”

“It’s all my fault,” I groan, closing my eyes.

I wish I could be taken out of her life, erased forever just so she could be happy. I deserve to hurt, not her. Never her.

“She shouldn’t love me,” I say, the words becoming more real when I say them out loud.

“No one decides who they love, it just happens,” he shrugs at me.

I open my mouth to reply but a familiar ringing cuts me off. My phone vibrates in my pocket. I presume it’s Xander for some sort of update so I answer the way I always do.

“It’s Grayson,” I say sharply.

I hear Jameson mutter something about how weird it was that I answered like that but I choose to kindly ignore him.

“I know,” the voice sings from the other side.

All the oxygen is robbed from my lungs and I struggle to breathe. Every muscle ceases to move and I become a picture frozen in time. It couldn’t be, she wouldn’t call me, it shouldn’t happen.

“Y/n?”

Her name feels foreign to my tongue in that moment, despite the thousands of times I’d uttered it. Jameson gapes.

“Grayson Davenport Hawthorne actually,” she corrects me, her speech a little slurred, “one s, one v and one h.”

“Are you drunk?” I ask bluntly.

“Noooo silly,” she laughs, “I don’t get drunk I’m always fine, perfect actually. That’s what you used to call me, perfect!”

My heart shatters, “you are perfect.”

She giggles, the sound so light and airy and beautiful I want to lock it away and play it on repeat to myself all the time.

“Where are you?” I question.

There’s a few beats of silence before, “I don’t know.”

“You don’t know?” I say, suddenly alarmed. Protection surges through me and all I want to do is run to wherever she is and scoop her up into my arms.

“I’m in a room,” she explains, soundly dazed, out of it.

“Your room?” I prompt her.

“Maybe,” she muses, “there’s all my stuff here but this burning liquid I’m drinking is not mine. It’s kind of hurting my throat.”

“Stay right where you are,” I snap, “I’m going to get someone to come and help you.”

I want the someone to be me. Why can’t the someone be me?

“Help? I don’t need help! I’m fine, always fine. I’m never not fine,” she laughs. I can imagine her tipping her head back with a hand on her stomach.

“I know lo-“ I catch myself again, almost saying love, “I know, but don’t you want a friend to talk to you right now?”

“Yeahhh I do,” she agrees, her words all mushing together into one.

“Good, someone will be right over-“

“Gray can you come?” she murmurs.

I stop. She sounds too vulnerable, too helpless for me to ignore. Her voice is small and cautious. It makes me want to weep.

“Where?” I ask.

“Here…” she trails off, “…with me.”

“Okay,” I blurt out before actually thinking about what I was saying.

“Then bye bye pumpkin pie,” she giggles, “oh my gosh I just rhymed!!”

“Yes you did,” I chuckle, the smile stretched out in my face physically agonising me. She could always make me smile.

I made her cry.

“Are you coming then?” she makes sure, with that soft defenceless voice again.

“On my way now,” I reply, almost as if it’s a reflex.

“Oh good,” she says and I can hear the smile in her voice. With that she hangs up. I shove my phone back in my pocket and meet my brother’s eye.

“She’s drunk,” I explain slowly.

“I heard,” he nods.

“I’m worried she’s going to do something stupid,” I admit with a sigh.

“Go and help her, I’ll carry on looking for Gigi,” Jameson says, as if it’s that simple.

“No I can’t do that,” I shake my head.

“Why not?” he furrows his brows.

“She hates me,” I say quickly, “you go.”

“She asked for you,” he points out, “and I think she’ll notice if I turn up.”

“Maybe she won’t,” I suggest.

“She can’t be that drunk,” he rolls his eyes, then sighs, “look Gray, this might be the last time she ever asks you for help, so go and help her, look after her, then leave.”

“This won’t end well,” I tell him. I can feel it in my chest and in my stomach. If I go there, I’ll lose myself and she won’t be in the right mind to stop me.

“Then don’t go,” he says with a shrug.

