#the words might be a little harsh but apparently it needs to be said

[crownedwille]

people do know young royals is a drama series and season 3 is not going to be a cheesy fluff fest, right?

[idkyetxoxo]

Cregan Stark - Northern Oaths

Summary - The fearless princess, captivated by the raw beauty of the North, faces a harrowing ordeal when abducted. Lord Cregan Stark, mesmerised by her charm and charisma, is driven by deep concern to rescue her, braving the dangers of the wild to save her.

Pairing - Cregan Stark x Velaryon reader

Warnings - Violence (injury)

Word count - 2698

Masterlist for Cregan • House of the Dragon General Masterlist.

"I am more than capable of completing the journey on horseback, just like the others," I declared confidently, my fingers gently tracing the silky mane of the horse before me.

"Princess, I only mean to suggest that a carriage might offer a more comfortable option," Lord Stark replied, a hint of concern in his voice. I couldn't help but laugh, shaking my head in amusement.

"Lord Stark, my title may be 'princess,' but that does not mean I shy away from riding such a magnificent creature," I said, smiling as I carefully wove a braid into the horse's white mane, mirroring the intricate braid that adorned my hair.

"Of course," he conceded with a respectful nod. "Though I can only hope this fine beast provides as satisfactory a ride as your dragon," he added, a twinkle of humour in his eyes.

I chuckled at his words. "We best not let Silverwing hear such talk—she's rather possessive," I teased, swinging myself gracefully into the saddle.

As we began our journey to the Wall, the cold Northern air filled my lungs, invigorating and fresh. The landscape around us was a vast canvas of snow-draped hills and ancient trees, their branches heavy with frost. 

The North was wild, untamed, and breathtakingly beautiful.

Cregan rode beside me, his horse moving with practised ease through the snow-covered terrain. I took in the landscape, the wild beauty stretching out before us. 

"There's something captivating about the North," I remarked, my voice thoughtful. "It's untamed, yet undeniably beautiful."

Cregan glanced over at me, a faint smile curving his lips. "The North's beauty isn't always apparent at first glance, but it reveals itself to those who take the time to understand it."

I nodded, feeling a quiet understanding in his words. "I can see why your people hold it so dearly. There's a raw honesty to the land, something that feels... unspoiled."

He regarded me with a look of quiet appreciation. "It's rare to meet someone who sees the North as more than just a harsh, cold place. You seem to understand its true nature."

I met his gaze, a small smile tugging at my lips. "Perhaps it takes a certain kind of person to appreciate it. Someone who doesn't mind looking a little deeper."

"Or someone who values strength and resilience," he added, his tone thoughtful. "The North may be unforgiving, but it has a way of revealing what truly matters."

I laughed softly, shaking my head. "Comfort is all well and good, but it's often overrated, don't you think? I've always believed that a challenge is where you find the most reward."

Cregan's eyes flickered with something unreadable, though his expression remained composed. "Then the North might be exactly where you belong, Princess."

His words were simple, but they carried a weight that made me pause. Our exchange was subtle, an unspoken understanding that lingered in the crisp air between us. 

We spoke of the land, but it was clear that our words carried another layer of meaning, one that neither of us needed to fully articulate.

As our conversation continued, one of Cregan's men, a younger rider with a mischievous glint in his eye, drew his horse closer to us. He had been listening quietly, but now a playful smile crossed his face. 

"Begging your pardon, Princess," he said, glancing between Cregan and me, "but it seems to me that you handle a horse as well as any Northern rider. Perhaps you'd care to prove it?"

Cregan's expression tightened ever so slightly, a flicker of concern in his eyes. "That's not necessary," he interjected smoothly. "The road ahead is treacherous, and a race could be dangerous in these conditions."

I scoffed lightly, meeting Cregan's gaze with a challenge of my own. 

"Lord Stark, do you truly believe I would back down from a bit of friendly competition?" I asked, my tone teasing but resolute. "I've faced worse than a little snow."

The young rider grinned, clearly pleased with my response. "A race it is then, Princess," he said, his enthusiasm infectious. "We'll start on your count."

Cregan sighed, his protective instinct warring with his knowledge that he couldn't stop me. "Very well," he said quietly, though the concern in his voice remained.

I turned my attention to the rider, feeling the thrill of the challenge stir within me. "On three, then," I said, my voice steady with anticipation. "One... two... three!"

In an instant, we were off. The cold air rushed past my face, and the snow crunched beneath the horses' hooves as we sped across the landscape. The thrill of the race consumed my focus. I urged my horse forward, feeling the powerful muscles move beneath me as we cut through the snow, the land itself almost falling away in the rush.

Beside me, the rider pushed his horse to match mine, his competitive spirit driving him forward. 

As we disappeared from their sight, the other men exchanged grins and murmurs of approval, but it was Cregan's gaze that lingered on me, a mixture of respect and something deeper.

I finally pulled my horse to a screeching halt when a group of men suddenly blocked our path. Their appearance was jarring, dressed in heavy, untamed furs that spoke of a life lived in the harshest of conditions. 

The young rider beside me did the same, his expression shifting from excitement to alarm as we realized we were no longer alone.

I cast a glance over my shoulder, noting with growing unease the considerable distance we had put between ourselves and the rest of our group. A cold dread began to seep into my bones, replacing the thrill of the race.

"Apologies," I said, trying to maintain my composure as one of the men stepped forward, his rough hand reaching for the reins of my horse.

"Princess," the rider beside me murmured, his voice low and tense. I frowned at the worry etched across his face.

"These men are wildlings," he explained, his voice barely above a whisper. The term meant little to me, but the fear in his eyes was unmistakable.

"Aye, we are," one of the wildlings confirmed, a dark grin spreading across his face. "And if such royalty is riding these roads, then I believe we deserve an introduction." 

His hand shot out, gripping my arm with a roughness that made my breath hitch. I recoiled, shaking him off with a sharp twist of my wrist. 

"Lord Stark will have your heads," the young rider beside me interjected, his voice filled with defiance as he dismounted his horse and moved protectively to my side. "She is his guest."

"Shut up, boy," the wildling snarled, shoving him aside with a brutal force that sent him stumbling.

Before I could react, more wildlings emerged from the shadows, surrounding us with predatory intent. Panic surged through me as the man who had grabbed my arm yanked me off my horse, his grip like iron as I struggled against him. 

"Let me go!" I shouted, thrashing wildly as they dragged me away from my horse.

The rider attempted to intervene but he was quickly overpowered by the wildlings, who struck him down with ruthless efficiency. I fought with every ounce of strength I had, but the wildlings were relentless, their hands bruising as they forced me through the snow-covered forest.

"Lord Stark will find you! He will—" My words were cut off as one of the wildlings, a hulking brute with a cruel sneer, struck me hard across the head. 

The world spun violently, my vision blurring as pain exploded in my skull. I tried to stay conscious, to fight, but darkness closed in, my strength fading with every passing second.

The last thing I heard was the distant sound of my screams, echoing through the cold, unforgiving wilderness as I was pulled further away from safety, until finally, everything went black.

Back with the others, Cregan kept his pace steady, though his thoughts lingered on the race ahead. He couldn't help but feel a nagging unease. The thrill of the race was one thing, but the North was unforgiving, its dangers lurking just out of sight.

It wasn't long before the silence of the snowy landscape was shattered by a distant, panicked shout. Cregan's heart dropped as he urged his horse forward, the other men quickly following suit.

As they rounded a bend in the trail, the sight that met them was chilling. My horse lay sprawled on the ground, its beautiful silver-braided mane stained with blood. 

The elegant creature that had carried me so effortlessly mere moments ago now struggled weakly, a painful whine escaping its throat. Blood soaked the snow beneath it, turning the pristine white ground into a gruesome scene of red.

Cregan dismounted in one fluid motion, his eyes scanning the scene with mounting dread. Near the fallen horse, the young rider who had joined in the race lay slumped, his body bruised and bloodied. 

His breath came in ragged gasps, each one a struggle. His hand pressed weakly against a gash on his side, blood seeping between his fingers.

Cregan rushed to his side, dropping to one knee as the men formed a protective circle around them, their eyes scanning the forest for any further danger. 

"Where is she?" Cregan demanded, his voice sharp with fear and urgency. "What happened?"

The rider coughed, blood staining his lips as he struggled to speak. "I tried...tried my best," he gasped, his voice filled with pain and guilt. "Wildlings... they ambushed us. They took her."

Cregan's heart pounded in his chest as the rider's words sank in. 

"They took her?" he repeated, his voice barely above a whisper as if saying it out loud would make it more real, more terrible.

The rider nodded weakly, his eyes clouded with pain and regret. "I fought... but there were too many. They overpowered us... they knocked her out and dragged her into the woods. I'm sorry, my lord, I—"

"Don't," Cregan interrupted, his voice firm but gentle. "You did what you could. We'll get her back."

He turned to his men, his expression hardening into one of grim determination. 

"Search the area," he ordered, his voice carrying the weight of authority. "We need to find their trail. They can't have gone far."

The men nodded, their faces set with resolve as they spread out. Cregan stayed beside the injured rider, his jaw clenched as he surveyed the bloodstained snow. The sight of my horse, now struggling to breathe, filled him with a cold, simmering rage. 

This was his fault, he should have insisted on staying close, should have anticipated the dangers. I was out there, in the hands of wildlings, and every moment that passed put me in greater danger.

I woke to the sharp sting of cold air against my face, my body aching from the rough treatment I'd endured. Disoriented, I tried to move, only to find my hands bound tightly behind my back and a coarse gag tied around my mouth. 

Panic flared as I struggled against the restraints, my breath coming in shallow, desperate gasps.

The dim light filtered through the rough walls of a small, makeshift shelter. The air inside was thick with the scent of damp earth and unwashed bodies. My head throbbed from where I'd been struck, the pain radiating down my neck with each movement.

A shadow loomed over me, and I froze, my eyes widening in fear. A man with tangled hair and a filthy beard was kneeling beside me, his rough fingers combing through my hair as if inspecting it. 

His touch was far from gentle, tugging at the braids with a crude fascination. I recoiled inwardly, a shudder of revulsion passing through me, but I was helpless to stop him.

"Pretty princess," he muttered, his voice low and gravelly. "Never seen hair like this. Like silver... like moonlight."

I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to block out the horror of the situation, but the terror gnawed at me, refusing to be ignored. My mind raced with thoughts of escape, but every idea crumbled against the reality of my bindings and the presence of the wildlings who had captured me. 

I could hear their voices outside, speaking in rough tones, the words indistinct but filled with a sinister edge.

Suddenly, the shelter was filled with the sounds of chaos, shouts, the clash of steel, and the unmistakable thud of bodies hitting the ground. My eyes snapped open as the wildling beside me stiffened, his hand falling away from my hair as he reached for his weapon.

The noise grew louder, closer, and I could hear the unmistakable sound of swords cutting through the air, of men fighting for their lives. My heart leapt with hope, even as fear clawed at me. 

Was it possible? Had Cregan and the others found me?

The wildling cursed under his breath, his attention now fully on the commotion outside. He scrambled to his feet, drawing a crude blade as he moved toward the entrance of the shelter. 

Before he could step outside, the flap was thrown open, and Cregan burst in, his sword dripping with blood, his eyes blazing with fury.

The wildling barely had time to react before Cregan's sword flashed in the dim light, striking him down with a swift, decisive blow. The man crumpled to the ground, lifeless, as Cregan turned his attention to me.

The fierce determination in his eyes softened the moment he saw me, bound and gagged on the cold ground. He dropped to his knees beside me, his hands trembling slightly as he quickly cut through the ropes that held me captive.

"Princess," he breathed, his voice thick with relief. "I'm here. You're safe now."

As the bindings fell away, I pulled the gag from my mouth, and a sob escaped my lips before I could stop it. The fear, the helplessness, the dark possibilities of what could have happened, it all overwhelmed me in that instant.

I looked up at him, seeing not just a lord, but the man who had risked everything to bring me back. Tears streamed down my face as I reached out for him, needing to feel something solid, something real.

Cregan gathered me into his arms, holding me tightly against his chest as if he could shield me from the horrors I had endured. 

"It's alright," he whispered, his voice raw with emotion. "You're safe, I swear it."

I clung to him, the sobs coming harder now, the terror of the past few hours releasing itself in waves. His presence was the only thing grounding me, keeping me from falling apart completely.

Cregan held me through it all, his hand gently stroking my hair as he murmured soft reassurances. The sounds of battle outside faded, replaced by the distant, muffled voices of his men securing the area. 

In that moment, all I could focus on was the steady rhythm of Cregan's heartbeat beneath my cheek, a reminder that I was no longer alone, no longer at the mercy of those who had taken me.

Finally, as the tears began to subside, I pulled back slightly, looking up at him through tear-blurred eyes. 

"I was so scared," I finally managed to whisper, my voice trembling and weak. "I—I thought..." My voice broke, and the words wouldn't come.

Cregan's thumb brushed away a tear from my cheek, his expression filled with a sorrow so deep it made my heart ache.

"I know," he said softly, his voice filled with a deep, unspoken regret. "And I apologise I wasn't there sooner."

I shook my head, my grip on his arms tightening. "You found me. That's all that matters."

He nodded, his gaze intense as he searched my face, as if reassuring himself that I was truly there, unharmed. 

"I won't let anything happen to you," he vowed, the weight of his words settling between us like a promise etched in stone. 

In that moment, surrounded by the remnants of the battle, the cold, and the lingering fear, I felt something else, an undeniable bond forged in the crucible of danger. 

I clung to the knowledge that Cregan had saved me but more than that, I held onto the realization that in his arms, the cold wilderness of the North didn't feel so wild anymore, it felt like home, like safety.

 After all, there has never lived a Stark who forgot an oath.

A/n - There was sm more I wanted to add and once it hit over 2.5k words I realised I had to reel it in lmaoo

[liahaslosthermind]

~ 𝑨𝒇𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒎𝒂𝒕𝒉 ~

Past Rhysand x OC (Adelaide), Eventual Azriel x OC Part 7 of Betrayal Summary: How much was he willing to sacrifice to bring her back, and how much will be taken from him as consequence? Warnings: Suicidal thoughts and ideology, Death of a loved one, Grief, Betrayal

The room was empty when Azriel opened his eyes. It hadn’t been like the last few times he had ‘woken up’, though he didn’t remember those instances much. While the fog hadn’t fully lifted from his mind, he could finally register the things around him. The overwhelming amount of white in the room, accents of gold, the curtains that had been drawn to let less light in, but not enough that he couldn’t tell how Gods damned bright it was outside. 

Day, he was in the Day court. There was no doubt in his mind. But why had he been brought here?

Trying to sit up was difficult. He didn’t feel pain, didn't see any evidence of injuries, but his muscles felt so stiff, and his wings felt like dead weight. 

His stomach dropped at the realization. 

Reaching to feel his wings, he let out a breath when he realized they weren’t numb and with albeit much more effort than usual, he could move them. 

They are coming, they aren’t happy his shadows sang.

A second later the door opened and in walked Madja and Amren, the two he had first seen when he was still in his muddled state. They weren’t as angry looking as before, but that didn’t mean much, because they were certainly still mad.

“What the fuck did you think you were doing, boy?” 

Azriel didn’t answer Amren, he didn’t have an answer, he didn’t know what she was talking about.

“You know very well it was not your place to mess with that kind of magic, Shadowsinger.” Madja said in a much calmer tone, but that didn’t hide the disapproval that counted her words.

He would have been pissed off at the interrogation, would have grumbled at the continued questioning when he had no idea what the hell they were talking about, if he hadn’t seen the bags underneath both their eyes, and the concern and worry manifested into deep frown lines on their faces.

His confusion must have been visible, because their questions stopped and their anger softened, as much as it could for the two women who typically looked angry. “You- you don’t remember?” Amren stuttered.

Amren never stuttered.

“I have no idea what I am being accused of” He answered honestly. 

The two women looked at each other, then back at the Illyrian.

“Maybe we should get Helion in here” Madja said to Amren as she turned around and walked out.

So he was in Day.

“Amren, please, you aren’t one to sugar coat things.” He begged.

She looked at him and sighed, annoyed.

“They won’t be happy I am telling you this. They would want someone with more bedside manner to explain.” “That is why I need you to, you won’t dance around the truth. What happened?” 

She took a breath as she looked for the words, “You… you were in a bad state after the girl’s death, and it seems you got desperate enough to take your own life to stop the pain.”

Azriel felt the harsh reminder like a slap to the face, tears welling up in his eyes.

How had he forgotten about Adelaide’s death, about the hell he had gone through since? 

“Is that why I’m here? Did I…”

“No, no you didn’t, although your stupid actions might very well have gotten you killed.” She snapped. She took another breath as she tried to stop her anger from seeping through.

He had never seen her like this. As much as they were family, as much as he knew she did care for the inner circle, no matter how little she let it show, he knew she wouldn’t have been impacted this much by his attempted, or apparently his almost attempted, suicide. 

“That's when The Walking Dead found you. It's an old book, probably older than me. There is no recorded story to its creation, it's just something that has always been, preying on the desperate, giving them enough hope to try things they never would have had they been in their right mind.”

The book by her casket, the blank pages, the intervention by his family, the fight, the attempted resurrection. It all hit him at once, a wave of horrible emotions. 

She looked away as she saw him realize what he had done, and saw him go through all of those terrible moments once again. She didn’t comfort people, and Azriel wasn’t one who wanted to be comforted, at least not unless it was…

“Is she- Did it- Is Adelaide…” he couldn’t finish the question, couldn’t bear to hear that it had failed, that his last hope of getting her back was gone.

Before Amren could answer, the door opened again. Perfect fucking timing.

The High Lords of Day and Night walked in with urgency. 

Azriel had been so mad at Rhysand last time he had seen him, he tried to kill him for Gods’ sake, Rhys also hadn’t been too pleased at the attempted murder, but when the High Lord looked at his brother, bed bound and confused with tears pooling in his eyes, so utterly helpless, he couldn’t stop himself as he brought his Spymaster into a crushing hug and finally let out the sobs he had been fighting for so long. 

Azriel hadn’t felt this type of affection or even love from his brother for a while, he had been too busy hiding from Rhysand, stewing in his misery and hatred for his oldest friend, but as he sat there, disoriented, scared, hopeless, he couldn’t deny the fact he had to fight the urge to lean into the comfort the male was providing. He couldn’t deny the fact he felt more than just anger and hatred towards Rhysand. 

Still, he pulled back after a few seconds, Rhysand still sobbing as his knees buckled next to Azriel’s bed. 

“I’m sorry, Az. Gods know how sorry I am. I hadn’t realized- how much everything truly hurt until Cassian and Nesta found you had left bed” He had to take a moment as he hiccuped, an absolute mess on the ground, “I thought I-we thought we had finally lost you. I tried to tell myself these past few months that I could live with you hating me, I knew damn well I deserved it and that I hate myself too, that as long as you were still there, I could live like that.”

Rhysand looked into Azriel’s eyes, both brothers' faces covered in tears.

“But then we didn’t know if you were gone, didn’t know if you were still alive, and I realized I couldn’t do it, couldn’t live the rest of my life with the knowledge you hated me until the end.

I made the worst mistake of my life, something I will never forgive myself for. I was too cowardly to realize I couldn’t keep Adelaide and Feyre, and the minute I finally chose, I lost Adelaide forever.”

It was too much, Azriel couldn’t deal with all of this right now. Too many conflicting emotions, too many questions, too many-

“Alright, High Lord, that's enough.” Helion said. “Your Shadowsinger is in distress right now. You both can continue this conversation at a later time.” His voice was kind, understanding of both men’s situations, but his tone left no room for objection. 

“I-alright, I just need you to know how sorry I am, Az. How much I plan to do to right my wrongs, even if you both never forgive me.” Rhysand said as he got up, wiping his eyes. 

You both. He said you both. He didn’t just mean Azriel, he…

“It worked?” He asked with urgency, not replying to his brother's words. 

No one spoke up. “He said ‘you both’, did it work? Is Adelaide alive?” 

Anger bubbled in him as everyone remained quiet, unsure of how to proceed.

“Just tell me, damnit! Stop being cowards!” He yelled, tears continuing to spill. Maybe he misspoke, maybe Azriel got his hopes up just to be crushed once again. It wouldn’t have been the first time The Mother had played a cruel joke on him. 

Helion took a step forward, his calm demeanor gone, replaced by fear, reluctance, misery, and longstanding grief. “Yes, Azriel. She is alive…” The High Lord was still speaking to him, but Azriel couldn’t hear anything over the ringing in his ears, over the spots that blocked his vision as he started breathing heavily, his body unable to process the information. 

She is alive, we saw her, she is alive, she is here his shadows sang. 

He needed to get up to see her. But that task proved impossible as Azriel tried to swing his legs over the bed. They didn’t move. As he tried again, jerking the upper half of his body so hard he would have fallen off the bed had Helion not grabbed his shoulders to steady him. 

“Azriel, stop, you'll hurt yourself.” The High Lord of Day said. 

The Illyrian once again looked at the faces in the room, waiting for an explanation. 

Once again, everyone but Helion proved to be a coward. “We don’t know the long term impacts of the spell, you and Adelaide…” Helion’s voice cracked while saying her name. It only hit Azriel then that of course he would be just as impacted by this, Helion had raised her from a babe. But Azriel hadn’t seen him since the funeral, his face controlled into a tight mask that made reading emotions impossible, even for the Spymaster. “You both were brought here to be looked after while our scholars and healers work on learning more. But what we have gathered hasn’t been��� reassuring.”

“I knew coming into this I’d have to make a sacrifice, I still stand by that choice.” Azriel confirmed, he just needed people to be upfront with him. 

“You have… tied yourselves together. In bringing her back, you connected your individual beings. We don’t know how this will ultimately impact you both, not till we have both of you here with us. But it is good that you have woken up, for it must mean Adelaide is not far behind.” 

He would get to see her again, get to talk to her, get to…

Thinking of Adelaide now, he tried to ignore the new feelings bubbling inside him, things he hadn’t felt before. 

She was alive and she was here.

For the first time in 6 months, Azriel smiled so hard his cheeks hurt.

[theamberfist]

Hell's Second Greatest Dad | Vox + Reader + Alastor

Familial! Alastor is reader's dad, Vox is the dad that stepped up

Description: With your dad, the Radio Demon, having been missing for seven years, you've come to see Vox as father figure instead. But when Alastor shows back up one day, he's furious to find his old friend trying to take his child away from him.

(Notes: CW Alastor, angst) (gender neutral reader) (Reader is Alastor's kid from life) (Could be biological or adopted) (Teen Reader)

❀ This one will have a song! It's a rewrite of Hell's Greatest Dad, but with Alastor in Lucifer's place and Vox in Alastor's place (Alastor gets a taste of his own medicine) ❀

Words: 4,049

"Tomorrow's forecast calling for acid rain with tornadoes picking up around noon in the Doomsday Distract," The familiar voice of hell's iconic tech demon explained, "And now for our Reader's Segment!" He smiled, placing the papers he'd been reading off of on the table in front of him and looking back up at the camera. 

Once he announced your name, the TV screen promptly changed to show you curled up on a plush couch with a fuzzy blanket and a book on your lap. "Take it away, kid." Vox's voice said through the earpiece you always wore while on-air in case he needed to communicate with you. 

"Thanks, sir." You smiled at the camera before turning your gaze down to the book in your lap, "Tonight we'll be reading something a little slower paced. It's fun, cozy, and perfect for a night like this, so let's begin." With that, you announced the title of your current favorite book and then flipped it open, reading aloud. 

The set around you was decorated to resemble a cozy living room; with a crackling fireplace behind your couch, a fake window to your left that was supposed to make it seem as if it overlooked a snowy field, and the softest carpet you'd ever walked on. The log walls were decorated with photos of cute animals since you had no family photos to adorn them, and both the couch, blanket, and carpet were soothing shades of light pink and purple that greatly contrasted the harsh the blues and red of your boss while still remaining within the same domain. 

You read in your most soothing tone, which many viewers liked to claim had the ability to lull them to sleep almost instantly, even if you had no such power that you knew of. Though, you supposed anything calming and cozy like this would have been a great relief in a place like hell, which had been your goal from the beginning. 

Vox was hesitant about your segment when you first pitched it, considering it was so different from the rest of the shows he ran, but eventually he gave it a chance, and it had only ever paid off since. As far as sinners went, you were adorable, and it wasn't just because you were young compared to most of the adults in hell. That, coupled with the cozy vibe of your set and the books you read, was enough to keep viewers coming back, meaning there were more people to see Vox's commercials and, therefore, become his customers. 

Not to mention the fact that it made him look good in the public eye. A teenage sinner who liked to read their little books for the public, and whose soul he didn't even bother to own? He looked more kindhearted than half of hell's overlords combined, no matter his intentions. 

The only person that didn't approve of your reading segment currently stood on a sidewalk somewhere in Pentagram City, watching through the window of a shop. Despite his apparent smile, his eyes were narrowed in disapproval at the screen.

To those who didn't know him, he would have simply looked like a regular sinner; interested in listening to you read the story you seemed to excited about. Had they been paying attention, they might have noticed the way his hands tightened around the microphone he held or how his red deer-like ears tugged back slightly. 

And as for those that did have the sense to recognize him, they wouldn't have even had the time to notice those details, because they would have already turned and walked the other way upon seeing the Radio Demon back after his seven year absence. 

About an hour later, you finished your segment, feeling a little sleepy yourself from the calming sounds of the fire and a good book. Even your cameraman seemed to barely be able to keep his eyes open at this point.

"I think we'll stop there for tonight," you said with a yawn, gently placing your Vox Tech bookmark between the pages and closing your book, "Tune in tomorrow, where we'll continue the story from where we left off." You were talking even more quietly than you had at the beginning, not wanting to disturb any of the viewers at home that may have fallen asleep. Though, it was a futile effort, considering a blaring commercial would likely run the second you were off-air again. "This has been the Reader's Segment; thank you and goodnight!" 

With that, your cameraman signaled that you were now off-air and you yawned again, wrapping the fuzzy purple blanket around yourself despite the warmth of the nearby ambient fire. 

A moment later, the door to your recording set opened and in stepped Vox himself with a familiar frown on his face. He looked around, though, and the second his eyes landed on you, the expression was replaced by a  picturesque smile. "There they are!" He exclaimed happily, walking over to you as you blinked sleepily at him. 

"Hi." You smiled through your hazy tiredness, making the tech demon soften just a bit. 

"Well done, kid." He said, ruffling your hair, "As always." Vox gently placed a hand on your back, leading you towards the studio door and leaving the rest of his workers to clean the set up behind you. "I have to say, I never expected a 'cute' segment like yours to do so well," he went on, ever the businessman, as you half-listened. "Turns out comfort was exactly what pathetic sinners wanted all along!" He glanced your way, his smile becoming more genuine now, before adding, "I'm proud of you, kid." That got your full attention now. 

You'd only heard the words a few times in your whole life, despite the huge positive effect they always had on you. Even the man that had raised you; the one that should have been the most proud in the end, had never actually told you so. Vox may not have been related to you by blood, or even legally, but hearing that phrase from him still made you grin.

"Thanks." You replied, unsure of how to convey how much his pride meant to you. Luckily, it seemed you didn't need to, because he just nodded and then brought you over to the nearby elevator. 

"It's the truth, kid," he replied, pressing the button that would take you up to his designated floor. Each of the V's had one, with Vox's being the highest, that was technically supposed to be solely their living space. However, after you began working for him, Vox ended up converting one of the rooms on his floor to make it yours. Now, your bedroom was the first door on the right after entering Vox's floor. 

"Though, it looked to me like that bookshelf of yours is starting to get a little empty..." He was referring to the shelf found on your set. It housed each of the books you planned on reading next in no particular order. This way, when you finished one for the show, you could immediately pick a new pre-approved one from the back shelf. The one you were done with would then be moved up to your room for you to keep, which was beginning to look more like a library with how many titles there were inside. 

"Did it?" You asked, feeling a little embarrassed, "I can grab a few more to add to it tomorrow." Vox shook his head, though, as the elevator finally reached your shared floor. 

"No need," he replied, "How about we buy some more tomorrow; call it a shopping day?" With how many unread books you already had making a mess in your room, there was really no need to buy any more. But after the first year of having you around, he realized making you happy tended to lift some of the stress and burden he felt off his shoulders, so he did so whenever possible. 

"Really?!" You asked, stars practically shining in your eyes as you stepped out of the elevator. Vox nodded, a warm smile on his face. 

"Of course; can't have my best segment lacking stories, now can I?" You grinned, hugging him without even thinking. At some point during your time working for him, it had become a natural gesture.

Vox rested a hand on your head with a grin, patting your hair. He'd never expected to get so attached to a kid, much less you, of all people, and yet here he was, enjoying the hug as if he were your close family member. 

Once the excitement of the news seemed to die down for you, that fuzzy, tired feeling from before came back. "Thanks, dad..." You mumbled into the tech demon's coat. His eyes widened for just a moment before a smile reappeared on his face. You probably hadn't even realized what you'd just said, and yet, it felt so right for him to hear it. 

"No problem, kid." He replied. Finally, he pulled away, patting your shoulder. "Now, you'd better get to bed if you're going to have enough energy for book shopping tomorrow." You grinned again, wrapping your soft blanket a little tighter around your body. 

"Right." You said, gently rubbing your now-very-tired eyes. "Goodnight!" You called as you turned and opened the door to your bedroom. 

"Goodnight." Vox replied softly before you closed the door behind you and disappeared. He could hear a muffled 'flop' sound somewhere inside, realizing you'd likely collapsed onto your bed immediately after entering. 

He chuckled softly before turning to head to his own room. Vox tended to stay up much later than you most nights; handling various paperwork and business. Today was no exception, but as he made his way to his office, which was attached to the bedroom, he spared a glance at the framed photo that sat propped on his bedside table. In it, you were depicted, holding up the camera to take a selfie. Vox was there too, an arm around your shoulders as he posed for the camera. Both of you looked so happy; smiling brightly as if you had not a care in the world.

It was his favorite photo; thus why it always remained on his nightstand. He turned away now, heading for his office with a renewed determination to get things done. After falling out with his closest friend seven years ago, the tech demon had assumed nothing else would ever be able to bring him joy again.

And he had been right, until you came along. 

..........

You were up bright and early the next day; too early for Vox's standards. He'd barely gotten any sleep, as per usual, but had smelled the breakfast you were making in the kitchen once he came out of his extra office. 

As soon as he entered, you'd smiled and sat him down at the table, handing him a plate of your personal favorite breakfast food. Of course that had been what you chose to wake up and make this early in the morning.

Regardless, the tech demon humored you, knowing you were just excited to get to go book shopping later that day. 

Once you'd both eaten, you hurriedly shoved him into his room, insisting he get dressed and ready for the day while you did the same. Apparently, you wanted to be at the bookstore the second it opened, but who was Vox to deny you, when it seemed to make you so happy?

Once you both were ready, the two of you took the elevator down to the V Tower lobby, with Vox ignoring several calls from his assistant along the way. He could wait until later, the tech demon decided. Instead, he listened to you go on and on about the books you planned to get and how excited you were. It seemed you had a fully prepared list, and Vox was ready to get every single one on it if it brought you joy. Finally, you reached the ground floor and the elevator dinged as the doors opened.

And almost immediately, you were met with the sounds of shouting and windows breaking. Clearly, there was already a commotion, even though it was even ten in the morning yet. Sighing, Vox stepped out first, followed promptly by you, who would never miss out on a scoop if you could help it; especially if it was happening in your own 'basement.'

What you saw was even more surprising than expected. The employees that usually worked on this floor were running around like chickens with their heads cut off; many of them screaming in fear. The secretary that usually worked the front desk was dangling in the air; held by an eerie black tentacle that you recognized all too well. Following it with your gaze, you could see that it was attached to none other than a red deer-like demon, whose body had morphed so that he was almost too tall to fit in the room.

A green 'X' mark sat on his forehead, further confirming that he was currently in his demonic form as he held the secretary up to his eye level.

"Where are they?!" He demanded, his radio static voice somehow even more haunting than usual. 

"I'm not authorized to tell you that!" The secretary screeched, covering his eyes as the tentacle's grip tightened around him and began bringing him towards the demon's open mouth.

Vox's assistant stood off to the side, frantically typing something on his phone amidst the panic. So, that was why he'd been calling so much this morning.

With a sigh, the tech demon activated his mind control powers, taking a step forward into the chaos. "Stop!" He shouted, his voice distorted. Suddenly, everything came to a stop, except the giant demon still holding his secretary, who slowly turned his head in your direction.

Still smiling, his eyes narrowed for a moment before he suddenly noticed you standing there, instantly reverting back to his normal form as if nothing had happened. The black tentacles that had been holding the secretary disappeared, causing them to fall to the floor with a thud. Meanwhile, the Radio Demon adjusted his coat jacket and stepped forward.

"Finally," he called, holding his microphone-cane behind him, "The man in charge, so to speak." Both you and Vox tensed, and you looked to the tech demon, unsure what to do. 

When neither of you said anything, Alastor spoke again. "And it seems you've found my little one!" He exclaimed with an even wider smile, "Good, then I'll have no need to search this entire building for them." Vox's eyes narrowed at the idea, and he was about to take a step to the side, so as to block you, when you finally spoke.

"Papa...?" Your voice was quiet; hurt. The tech demon hated it but you took a step forward, nonetheless. This was, as much as he hated to admit it, technically your father; the man you hadn't seen or even heard from once in the last seven years. That would have shocked anyone. 

"There you are, my dear!" Alastor said, opening his arms to you as if expecting a hug. "Come along, now. We have quite a bit to catch up on!" You didn't move. 

Vox took a step forward, sensing your uncertainty. "You've been missing for seven years," he replied, "They don't have to go with you." Alastor's eyes narrowed. 

"They're my child," he said, "So I'd suggest you get out of the way before things get ugly, old pal." You bit your lip. As much as you'd longed to see your father again all this time, now that you were faced with that reality, you weren't so sure. You'd only just come to accept the fact that he would never be returning for you, and now here he was, acting as if nothing had even happened. 

You used to be close with him, but now it felt like he wasn't even the same person anymore. Vox, of all people, had had to take you in after your dad left without warning, and since then, he'd become the only father figure you had in your life. 

Alastor glanced between the two of you with what would have been a scowl, if not for the permanent smile on his face. Everyone else had all but cleared the room now; leaving only the three of you there in your standoff. 

You were frozen; unsure what to do, and you knew Alastor could see it. It was like having to choose between your two parents in a divorce, except in this situation, it was the once-loving-father that had abandoned you and the man that had stepped up ever since. 

Unfortunately, Alastor didn't seem to read the situation the same way you did, because with his flare for the dramatics, he went on.

"Darling," he sighed before bringing out his mic and beginning a song. Now you knew there was no going back. "Looks like you could use some help," he began, "from hell's Radio Demon himself!" 

Alastor swung his cane, summoning two familiar sinners to the room to back him up now. "Never trust the one who's acting so heartfelt!" He pointed in Vox's direction, and Nifty immediately scurried over, jumping on Vox's shoulder. 

"Traitor!" She exclaimed adamantly before the tech demon ripped her off of him. Husk, however, was less enthusiastic. 

"Heartless," he said, ignoring how Vox glared and began to stalk towards him, only for Nifty to jump and latch onto his back now. 

"A total snake!" She exclaimed and he tried to shake her off again. Meanwhile, the two of them provided enough distraction now for Alastor to gently grab you by the arm and pull you away. 

"Oh, with enough motivation, dear," he went on, "He'll betray you, standing right here!"  Before he could get you out of the lobby door, though, Vox had pressed a button to activate the security measures, locking it from the outside. "Usually, you'd learn it on your own, I fear," he went on, "But for you I'd do anything!"

Nifty ran over to the two of you wearing one of your hats she'd gotten off a nearby coat rack now, hugging one of Alastor's legs as if she were pretending to be you. Or at least, a happier version of you. "Thanks, dad!" 

Alastor turned, pointing to Vox, "Who needs a knock-off now that I have returned?" Nifty nodded eagerly, jumping to rest on your father's head. 

"Whoa!" She sang, having way too much fun with this. 

"Come back to radio; have all you could want!" Alastor went on, trying his best to win your favor once more. "I've all the fatherly affection you've earned!" He spun you around once before gently gripping your shoulders and pointing up as if he were showing you something in the sky. "Clothing, safety, souls of the hasty, this we would flaunt!"

Finally, Vox seemed to have had enough because he appeared between the two of you like a bolt of lightning, gently pushing you away from Alastor and towards the elevator. "Who's been here since he was gone?" He reminded you, "Even if you weren't my spawn? Who gave you the segment that makes them yawn?" He pointed to the crowd of sinners outside, who'd gathered by the windows to watch what was going on. Then he smiled and straightened his bowtie. 

"It's your very own producer!" He sang.

"That's true..." You admitted as he pressed the button for the elevator now, already using his demon powers to call the security staff to the lobby to handle Alastor. Any other day, Vox would have done so himself, but having you right there made the situation much more difficult. 

"I support you, day to day!" The tech demon went on, placing a gentle hand on your shoulder, "Your books, show; whatever you can name!" The elevator doors opened, and Vox pushed you inside before you could even think of protesting. Once Alastor was out of sight again, he brought up a photo of the bookstore you'd planned to visit.

"Remember I'm taking you shopping today?" He asked just as a video chat with the bookstore's owner appeared.

"Buy our books?" She asked in the same singing-tone everyone seemed to have adopted now, "Thank you sir!" 

The elevator doors dinged now as you reached the third floor, where Vox's security team was stationed. However, the second they opened, all that could be seen was Alastor, along with an empty office and some black tentacles still disappearing from wherever they'd came. 

"I'm truly honored that we've built such a bond," Vox went on as he hurriedly pressed the 'close door' button in the elevator. They began to do so, only for another of Alastor's black tentacles to stop them just in time, ripping the doors open. "You're like the child that I wish that I had!" If Vox could sweat, he surely would have been doing so by now as Alastor's eyes narrowed again. This was the closest you'd ever seen him to not smiling. 

"Excuse me?" The Radio Demon spoke, his pupils already taking the shape of dials. Finally, Vox stood straighter, turning back to you and patting your head. 

"I care for you just like a child spawned!" He sang, knowing it was getting under Alastor's skin. "It's a little funny," he glanced back, a smirk on his features. Your father was seething. "You could almost call me 'dad'!" The second those words left Vox's mouth, Alastor moved to attack him, only for you both to disappear in crackles of electricity. 

The tech demon almost never transported others with him this way, which meant he was taking Alastor's presence in the V's tower seriously. You appeared on your shared floor, which also happened to have a panic room. It had been designed for waiting out exterminations but, considering the situation, Vox figured it would work just fine to keep you from your father now. 

He began pulling you towards it, only for Alastor to appear out of the shadows in front of him. 

"They say when you're looking for assistance," Vox sang, trying to move around him, only to be blocked by a black tentacle, "It's smart to pick the path of least resistance!" He was getting very tired of playing nice with the Radio Demon, especially when the tentacle previously blocking him grabbed onto his arm and pulled him away from you.  