I groan, “but she needs someone.”

“You’re arguing with yourself Gray,” Jameson says. And he’s right. The only person who’s stopping me is me. I just don’t want to do the wrong thing.

“It my fault she’s in this situation,” I reply, “it’s my fault she’s on her own, drunk and at risk of doing something stupid.”

“All the more reason for you to go and fix it,” he says.

I stand in silence. That consolidates my answer. To myself and to him.

“Let me know if you get any word of Gigi, I’ll be back soon,” I say, sharply adjusting my suit jacket.

“Bye,” he salutes.

***

I’m quick to make my way to her, the worry sort of takes over and my instinctual protection kicks in. When I get there the door is unlocked, my first indication to how drunk she really is.

“Grayson is that you?” I hear her murmur.

Her voice is vulnerable but the sweet notes are all the same. If I were to hear any voice for the rest of my life I’d want it to be hers. I’d never tire of listening to it. I walk further in the room I see her, the moonlight streaming through the window is the only thing illuminating her figure. Her face is red and there are prominent dark circles underneath her eyes. She looks pale and hollow and there’s something not quite right about her eyes, their usual sparkle dimmed. A catch a glimpse of a glass half empty in her hand.

“How much have you had?” I ask her, cocking my head towards the glass.

“Not that much,” she grins lazily, stumbling over herself in an attempt to make her way towards me.

“You need to get to bed,” I say softly.

All I want to do is scoop her up into my arms and hold her close to my chest, taking in her sweet shampoo. I want to keep her safe, protect her forever but I couldn’t. I wouldn’t let myself. I make a silent promise that I won’t get too close, I won’t touch her because I know once I do I’ll fall in too deep.

“But I’m not even sleepy,” she pouts.

She doesn’t know what she’s doing to me. Those lips are killing me softly.

“Come on,” I murmur gently, gesturing to the bed.

“Nu-uh,” she shakes her head, “you’re going to have to carry me.”

I sigh and weigh up my options before lifting her up into my arms, knowing I shouldn’t be doing this. But I can’t just leave her. She squeals and giggles. An essence of sunshine shining back through the empty void I’d entered.

“Do you feel okay?” I ask her, lowering her down onto the mattress.

“Me? I’m fine!” she smiles, that beautiful smile, “are you okay?”

She tilts her head to the side and a chunk of hair falls over her face.

“I’m fine,” I say, moving it out of the way. It surrounds her like a halo.

“Oh well I know that’s a lie,” she laughs, “I’ve always known that about you though, you’re hurting. On the inside.”

“I am hurting,” I say, caressing her cheek, “but you’re hurting more.”

“I’m not hurting, I’m in the numbing process,” she explains with great enthusiasm.

“Hence the alcohol?” I raise an eyebrow.

“I call it happy juice,” she grins.

“Well no more happy juice tonight,” I explain to her.

“Why not?” she pouts, “it makes me happy.”

“It also destroys your liver,” I say, taking the glass away from her and putting it on the other side of the room.

“Come sit,” she murmurs, patting the bed beside her, “please.”

“I don’t think I should,” I reply. I have to stay strong, I can’t listen to my heart, my brain must have superiority.

“But I want you to,” she whispers.

My brain switches off. I sit beside her and as soon as I’m on the bed, her head falls into my lap, quite literally. It flops down as if she can’t hold it up any longer.

“Can you do that thing, where you massage my head and be all gentle with my hair, I love it when you do that,” she asks me.

When we were together I used to do it all the time subconsciously. If we were watching the television or cuddling. I never realised she loved it so much.

“I’m not sure you want me to,” I say hesitantly. This isn’t fair on her. She’s not in her right mind, she can’t make a decision properly.

“Of course I do!” she exclaims, “that’s why I asked you silly!”

“It’s not a good idea,” I murmur, only saying this because it is right not because it is true, “us being this close.”

“I disagree,” she says cheerily.