"Others say that in your needy hour," Alastor said, beginning to pull you away from the tech demon, "The one that first raised you is simply never sour!" He spun you around to emphasize the proclamation, then stopped and placed both hands on your shoulders. "Who just happens to have known you in life!" He added a little more intensely.

A second later, though, you were pulled out of your father's grip by Vox, who began rushing you towards the panic room. "Sadly, there are times a child's needs are met with strife!" He exclaimed, pushing you through the door as gently but quickly as possible, "They say the family you choose is better." 

"Pathetic excuses!" Alastor chimed in, grabbing onto your arm just as gently-but-urgently as he attempted to pull you back. 

"Can you butt out of my song?" Vox snapped, pulling harder on your arm. You were halfway through the door now, awkwardly standing there and not knowing what else to do.

"Your song?" Alastor replied with a scoff, "I started it!"

"I'm singing it; I'll finish it!" Vox shouted back, pulling back on your other arm. The pressure was starting to hurt you now but you couldn't seem to get a word in about it as they fought one another. At this rate, you'd be torn in half before they could come to a custody agreement. 

"You're always such a piece of-" Before Alastor could finish his sentence, you finally cut in, pulling your arms out of both their grasps.

"That's it!" You screamed, finally catching their attention despite the entire song having been about you. "I can't do this right now!" You backed away form them both, feeling more than a little hurt and confused. Vox went to speak up but you weren't having it; raising a hand to stop him as you turned and stomped off to your room. "I need time!" And with that, you slammed the door behind you. 

[zvdvdlvr]

Just A Little Late

🩻 - Synopsis. The day comes when Aaron realizes he has to talk to you. Is he able to repair your relationship or does he get the rejection he knows he deserves?

🩻 - Warnings. Angst. Fluff? Possible ooc!Aaron. Mild description of blood and a fire.

🩻 - Author’s note. Thank you all so much for the love of this mini series! I have an epilogue in store if you’d like :)

A couple hours after you got home, your phone buzzed. Looking down, you saw ‘Big Boss 😠’ on the lockscreen and glared down at the glowing box. With a trembling hand, you unlocked your phone and read the message.

From Big Boss 😠: It’s Hotch. What are you doing tonight?

To Big Boss 😠: Why do you care?

You bit your lip after sending. Were you being too harsh? You felt your heart sting. You hated being mean to Aaron, the man who had previously fought tooth and nail to be by yours (and your team’s) side. But after he chose not to visit you or even communicate with you during your stay at the hospital… it’s safe to say you felt betrayed on another level.

From Big Boss 😠: Because you are apart of my team.

You scoffed. “Really? Are you fucking serious, Hotch?”

To Big Boss 😠: Didn’t seem like that when you apparently didn’t have a word to say to me when I was in the hospital. Or at the restaurant.

With tears in your eyes, you threw you phone at the wall as hard as you could. The sound of the screen shattering and broken glass falling to the floor was exactly how you felt.

— 

Spencer and Derek were the ones that went to find you. You were two (full!) hours late to work. Every minute you didn’t show had Aaron’s heart rate picking up. But he knew he couldn’t go to find you. So he sent Spencer and Derek, telling himself he couldn’t keep hiding from you forever.

Spencer unlocked your door as Derek swept the front and back yard. A precaution, but Spencer was worried nonetheless. Because you were never late!

“Y/n?” Spencer asked, his hand finding the gun strapped to his hip. “Are you alright?” 

He heard a loud sigh and guessed it was you over the sound of the T.V.

Derek nodded at Reid and they both toed cautiously toward you, completely unaware of how you’d react to them being in your home. Uninvited.

“Mama? You alright?” Derek asked, eyebrows furrowed.

Spencer looked around. You phone and a bunch of glass laid in a pile near the wall. You had clealry thrown it from a distance- from the couch? Had you even gotten up?

“Will you lay with me?” You tiny voice asked. You were completely swaddled in a blanket leaving only your eyes and nose peeping out.

“I-“ Derek started, clearly taken aback by your actions.

“Of course we will. Move over, you. Derek, call Hotch and tell him we might be a little late.”

Derek watched Spencer sit down on your couch with wide eyes and an open mouth. “I- yeah. Alright. I’ll be back in a second,” he said, pulling his phone from his pocket. He stepped outside and shut the door as he dialed.

“Hotchner?” 

Derek rubbed his head with his hand. “We’re at y/n’s. She’s-“ Derek sighed. “She looks horrible, man. She looks like she cried all night and didn’t get up at all during the night. Her house is clean, but she did a number on her phone. What’s goin’ on with our girl?”

Hotch felt his heart squeeze in his chest and suddenly he couldn’t breathe. You cried all night, your phone was lying in pieces, and you even had Derek worried. Aaron had to fix this. “I don’t know, Derek.” Liar, Hotch thought. “Stay with her. Get her up and moving, I’ll be there soon.”

“Okay. I don’t know what you did, Hotch- and don’t lie to me because we’ve all seen it- but you need to get your shit together.”

Aaron felt a singular teardrop run down his face and land on the stained wood of his desk. The dial tone blared loudly in his ear and Hotch felt like the biggest asshole on Earth.

Derek went back into your house and locked the door. “What are we watching, nerds?” The man patted your blanket-covered legs and sat down.

As Spencer explained the show as briefly as Specer could, both men acted like the didn’t see the tears fall out of your eyes and your body shuddering every time you inhaled. Spencer let you play with his hands to keep from picking at your lips until they bled.

Eventually, Derek convinced you to go get cleaned up and dressed. When you came back out, Derek persuaded you into letting him braid your hair (props of having sisters) as Spencer picked something to watch.

You had just started laughing when you heard someone know on the door. Derek tutted poshly and refused to let you move until he finished the braid.

“Better hurry up,” Spencer commented uselessly from your couch, munching on popcorn you didn’t even know you had.

You scoffed. “Good idea, Reid.”

“Off to the races, you,” Derek joked, pushing your head forward when the braid was completed.

“You both suck. Never letting you in my house again-“ you muttered, opening the door. Words fell right off your tongue.

Outside your door, Hotch held out a concerningly large boquet of your favorite flavors. Your mouth fell open and you felt like slamming the door. Just as you started pushinf the door shut, however, Derek swung open the door. 

“Y/n, please listen to what he has to say. I think you need to hear it.”

You looked accusingly at Derek, eyes flickering between the two men in front of you. “No. No! Because why would I listen to a man who wasn’t there! You didn’t show up! You. Weren’t. There. Get out of my house. Get off my property. I quit. My documents will be at your desk tomorrow. Leave. Get out!” You yelled, pushing Derek out of your house (no small feat, my God) and yelling at Aaron.

Spencer swiftly avoided your glare and flailing arms, leaving Derek and Hotch to fend for themselves.

“Y/n, please. Just five minutes. Listen to me- five minutes!” Aaron pleaded. His voice cracked and he faltered against you.

You had moved from Derek to Aaron, trying as hard as you could to push them out the door and onto the grass. “No! Please just leave me alone. I can’t- you made your point when you couldn’t even look at me after I came back to work!” You yelled, not noticing the tears sparking in the back of your eyes.

Derek was glad almost every other adult was at work- the screaming match you and Hotch were holding wasn’t pretty.

Aaron let you push him out the door, but held onto the porch railing. “You were the one distancing yourself from me-“

You froze for a moment, looking at him with so much hurt in your eyes, Spencer assumed you had just gotten your spinal cord severed. “Bullshit! You’re lying to me and you know it, Hotchner. You- you left me there. Dropped me off at the hospital and left! ‘Oh, yeah! Her face is so torn up now, she’s so scarred and fucked up, I can’t be seen with her!’ Is that what you were thinking when you left me there? Huh?!”

“Medic! I need a medic!”

Hotch tore away from the firefighter’s grip, bounding over the lawn to where our were choking on smoke. “Y/n!”

You tore at the ground with your bloodied fingers, slowly going limp.

Aaron didn’t feel the heat of the fire as he slid one arm just under your neck and another arm under your knees. “Please, y/n,” he whispered, navigating through the burning building , blood dripping from your wounds into the threads of Aaron’s clothes.

He held onto your hand as you were pulled into the ambulance on a gurney. Ash and soot streaked his face, but he hadn’t looked away from you. Despite the deep knife wound that twisted and warped your face, despite the burns on your body, and despite your faint breathing, Aaron held on to you. Crying and pleading and hoping.

When Rossi had finally tore his hands from yours, he watched dazedly as you were rushed into an OR. For hours he must have stood there, watching the floor. Waiting.

Waiting.

“I- I love you, y/n! I couldn’t watch you die in some sterile room where I can’t help you! So I left. I left and couldn’t bring myself to see you because this,” he said, gently running a finger from te top of the scar down to where it ended at your collarbone, “this tells me that I failed. I failed you, y/n m/n l/n, and I know nothing I say will excuse that, but the fact that I failed to protect you…” Aaron looked away. “I couldn’t- I couldn’t stand the fact that I failed to protect ome of the only people I care about.”

Your hand came up to hover where Aaron’s was, still resting on the edge of your collarbone. “I needed you,” you whimpered, voice shaking. Your lip quivered as the man who said loved you stepped closer. “I needed you and you weren’t there. You left.”

Aaron nodded vigorously, his own tears falling down his face at your words. You were so close to him, letting his hand trace you carefully even though a part of you still hated him for not being there. Aaron hated him too. “I know. I know, y/n and I’m sorry. But- but I’m here now. I won’t leave unless you tell me.”

You leaned forward and latched your arms around Aaron’s waist and fell, crying into Aaron’s expensive shirt. “I hate you, Aaron,” you wailed, vice-like grip on his jacket tugging him even closer to you.

Aaron closed his eyes and let you fall into him. “I know you do, y/n. I know.” One of his hands rested on the back of your neck and the other kept baby hairs off of your face. “I know,” he whispered, crying silently.

Spencer and Derek both nodded, knowing your relationship (and horribly harbored feelings) wasn’t hopeless after all.

🏷️: @zaddyhotch @mxrgodsstuff @bunnylov-3-r

[minnielvrr]

No Escape~

Lee: Han Lers: Minho, Seungmin Word Count: 3.3k

A/N: my all time fav pic of Hannie🥰 i sincerely apologize for this in advance🥺😭might redo this completely later😖(sorry i'm really burnt out rn🥲)

Tags: @itzsana-kiddingmenow, @lajanaa, @bbybumblelee, @hearted-anon, @lunalattae,

@jungwon-is-the-one, @reginald-stay09

When Han had announced that he was going to check out the new fried chicken place a few streets over, both Minho and Seungmin had asked to join.

Now, sandwiched between the two, Han shifted in his seat, glancing nervously at them.

The restaurant was a quaint looking place, with chairs and little tables set up under the stars. And despite being fairly new, it was packed and bustling with people.

Han smiled. He liked places like this. It was spacious and comfortable and the quiet murmur of voices soothed his mind.

Their table on the other hand, had a duo who loved playing up their divorced couple act, having exchanged snarky remarks and jabs all the way to the shop. Then they’d gone eerily quiet.

He broke the silence with a tentative question, “So, um… what do you guys wanna get?”

Why had he thought this was a good idea? The two seemed to love toying with Han, annoying him with their near constant bickering.

But as much as he rolled his eyes and huffed at their antics, a part of him loved being showered with their attention, no matter how embarrassing it got.

This particular evening however, the two kept breaking character to exchange furtive looks, only to burst into giggles just moments later. Hannie figured they’d finally lost it, chuckling at the manic duo.

Eventually, the trio placed their orders, sitting around in silence for their food to arrive.

The thing is, it was BUSY. The whole place was packed. That meant that it would likely take longer for their food to arrive.

It also meant that Han would have to endure whatever this was, until then. “Nice night, huh?” Han attempted; his voice hopeful yet uncertain.

When neither responded, he slouched back in his chair, letting out a hollow laugh as his efforts fell flat.

Their little bubble burst when the quokka suddenly jerked up, swatting wildly at his back.

While Han was busy swatting at the new threat, Seungmin glanced at Minho, a slow smirk working its way onto his face when their eyes met. Time to set their plan in motion.

“Ugh! Stupid mosquitoes!” Hannie grumbled, twisting in his seat as he tried—and failed—to reach the itchy spots on his back. His skin throbbed with every missed scratch, only making it worse.

“Looks like someone needs a hand… should we help out?” Seungmin asked, already reaching his hand out.

Hannie’s struggles were cut short when two hands were placed on his back from either side. Minho and Seungmin’s fingers scratched the itchy areas to blissful perfection.

“Mmm thank you,” Han said gratefully, letting out a pleased sigh as he leaned forwards to let the two work their magic.

Unfortunately for him, he didn’t notice the twin smirks that were exchanged between the two menaces. Apparently, their little rivalry had been nothing but a farce.

Hands grabbed onto Han’s wrists, pulling them so that they were crossed over his middle, each of his hands held in the firm grasp of Minho and Seungmin.

Their fingers that had been gently scratching at his back now curled into claws that raked over Hannie’s lower sides and ribs.

Poor Hannie didn’t get a second to brace himself before the tingly sensations overtook his senses.

What started as harsh exhales quickly turned into helpless giggles, and the longer they continued, the more Hannie crumbled.

He shoved at their hands, but it was two against one and his sensitivity certainly wasn’t doing him any favors.

Stifled giggles left his lips in strings as Hannie shifting around awkwardly in his seat to avoid the hands that seemed stuck to his body. His face was scrunched up in the most adorable fashion, a smile already budding on his pink lips.

“I can’t believe how ticklish you are~” Minho teased, as if wrecking Han wasn’t a daily routine for him at this point. The kitten’s lips quirked up at the side and eyes squinted in amusement when Hannie glared at him.

“StahaHAHAp actihhing suHUHUprised! You lihihiterally wreHEHE—wrecked mehehe yehesterday!!”

“Oh, you’re actually being pretty quiet hm…let’s see how long you can keep it up.” Seungmin’s curious if slightly evil words had Minho cackling in childish joy.

With embarrassment bubbling in his belly, Hannie bowed his head low, trying to gain some semblance of control in hiding his expression from the world.

“Come on, let’s see that pretty smile~” Minho taunted, his fingers diving into the ace’s sides with renewed vigor.

Han squealed, instinctively jerking away—right into Seungmin's waiting arms. The two menaces were enjoying this way too much!

“ Nohohohoho! PlehEHEase hyuhung! Seuhuhungmhin-ah nahahaha! Nohohot hehehere!! Ihihit’s ehembarrahassing!”

No matter which way he turned, there was no escape. Laughter bubbled uncontrollably from Hannie’s lips, his face flushing with a mix of shyness and helpless joy.

But as much as he enjoyed their teasing, one thing was certain—hereally needed to get them back for this!

“Keep your arms here,” Minho instructed, moving Hannie’s hands so that he was leaning forward with his elbows resting on the table. Seungmin moved their glasses of water far enough away in case their target decided to get too squirmy.

Han laced his fingers together tightly and gulped nervously. His eyes flitted over the nearby tables before squeezing shut, praying they wouldn’t hear him over the background noise.

This new position left a lot of vulnerable areas completely exposed to the two. “Nohohoho you’re gonna tihickle mee!!” He complained, bringing his arms down to protect his sides when Minho’s hands ghosted over his belly.

“We’re going to tickle you either way. But if you move your arms again, this is gonna get ten times worse.” The threat lingered in the air and the ace felt a chill run down his spine.

Once his hands were returned to their position, the duo sprang into action. Their fingers immediately targeted Hannie’s legs; squeezing, scribbling, and pinching at the sensitive skin.

“Fahahahack, oho mY GAhahad! Please noHOT thesHEHere!!” Han ducked his head again, wobbly lips pressed tightly together but there was no use.

Then, Minho decided to be mean, slipping his hand lower and digging his fingers into either side of Hannie’s thighs, just above his knee.

The ace couldn’t possibly muffle his sounds when his knees and thighs were getting attacked like this. “PleheHEHEASE!! Seuhuhungmin-ah nohohoh-AH Mihihnho hyuHUHUng SHI- ahahahahaha!!”

The kitten’s voice took on a teasing lilt as he leaned closer, “Don’t hide your face, I wanna see you~”

Placing a finger under Hannie’s chin he lifted the younger’s face. And the sight that met his eyes was beautiful.

Hannie’s heart shaped smile stretched across his lips, his eyes were slitted from how hard he was laughing and his hair was a mess from when he was desperately shaking his head to cope with the ticklish onslaught.

Not to mention the dark blush that coated his chubby cheeks, neck and ears. He looked so utterly ruffled like this.

“Gods Hannie… you look so pretty right now,” Minho breathed out in wonder, his hands momentarily pausing it’s attack and focusing every sense on his other half.

Seungmin just sighed and shook his head at the two. His hands still working diligently on reducing Hannie to a sweet, giggly puddle.

Minho quickly snapped out of his revere, hands picking up the pace and making Hannie screech from the suddenness of it all.

“Fahahahahack! I cahan’t, I chahahan’t plehease mehehercy!!” He begged through hysterics.

At one point, Seungmin had to pause his ministrations to pick up a glass that got knocked over when Han’s knee hit the table.

“Ihihi hahahahate youhu so muhuhuch! Youhuhu twoho suhuck!!” Hannie’s giggled out complaints had no bite to it, just a mountain of mortification.

Minho was dying laughing at the quokka, his fingers now wiggling at the ace’s bare waist under his clothes. “Does it tickle more when I do it like this Hannie?” He taunted, knowing damn well what the answer was.

As Han writhed in his seat, failing miserably to stifle his giggles, he noticed some concerned and confused stares from nearby tables and humiliation crept up his body. He wished they were somewhere—anywhere—else.

He whined softly between peals of laughter, a heated blush painting his face crimson. The poor boy tapped their hands, desperately hoping they’d stop.

“QuihiHIHit it!! PeHEHEople are loohoohooking ahat mehehEHE!” His voice dissolved into hiccupy giggles, arms trembling on the table as he giggled and squirmed.

Seungmin laughed at the pained expression on his face, sinking his fingers into the softness of Hannie’s belly and loving the way it made the ace jump in his seat.

Han was just way too cute when he was tickled. His reactions being both amusing and adorable.

“Nahahahahaha! Plehease! Ihihit’s sohoho bahad!!”

The way his sweet voice shook with mirth and a shy blush bled into his skin had the two menaces melting. The sight was far too enticing to resist.

However, the duo snatched their hands back as it they had been burned, flushing with embarrassment when a waiter hurried to check in on the noise. Seungmin apologized on Hannie’s behalf with a Cheshire grin on his face.

Minho's ears were bright red and Seungmin was giggling crazily and cute Hannie had his face in his hands, fake crying into them.

The flustered ace pulled the hood of his jacket low over his face to avoid looking at the waiter as he set their food.

The man raised an eyebrow but didn’t comment, simply setting down their food. Hannie’s face turned even redder as he mumbled a quiet (and giggly) 'Thank you,' wishing the ground would swallow him whole.

It was far too embarrassing at that point. But of course, just this wasn’t enough to sate the two demons besides him.

The rest of their meal passed in quietly, the trio eagerly digging into the food and finishing it in record time. The wobbled walk home was also uneventful… up until they got to the doorway that is.

Hearing the consipiratory whispers already starting, Han bolted the moment he stepped through the door, feet thudding noisily on the hardwood floors.

But a hand caught his shoulder, spinning him around and pinning him to the wall near his bedroom door.

“Going somewhere Sungie?” Seungmin's voice carried an evil lilt to it. Minho joined them with a scarf, swiftly twirling to a stop besides the pair.

Han giggled at his hyungs antics, one hand pawing at the front of Lino's sweater beseechingly. The older cocked a brow at him, challenging the quokka to try to talk his way out of this.

“Puppy, hold him down,” Minho instructed, flexing the plain black fabric he was holding. Seungmin dragged Hannie inside his room and pinned him down on his bed.

“You ready Sungie? Hyung has something extra special planned for you~”

Hannie whined as they tied his hands up and Minho couldn’t help but squeal internally at how cute Hannie looked. It made the ace giggle nervously, hands trembling in their restraints.

“Agh you’re. Just. SO. Cute!” Each word brought with it a squeeze to the ace’s sides, the kitten leaning down and nuzzling Hannie’s clothed tummy with his face.

Their words were gentle, but their touch was mean and Han was weak to their cruel methods.

“Ahahaha nOHOHoho thahat tihIHICkles!!” Poor Hannie felt like he was going crazy, being extra sensitive from their previous ministrations.

Seungmin's fingers followed the curve of Hannie's torso, scribbling over his ribs, down his waist until they rested over the quokka's hips.

Then Minho dived in, raking all 5 nails over the younger's soles, from the balls of his feet to his heels.

“SHIT!! NAHAHAHAHA!! NOHOT MYHYHY FEEHEEHEET!! HYUHUNG PLEASE!!!”

He was unimaginably sensitive like this, reacting to every touch with a loud squeal and more squirming. Pleas spilled freely from Hannie’s lips and the two cooed at him.

The older spent extra time on his arches, exploring every little sound he could wring out for Hannie as the younger's screamed and squealed and pleaded.

Then Seungmin's hands came to life at his hips, and that was the last straw for Hannie. Minho placed his hands on Hannie's thighs and squeezed.

“IHIHITS sohOHO baHAHAHD!! PLEASEPLEASEPLEASE ANYHYHYWHEHERE BUHUT THERE!” He begged through endless laughter.

They massaged the spot thoroughly while holding it down and Han howled with laughter at the suddenness of it all.

He sealed his lips, his face growing darker and darker red as he laughed loudly. His happy sounds echoed through their dorms.

Minho leaned down, shaking his fluffy hair over Hannie’s abs. The strands caught and dragged on the toned muscles. Hannie squealed—a high-pitched, breathless sound that had Minho grinning triumphantly.

He was almost in tears as the featherlight touches appeared to tickle him even worse than the usual rough tickles that Minho subjected him to.

Minho kept a firm grip on the younger’s hips, holding them down as he alternated between sweeping his hair over the younger’s belly and blowing raspberries at random and reveling in the way it brought out the squeakiest laughter he’d ever heard from the younger.

“nahahahAHAHA IHITS SOHO BAHAHAD!! HYUHUHUNG BEHEHE NIHIHICE!”

The change and unexpectedness of his techniques had Hannie in hysterics much faster than usual (and also because the two had wreaked havoc on the poor boy not too long ago).

Seungmin, unfortunately, didn’t have as much experience targeting Han as Lino did, his usual targets being Jeongin, Changbin or Hyunjin. But thinking about it made an idea surface in his mind.

He dragged his fingers up form where they’d been poking and scribbling at the ace’s slender waist, until it was resting over the sides of Hannie’s chest.

It was Changbin’s worst spot and the puppy knew from experience that it also had Channie squealing the loudest he’d ever managed to have the leader.

Offhandedly, he wondered if it was a bad spot for all buff people and this thought had him lifting his head up to stare at Minho.

He’d been getting pretty bulky as of late… which made Seungmin wonder if it’d also work on the kitten. He decided to file that though away for later, his focus returning to his current victim.

Now that the idea had occurred to him, he wouldn’t be able to rest until he’d tested his hypothesis.

The lee tensed, tilting his head up to watch as Seungmin’s expression went from curious to an almost smug smirk.

The quokka didn’t get any warning before the puppy, pressed two fingers into the spot on either side.

“AHH FUCK! SeuhuhuHUHUngmihin!! ahahaHAHA! nohot there, PLEHEHEASE!!”

Han shrieked, arching his back desperately, only to come crashing back down when it pushed his exposed tummy right into Minho’s eager lips.

He then tried twisting side to side, his body writhing where it lay on the soft mattress but he couldn’t escape the sensation.

‘I knew that’d work!’ Seungmin muttered smugly, grinning in satisfaction. Perhaps his theory would be proven right. Perhaps all buff people had a common Achilles heel.

He would certainly have a lot of fun toying with that idea later.

“NahaHAHAha whyhy mehehe?!” Hannie whined through his giggles. “Because,” Minho started, pinching Han’s full cheeks, "you’re so cute when you’re like this~ You have this extra special tickle laugh and unfortunately for you, I’m addicted to it”

It was relieving for Minho to see his baby smile and laugh again. It had hurt him and the others too when Hannie had been feeling down. There was a time when he’d barely smiled and it honestly scared Minho.

He was left wondering if Hannie would ever smile as brightly as he had before. But now, looking closely at the way the ace’s cheeks stained red, his beautiful heart shaped smile spread so wide across his face, he felt that tight ache in his chest unravel.

Their Hannie was back and even happier than before. And both Minho and Seungmin were determined to keep him that way.

So, with a smirk, Seungmin began scratching at Hannie’s collarbones with his nails, Minho simultaneously raking his nails over Hannie’s lower belly and loving the way the poor boy let out an ear-splitting scream and dissolved into bubbly laughter.

The ace was kicking his legs as if he was swimming, his heels digging into the mattress as his body shook with desperate cackles.

“Getting some practice in for the Olympics huh Sungie?” Seungmin mocked, snickering when Han tried to glare at him. Minho burst out laughing, Hannie blushing at their mean teasing.

He didn’t have any time to think of something smart when the kitten massaged his thumb into Hannie’s v-line.

“MIHIHINHO HYUHUNG!” His whole body twisted to the side and Seungmin grinned.

“Oh, did you want me to get you here? Is that why you’re so desperately presenting it to me?” He teased cruelly, giggling when Hannie shook his head frantically, too consumed by his laughs to think of a reply.

“Shuhuhut uhup!! Fuck Minnie pleheheheheHEHEASE!! Ihi cahahahn’t! Ihihit’s SOHOHO BAHAHAHD!!”

Han pulled his knees up, hitting Minho's back with his legs over and over again. "Ow! That hurts Han-ah!" The kitten complained, grabbing firmly onto Hannie's feet when his legs came back up again.

"So impatient, aren't you? If you wanted my attention here that badly you could've just said so! No need for the violence." Hannie was speechless at their sheer audacity.

The way they spun it around and made it seem as if Hannie was the one desperately begging to be wrecked when in reality they had just wanted to mess with him.

But all thoughts of retaliation were driven from his mind the moment those nimble fingers touched his bare sole.

It was as though electric shocks were running through his legs, his body jolted and shook as Hannie's laughter cut out in seconds and then came back, much much louder than before.

The sound was deafening, howls and screeches mixing in with his cackles.

By the time they stopped and released the blushing boy, Hannie was panting hard, one arm thrown over his face as he gasped for breath. His body still jolted whenever Seungmin or Minho’s hands even came close.

The puppy held the black scarf in his hand, going silent when he realized how stretched it was. It was now about twice the size it had been when they’d tied Jisung with it.

“Wow Sungie, you really did a number on this one huh?” Hannie’s face flushed when he saw the fabric, stuttering as he tried to protest.

“Yah! You can’t blame me for this! It’s Lino’s fault! I—” Two pokes to his side shut him up quick.

“Is that how I told you to address me?” Minho’s voice was playfully sharp, and Hannie sighed in defeat. “Sorry hyungie.”

“Ooh I can’t wait to tell Bokkie how you ruined his favorite scarf! He’ll be SO mad!! Maybe…maybe he might need to punish you for it~”

Minho was already plotting to tell Felix, and perhaps he could persuade the angel to wreck Hannie as punishment.

Seungmin grinned at the thought. He’d love to explore more of Hannie’s vulnerable spots!

But before they could get carried away, Hannie, who had been plotting his revenge all along, intervened. “You two,” he panted, still red-faced and teary-eyed. “Get ready for payback.”

The determined glint in his eyes made both Minho and Seungmin hesitate. They knew that look—it was only a matter of time before the ace hunted them down and made them regret every poke and prod. And boy, was he going to enjoy it.

He managed to catch the puppy first, dragging him down and looming over him as Minnie kicked and squirmed. “What’s the matter pup? Can’t take what you dish out?”

Minho hurried to find a hiding place when he heard Seungmin howl with laughter behind him. These happy sounds went on for the better part of the next hour…

[imaginespazzi]

Part 1: Don't Be A Stranger

Masterlist - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5 - Part 6 - Part 7

But if (my) world was ending, you'd come over right?

(In which UCLA anon's roman empire became this writer's roman empire and we've finally reached the beginning)

Pairing: Paige Bueckers X Azzi Fudd

Themes: Angst, Pining, Hurt/Comfort and a little bit of Fluff

Words: 8.4 K (other parts will be shorter....maybe)

TW: Swearing, Alcohol, Injuries, Alludes to Sexual Content

A/N: Hello my lovelies <3 Gonna keep this as short and sweet as possible but we've finally, finally gotten to the UCLA fic. A huge shout out to UCLA anon, because this is their master idea. Couple of things, I've never been to LA or UCLA and therefore some things are out of whack. The timeline is also a little out of whack but I swear I will try to keep it as consistent as possible. In the mean time, just ignore some of the inconsistencies pretty please. As always, feel free to let me know what's bad, what's good and what else you'd like to see. I hope y'all enjoy this first part and let's get another W today!

August 2021

where are you 

i literally have to be at the airport in an hour paige where are you 

dude 

are you on your way?

you better be driving and that’s why you’re not answering 

PAIGE

i’m sorry about last night i shouldn’t have said that 

but you said a lot of shit too so call it even?

this isn’t funny where are you?

i have to leave in 15 mins 

are you actually not coming?

wtf????

this is actually bullshit

get over yourself bueckers 

wow 

fuck you

just landed 

thought you might like to know 

sorry my plane didn’t crash i guess 

September 2021

dude enough okay 

can you just call me back??

i just wanna talk 

i know you're mad i get it but i miss you   

November 2021 

hi i’mma be in dc over christmas

nvm 

idk why i’m trying again  

maybe i should block you 

this is kinda pathetic of me what the fuck 

December 2021

i thought i saw you today but idk

couldn’t have been you cause if it was 

would you really not even say hi?

i’m done trying paige 

merry christmas i guess

March 2022 

i misz you 

lyke a wot

love uuuuu pppppp

even if ur a bwtich 

pkese pick up 

ignore that 

people drunk text exes apparently i drunk text you 

wait 

i don’t need to tell you that 

you already ignore it all anyways

 

August 2022 

i heard about the acl 

i’m sorry 

idk if it means anything, but if you wanna talk

nvm 

***

September 2022 

When the doorbell rings, on a quiet Thursday afternoon during a rare moment of alone time, Paige expects it to be a lot of people. One of her parents deciding that they actually weren’t going to leave her alone. Someone else in her family showing up out of the blue to provide comfort. Maybe one of her teammates popping up to keep her entertained. She even thinks it might be some random fan who got too invested and figured out the address for her air BnB. It’s the saddest testament to how broken they are, that the idea of it being Azzi Fudd standing outside her door, never once crosses her mind. But there she is, when Paige opens the door, dressed in ripped jean shorts and a light blue tank top, the girl that had been her best friend, and maybe a little bit more. 

Silence stretches between them as Azzi fidgets with her hands and Paige continues to stoically stare at her. It’s been almost a year since they’ve seen each other, even longer since they’d last shared a happy smile. And you’d have to go back to before she’d told her about her future plans, to find the last time Azzi had properly looked Paige in the eyes.  

“Hi,” Azzi says finally, mustering up a small smile. Paige doesn’t know if hearing that voice, soft and subdued but still so familiar, fixes a crack or breaks her heart even further. She wills herself to be polite in response, to match Azzi’s polite greeting with a greeting of her own. But there’s clear discord between her mouth and her head, because her words are harsh and hollowed. 

“What are you doing here?”

Azzi swallows, smile disappearing as she immediately digs her fingernails into her palms and Paige feels the guilt settle into her stomach. It’s like the night before all over again. If she closes her eyes, Paige can still hear her voice loudly echoing in Azzi’s childhood bedroom. She can hear the angry words that she’d hurled at her best friend, each one like a well-aimed arrow piercing the other’s girl's heart and tearing into Paige’s own soul. Some would call what she’d done self-preservation. She’d call it her biggest mistake. 

“I um-,” Azzi sucks in her bottom lip, “I was in the area and thought, maybe I’d check in.”

“How did you even know where I was?” Paige hates how cold and accusatory her voice sounds. It’s a version of herself she doesn’t quite know how to deal with, one that hasn’t ever appeared for anyone other than the girl in front of her, “I know I didn’t tell you.”

Any semblance of calm is gone from Azzi’s face, as she seems to realise that she’s not going to be getting any cordiality from her old friend. 

 “And we’re off to a great start,” she mutters under her breath before replying to Paige’s exact question, “no you didn’t. Your dad-”

“You talked to my dad?”

“Yeah. I mean you know Drew looks up to Jon and José so much and they still talk and stuff and he came over- Drew I mean- and then your dad was there and we just got to talking and you came up and yeah. He told me and well I live here, kinda, so I thought- well I thought maybe you’d like some company?”

As Azzi’s rambling explanation comes to an end, Paige doesn’t miss the tinge of hopefulness in her voice at the last bit. The younger girl shuffles her feet, as she stares at the blonde expectantly. 

“I don’t-” Paige struggles to draw in a breath as the voices in her head argue, “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

Her words are met with silence as Azzi stares at her blankly. 

“I- you,” she blinks rapidly, clearly at a loss for what to say at the blatant rejection, “I can’t come in?”

“It’s just- I’ve had a lot of people visit you know,” Paige bullshits, suddenly feeling very exhausted, “and my family were here a couple days and my friends are coming soon and-”

“And I’m neither of those things,” Azzi says, her tone low and breathy. 

“That’s not what-”

“It is,” Azzi closes her eyes for a brief second, when she opens them, the flash of hurt in them feels like a dagger through Paige’s chest, “it is like that and it is what you meant and it’s- it’s fine.”

“Az-” Paige chokes out, feeling her lungs collapse when the other girl moves to leave, “please,” and she’s not even sure she’s asking for, but it’s not this. It’s never been this.

Azzi stops and when she turns back around, there’s a determined look on her face.

“I just-” she rubs her face, composing herself before focusing her eyes on Paige, “you’re the strongest person I know. And you’re going to come back from this, better than ever. I know it. The whole world knows it. Because you’re Paige Bueckers. You’re something else.  You’re the hardest worker, you’re just- you’re the best.”

“You don’t-”

“Just- just let me finish okay and then, then I’ll go or whatever but Paige, you’re all of those things you know? Strong, brave, the best fucking player- but, it’s also okay if sometimes-, if sometimes you aren’t. It’s okay because this- this is hard, I know it is. So if sometimes you’re not strong or-, or brave- or not feeling like working hard- it’s okay. And if there are moments where you- where you want to give up, that’s okay too. It doesn’t make you- it doesn’t make you any less than what you are. It just makes you human, and it’s okay you know- to be human. It’s okay if- if you hurt and it’s okay if you’re not okay. It’s- it’s okay.”

The two girls stare at each other, eyes shining with tears, as Paige let’s Azzi’s words wash over her. She’s been told a lot of platitudes about her injury, from her coaches to her teammates to her family. And she knows she has plenty of people in her corner, who root for her and who genuinely do believe she’ll have the greatest comeback ever. But the motivational speeches get draining after a while and all she’s wanted to do for the last couple of weeks is wallow. Then she felt guilty about wallowing, that little voice in her head yelling at her to be productive and work on getting back to herself because that’s what everybody expected. Paige hadn’t even realised how badly she needed someone to give her permission to not be okay, not until the only person who’d ever known that part of her, had finally said the words she so desperately needed to hear.

The thing is, when she was younger, Paige used to keep everything bottled inside. She’d always been hyper aware of her privilege and her problems had always just seemed so insignificant in front of her parents’ or her friends. So she’d kept them to herself, trapping herself in a web of her own burdens that sometimes threatened to strangle her. And then she’d met a girl at a USA basketball camp when she was 15, a girl who had gently flicked her fingers and Paige’s walls had fallen like dominoes. She hadn’t even known she was drowning, until Azzi had shown up with a lifeboat.

“I just-,” Azzi breaks Paige out of her trance by breaking the eye contact between them, “I didn’t know if anybody had said that to you yet and I just- I wanted you to hear it.”

In the span of a minute, a thousand and one phrases take birth in Paige’s mind and then die on the tip of her tongue. She opens and closes her mouth, trying to express even one of the myriad of emotions that are swirling like a tornado in her brain. But nothing comes out except a litany of incomprehensible noises. And Azzi seems to find the wrong answer in the silence, giving the blonde a timid nod. 

“Take care of yourself P,” her voice catches on the familiar nickname, as she shoots Paige a sad smile, before beginning to walk away. When Azzi chose UCLA, she’d lit Paige's heart on fire. So, Paige had drowned their friendship. And while all this time Azzi has struggled to breathe, Paige has burned but god, is she so fucking tired of it. 

“Fuck, Azzi wait,” Paige curses, hobbling to catch up to the brunette, who stops with a sigh but doesn’t make a move to return. Stubborn as always, Paige thinks, continuing her way over. When she does catch up, she’s not fully sure what to say and so,  “I uh- I’m out of milk.”

Azzi raises her eyebrows in question, crossing her arms protectively around her chest. 

“I can’t drive,” Paige explains slowly, “or walk obviously.”

Realisation dawns on Azzi’s face, “you’re asking me to drive you to the grocery store?”

“I guess,” Paige shrugs, trying to be nonchalant. 

“Seems like the kind of favour someone asks of their family, or their friends,” Azzi emphasises bitterly, never one to let go of an opportunity for sarcasm. 

Paige flinches, “right, I kinda deserved that one.”

She gets a raised eyebrow in response that very much says “ya think?”

“I’m trying here,” she says quietly, and Azzi’s hard demeanour softens, “I’m raising a white flag Az, calling a truce or whatever but it kinda needs to go both ways.” 

“What do you think me coming here was supposed to be?” the younger girl says exasperatedly, but she’s smiling again. It’s the third one Paige has gotten out of her today, and finally, she smiles back. They look a little foolish, standing in the apartment hallway, cheshire-cat-grinning at each other like idiots, but it feels like something has clicked into place again.  

“I’ll go grab my wallet, you go heat up the car.”

“It’s like 110 degrees dude.”

“Bro shut up, you know what I mean,” Paige huffs and when it makes Azzi laugh, she feels like she’s floating. It’s not as if she hasn’t been happy in a year because won’t you look at that, her world did keep turning after that one decision. But this is different. She feels airy and light, like she could jump off a cliff and fly instead of fall. 

“Well hurry up, I have things to do outside of just being your chauffeur.”

“Poor passenger princess, how the roles have reversed,” Paige mocks and it earns her an ever so familiar fond eye roll and for the first time in a year, she feels free. 

***

When she gets downstairs, Azzi’s leaning against her car door, a pair of sunglasses shielding her eyes. The hot California sun shines brightly against her tan skin, and Paige’s heart stutters because fuck, Azzi is golden. She looks every bit reminiscent of the girl Paige still has memorised and yet, every bit the promise of a girl Paige wants to learn by heart. 

“Nice car,” Paige smirks, alerting the younger girl of her presence.  

“It does the job,” Azzi says, looking up with a smile of her own, opening the passenger door for Paige to get in, “not all of us are raking in NIL deals to get the big guns, but we make do.”

“Steph Curry brand ambassador say what now?” the blonde girl teases as she slides into the car. When she looks up, Azzi’s frozen in place, “what?”