“You won’t like it when you sober up,” I warn her. Deep down I know she can’t even comprehend this, I know her mind if fogged over by alcohol and she doesn’t know what she’s really doing. But it doesn’t make me leave.

“I am sober-ish,” she says, “that’s good enough.”

“You are anything but sober,” I chuckle shaking my head.

“Head massage please,” she says, readjusting her head in my lap.

Slowly I comb the hair out of her face and eyes. My fingertips slide gently through her silky hair. The silence is torturing. Seconds morph into minutes until if feels like it’s been hours. I’m being strangled by no sound, suffocated by a blanket of blankness. To distract myself I weave my hands in and out in a rhythmic pattern.

“Why did you choose her?” a small voice asks making me jump. We’d been sat in silence for so long I’d forgotten that we could speak. My hands stop moving suddenly as I register the question.

“What?”

“Is it because she was prettier? Better personality? Funnier? Nicer? Happier?” she lists.

“I didn’t choose her,” I shake my head in defiance.

“But you kissed her,” she says, yet again. The words sting every time they come out of her mouth.

“That was a mistake,” I explain resting my heavy head back until it hit the headboard.

“So were all of our kisses a mistake too?” she asks, rolling onto her back so her eyes are gazing up into mine.

“None of them were,” I murmur in reply, the colour of them so mesmerising it was distracting.

“Then I don’t understand,” her eyebrows pinch together in confusion.

“You don’t need to,” I whisper running my fingertip over her knuckles.

She sighs and sadness ripples over her face. I hate seeing her with that expression on her face. It rips me apart.

“My chest hurts,” she moans softly.

“Where?” I ask urgently, running through every illness and condition that could possibly cause chest pains.

“Here,” she says pointing to her heart, “you broke it.”

My eyes grow glossy even though I didn’t ask them to. She lets me take my hand and place it on top of hers to feel the steady beat in her chest.

“I didn’t mean to,” I barely choke out.

“But you did and it can’t be mended, pain like this there aren’t any pills for,” she tells me.

“I’m sorry.”

“You said that before,” she smiles sadly.

“It’s true,” I whisper.

“Can you fix me?” she says quietly, “because I can’t fix me.”

My heart shatters into a million pieces, fragmenting into shards of pulsating muscle.

“Of course you can fix you,” I tell her.

“No I can’t,” she says, beginning to tear up, “look at me, this is the real me and she’s ugly.”

“This isn’t the real you and she is most certainly not ugly,” I assure her.

She giggles with tears rolling down her rosy cheeks. Beautiful even in tears.

“What?” I ask her.

“You use big words like ‘certainly’, it makes you sound very posh,” she chuckles to herself.

“I’m not that posh,” I reply.

She scoffs, “have you seen your house?!”

“Maybe I’m a bit posh then.”

“You know how ealierrr,” she slurs, “how you and me were talkingggg.”

“You might not want to continue that sentence lo-“ I stop myself from saying love. She’s not my love. She’s not mine to love.

“No,” she shakes her head, “no I do want to carry on actually…” she giggles bringing ther fingertip to my nose, “boop!”

“Okay,” I say softly, taking her hand into mine, away from my nose or any other poke-able part of my face.

“You said you still love me,” she says.

The beating in my chest begins to slow, as does my breathing, “I did.”

“And I still love you too.”

I can’t speak.

“But I can’t say it out loud, because then I’m an idiot for loving someone who cut me deeper than any weapon could ever cut me. And I tried to drink it all away, believe me I tried, but then halfway through my fifth glass I kind of realised it wasn’t working. And then I realised why. It’s because I still fucking love you, how depressing is that? You murdered my heart and yet it can’t stop beating your name. I mean it’s so on brand for me because my whole life people have told me that I always love the wrong too hard, that I get in too deep to come back out of and I’m just proving them all right,” she laughs and sobs at the same time, “I’m so stupid, so horribly ironically stupid.”

“You’re not stupid,” I snap.

“You’re only saying that because you still love me,” she groans, rolling her eyes.