“Nothing I just-” she’s wearing sunglasses, but Paige knows Azzi's trying to avert her gaze, “I’m kinda surprised you know that.”

It’s Paige’s turn to look away, their newfound comfort giving away to that old awkwardness, “I keep up with most basketball news.”

To Azzi’s credit she doesn’t push. Instead, she makes her way into the driver seat without another sound. She’s about to connect her phone to the aux but Paige beats her to it. 

“Hey,” Azzi squeals, making grabby hands, “my car, my rules, my music.”

“Nuh-uh injury privileges,” Paige gloats, sticking out her tongue. 

“That’s not a thing.”

“Is too.”

“Fine, we’ll listen to your crap music.”

“I resent that,” Paige retorts, as Drake blasts through the speakers. The sound of it makes Azzi groan, and she dramatically bangs her head against the steering wheel. Paige spends the rest of the car ride singing at the top of her lungs. Azzi spends the rest of the car ride alternating between shaking her head and joining in with the singing. It’s like they’re back in 2020 all over again, back before they found themselves in the whirlwind of life, back when they were just Paige and Azzi.

*** 

Their trip inside the grocery store takes less time than the ride to get there, even if Paige takes her time dilly-dallying in the dairy section, pretending she’s going to get anything other than just regular milk. She’s overly conscious of the fact that their time together might be coming to an end, that this time she might actually have to deal with saying goodbye. But she’s not ready to go back to missing Azzi just yet. 

“Maybe you can show me your dorm,” she says quietly, once they're both back in the car, playing with the hem of her shirt. Beside her, Azzi draws in a sharp intake of breath, clearly not having expected Paige to want that of all things. In all honesty, the idea of stepping into the world that had stolen Azzi from her is not all that appealing to Paige but she wants to hold onto this moment just a little bit longer. 

“You wanna see my dorm?” 

“A chance to see how the non-blue blood peasants live? I’d never pass it up.”

“Non blue blood,” Azzi scoffs, "Ever heard of John Wooden?”

“I was talking about women’s basketball but yeah I have heard of him. I won the award last year. Over you,” Paige smirks, wiggling her eyebrows. 

“Not everyone’s a phenom their freshman year,” Azzi retorts fondly, unable to mask the hint of pride in her voice. 

“Well we’ll see this year-” Paige stops herself, cold seeping into her lungs, as she remembers why she’s in the stupid state of California in the first place. The lighthearted mood in the car goes tumbling out the window as her words hang like a dagger in the air. 

“Paige,” Azzi whispers, trying to wrap that one syllable in comfort. She reaches out to touch the blonde’s shoulder but must think better of it because her hand hovers mid-air for a second, before she pulls it back. Paige is suddenly hyper aware of the fact they haven’t touched yet. It’s a reminder of the fact that whatever progress they’ve made today, there’s still so much they haven’t even begun to unpack. 

“It’s fine,” Paige’s voice is steely, “just drive.”

Azzi opens and closes her mouth a couple of times, before simply nodding and starting the ignition. She’s clearly holding back and Paige doesn’t know how to feel about it. There’s a part of her that wants Azzi to push her to talk like she would before, but there's another part of her that knows this new rope they’re trying to string between them is fragile. 

They ride in silence to Azzi’s apartment, both of them too caught up in their own thoughts to bother with music this time. As the UCLA campus nears, Paige can’t help but hate it just a little bit. She’s aware she’s being petty. Acting like Storrs, Connecticut is some hub of beauty is probably a stretch of the imagination for anyone but she’s determined to dislike this place out of principle.

“Hmm not too shabby but like where’s the fucking cows?” Paige jokes, as the car comes to a stop in front of Azzi’s apartment building. She steps out gingerly, pretending to inspect her surroundings, making tsk-tsk noises at the most random things. 

“I’ve seen your apartment Bueckers, don’t even try,” Azzi retorts. 

It shouldn’t surprise Paige to see one of Azzi’s teammates when they enter her living room. It’s just like UConn really in the sense that there’s always someone there when you walk in but something about seeing Charisma Osborne just chilling in Azzi’s space suddenly makes it more real that the younger girl is definitely a UCLA Bruin. 

“Oh,” Charisma gives Paige a once-over, clearly not having expected to see her, “hi Paige.”

Paige waves, shuffling her weight on her crutches, unsure what to say. It’s not like she doesn’t know Charisma, they’ve literally won a gold medal together for USA basketball. She’s even met the girl a couple of times after and she likes her, she does. But her bitter brain is focused on the fact that this is one of those girls who had gotten Azzi as their teammate, one of the girls who got to see Azzi everyday. All things Paige had not gotten. 

“You didn’t tell me you were bringing company Az,” Charisma says pointedly, looking at Azzi and Paige bristles at the use of the nickname. She’s being all sorts of ridiculous but at least she’s self-aware of it. 

“Last minute decisions,” Azzi replies airily. The two girls lock eyes and Paige can tell they’re having some sort of unspoken conversation and now the green-eyed envy monster is out in full force. 

“I insisted on seeing her dorm,” she says finally, breaking into whatever staring competition the two UCLA guards are having. 

“It’s not a problem,” Charisma reassures, standing up from her position on the couch, and coming over to give Paige a tentative hug, “I just didn’t know you were coming. But it’s good to see you, Paige.”

“Yeah,” Paige tries to muster up a proper smile as she leans in to return the hug but it comes out more like a grimace, “you too.”

“We’re gonna go chill in my room,” Azzi says, beckoning to one of the doors in the hallways and Paige obediently follows her, waving a half-hearted goodbye to Charisma. She’s secretly pleased to have Azzi back to herself. 

The room is nothing out of the ordinary except it has Azzi all over it. She’s in the pink comforter that is thrown haphazardly over a clearly not made bed. She’s in the unicorn plushies laid delicately over a dark blue couch. She’s in the little flower stickers that outline the mirror on the far side of the room. There’s a wall dedicated solely to pictures and fairy lights on one side and Paige is immediately drawn to it. A familiar ache reverberates in her chest as her eyes flicker over the pictures of Azzi’s family. She’s missed them. Then there’s the photographs of Azzi in her UCLA uniform, her teammates surrounding her and Paige has to resist the dangerous urge to rip those off the wall. Be happy for her happiness, the logical part of her brain yells, not seeming to realise she’d left any chance of that in the dirt a year ago. As she tears her eyes away from those offending pictures, they land instead on a whole other set of photographs and she feels her heart catch in her throat. 

It’s a set of three images of her and Azzi, taken at various moments. Paige brushes her thumb against the one of the two of them with their arms around each other at the Minnesota  state fair. Azzi’s beaming at the camera and Paige is beaming at Azzi. They look so young, so naive, so happy. 

“I’m on your wall,” Paige breathes out, turning to face her best friend, “Fuck, I’m on you wall.”

“Of course you are,” Azzi affirms, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world but she shuffles nervously, giving away the reality behind her stable demeanour. 

“I never answered your texts. I didn’t call you back,” Paige lists quietly as the first tear falls from her eyes; she’s been holding them back all day, “and I’m on your fucking wall.”

Azzi looks away, unsure how to deal with the fact that apparently they’re no longer tip-toeing around the past. She doesn’t know how to tell the blonde that there had never really been a second thought about whether or not those photos were going up on the wall.

“Doesn’t matter,” she shrugs finally, “you’re my best friend. You’re always gonna be my best friend. Ride or die right?”

“Ride or die,” Paige repeats in a whisper before she all but throws herself at Azzi, practically moulding herself into the younger girl’s body. Caught off guard, Azzi stiffens for a second, before relaxing into it. It’s late outside and the sun has set, but in this moment, the world shines the brightest it has in a year as two stubborn girls finally find their way home to each other. 

***

That night, Azzi asks her tentatively if she wants to stay over and of course Paige agrees. Lying awake next to a familiar stranger, she lets herself finally remember the day things had first started unravelling.

November 2020

“You’ll probably get one of the upstairs apartments, so we probably won’t actually be living together which is good because can you imagine if I had to see your goofy ass 24/7?” Paige puts a dramatic hand to her forehead, as she leads Azzi into her room.

She’s too caught up in her excitement having Azzi at UConn, and planning what’ll happen next year, to notice that the girl in question isn’t participating at all in her enthusiasm. Paige has been waiting for what feels like a year (in reality it’s only been a few months) to finally have her best friend come visit. The minute the car had pulled up, she’d taken it upon herself to start her sales pitch all over again, missing the sympathetic smiles she’d gotten from the rest of the Fudd family as she pulled Azzi away to show her the glories of the campus. 

“Did you see my assist to Christyn today?” Paige gloats, falling onto her bed with a smirk. 

“It was pretty great,” Azzi concedes. 

“It was fucking perfect thank you very much. I set her up perfectly, exactly how she likes it.”

“Right.”

“And then did you see how excited the team was for her? For everyone? Never gonna find a greater group of girls.”

“They seem wonderful P.”

Paige furrows her eyebrows as she catches Azzi still lingering by the door instead of joining her on the bed. The brunette fidgets with the sleeve of her sweater, chewing on her lips.

“Are you allergic to my bed?” Paige waits for some smartass response. When she doesn’t get one, she frowns, instincts going haywire, “Az, you good?”

“I- '' Azzi looks away, swallowing nervously, “I need to tell you something and I- I’m not sure how you’re gonna react.” 

“You get a boyfriend or a girlfriend or something in the last few months that I don’t know about?” She says it light-heartedly enough, but the thought of it sends a sharp sting through Paige’s heart. In hindsight, she thinks maybe she could have dealt with it having been that. 

“What? No. Just- just don’t- dont take it personally okay. Like you can be upset about it but- but don’t hold it against me yeah? My parents- they said- they said you’d get it. You’d be upset but you’d- you’d get it because you- you get me right?”

Paige’s chest hammers as she watches the younger girl draw in a deep breath, “you’re scaring the shit out of me right now.”

“I’mcommittingtoUCLA” Azzi says all in one breath, the words blending together. 

She’s sure she’s heard it wrong. There’s no way. After all this time, after all their conversations, all the pitches, how hard she had worked, there was no way this was going to be the end to all of Paige’s efforts. 

“What?” she whispers, crossing her fingers that she has in fact misheard. 

When Azzi averts her eyes, she knows she hasn’t, “I’m committing to UCLA.”

The first time Paige and Azzi met was somewhat awkward, what with Azzi’s shyness and Paige being slightly overeager to make a new friend. When they’d become bus buddies, they’d progressed to being casual acquaintances who could small talk and share smiles. And then the flight back to Minnesota happened and everything had changed. Every moment after was filled with conversation or laughs or a comfortable silence. Until this one, where the sudden silence between them foreshadows an ominous future.

“Say something,” Azzi says finally, her voice shaking. 

Paige stares at her for a second before, “you named your dog Stewie.”

“What?”

“You named your dog Stewie. After Breanna Stewart who played at UConn. It’s not-” Paige wracks her brain, hands flying animatedly “it’s not Meyers or something, after someone who played at fucking UCLA. You named your dog after a UConn great. How are you going to take him to UCLA with you?”

Azzi stares at her, clearly not having expected that level of questioning of all things. Who could blame her when Paige herself feels a little insane. 

“This is a joke right? You’re fucking with me? Ha ha ha very funny,” she claps deliriously,  “hilarious prank seriously, like hats off you’ve outdone yourself but enough okay? Say sike right fucking now.”

Azzi makes a strangled noise, “it’s not a joke Paige. That’s- that’s my decision.”

“Then change it,” Paige yells, catapulting off the bed.

“Paige-”

“Have you told UCLA yet?”

“I wanted to tell my family and you first.”

“Oh wow, how kind of you. How fucking generous of you to do that Azzi,” Paige bites back sarcastically and Azzi flinches. 

In a flash, Paige’s expression goes from angry to desperate, “you still have time to change your mind . Please just- just think about it again okay? You still have so much time and you know what, stay here for a couple more days. Spend time with the team, with the coaches, with me and you’ll see-. UCLA just sounds nice you know? California, the sun, I get it, of course it’s tempting. But just- just stay here okay? And you’ll see this is where you belong,” she leaves the, with me, unsaid. 

“Paige,” Azzi’s voice cracks. She takes a step toward her and then pauses. It’s the first time in a long time that Azzi’s hesitated when it comes to Paige. It won’t be the last. And when she looks at Paige through her long eyelashes, tears threatening to fall from her dark brown eyes, Paige knows she’s lost. 

“No,” she’s pacing now, chest heaving up and down in a combination of frustration, anger and misery, “this is not fucking happening. We’re not doing this. I made you a whole recruitment video. Did you watch it? Do you know how long it took me to make it? Has the last year been a fucking joke to you?”

“Of course not-”

“Don’t even. Because clearly- clearly it has. Must’ve been hilarious watching me beg and plead with you when you already fucking knew you were going to committ somewhere else.”

“That’s not fair,”  Azzi’s voice rises at the accusation, “I had no idea where I was going until a couple of weeks ago. You can’t seriously think that low of me.”

“Not fair? You know what’s not fair, Azzi? We’ve been talking about playing together, about finally being on the same team, the same fucking state, for years. What’s not fair is you throwing all of that away on a whim.”

“I’m not committing to UCLA on a whim. This is my whole future we’re talking about. You don’t even know how much thought I’ve put into it. And I’m choosing what’s best for me. You can’t hold that against me Paige. You can’t.”

They stand on opposite sides of the room, taking in harsh staggered breaths and glaring at each other. The tension in the room is electric as the string connecting them frays. Paige and Azzi bicker, they don’t argue. Or at least, that’s how it used to be. 

“Az?” their stare down is broken by a knock on the door as Katie Fudd lets herself in. Immediately, as she stares between her daughter and the girl who’d become just as important, Katie knows what has happened, “we’re going back to the air BnB, are you staying here?”

The answer should be obvious, like it used to be. Of course she would stay here. It was meant to be a no-brainer. But before Azzi can say that, Paige intervenes and the string snaps. 

“She’s going with you,” the blonde says firmly, before turning her back. She won’t let Azzi see the tears, she won’t. For her part, the brunette stares at Paige’s back silently for a couple of seconds, before a mask of determination slips on. 

“Fine. If that’s what you fucking want,” Azzi sneers before brushing past her mom, eager to get away and hide her own tears. 

When Paige turns back around, Katie is already looking at her. The older woman walks the length of the room and pulls the younger girl into a hug that she readily melts into. Paige sniffles as Azzi’s mom soothingly rubs her back. 

“We’re driving back tomorrow morning,” Katie whispers quietly into Paige’s hair, “I know you’re mad sweetheart but come say goodbye okay?”

And she does. She shows up with only half an hour or so remaining before Azzi leaves, but Paige shows up. They hug stiffly, exchanging maybe a sentence or two but in that moment it’s enough. They’ll call later when Azzi gets home and it’ll be awkward for a little bit but they’ll break through. They’ll figure out a way to go on without having to talk about the “big thing”. They’ll hold on as long as they can, until they can’t anymore. 

***

September 2022

After the night Paige stays over at Azzi’s apartment, they're attached at the hip for the next few weeks, just like old times. They’ve fallen into a routine of sorts. Azzi shows up without fail every day after practice to pick Paige up from her rehab, and then the rest of the younger girl’s time is Paige’s. The first time she’d seen the brunette leaning casually against her car, Paige had had to stop herself from jumping into her arms. She’d played it as nonchalant as possible, joking about Azzi being stalker, but inside, she could feel it again, the dangerously familiar tap of this is all I’ll ever need. 

On days Paige doesn’t have rehab, Azzi still shows up right on time on her doorstep with a board game or food or something.  It’s gotten to the point where every time the doorbell rings, Paige opens it expecting Azzi. The couple times it’s not, she tries and fails to hide the disappointment on her face. It earns her an eye roll from the delivery guy but it’s worth it for the laugh it elicits from Azzi when she tells her the story. They fall back together as if they’d never fallen apart. And what’s more terrifying than finding out that she’d never truly gotten over old Azzi, is realising how easy it would be to fall in love with new Azzi. 

When Caroline, Nika and Piath come to visit the weekend after, all three of them can immediately tell that something's changed. Their teammate seems lighter, as if she’s finally found a sense of calm. But their incessant prodding and raised eyebrows are only met with shrugs from a tight-lipped Paige. It isn’t until Azzi calls, and Nika snatches the phone out of Paige’s hands, gasping at the callerID, that they finally figure out why their point guard has a new kick in her step. 

“You should invite her out with us tonight,” Caroline is the first to speak, giving Paige an encouraging smile. 

“Carol,” Nika hisses, “we can’t just invite the enemy.”

“She’s not the enemy,” Paige defends immediately, “we don’t even have a rivalry with UCLA.”

Nika scoffs indignantly, “of course she is. She picked a different school over us. Over UConn! That’s weird. Who even does that?”

“Lots of people do,” Caroline, who occasionally texts Azzi (albeit she’s kept that somewhat of a secret), supplies helpfully, shrugging when the Croatian glares at her. 

Piath nudges Paige when she notices the other girl has gone quiet, “ignore Nika. She doesn’t mean it, you know that. If you wanna invite her, invite her.” 

And she does, she wants to so badly. It’s insane really because it hasn’t even been a full day since they’d last seen each other but Paige swears something inside her has been missing since. There’s something awfully terrifying about letting Azzi back into the UConn version of her world, the world that the younger girl had once rejected. Still, if they’re going to try this again, she supposes sooner or later, it’ll have to happen. 

“Put her on speaker,” Nika orders when Paige grabs her phone back from her. 

“Nika,” Caroline, younger only by age, warns, pulling the other girl away, “we’re supposed to be cheering her up, not making life harder.”

Azzi answers on the third ring, her voice teasing  “miss me already?”

Yes, Paige thinks, sometimes I think I miss you even when you’re right here next to me, sometimes I think I’ll miss you forever. But she doesn’t say any of that. 

“Not a chance,” she scoffs instead, “besides you called me first.”

“Butt dial.”

“Mmmhmm I’m sure.”

“Shut up,” Azzi laughs and Paige is glad her teammates aren’t here to see the goofy grin that appears on her face at the sound of it, “I just wanted to see if we were doing something tonight?”

“Yeah- umm- you remember I told you about the girls coming down this weekend. They- uh- they wanted to go out tonight and uh- you could come along?” 

There’s a pause on the other end and Paige knows Azzi’s going through the same thought process as her. 

“I don’t wanna intrude on your time with your team P-”

“You wouldn’t be intruding,” Paige cuts in immediately and although she figured her teammates were definitely eavesdropping, Nika cursing about her being “pussywhipped” followed by in-sync shushing from Piath and Caroline, gives them away. 

On the other end of the line, Azzi’s quiet again, “it’s okay P, you go have fun with your friends. We don’t have to spend every night together. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

What she doesn’t say is that maybe they need to learn how to live like that again, how to live apart again. Paige is almost done with the LA part of her rehab, something both of them are still in denial about. It’s only a matter of time before they return back to their two separate worlds and neither of them are sure they’ve managed to repair their friendship enough to not slip back into their foolishness again. 

“But I wanna see you tonight,” Paige whines, her tone teetering on the edge of sounding like a desperate girlfriend, “please.”

“Paige-”

“Pleaseeeeeee. I’m literally injured and begging Az, it’d be mean to say no.”

“What does your injury even have to do with any of this?” Azzi sighs exasperatedly, “but yeah okay fine calm down Bueckers. Send me an address, I’ll be there.”

“You don’t wanna come pregame here?” 

“Dude, let's not push it, okay?”

“Yeah, yeah okay see you,” Paige pauses, “hey Az?”

“Hmm?”

“I’m really happy you’re coming tonight.”

“I’m really happy you’re happy P.”