“I would say it regardless, any competent person can see that,” I say.

“But you still love me?” she murmurs, her for eyes forcing the truth from my lips.

“I still love you,” I say.

I knew something stupid like this would happen but I’m not stopping it now.

“How? How can you still love me when you love her?” she asks, agony in her tone.

“I don’t,” I tell her sharply,

She furrows her brows, “you don’t love Lyra?”

“No,” I shakes my head.

“But you kissed her,” she says, tracing a fingertip across my bottom lips.

I shy away from her tentative touch, “I did but that was the worst mistake of my life.”

“Why?” she laughs.

“Because I’m losing you because of it,” I admit. She won’t remember tomorrow morning, she won’t remember what she said or why she said it. This moment will be lost in time and I’ll be the only one left to remember it.

“You’re just losing the outside me, I have a feeling I’ll always love you,” she replies.

“You don’t know what you’re saying,” I shake my head, “you’re drunk, you need to sleep.”

I need to stop this. I’m being selfish again. She’s pouring her heart out to me because she can’t control her mouth. It’s not fair and I won’t let her do it anymore.

“No I do know what I’m saying,” she insist, sitting up, “you don’t understand what you do to me and I wish I wasn’t so in love with you because maybe I’d be able to walk away more easily but I can’t, because this love isn’t just love. It’s something more for me.”

I’m in shock. A physical state of shock. It was more to me too…. I know I must go quickly before this escalates. It’s already gone far too far. Enough is enough.

“Look sweeth-“ I stop myself, “y/n, I need to leave.”

I stand up quickly and attempt to make a b-line for the door.

“No!” she yelled, yanking be back down. Her fingers clawing at my arm, like a scared animal, “please Gray, stay with me.”

“I can’t,” I shake my head, my face pinching in pain.

“You have to,” she begs, tugging at my arm.

I sigh, “you’ll be mad at me tomorrow if I stay tonight.”

“No I won’t silly,” she says, “please I need someone to cuddle.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” I tell her. As much as I want her in my arms again, to feel her skin against mind and listen to her sweet breathing as she sleeps I can’t. I can’t do it to her, I won’t.

“Well I do,” she says, pushing me down firmly.

Slowly she crawls onto me and curls up against my chest. If the last twelve hours had never happened this would be totally normal and completely natural. Instead I carrying the heaviest stone of guilt I’ve ever lifted. I can’t leave her, but I can’t stay either.

“You won’t like this in the morning,” I tell her, hoping she might find to her senses.

“Well I like it now,” she yawns, cozying further into me.

“That’s because you’re drunk,” I explain, resting my cheek on top of her head. I smell her sweet shampoo and deja vu washes over me like a tidal wave. I’m swept under

“Grayson?” she whispers gently.

“Yes?”

“Promise you’ll just stay for tonight, then you can leave me for the dancer again tomorrow,” she says.

The bones in my chest ache and the pump that supplies me with blood crushed between fate’s cruel fingers.

“I’m not leaving you angel,” I tell her firmly, “not ever again.”

“I love you,” she mumbles, the words muffling against my chest.

“I love you too,” I whisper, planting a kiss onto the top of her head.

***

heyyyy guysss. so you’ve probably noticed this is the first fic I’ve posted in a bit of a while. It’s bc of exams and stuff and also this fic was so long. I got a little bit carried away mid way through but oh well… I hope you guys enjoyeddd 💖💖

am I dancer? Yes. The last time I did ballet? when I was about nine years old…. so apologies to any actual ballet dancers who are reading lyra’s routine and are thinking what in the world…

ANYWAYS I love love loved writing this and I know different POVs sometimes are a bit controversial but I felt like it was necessary here and thanks for readinggg 🤍🤍

also no one asked but I’m going tell you guys anyway, Lyra’s dance is based off of a song called girl with one eye by florence and the machine (omg it’s such a good song)

I wonder if any of you worked out my little clue 🤭🤭

hint: weiv fo tniop s’aryl

TIG masterlist

[redflagshipwriter]

Hot Ghouls Chapter 12 part 1/2

Masterpost

Call me when you’re free!!!!!!

“Geeze,” Danny muttered. “Calm down, Jazz.” Still, he did what she said. He hefted up his backpack, waved goodbye to his shift relief, and dialed her up as he jogged down the library stairs.

“I’ve found two solutions!”

Danny winced at how cheerful his sister’s voice was. “Great!” He tried to match her enthusiasm, despite feeling like something that had been peeled off the sidewalk. He’d ended up working the morning shift on Saturday anyways. “Should I come over?”

“No.” Jazz sounded a little shifty. “I think it’s best if you don’t come over right now.”

“I’m not nuts!” her roommate was faintly audible, as was some kind of repetitive thwap. “We are getting this place fumigated and cleansed and exorcised-

Jazz must have power walked away from poor Tiffany. Her voice faded out. “Ahem.”

Danny pressed his lips together tightly and tried not to laugh. There was a brief space in the conversation where he probably should have said ‘I’m sorry that I made her think your place was haunted.’ But honestly? In a very literal sense, it had been haunted?

“Danny,” Jazz said, in her quiet scary voice, “shut up.”

He shut up even harder than he’d been shutting up before.

She continued in one of her determined tones that meant there was no point in arguing unless it was a hill he was willing to die on. “I am not going to stay in your place because it’s small and scary.”

‘You’re scarier,’ Danny thought mutinously. ‘You’re scarier than anything in my apartment.’

Aloud, he said something else. “Then where?” He did his best to communicate, dummy, via his tone. “I don’t think this is a coffee shop conversation.”

More importantly, he didn’t really have much coffee shop budget. Jazz didn’t have that much either. They were both on scholarships and part time jobs.

“Of course not,” Jazz said practically. “The main Gotham public library is a mid-point and you can rent out a room there for hour blocks. I’ll reserve it online on the way there. I’m halfway to the train station now. What’s your ETA- you just left campus, right?”

Danny looked down at his foot incredulously as he stepped off the final cement stair onto the sidewalk. How did she know that? He looked around dumbly for a know-it-all sister spy plane or something.

“I’ll get a media room from 3-4 pm, that gives you time to stop and get us drinks and snacks. I’ll pay you back, budget of 10 dollars. That sound okay?”

“Fine.” Danny sighed heavily. “Yeah, I can get to that area pretty fast.” He hung up and resigned himself to pushing through foot traffic. He was a lot closer than Jazz was at the moment. He put his head down and ignored the masses of humanity for a little more than 20 minutes of walking. The high lifted roof of the city's main library came into view over the surrounding buildings.

There was a grocery store pretty close by. Danny detoured there and got wrapped sandwiches, chips, and coffees. He hid them all in his backpack just in case the library had a no-food policy.

Then he checked his phone. Jazz had sent him a text telling him the floor and room number in the library. He also had seven missed calls from his parents. That initially freaked him out until he noticed that Dad had sent him a link to an update on the family blog with a string of ghost and wink emojis.

Yeah ok. It wasn't going to be important in the slightest. He ignored his parents.

He jogged the rest of the way to the library and then up the ramp. Danny slipped in the doors and enjoyed the rush of air conditioning. He nodded to the librarian visible from the door and then took the main stairs at an easy pace up to the fourth floor. The rented media room was a straight shot to the back. His sister was waiting to pounce when he opened the door.

“Get back, beast,” Danny said, alarmed. He held his backpack out like it would ward her away.

“Open it!” Jazz demanded.

Holy cow. Uh. He scrambled to unzip it and hold out the plastic shopping bag in offering.

“Gimme gimme, thank you,” Jazz sang and she snatched the snacks from his hands. Danny blew on his fingers pointedly as if her speed burnt his fingertips. She ignored him and unwrapped the ham and cheese at lightning speed.