***

Azzi Fudd is a menace. See, people often get fooled by her soft-spoken nature and shy demeanour, but Paige has been around her long enough to know the truth. In the beginning it was the witty quips the younger girl always had ready whenever they were having some ridiculous argument. After that, it was the direct pranks that wreaked havoc on Paige’s life. But tonight, in Paige’s opinion, tonight is Azzi’s worst offence. She had to have done it on purpose, had to have known the sheer effect it would have on Paige to see her dressed like that. The red criss-cross tank top fits her like a mould and the way her ripped jeans shorts cling to her hips leaves little to the imagination. Her diamond belly button piercing shines against her skin, taunting Paige. She wants to touch, she wants to feel, she wants to do all the unspeakable things in her mind but she’s forced to just watch. 

What she hates most though, is that everybody else is watching too. Since Azzi’s walked into the club, Paige has had to fight the urge to strangle every stranger who had given her best friend an appraising once-over. Some of them let their eyes linger long enough to give her time to plot out the perfect murder strategy (it’s the only way she can stop herself from actually committing a crime tonight). And, as Azzi dances with Caroline, hips swaying to the beat and holding the other girl a little closely, Paige has the irrational urge to hit sweet, kind Caroline of all people. 

The thing is, Azzi’s been a little too attached to Caroline since she got here in Paige’s opinion. And she gets it. Piath, bless her soul, is trying but has always been a little awkward around new people. Nika is definitely not trying, loyally holding onto a grudge on behalf of Paige. Which leaves Caroline, who’s already familiar territory and the younger girl has grasped onto her like a lifeline. But enough is enough Paige decides, as she slips out of her seat with a determined look. Smoothly, she cuts right in between Caroline and Azzi.

“Nika’s a little wasted and I don’t want to deal with,” it’s a blatant lie but Paige knows appealing to Caroline’s more motherly instincts will get her what she wants. She gets a raised eyebrow in return, her teammate clearly catching her ruse because Nika looks visibly fine. But it works anyway and Paige gets Azzi to herself. She reaches for the other girl’s hand, twirling her just so she can hear that stupid silly laugh, and then pulling her back so she’s facing Paige. 

“You having fun?” 

“Always have fun with you P,” Azzi replies. She’s clearly tipsy but there’s no hint of insincerity in her voice. It makes Paige’s breath hitch. 

“Yeah?” she whispers, taking a step closer, “more than with Carol?”

Azzi giggles, “more than anyone.”

The song in the club changes and as the crowd adjusts to it, someone jostles Azzi and immediately Paige grabs at her hips to steady her. As she finds her balance, Azzi’s giggles subside, realising just how close she is to the blonde now. They’re stuck in slow motion as the world dances around them. The combination of adrenaline and alcohol pumping through her veins is what convinces Paige to test the limits. One hand still squeezing at Azzi’s bare waist, revelling in finally getting to touch, she brings up her thumb to trace around Azzi’s lips. The younger girl gulps, but when she doesn’t try to move away, confidence pulses through Paige. Her heart is beating frantically out of her chest, years and years of want and need that she’d shoved as far away as possible, desperately fighting to get to the surface. 

Pushing herself closer, so their chests are now pressed to each other and Azzi’s hands have no choice but to latch onto her biceps, Paige places a delicate, teasing kiss to the corner of Azzi’s lips. She wishes she could record the whine it elicits and listen to it on loop for hours. Smirking, she moves to place another one on the other side, this time pressing her lips a little harder, a little longer. Azzi’s eyes are closed shut, hands gripping onto Paige so tightly, she knows there’ll be a mark on her biceps tomorrow. She cups Azzi’s face with both hands now, her own eyes shutting involuntarily, as she finally, finally brushes their lips together. 

This time, the strangled noise that leaves Azzi’s throat, is one Paige wishes she could forget as the younger girl rips herself away from Paige, the force of it creating almost a foot of distance between them. It doesn’t take long for the familiar sting of rejection to make itself home in her heart. Azzi’s eyes are brimming with tears as she manically shakes her head. Without a word, she rushes through the crowd, making a beeline for the exit, leaving Paige confused and craving for another taste. 

***

It takes Paige a second to gather her thoughts before following the brunette. She ignores the confused glances from her teammates, making some bullshit excuse about fresh air as she fights her way outside. When she gets there, Azzi’s leaning against the wall, eyes closed as she takes in long deep breaths. 

“That’s not usually how girls react when I try to kiss them,” Paige says after a second, trying to make light of the situation, even if her heart is heavy with anxiety. 

It’s the wrong thing to say because Azzi scoffs, “you kiss a lot of girls don’t you.”

“Yeah and most of them kiss me back,” Paige bites back. 

She’s taken aback by the fire in the darker-skinned girl’s eyes as Azzi finally opens them, heaving herself off the wall. 

“I won’t be one of your groupies Paige. I won’t be one of your desperate one night stands. I won’t be just some other hookup. I won’t!”

Frankly she’s a little offended Azzi would even think that of her. She’s aware of her reputation. In fact she’d probably fed into it a little bit, exaggerating her escapades to Azzi on the phone her freshman year, when they had been on the verge of combusing and she’d been desperate to get a rise out of the younger girl. Last year though, last year was different. But Azzi doesn’t know that. 

“I don’t want you to be any of that,” she replies feebly. 

“Then what, do you want me to be?” Azzi’s voice rises with each syllable. 

Paige stutters, the words getting stuck in her throat. The truth is she wants Azzi to be everything. The truth is, Azzi already is everything. Except there’s too much between them and she just can’t say it. They stand in silence until Azzi finally breaks it.

“I think these last few weeks of summer might have been the best of my life,” she says miserably, “and that might be the worst thing ever you know? Because it’s not real. You’re gonna go back to your world and you’ll- you’ll stop replying to my texts and you’ll stop- you’ll stop calling me and I- I don’t know if I can do that again.”

“That’s an awful lot of assumptions you’re making about me,” Paige is on defensive mode now, feeling a fight brewing. 

“Because that’s what happened. Go back through your fucking phone Paige. Look at all the times I tried. And all the times you never did. You just- you cut me out Paige.”

“That’s not fair. You chose fucking UCLA. Over me.”

“No,” Azzi corrects immediately, anger seeping into her tone, “I chose UCLA over UConn. You made it about yourself.”

Paige swallows back a bitter response in favour of trying to prevent a full-fledged argument, “okay, okay let’s not- let’s not do this okay. It’ll be better this time- I- I won’t ignore your calls or texts or you okay? Just- can we just go back inside please?”

“That’s the thing,” Azzi’s anger is gone, replaced by a sad wistful smile, “I don’t know if I believe that you will,” a single tear rolls down her cheek, “I- I don’t fully trust you and you haven’t fully forgiven me. So where do we go from here?”

It’s a lie what they say about the truth setting you free, Paige thinks as Azzi’s words squeeze at her heart, because all it’s done is unleash shackles of despair that holds them both hostage. It had been easy the last couple of weeks, to pretend the last year had never happened. It had been easy for Paige to pretend that she was over what happened, to ignore the part of her brain that still felt so utterly betrayed. 

“Azzi, what are you saying? You don’t- you don’t wanna be friends?” Paige feels nauseous even saying it. 

“No I-” Azzi chews at her bottom lip, “I’m saying this- us- we’re too fragile to complicate even more. I barely- fuck- Paige, I barely survived losing my best friend. I don’t think I could survive losing something more.” 

The worst thing about it all, is that it makes sense. And really, Paige doesn’t know what she’d expected to happen if Azzi hadn’t pulled away when she did. They’d kiss, maybe give in and do more and then what? Shake hands and walk away? Or make false promises that would ultimately lead to resentment? No, Years and years of something deserved better than either of those masochistic endings. It makes sense, it does but it doesn’t mean Paige has to like it. 

In front of her, all the fight evaporates from Azzi’s body, as the younger girl leans back against the brick wall of the club, sliding down and pulling her knees to her chest. She looks every bit as miserable as Paige feels and all the blonde wants to do is wipe away the stress lines creasing against the younger girl’s beautiful phase. She moves to sit down next to her best friend, shuffling so their shoulders are pressed together and intertwines their fingers together. A sigh of relief escapes her when Azzi doesn’t immediately pull away. Instead, she squeezes their hands tighter, as if she’s scared that if she lets go, Paige will disappear. 

“You didn’t lose me you know,” Paige says softly after a second, nudging Azzi’s shoulder when the other girl lets out a noise of protest, “I know, I know it feels like you did. It felt like that to me too except- every time something good or bad happened to me, I heard your voice or- or maybe I just really wanted too. We got lost a little bit but I didn’t- I didn’t lose you and you didn’t lose me. There’s a difference. I don’t think we could ever lose each other like that. Not really.”

When Azzi turns to look at her, the golden glow of the street lights illuminate the emotions in her eyes. She gives Paige a soft smile, “well Bueckers, if basketball doesn’t work out, maybe you have a future in poetry.”

“I could do whatever I wanted,” except what I want to do the most. 

It doesn’t take long for the Uber Azzi’s already called to start pulling up and that familiar ache of longing creeps into Paige’s spine. She knows tonight isn’t their final goodbye; they still have a couple more days. But those days will be spent ignoring and pretending, unlike tonight and the firm grip they have on reality. They rise off of the cold pavement together, dusting themselves off. It takes a second of awkward glances before they’re surging into each other’s arms, squeezing each other so tightly that it’s hard to breathe. Paige wills herself not to cry, hiding her face in the crook of Azzi’s neck. 

“We’ll be okay,” she whispers, unsure if it’s more for her benefit or Azzi’s. 

The unwanted beep of a car is the only reason they reluctantly pull away, hurriedly wiping away unshed tears, they pretend the other can’t see. Azzi musters up a brave smile, before slowly moving away and it takes everything in Paige not to crumble and begs her to stay. Azzi’s halfway to the car when she turns back and it feels like Paige can breathe again. The brunette’s face is conflicted for a second before turning determined, as she starts walking back up. 

“Az-”

Paige’s confusion is stifled as Azzi fists her shirt, pulling her into a searing kiss. It’s desperate and needy and it’s only a few seconds before the dark-haired girl is pulling away again, but it sets Paige’s entire world off balance. 

“I just-” Azzi’s breathing is rapid and uneven, “I’ve wanted to do that since I was fifteen and- just- fuck- I just-,” she blinks up at Paige, “I hate- I hate leaving things unfinished and for fucks sake if you don’t call me back this time Bueckers- just- don’t be a stranger.”

Paige doesn’t get time to answer, she doesn’t think she could even if she did, because Azzi scurries away almost immediately. She stops when she gets to the car, turning back to give Paige one final look, a look that will haunt Paige forever, before getting into the backseat. As Paige watches the back of Azzi’s uber gets smaller and smaller, her tongue darts across her lips as she tries to memorise the faintest taste of Azzi’s strawberry-flavoured lipstick. And she knows, she’s so utterly and completely and terribly fucked.

[marlsswrites]

June 28th <3

Lawyer - @jegulus-microfic - words: 1124

Most people say getting into a car with Barty Crouch Jr was a horrible idea, a death wish. God knows how Barty even got his license, Regulus doesn’t even remember him taking the test.

But he was in dire need for a lift to work, and of course all of his mentally stable friends were busy. So who did he get stuck with? Barty.

He drives like a fucking child on Mario cart, Regulus is sure that video came was the only driving training that boy ever got. He’s quite literally a maniac. The car scoots to the left, to the right, it jolts, it speeds up. The amount of dents and scratches Barty’s car has is horrific, his dad should not have bought him a Tesla, anyone should know that this is what happens when you give Barty control of a car.

That’s why Regulus was rather surprised when they were driving down a quaint little street, Barty had managed to not hit anyone’s pet cat yet which was a good sign, and it was as steady as Barty could get behind a wheel.

“Surprisingly, this doesn’t feel like a rollercoaster. Well done Barty.” Regulus snorted. “It’s a miracle you haven’t hit anyone yet.”

“I’m not that bad, Reggie.” Barty spoke as he turned to the side to give Regulus an unimpressed look, taking both of his hands off the to flip him the middle finger for way too long to be safe.

That’s when Barty’s car slipped to the side, and a loud thump echoed from outside the car.

Barty instantly pulled the brake and gaped at the windshield. “Fuck!”

“Shit, BARTY!” Regulus hissed as he undid his seatbelt to go and see who they hit and how bad it was, shortly followed by Barty.

He was greeted with the sight of a tan man, with messy hair and a red Liverpool football shirt on. There was a bike hung over his leg and he looked unconscious, Regulus hoped it wasn’t any worse than that.

Barty gasped next to him and shook his shoulders. “Fuck, fuck, fuck! Is he dead? We’re gonna need a lawyer!” He screeched.

“There’s no we in this situation, you were the one driving!”

“You insulted me! That’s distracting!”

“We need to get him to the hospital.” Regulus spoke after a few deep breaths and rants from Barty about being ‘too mean that it kills people.’

“How?” Barty squeaked.

“Uh-“

-

So that is how Regulus found himself slouched down in an uncomfortable hospital chair, unsure of what to do and how he ended up taking a stranger whose name he didn’t even know to the hospital.

“Hi I’m Doctor Lupin-“ The doctor started as he walked into the room, greeting both Barty and Regulus with a nod. “James?” He gaped as he looked at the man on the hospital bed, he watched Barty shrink further into the chair as the doctor looked back to them both. “What happened?”

“Well-“ Regulus started with a sigh.

“-He fell off his bike.” Barty finished for him. “Looked pretty bad, think he hit his head.” He carried on, nodding his head sympathetically, completely adamant to Regulus’ harsh glares. “We took him here, seemed like the right thing to do. Right Reg?”

Regulus gave a defeated look and nodded alongside Barty. “Yep.” He sighed.

Doctor Lupin nodded, walking over to the bed to do some checks on the man they hit, named James apparently.

-

“He should be awake within the next hour. Could one of you watch him, tell him Remus will come talk to him soon? I would stay, but I’ve got other patients.” Doctor Lupin asked.

Regulus felt bad enough as it is, and he’s technically not even the one who hit him with a car. He did lie about it though, ah well, what’s another scratch on his already shitty consciousness?

“Yeah, of course.”

“Great, call me over when he wakes up.” And with that Doctor Lupin left, leaving Regulus and Barty alone at the strangers bedside.

Barty stared at the man for a while longer, then looked to Regulus. “He’s really your type, you know?” He said as he pointed his head towards the sleeping man.

“Barty, he’s literally unconscious.” Regulus hissed in return.

“But you think he’s cute?”

“Might be… mildly attractive.” Regulus shrugged. “But don’t be a weirdo, we don’t know him.”

Pointing a finger at him and gasping, Barty smiled triumphantly. “He admits it!”

-

After ten minutes of waiting, the two decided to come up with a life story for this cute random man.

“He looks our age, so a uni student.” Barty pointed out.

“He’s studying creative writing but plays football on the side.” Regulus thought back to his red Liverpool shirt.

Barty hummed in agreement. “Definitely a trust fund baby.”

“Only child.” Regulus added.

“Probably has nice parents.” Barty commented.

“Unlike us.” The two said at the same time with a snort.

Stopping to think about his next response, Barty did the same. “Has a perfect, farm girl type girlfriend.”

Barty let out a laugh. “Bingo.”

Regulus snapped his head to the side at the sound of a yawn and shuffle. “Actually we broke up last month, turns out she likes girls. You got the rest pretty spot on though.” He said with a casual smile and then paused with a short blink. “Wait, who are you?”

“That idiot hit you with a car.” Regulus pointed at Barty.

“Reg! You’re not supposed to say that.” He hissed in a slightly too loud whisper. “Don’t sue us.” Barty said with a sheepish smile.

The man sat in shock while the two bickered. “Us? You hit him! I was an innocent bystander, nothing more.” Regulus retorted.

Raising his hands in surrender, the man on the bed let out a soft laugh. It was a lovely laugh, Regulus felt the heat rising to his cheeks. Fucks sake, he didn’t even know the man and it already felt like the sun was beating down on him when he smiled. “I won’t sue you, it doesn’t seem that bad honestly, I think I just passed out and got a few bruises.”

“Really?” Regulus and Barty spoke at once.

“Actually I will sue you.” James smirked, placing his head on the palm of his hand and looking straight at Regulus with his gorgeous, hazel, wide, doe eyes. “For your number.”

He heard Barty choke out a shocked laugh next to him as he felt his eyebrows raise in shock, the already obvious flush on his once pale cheeks reddening even more.

“I’m James by the way.” The brunette grinned.

Regulus smiled fondly and nodded, a loose Black curl falling in front of his grey eyes as he did so. “Regulus.”

[the-modern-typewriter]

ah, could you write something about a vampire x mortal who always reincarnates

The vampire recognised the scent of them immediately. Part of them thought it might be wishful thinking. The other part burned with thirst and longing and too many raw things for any one person - supposedly soulless vampire or not - to cope with.

If they needed to breathe, they would have been breathless.

It wasn't them.

It couldn't be them.

"Jesus," they heard their lovely and inexplicable love murmur. "What have they done to you?!"

The sounds of the world grew a little louder as the human began to tear down the wall around them, inch by cold and concrete inch. The vampire felt like they had been trapped for a very long time.

(They suspected that they might have been trapped for a very long time).

The sound of that blood, that impossibly familiar blood, roared in their ears. A heartbeat. A lifeline. A hangman's noose.

"Don't." The words were inaudible with disuse. The whisper of cracked plaster and old bones long since desiccated.

Cool air caressed the hollow of the vampire's throat as that part of the wall was shattered through first. The vampire couldn't see them straight away, there was only the agony of hope. Glimpses.

Their love had a new haircut - something of the contemporary style, perhaps? Their eyes were so much older than their face. Their lips were pressed in a harsh, trembling, utterly livid line.

Was it truly them?

Their love looked like a strange memory, not quite accurate to the version that the vampire knew. Different. The same. Younger?

The vampire tumbled out of their broken cage less like a deadly immortal apex predator and more like a Jenga tower made out of soggy potato wedges.

The human caught them, cradled them close, pressing frantic kisses atop their no-doubt horribly greasy hair.

"I'm sorry I didn't get here sooner," the human said. "I thought you were dead. If I'd known - it's going to be okay now. You're going to be okay."

Maybe it was a hallucination.

Maybe the vampire had finally died.

That blood was so close, so enticing, a siren call that they were too pathetically weak to even reach for. They didn't feel like a living thing at all.

The vampire groaned.

"Blood." The human - the hallucination, the everything because if they were dead or hallucinating than at least the vampire got to see them again - blurted the word. "You need blood. Of course you need blood! You must be starving. Shit. Okay."

The kisses stopped crowning their head.

It was possible that hallucinations were supposed to hurt less.

The scent of blood grew stronger. Something was pressed against the vampire's mouth and -

They drank.

When the vampire came to themselves again, they had only the vaguest memory of stumbling out of the tunnels and into the inky night. The human's arm was warm and secure around them. There was a bed. Soft sheets. Fresh air. A growing strength returning to their body.

The room around them was clear. The human sitting by the bed was undoubtedly there, but still impossible. Still some miracle.

"You look a lot less dead now," the human said, apparently making a remarkable effort to keep their voice light. "That's good. Dead doesn't suit you."

"You died." The vampire had processed the grief for years, as if such loss could be neatly packaged and boxed away like a vampire feral with mourning.

"I came back. I didn't realise you had too."

"You're..." The vampire's brow furrowed. They sat up, slow and careful lest they terrify their definitely not a vampire but not quite mortal love.

"And you're a vampire," the human said. "Wow. When did that happen?"

"Shortly after you died. You died."

"Sorry. I didn't do it on purpose."

They stared at each other, disbelieving and so crippled by relief that it left them both shy and faltering.

What did one say to the reincarnated version of someone they had loved more than anything? What did one say to a blood-thirsty monster who had spent the last decade or so entombed in a wall?

It felt somewhere between a second chance, beautiful and shining and everything that they had ever wanted...and an utterly sick joke.

The vampire wanted to kiss them.

"And you're back," the vampire said.

"And you're a vampire."

"I didn't do it on purpose." They would never have chosen an eternity without their love on purpose and yet...there they sat. The vampire was glad that they didn't have to blink, didn't have to tear their attention away for even a millisecond.

Their hand twitched on the bedsheet. They were abruptly aware that a long chain connected their wrist to the headboard.

Their love coloured. "I wasn't sure if you'd try and eat me again. You weren't...you weren't quite yourself."

"It's okay."

"It's not okay. What they did to you - if I hadn't come back - if I'd found you sooner -" It was so like them that it had to be real, and so the vampire had to smile.

"It's okay," they said. "You're back. You found me."

Everything would be okay because they were there.

The moment after that, the two of them were clinging to each other like they were clutching for the last life boat off the Titanic.

Everything was going to be okay.

"God," the human mumbled into their neck, "I missed you. I thought I was - I thought I was alone. I thought you were gone."

"Never." The vampire kissed them, then, claiming and tender. "I'll never be gone again. I'll wait for you forever."

Their mortal would never wake up with that shattering grief again.

The vampire grew used to the exquisite pleasure-pain of the reincarnation cycles after that.

[amathslutsguidetofandom]

Forced Coordination - 1

PAIRINGS: Joel Miller x Reader

SUMMARY: The harshness of last winter has left hundreds of frozen Infecteds around the safe walls of Jackson. As a strategist from your job before the outbreak, you devised a smart plan. Maria assigns Joel to handle the cleanup work. However, you must work together as a pair to fulfil this task. How will it go with working with the rugged man the whole town has a crush on?

WARNINGS: Mentions of Infected, swearing, slight age gap (Joel is in his mid 40s and Reader is in her early-30s).

WORD COUNT: 1,760

ENJOY!

“You will be working with our strategist,” Maria says, crossing her arms as she leans against her desk. The sun glints through the blinds, reflecting off shiny surfaces and illuminating the semi-cramped space.

 Spring encompasses Jackson with its warmth, seeking forgiveness from the community and offering support with its gentleness after the wreckage of a winter Mother Nature had put them through.

Joel raises a brow from his place on the couch, “strategist?” One of his hand’s rests on the buckle of his belt, while the other is thrown across the arm of the couch. Joel has no idea why his sister-in-law wanted to meet up with him, but he couldn’t deny her request, knowing that Tommy might hand him his ass on a silver plate.

Maria nods, “yes, a strategist.” She walks around her desk and slides open a drawer before retrieving a manila file. “Apparently, the runners that froze over the winter are beginning to thaw, and I need someone skilled to take them out,” she thumps the file on the coffee table in front of the Texan.

Joel reaches for the file and flips through it. He saw black and white pictures of the frozen infected stuck against trees and bushes. “And you want me to sort this out?” Joel looks at Maria with a confused expression, not fully understanding the premise of this meeting.

She nods again, “the number of runners this time around has increased drastically. I can’t just send in a group of men to kill them off; that’s too risky.” And Joel agrees with her; he has seen a lot of them during his patrols over the winter.

Joel nods, “and who-” His line gets interrupted by a knock at the door. “Enter,” Maria says as she goes to sit in her chair.

You open the door slightly and peek your head in, “Maria, you asked to see me?” Maria nods and wave for you to walk in further. You comply, walking in and closing the door behind you, then turned to see another person in the room with you: Joel Miller.

You have seen Joel Miller before, seen him walking around Jackson with some teenager or on a horse at times. You have heard all the women, and some men, of Jackson talk about him and his looks. You have made eye contact with him multiple times, but it had never strayed far from just a nod from either of you.

Maria introduces him to you and vice versa. You nod at him in acknowledgment before turning back to Maria. “I thought this matter would’ve been a little more… private,” you say to Maria. Your hearing caught Joel slightly scoffing at your statement.

“Remember that infected population schematic you created?” She asks, combing through another drawer.

“I, uh, yeah, I do. Why?” You ask, leaning against the door behind you. Maria pulls out a map and pins it to the corkboard next to the couch.

Maria points at a couple of different areas on the map, saying something along the lines of ‘infected’ and ‘area’. Then she looks back at Joel. The man in question snapped out of his reverie, “pardon?”

Maria rolls her eyes, “I said, she managed to figure out an approximate number of infected that are out there around the walls of Jackson. Not only that, but she also figured out their moving patterns too,” she said, demonstrating with your work, drawings, and calculations on the map.

Joel nods, not really getting it, “alright?”

The blonde shakes her head, “I’m indirectly saying that this map is going to be your map. You’re gonna be working alongside her for the entirety of this spring.”

You straighten up, “I’m sorry, what?” You shake your head, “but I’m not in Patrol though.”

Maria nodded in understanding, “I understand. I know that you’re in Sustainability, but your observation and statistical skills are needed here now more than ever.”

You shake your head slightly, “and what about Sustainability?” You care about your work at Sustainability; you help in plantation, but not really in farming. You’re good in statistics, and your work really help in increasing the yield of crops that were grown in Jackson every year. You do good and honest work.

“I can’t just up and leave my position. What happens if-,” Maria quiets you with a raise of her hand. “I understand,” she says sternly. You bite the inside of your cheek to prevent from biting back, inhaling deeply to simmer down your anger.

“You’ll still be in Sustainability; you just have a side task to do. I expect you to not treat this task like any other, but with high importance, understood?” she looks at you, leaning back in her chair.

“Understood,” you reply, crossing your arms and looking away. “Good,” she nods and picks up a clipboard, holding it out for you, “write down anything you both might need on this, and I’ll get it for you.”

You take ahold of the clipboard and thank her when she offered a pen. You write down all the stuff that you might need before ripping the paper and handing your piece to Maria. Then you hand both the board and pen to the rugged man.

“I expect the both of you to start as soon as possible because we want this problem to be solved before we start getting problems from those things,” Maria says, rubbing her temples to soothe her headache.

-----

The sun beats down on your back as you take notes on your clipboard. Merissa yaps beside you about how last night's mac and cheese should've been named "yuck and cheese."

“I mean, we literally make the cheese. And I have it every day for breakfast. What the fuck did they do that was so out of the ordinary to make it taste like diarrhoea?” she scoffs, leaning against her tall shovel.

You wince at the description, “You didn’t have to put that description so graphically.” She gives you a tight-lipped smile, her braid falling behind and back to her back when she looks over your shoulder to see who’s approaching you two.

A throat is cleared behind you, and you turn to see who it is. It’s Joel Miller. “Afternoon,” he nods his head slightly at the two of you. He looks at Merissa, then back at you, “A word?”

You bit your lip and then look back at Merissa, “I’ll see you at tonight’s supper.” Merissa wiggles her eyebrows at you and smirks before practically shooing you into Miller’s space.

“Sorry about her, she’s just-,” he interrupts you before you could even finish your sentence.

“Maria informed me she readied a space in the warehouse and sternly said we get right to it,” he says, not looking at you, but at the workers behind you.

You didn’t understand the deal with this man. Before you were even assigned to this task, you thought that the brother-in-law of the Head of this community would be chill. Turns out he’s not. Is it because he’s old? He seemed to be in his mid-forties. You were formally introduced to the man yesterday, why was he so mean?

You squint at him, thinking about what to say next. “So, uh, do we have to-,” he interrupts you, again.

“We’ll be heading there now,” he says, still avoiding eye contact, and then beginning to move past you.

-----

The basement was chillier than the main level; you slightly shuddered when you climbed down the stairs upon entering.

The office, however, reminded you of your corporate days. Being a former strategist was the highlight of your past life���the life where you didn’t look over your shoulder every five minutes. The life where you had a stable job, enough to get by and live a simple life.

But now, your skills were used to figure out the yield of crops and the population and movement of the Infected.

Joel walks in behind you and sees the blackboard with several pieces of chalk lined on its shelf. “Wonder what that’s for,” he whispers, his accent thickening.

You walk over to it and trace your fingers over the hard surface. “I put it on my list,” you turn to look back at him, “I work better when my work is done on a board.” He didn’t look at you but at the board.

“Right,” he says, thumping his bag on the only wooden table present in the middle of the room. The dingy fluorescent light illuminated most of the space; it was just the corners that succumbed to darkness.

You see the rolled-up schematic of your plan lay behind the rolling blackboard. “You got tape?” you ask the Texan while unrolling the schematic and seeing the mapped-out area around Jackson and all the arrows and circles you made with a red marker.

You hear the scraping of a chair and feel him behind you. “Lemme,” he takes the schematic from your hands while simultaneously ripping a piece of tape from the roll using the other.

He singlehandedly manages to paste the large papers on the wall behind the blackboard. You move the blackboard so it is at an angle; you looked around the room, and you practically stand in the imaginary triangle formed by the map, table, and blackboard.

“Right, let’s get started,” you pick up the white chalk and scratch it against the blackboard.

-----

“I think we can end here for tonight,” you step back and glance at the watch on your wrist, slightly in shock that you had managed to spend five whole hours here, just talking, writing, and planning, while Joel just sat there and watched.

“Did you get what I told you, or did you blank out in between?” you ask, turning to face him.

He sat leaned back against the wooden chair. He scoffs at your question, “I caught on.”

You squint your eyes at him, “I spoke for five hours straight, and you didn’t take any notes?” He puffs air through his nose; you would consider it a chuckle, but you weren’t really betting your money on it. “Don’t need to,” he replies before standing and picking up his backpack. “That it?” he asks, looking at you.

You seriously didn’t know what the deal with this guy was.

You nod, “for today, yeah. But I assu-.” He talks over you, again.

“See you tomorrow, good day,” he nods at you before leaving you alone in the office.

That’s when you realise.

He finally looked you in the eye.

🎀🎀🎀

Here's the first CHP lovlies!!!

Lemme know what y'all think

Till' then

Stay Coquette-y,

Anya 🫶🏽🕊️🎀

[lemonxdaisybby]

holding hands with ichihan, Zhao, and joongi for the first time?

Hello! This is just the cutest request and I had to drop everything to work on it immediately because my heart needs some fluff 💕

Also I promise I’m gonna post some NSFW requests soon I see you lemon requesters in my inbox, making me feel all old with your fancy lemon emojis 🍋

Ichiban:

Honestly, you would likely have to make the first move and initiate the hand-holding, as this man is a flustered, inexperienced, and nervous wreck when first dating you. Any form of physical touch, and his face is on fire. He would over-plan and overthink everything.

It would maybe occur after a couple of dates. Of course, the two of you wouldn’t have even had your first kiss yet either. Ichi can’t even bring himself to hold your hand, never mind kiss you. It would be a nice, lighthearted date, and maybe you’d just click on that if you want things to get more physical, you might have to be the one to take the first step. Cue you placing your hand in his, and linking your fingers together.

Ichi would try to keep it together, he really would. But his brain is just gonna stutter and momentarily shut down, and once he does sort of pull it together slightly, he would find himself stuttering and stumbling over his words, and he might have to pull his hand away a few times to sneakily wipe it on his trousers, worried that his palms are sweaty.

He’d grow used to it after a while, and the warm feeling of your hand in his would make him feel so soft and fuzzy. He’d definitely be brave enough to initiate hand-holding going forward, now that you’ve made the first step.

Joon-Gi:

Another one where you would likely have to initiate holding hands with him for the first time. Not because he’s shy (although he is a bit), but more so because he’s oblivious, and just wouldn’t think to hold your hand. He finds that he likes it very much though, once you do make the first move.

He’s apparently a big movie buff, so on one of your first few dates, he would decide that a nice date at the cinema would be fun. Due to lack of experience with dating, he likely hadn’t kissed you at that point, or initiated much physical touch at all. It’s not that he’s never done things before, he’s just never properly dated before, so has no idea of what’s expected of him, or how fast or slow he should be moving.

And so, it is now up to you to begin initiating physical touches of affection, starting off with some nice, innocent hand-holding, by reaching over mid-movie and clasping his hand gently in yours.

Honestly, Joon-Gi wouldn’t have that much of a visible reaction, but he will get the feeling of butterflies in his stomach, and in the harsh glow of the cinema screen, you might be able to spot the faintest of blushes on his cheeks, which he would subtly try to hide by angling his face away from yours.

He probably wouldn’t ever really initiate holding your hand going forward, but he’s more than happy for you to latch on to his if you want. He’s not big on PDA, nor is he very romantic or physically affectionate, but a little hand-holding is something he can appreciate.

Zhao:

He would definitely be the one to initiate it, although he really wouldn’t see it as a big deal, and it would happen quite naturally. It would still be sweet, of course, but he wouldn’t feel the need to put much thought in to it, or even think about it at all.

It would probably occur as the two of you are walking down a busy street, or maybe even crossing a road. Zhao would automatically just take hold of your hand, to ensure that you’re safely at his side, and that would be that. He wouldn’t let go, and would just continue to wander round with you, hand-in-hand.

He might joke with you a little, pointing out how small your hand is compared to his own, and he’d have a cheerful little smile on his face. But nothing more would be said. It might take you a while to get used to the feeling of his hand holding your own though, due to the clunkiness of his rings.

He likes to look out for others, and probably does have a bit of a protective streak over you at times, so he would lowkey adore holding hands with you. It would just feel right, and also it would just appease that protective spark in him, knowing that you’re safely at his side with your hand tucked in to his own.

[leggerefiore]

cw: fluff, short, Volo in modern world (but not modern Volo)

pairing: Volo/Reader

He had barely changed since being forced here into the future from his place in Hisui.

Just as Volo had promised you, his ambitions to unravel all of Hisui's – Now, Modern Sinnoh – mysteries remained unchanged. A goal of forcing Arceus out before him to claim its power as his own would never leave him, not entirely.

No one but you (and Giratina) seemed aware of his more malicious intent. He easily fell back into his friendly persona that nearly masked his real self. Those piercing, stormy eyes of madness that had stared you down as he planned to use Giratina to end your life for daring to oppose him we no where to be seen among the people who spoke to him.

Well, perhaps that was him losing himself in that moment, as before he had truly been kind to you. Granted, most of it had been for his benefit, but still, you felt a certain closeness that no other in the wild lands of Hisui had to him.

You clutched a gift bag in your hands carefully. It was foolish to meet him alone, but you desperately needed to speak with him once again. Like most people considered an antagonistic type, and just as he was back in his time, it was difficult to find him. His avoidance of public spaces heavily apparent to anyone.

But, you knew him well.

Better than anyone else on this artificial island could ever hope to.

His hand on your shoulder from behind no longer scared you. It was expected. “Are you simply stupid or do you have a death wish?” he whispered, using his towering height to loom over you. You took in a shaky breath. He was terrifying. A madman with the will to bring about his perfect world, no matter the cost of life or pain involved. Yet, Volo was still not some inhuman monster. His friendly mask was not entirely a separate person. Rather, a glimpse into what he could have been.

You turned around to face him, stunned to see him still donning his merchant attire. The bag in your hands was gripped tighter. You stood up straight. “Neither,” you smiled at him, “Well, maybe a little dumb, but I got you a gift.” The bag was held out to him. It had a familiar red, blue, and white pattern on it. His expression was instantly filled with suspicion, yet he still took it from your hands.

Volo carefully pulled away the gift paper as he reached his hand into the bag. Out came a plush toy. The Togepi plush sat cutely in his hand as it stared up at him with a cute face. The blond bit his tongue. “I thought you might like it,” you told him sweetly, “A welcoming gift to this modern era. There's a lot more merchandise themed around Togepi and its evolution line, too.”

Volo shot a harsh look at you before tucking the plush toy into his bag. “Is that really the only reason you sought me out?” he hissed at you, clearly not wanting to admit he liked the gift out loud. You shrugged. His fondness for the Spike Ball pokemon was something that was shamelessly apparent. All the work to go through in evolving it simply meant he had to care for the fairy types.

“... I also wanted to talk,” you stepped closer to him, only a few centimetres away from the blond, “I… I know we may never see eye to eye, but I did truly mean it when I said I loved you.” Volo closed his eyes. It was obvious he was in some form of torment. Yet, before you had time to question his emotional state, cool hands came to cup your cheeks. Volo's grey eyes meeting yours with a strange grin on his lips.

“And I, too, genuinely meant it when I returned the words,” you felt breathless as his face hovered close to yours, “You really were foolish to come here.” His lips met yours for a kiss that held too many conflicting emotions.

“I'm never letting you go again,” he threatened when the affection broke.

It was hard to tell who was the real fool between you both.

[frescoisnotinthemilitary]

Hi!! I really love your works.. can I request a fic? I was maybe hoping for Soap helping reader through caffeine withdrawal? 👀 I know it's a bit specific, but I find it really endearing ☹️☹️

P.S. I love Amelia!! Such a neat OC. 🫶🫶

What’s In A Drink? Caffeine, Apparently.

A John “Soap” MacTavish x Reader fic

A/N: Thank you, Anon! 

I’ve been wanting to write something for Soap for a bit, but I couldn’t really think of anything I might want to do. I’m going to make this two parts, just to give you all something to nibble on while I work on the other things. Thank you to my readers for the brainworms and all the support! I’m sorry that this part is so short :/

This one’s a little heavy on the content warnings only because addiction is a sensitive topic, and I get that it’s hard for some people. That being said, it’s entirely understandable if you don’t want to read this. Feel free to keep scrolling. 

CW/TW: slight angst, discussions and symptoms of addiction/withdrawal, depressive and self-deprecating behavior, swearing, implied self-starvation

18+ only please, MDNI (I can’t control your content consumption, but if you’re underage, don’t interact). As much as I appreciate the support, I don’t want to block people.

Reader: GN Reader, You/Your PNs, use of R/N

“C’mon, ye’ve gottae eat.” It’s the same familiar brogue that you love-hate. Johnny. 

“I can’t,” you say, picking your head off your arms. The all-too-familiar prickle of irritation scratches at the back of your skull. “My appetite is nonexistent.”

“At least try, please. It’s no’ good to starve yerself,” Johnny pleads.

The prickle starts to feel more like cactus spines with every passing second. “I said I’m not hungry, John.” John. You never call him John. “Just back off.”

But of course, Johnny’s persistence remains. He steels himself for the rest of the harsh words that are sure to spill from your lips. “Look, ye dinnae need to be cunty. I’m only tryin’ tae help ye. It’s better tae eat proper food than chug an energy drink. And ye ken we’re using vacation days for this.”

Your head falls back down to rest on your forearm, your other hand fidgeting with the ties of your sweatshirt’s hood. You’re staring at the ground beneath the table, between your socked feet. “I didn’t ask for your help, Johnny. You just kind of inserted yourself into my business, now you’re wasting your vacation days making sure I get out of bed and eat more than half a bowl of cereal. I didn’t ask you to.”

“Look, I ken,” Johnny sighs. “I ken ye dinnae want me around, but I want tae help ye feel better. I ken it’s hard, but it’s easier tae do it now than tae deal wit’ it on a mission when ye cannae have a Monster. Not tae mention, they’re shite for yer health; the taurine in those things, Jesus.”

“Alright, Johnny, I get it. Just back off,” you grumble, pushing your chair from the table as you stand. “I don’t need your help. Just leave me alone.”

Johnny looks at you softly, almost sadly, as you turn and walk towards your room. “Love, I didnae mean to pester ye, I only want ye better.”

“Why, you can’t deal with me like this?” You spit. 

He’s shocked, taken aback, but he still tries to fix it. “No, I didnae mean it like that, I swear. I only meant-”

“It doesn’t matter what you meant. I don’t care. Might just be better if we broke up, seeing as you don’t want to put up with me anymore.”