Oof. Danny kept his fingers a little closer so they didn't get bitten off and side-eyed his big sister as she all but inhaled the sandwich. He popped open the chips bag and ate a couple, feeling a bit freaked out by how ravenous she was. He opened his mouth to comment and then thought better of it.

“Are those for both of us?” Jazz swallowed her sandwich and pointed at the chip bag.

Danny held his hands up and let her take it away. “Geeze,” he said, quietly. He took his own sandwich out from the bag that Jazz had abandoned and ate it at a more normal speed. By the time he'd finished Jazz was content with the chips. He cautiously reached out and fished the bag back towards him. A glance inside showed that she'd left about half.

“So!” Jazz clapped her hands like she had pretensions of being a preschool teacher.

“That body language making you friends at Arkham?” Danny jabbed. He popped a chip in his mouth and crunched down.

Jass casually flipped him off. “Yes, actually,” she said primly. “Dr. Quinn was very complimentary-”

“Before she broke out?” Danny said dryly around a mouthful of chips.

“-and I have formed meaningful clinical bonds with many other patients. But I digress.” She gave him a version of her smug face. She, as always, looked like that meme of the knife cat. “I have two solutions for you.”

[oweninadaydream]

𝐬𝐚𝐲 𝐝𝐨𝐧'𝐭 𝐠𝐨 𝐩𝐭 𝟏 || 𝐅.𝐎𝐝𝐚𝐢𝐫

𝓼𝓾𝓶𝓶𝓪𝓻𝔂 : Say Don't Go (Taylor's version) (From The Vault) or 4 times you say 'I love you' and Finnick says nothing back.

𝓹𝓪𝓲𝓻𝓲𝓷𝓰 : Finnick Odair x reader

𝔀𝓸𝓻𝓭 𝓬𝓸𝓾𝓷𝓽 : 2K

𝓬𝓸𝓷𝓽𝓪𝓲𝓷𝓼 : angst/fluffy ending (in part 2), (not really) unrequited love?, insecure reader, jealousy, TW: sexual exploitation (second story).

𝓪/𝓷 : This is my first time writing for Finnick and I'm so exited for you guys to read it!!! Hope you enjoy this fic :) Part two is already posted!!! You can find it here. If there are any mistakes I'm sorry , English is not my first language.

𝟣. 𝒟𝓇𝑒𝒶𝓂 𝒶 𝓁𝒾𝓉𝓉𝓁𝑒 𝒹𝓇𝑒𝒶𝓂 𝑜𝒻 𝓂𝑒 

The quietness of the night was only being disturbed by the sound of crickets and mockingbirds. The cold breeze was the only thing keeping you awake. Well, that and Finnick. You were seated next to him on the porch of your house which was right next to his. Three years had passed since you won the 67th Hunger Games and you still weren't used to the gloomy sight that was Victors Village, especially not at night, when the solitude and darkness of the streets made you remember things you thought (or hoped) were long gone in your memory but that deep down you knew would always haunt you, until the day you died.

Finnick scooted closer in order to share his blanket with you "Stop being so prideful, I can see you shaking" he scolded you for being so stubborn. " I did it on purpose, I just wanted to make you cuddle me" you joked, as it was normal in your friendship.

He had been your mentor the year you were reaped , you got along well but didn't become that close then. You knew that those were his second games as a mentor and you could feel that he wasn't emotionally prepared to bond with you just to see you die days later. Still, he prepared you the best way he knew and was always kind towards you. After you emerged victorious from that nightmare, the Capitol decided to profit off of your charm ; you were too young, scared and lost, just like Finnick once had been (and still was). That's when he took you under his wing , and you would forever feel grateful for that.

He was your rock, your light within the dark, your safe person and he saw you as his happy place, someone he could rely on, his partner in crime and the person with whom he shared his deepest thoughts, his dreams, his nightmares and hopes for an utopian future. Finding each other seemed something simply destined to be. You needed each other in ways that no one else could wrap their head around.

Despite having that special and heartwarming relationship with him, you wanted more. You were utterly and madly in love with him. Your infatuation had begun during training and only grew stronger after he approached you after the games. The thing between you was so fragile, so special that you had never thought of confessing your love. The possibility of driving him away caused your heart a kind of ache worse than any stab received back in the Arena. Your feelings felt selfish, how could you want more? Your greedy passion would ruin everything (or so you thought), so you settled for what you had.

On the inside, you knew he wasn't the kind of man that would dismiss your feelings rudely and that he would continue to consider you his friend , but it just wouldn't be the same, and seeing your dynamic change in such a way would be a more fatal fate than dying at the games.

" The way they're shining, how beautiful" he quietly mumbled loud enough for you to hear. "I know, the stars look unreal tonight" you agreed while staring completely mesmerized to the night sky. "I was looking at your eyes" you turned to see that he wasn't in fact stargazing like you were. You were out of words. He was usually flirty and he never ran out of lovely words to dedicate to you, but you still reacted as if it were the first time. "Charming as always, dear" you replied as you rested your head on his chest. He moved so you could be more comfortable and you wanted to stop time at that exact moment.

" Thank you for always being there for me" he said in a more serious tone. " You know that I'd do anything for you. Are you okay? Where is this coming from?" you asked with a worried frown adorning your face. "These past few days apart have been rough and it made me appreciate you more" he confessed timidly. How privileged were you to be able to see him in his most vulnerable state. The moon, his hands holding yours, the heat you felt on your face, it was simply too much.

"FINNICK!" a blood-curdling scream came on the scene, startling you both. He quickly stood, as he had already identified the person behind such a yell. "ANNIE?!?!? WHAT'S WRONG?!?!?"

Annie was the victor of the last Hunger Games. She had been mentored by Finnick just like you, but unlike with you, Finnick had rapidly grown fond of her ever since they first met. You knew you shouldn't have thought too much of it, but your mind was your worst enemy. You couldn't stop yourself from imagining a very near future where he chose her over you , leaving you behind and all alone in this world. You liked her : she was kind, delicate but strong and very beautiful, but for those very same reasons you were becoming jealous of her and her chances of getting together with your best friend.

Annie appeared in front of your porch wrapped in a blanket and trembling while sobbing. " They're gonna get me" "Hey hey Annie c'mon, no one's gonna hurt you anymore, you know I'll make sure of it" How caring was Finnick, it was just natural for him to become the protector in every situation. "O-okay" Annie said with little confidence in her voice "Would you stay with me tonight? I had a really bad nightmare" her doe eyes had the reflection of the full moon in them ; it truly was a breath-stealing sight "Sure thing darling, I'll be there in a second, wait for me at home, all right? It's okay " his soothing voiced and calmed her down enough to return to her house by herself.

He turned around to look at you "I'm sorry, I have to go" "I know, Finnick, it's okay" you assured him, even though you were shocked by the term of endearment used for her, as it took Finnick quite a while to refer to you as sweetheart, honey or your favorite, love.

What was wrong with you? That poor girl had just got out of the games and was terrified out of her mind after dreaming about a traumatic experience she had recently been through (just like you did in you day) and the only thing you could think about was how jealous you were because she was being comforted by Finnick in such an intimate and caring way, because she had his full attention and she would be the one lured to sleep by his calloused hands running through her hair that night. You were not thinking logically and you lost control of your actions.

"Hey" you shouted to catch his attention, as he had already begun to leave towards Annie's house "I love you Finn, I just wanted you to know" you confessed as your froze in place . You told each other how much you loved each other all the time, but it had never been like this : not under that light, not with all that sentiment in your eyes and definitely not with such a voice tone. It was clearly a confession and you could't believe what you had just done.

He stared and smiled, transmitting you his appreciation for such kind words and he continued the way to his destination. Oh fuck. Fuck Fuck Fuck. He hadn't interpreted your words as you spilling your guts about your feelings, it was just a friendly 'I love you' to him. Annie was perfect for him, you could never give him that sweet innocent love you believed Finnick deserved. The anxiety quickly transformed into anguish and you went back inside to prepare yourself for a night full of tears and stupid hypothetical scenarios about them. About him.

𝟤. 𝐼𝓃 𝒶𝓃𝑜𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓇 𝓁𝒾𝒻𝑒

Looking around the enormous gardens you couldn't spot a single person you genuinely cared about. This Capitol party, as the previous ones, were filled with members of high society that gazed at you and the rest of victors as if you were exotic wild animals.

Reaching your secret hiding spot, you felt yourself letting your guard down. Even if distracted, you noticed the warm hand on your shoulder. You spun on your heels to identify the person behind that unexpected and yet comforting touch. Of course, Finnick Odair. Your confident, your best friend, your protector and the love of your life (role that's he's unaware of). "Shit Finnick, don't do that!" you playfully reprimanded him while smacking his chest. He pretended to be hurting but ended up laughing at your little tantrum.

"Wow, Cinna has outdone himself, you look charming my dear" he said as he gently took your hand to make you spin and admire the fine clothes you were dressed in that evening. Based on the pink blush that adorned his cheeks you quickly arrived to the conclusion that he was far from being sober and you didn't blame him, these events were unbearable if not intoxicated. "You're not bad yourself, Odair" .

The two of you danced, talked, drank more than you'd be able to remember the next day and flirted, a lot. Your heart couldn't take one more touch nor one more compliment from this man . "There's something you're not telling me, I can see it in your pretty face" he commented while hugging you from behind. He'd always known everything about you, so that remark was not surprising. Still, your heart started beating at an alarming speed and you felt the sweat coming out from your shaky hands.

What if you told him? Based on the spark in his eyes during the party you could only assume he was at least interested in you as more than a friend. You were intoxicated and wrapped between his arms, what if you just told him? "I... I love... you..." you mumbled while closing your eyes as if that would make you invisible to him. The deafening silence brought out your worst fear : rejection. No, no, no, this couldn't be happening. You've fucked up real bad this time. You turned around to face him and get this done as fast as possible.

That's when you realized : he hadn't heard you confessing your most cherished secret. You had an opportunity to go back in time, to act as if nothing had happened. You couldn't risk losing him. You locked eyes with him and Finnick tilted his head to the side in drunken confusion as he hadn't caught on to what you had so shyly whispered. Smiling sympathetically you shook your head as if to not give importance to what had been previously said. He didn't give too much though to your dismissive answer. "Would you like another drink, love?" His characteristic smirk accompanied the proposal perfectly, inviting you to give in ; as always, you couldn't deny him anything.

Before you had the chance to approach the drinks table , one of Finnick's regular clients grabbed him by the waist and whispered something into his right ear. His eyes suddenly darkened and his once relaxed features stiffened significantly. You already knew what was about to happen. You were no stranger to the services President Snow forced him to provide to Panem's elite. In fact, you were another of the poor miserable souls in charge of satisfying every desire of anyone who was wealthy enough to afford the luxury of laying with a victor.

Telling the wealthy woman to wait at their usual meeting place, he shook her off. Finnick approached you, feeling guilty and not wanting to part from your side. After a single chaste kiss on your left cheek, he left in the same direction as his client. You let out a shaky breath you didn't know you were holding and tried to prevent the tears from falling. As common as this was, it never got easier for neither of you.

Later that night you found yourself in a similar position as Finnick. The man caressing your body didn't pay any attention to the way you were spacing out and you felt thankful for that. Your mind was elsewhere, replaying over and over again the moment you almost told Finnick how in love you were with him and wondering what would have happened if you had had the courage to repeat those three words just a little bit louder . But it doesn't matter, not anymore. He was drunk and so were you, nothing sincere would have come out of his mouth at that time and you highly doubt sober him would have corresponded your feelings anyway. If only things were different.