“What? No, R/N, I didnae say that! I dinnae want tae throw us away over a little misunderstanding. I love ye, and I want tae marry ye one day. I-” He cut himself off. 

“Look, I don’t care, okay? I mean- wait, what did you say? You want to marry me?”

I'm cutting this here (for the cliffhanger hehe). I'll probably have the other half out for y'all in a few days. I've been extra busy lately and haven't found much time to work on the fics, but I'm trying when I can. Thank you all for being so patient and supporting me!

P.S. I'll upload this to Ao3 later. I'm a bit short on time at the moment.

[hisdarlingabsurdity]

Our Love is a Work in Progress

Pairing: Aonung x Fem! Metkayina! Reader

Tags: Slightly Jealous Aonung, Childhood sweethearts, Tsireya being playful, Socially awkward reader

Word count: 3,194

Summary: Idiots in love. That's what you and Ao'nung are. If it weren't for your friend's devious machinations in the background, both of you would probably grow old still tip-toeing around each other.

For the umpteenth time this morning, you let out a dreamy sigh. From the corner of your eyes, you see Tsireya shake her head. "Just go and talk to them. Then you'll know that they are not so bad," she says, gesturing towards the Sullys who were currently practicing their breathing with Rotxo. Tsireya was right there teaching them with him earlier, but when she saw you peeking at them from up a boulder at a distance, she apparently decided that her quest for today was to finally convince you to approach them.

She climbed up to meet you with a knowing smile before pointing at each of them. "That one beside Rotxo is Kiri, she's a very fast learner," she says, "the small one is Tuk, she's very sweet. The boy over there is Lo'ak, and beside him is his older brother named Neteyam."

You listened to her with a pout, knowing that you won't need the information anyway.

You found them interesting, not so much in the beginning, no. You were wary of them, they were so different, and It didn't help that everyone collectively grimaced in disgust when it was revealed that they had demon blood, even though you didn't understand why. But they all look so warm and welcoming, especially now. (It might just be the certain, soft warm glow from the sun that makes it look like so, but still.)

"You know I can't, Tsireya. Mother would kill me if I so much as stand within arms reach." Your friend only giggled.

"You're a very persuasive girl, my friend. I'm sure your mother will change her mind about them. Now, how will you convince your mother of their kindness when you haven't experienced it yourself?"

You narrow your eyes at her, fighting back a goofy smile. "You're pretty persuasive yourself."

"You only think so because you actually want to approach them. You just need a few extra nudges."

You shake your head. "I told you, I can't." You nearly whine.

"...not a few nudges then, perhaps a full-on shove?

"A what now?" You begin to ask, but you could only yelp as she shoves you off the boulder. You cried out, only for it to get cut off as you land in the water. You scoff at her playfulness, causing bubbles to block your view.

You resurface, sputtering, still reeling from your shock (and amusement) and you hear her quite disrespectfully giggle at you from up the boulder. You crane your neck to send her a playful glare.

"Are you okay?"

You whip your head towards the unfamiliar voice, squinting. You raise your hand up to shield yourself from the harsh glare of the setting sun, your eyes adjusting, slowly making sense of the person's feature.

Truly, it felt like you were gazing upon something sacred, like Eywa herself sent you a guiding spirit with eyes that are pure melted gold, poured from a sun on the brink of an eclipse. It was mesmerizing.

Neteyam looked down at you from his Ilu, hands slowly reaching towards you, unsure if you'd let a stranger near but he keeps it there anyways in case you truly were in need of assistance.

"What?" You ask, feeling a little dumb as you stare at the rather magnificent picture.

He tilts his head in confusion. "Tsireya called out, she said you slipped and hit your head—"

You struggle to hear whatever he was trying to say at the end, his voice being cut off by the sound of Rotxo laughing, and the others floundering about in the water as they arrive. "She's fine," he says. "I saw the whole thing." He looks up to send a knowing look at Tsireya who only giggles as she moves to go back down from the boulder.

You blink rapidly, trying to gather your scattered thoughts. What are you supposed say?

You stare blankly at Neteyam, some of your hair were in your mouth and you remember the not-so-graceful way you whipped your head towards him earlier, squinting at him. You must've painfully looked like an idiot, because you see Rotxo cringe and you realize distantly that you were still staring.

"What's up with her?" You hear Lo'ak ask.

Neteyam stares back at you, his hands still hovering and you see him hesitate. Rotxo turns away, as if watching you was too painful, still, you do not miss the subtle shaking of his shoulders, it was what snapped you out of your daze and you reel back, laughing awkwardly. Neteyam raises both his eyebrows, his eyes flickered from yours and to his siblings in confusion. You curse at yourself instantly, wishing for an Akula to just eat you up.

"You must be..." The girl named Kiri trailed off, her voice startling the uncomfortable silence your awkwardness settled in the atmosphere. Rotxo provides her your name and Kiri nods. "Tsireya speaks of you. She says you're the best singer in the village."

"Ah, hehe." You chuckled awkwardly, rubbing the back of your nape sheepishly. "I wouldn't say that I'm the best—"

You yelp as Ao'nung rose from the water, his eyes staring straight at yours. He came seemingly from out of nowhere.

"Ao'nung? Weren't you…Where'd you even come from?" You ask, positively flabbergasted at his sudden appearance. He was supposed to be out with his father. You cross your arms. "I bet you’re slacking off again, Aren’t you supposed to be with the chief?”

"I was." His answer came in a short burst. As if he couldn't be bothered to answer you properly. Then he scans you like a mother checking her child for injuries, before letting his gaze wander back to your eyes then at the others who came to help you and you realize the gravity of your situation.

You feel yourself frown before you could control your expressions. "I'm really sorry for disturbing your lessons." You say, mostly facing Rotxo, who in turn, shakes his head, smiling at you. He's always been so patient and nice, just a little prick sometimes, mostly when Aonung's around. Together, they were little teasing menaces.

You hear Tsireya before you see her, grinning at you as she floats in the water by your side. "Well, I'm just glad you're okay, my friend." She sighs in relief (as if she wasn't the one who pushed you off).

You lean closer to her and whisper, "you're lucky you're the chief's daughter."

She giggles as she rests her hand on your shoulder before approaching the others. "We could always use another's help. Perhaps my friend can also help with teaching?"

"Oh, well. If it's alright with her to…" Neteyam answers. You inwardly cringed. They must've thought that your hesitation to receive help from them stems from the skepticism and disgust that the rest of the village doesn't bother hiding towards them.

"I want to…help, I mean. I did cause quite a ruckus. Let me make up for it," you say, smiling. You felt relieved that you didn't stutter once. You've already made a fool of yourself enough to give you nightmares for 3 weeks.

"How did you manage slip from there anyway, that's always been your spot." Ao'nung tilts his head back to look down at you through the bridge of his nose. You couldn't stop your face from scrunching up at his words, it heralds an incoming torrent of nagging. You knew that he would start if you so much as wince in pain. You appreciate his concern, but you hate how he makes you sound so weak and fragile, and in front of these people you’re trying to befriend!

"It was my fault, really. We were messing around," Tsireya says, raising her hands. You thank Eywa that she hasn't completely abandoned you to your own clumsy social skills.

"Yeah, and what's up with you? Why are you suddenly here?" You ask, turning to face Ao'nung, genuinely curious, but also flinging towards him a vindictive glance

"I heard you scream and I thought you needed help…" he starts, then he glances at Neteyam. "although someone's already beaten me to it." With that. Ao'nung nods at you before diving back in and swimming away.

You feel a headache slowly seeping into your head. Ao’nung left as fast as his sudden arrival, and it irks you just as much as it confuses you; his cryptic behavior, worried glances but searing choice of words, his awful timing…

"Wow, so he can actually talk without outright insulting anyone," Kiri says.

Tsireya giggles as she gives you a look you don't bother to decipher.

"Are you really okay? You look a little dazed." You turn towards the voice by your side. You almost squeal in delight as the youngest of the Sullys look up at you with her wide eyes.

"Oh she's fine. She's just extremely shy." Rotxo says, waving his hand around in a dismissive manner.

"Okay, okay. How about we stop wasting time on me and resume the lesson, yeah?" You say, having had enough of this, whatever this whole predicament was. You couldn't say it was all bad though, since you finally succeeded in introducing yourself to the Sully kids. There may have been better ways to do it, preferably without making such a racket, but it is what it is.

⏳⏳⏳

Throughout your childhood, Aonung was always there. He was your first, and most eager listener. He always went along with you whenever you would go out and practice your singing, claiming to be your protector, your guardian. He always has his eyes on you, always listening to every single word you say. You especially notice this whenever you were hanging out with the other kids. No one really asks for your opinion, and nobody expects you to contribute to the conversation, so much so that you feel like you only open your mouth when you sing during shared gatherings. But Ao'nung was different. He always asks you what you think, always prodding you to speak your mind, always glaring sharply at anyone who tries to talk over you.

And he is always hovering around you. It was at first, stifling, until you decided that perhaps he simply enjoyed your companionship. Even now that he avoids you, refusing to be around you for long, like your mere presence burns him, he still doesn't completely abandon you. And it makes you furious, more confused than mad, of course. First he barges into your life, spending almost every waking moment with you only to suddenly shove you away, still keeping you within eyesight but refusing to even approach you. You don't think that he suddenly doesn't want you as a friend anymore, it is evident in the way he looks out for you, even indirectly.

You spend the next few days hanging out with the Sullys, much to your parent's chagrin. They do nothing to stop you though, you figured they've either given up on you, or trust that you know what's good for you.

Neteyam was, in almost every way, especially nice to you. You don't think that it was because you completely dazzled him with your amazing existence, making him fall madly in love with you, no. His way of showing care was almost aggressive, like he was trying to prove a point or something. And you're only able to notice because you've sharpened your observation skills instead of your speaking skill. You weren't completely stupid…you noticed that Neteyam becomes incredibly touchy and sweet whenever Ao'nung was around. You quite enjoyed the situation, you can't lie.

Also, you've never hung out with so many friendly people before. You miss Ao'nung though. And of course, because of that, confrontation was inevitable.

"You wanna know why I've been avoiding you?"

He asks but he doesn't wait for you to answer before he continues.

"It's because you keep hanging around those freaks. You wanna be an outcast by associating yourself with them, then go ahead."

He doesn't mean it, he really doesn't.

You shake your head. "I was already an outcast, Ao'nung. And frankly, I'd rather be one than associate myself with your friends—" You raise your hand up to silence him, you were not done yet. "—and I know for a fact that you no longer see them as freaks. I might even say that you've started to treat them with respect. You can see them now, Aonung. I know it. So why are you suddenly back to saying such rude words about them?"

He exhales a deep, exasperated breath, his head pounding with all the words he wants to say but couldn't.

You wait for him to gather his thoughts.

"He…" Aonung started. "Yes, what you said is true. I've…they've grown on me, those Sully brats…"

His gaze flickers back to you.

"But he— that Neteyam. He's obviously aiming for you."

You frown in confusion. "He's what? Aiming for me? With what? I don't think—"

He rolls his eyes. "What I meant was he's seriously considering you as a mate."

With his answer, you felt even more confused.

"I think that is highly unlikely. It's too early for him to choose a mate and even more unlikely for him to choose me. What am I supposed to do when there's a war, huh? Sing the enemies to death?"

"There's more to choosing mates than just their assets, their worth, during a war."

"But he's a chief, he can't just marry anyone."

He sighs. "A chief's mate doesn't always have to be a tsahik…you do know that right?"

"No no no. Still, it's impossible. He hardly even knows me and—" your gaze sharpens towards him. "Even if, for some reason, he wants me as his mate, what's it to you? And why would you avoid me because of that?"

He scoffs. "I was not avoiding you. I was simply giving you space."

You give him the stinkiest grimace you could manage. "Explain…"

He clicks his tongue in annoyance, rubbing the back of his neck. He gestures with his hands as he tries to do as you asked. "I was furious—"

"What did I do?"

"—not at you." He sighs again. "At myself."

You stare blankly at him.

"You mentioned earlier that it was too early for Neteyam to choose a mate, but courting takes time, just like how I've been courting you since we were kids. I'm not done explaining yet," he says when he sees your confused frown. "I was angry when I saw how happy you were with your new friends. (Again, angry at myself) You should know that you're actually pretty popular among the boys in the village. The reason they do not even attempt to approach you is because they know I like you. I did not mean to…It was not my intention to make you lonely. I did not know that it would make the girls dislike you and I'm sorry for that. Now, the reason I avoided you was because the Sullys offered friendship, something that you weren't able to have in your own home, because of me. I distanced myself because I realized that I took you for granted. I used my position as a guarantee that no one else would try to court you. I was selfish and it made you…it turned you into an outcast…"

You hardly knew how to react, and you, in an attempt to try and make sense of things, stammer over your words, a torrent of sentences that makes absolutely no sense pouring out of your lips. Finally, you pinch the bridge of your nose and you take a deep breath.

"You give yourself too much credit, Ao’nung."

He raises his head to look at you.

"My social life was already done for, even before your supposed destruction of my potential relationships."

"No, it is my fault. You are not some property or a thing to be claimed. It's my fault that the boys…I feel like I ruined your chances to choose whoever you may want."

"Ao’nung…Even if that is so, they are not worth my time if they are too scared of you to even try to talk to me. It means they do not like me enough. My point is—listen—my point is that you should not blame yourself for something that you cannot control. Seriously, d'you think everything that's happened in my life is caused somehow by your decisions? You idiot."

He bites his lip, eyes narrowing in deep thought.

"Okay, it sounded a little less conceited in my head. But that's how I feel."

"I understand…what I don't understand is the whole 'I have been courting you since we were kids' thing."

"What's so hard to understand about that? I like you. I love listening to you sing. I love spending time with you. You're kind. You never talk bad about anyone, you actually cared about me and wanted to be my friend not just because I’m the chief’s son…You gave me flowers, you wrote songs about me, (I am partial to the ones about us on an adventure, by the way) you make me feel warm and appreciated. I adore you…I pine for you.”

"...Oh, wow. Sorry, this is a lot to take in. And I didn't even notice that you were courting me."

"I still am. You have no idea how much you mean to me," he says, looking at you through his ridiculously long eyelashes, his ears flat against the side of his head.

You feel your chest tighten at his words. Why he hadn't told you this before, you do not know.

"You can't just. Why, I never even…" You trail off as he holds a hand up.

"Now, I'm wondering if I was being too subtle, or if you're just too dull."

"Hey, that's not nice."

"Kind of hard to be nice when the person you adore is fawning over a foreigner."

"I was not." you huffed.

"I know. I'm sorry for saying that. It's just, I never seem to know what to say. I know what I want to say but I can't put it into words that would perfectly describe it."

"It doesn't need to be. Also, are you kidding me? That confession was perfect!”

Ao’nung groaned, running his hand down his face. “Okay, stop.”

“It was heartfelt, and poetic.” You see his tail wagging sideways from behind him.

“And,” you continue, your voice carrying venom. “It’s the most you’ve said to me for days!” You punch his arm and he glares at you, mumbling something about ruining the mood.

"Y'know what? I'm gonna write a song about you, about how stupid you are." You say, still seething.

"As long as it's about me…" He shrugs, stepping closer towards you, grinning like a fool.

"You asshole." You say, but without any real anger.

He hums. "Well, I'm your asshole…"

You both frown as you take in his words.

"Okay, that did not—"

"Uncalled for." You shake your head.

"That was not what I…wow, it did not sound romantic at all, I don't know why I…"

"I feel violated…"

End.

***

Note

Can't believe I have to say this but pls remember that x readers aren't going to be a 100% accurate presentation of you. I don't wanna be gettin no "but I can't sing" comments. I stopped writing fanfic because of comments like that (which is dumb). So don't do that please, Thank you!

Also read on Ao3!

English ain't my first language so pls be kind.

[evvlevie]

❤️‍🔥♥️ LESSONS I NEEDED TO LEARN IN ORDER TO UNDERSTAND SHIFTING ♥️❤️‍🔥

Hi, Hello, it’s your favourite shifting blogger Evie again, and I have stuff to tell you 🫂♥️

Here‘s the situation for people who aren’t aware of what I have been up to: My blog has been dead for a quite long amount of time, because I am in university now and I basically decided to focus on the life in this reality for a while instead of my desired one. University can be quite stressful, too which is why I haven’t even been able to think about shifting, so that it eventually lost importance in my life. I wanna be clear that I have not given up on it or that I don’t want to shift anymore, it just wasn’t a priority for the first time in my life since like April.

1️⃣ You always get what you want.

I know I have been preaching this quite often on here, but ever since I haven’t been forcing myself to shift anymore this became very apparent to me. I noticed that if I had a desire, even if I didn’t make it a dominant thought in my head, that it showed up manifesting in my reality no matter what because I was desiring it and I always get what I want. For example: I met a guy here in Uni and we are in a friendgroup. I am not romantically interested in him, but I kinda wanted him to admit that I was his favourite friend out of the group. I tried to manifest him to say these exact words, but instead a situation arose in which he expressed the same message in a different way, that made me realize that his way of wording that same context made me way more content with the situation. Even if I wasn’t trying to make him say what he ended up saying, he said what I didn’t even know I wanted, but I did. I got what I wanted. He never said „you are my favorite“ but instead he said what my true desire actually was. This was a very important thing for me to learn. I needed to be reminded of the fact that I never fail to get my desires met. Even if shifting is one of them. If I want to shift, I will because I always get what I want.

2️⃣ let go

Manifestations come when you let them manifest. Jello only sets hard when you stop wiggling it around. That’s the idea. My desires manifested after I mentioned that I wanted them to myself once. That’s because if you keep telling yourself „why don‘t I have my desire yet“ you are actively living in a reality where your desire isn’t yours. We all knew this fact and it’s nothing new, but right here where I am, the place where I don‘t really have the ability to even think about something else than my studies, my manifestations came the quickest. I am not dwelling in the old story, I am not asking myself where my desires are and I am literally just desiring shit for a minute and it comes flying at me because I even forget I am desiring that stuff. I needed to be reminded that obsessing with your manifestations isn’t what is going to get them faster to you. I needed to be reminded about the fact that the more time I spend in the state of hoping the longer things will take to manifest.

3️⃣ a simple decision is a manifestation

My favorite way of manifesting is deciding. I‘m honest: I love it. I sit in class and I‘m thinking „wouldn’t it be nice to have xyz right now?“ then I remember that I am a fucking boss at manifestation and I go „okay so it’s decided, xyz is mine.“ and that’s how I go about my day. When I catch myself thinking „oh wait I don‘t have xyz“ I always remind my self „oh no wait I‘m silly, I manifested it a minute ago! Stupid me“ and I don‘t mean that in a panicking or self-controlling manner. I know people love to preach about mental diet on here but this always sounds so harsh to me. I literally take it the most lazy and chill way possible. I decide I want something, I decide it’s mine and after that I treat it like it’s mine. Even if you can’t see it in the 3D reality yet, manifestations aren’t little magic spells that might work or might not. They always work 100% so if you just stay consistent with it it always appears. I can’t tell you how many packages have arrived at ridiculous paces to me because I decided I wanted a certain dress to be here on a very specific day. Shipping usually takes 10 days? Not with me, my shit comes in three days because that when I want it here. I decide that I will be able to wear my dress the day I want to, so yes the dress arrives on time, because I say so.

4️⃣ you‘re literally doing it all by yourself

People who are just starting out to manifest and shift are often under the impression that when you‘re manifesting you are requesting something specific from a certain type of outer force. Like you are placing an order with a sketchy website that might or might not deliver your order because it’s that cheap and unusual. I have been reading it and saying it to my own followers all of the time that „you are giving your desires to yourself“ and that „you are shifting yourself left and right and not some outer energy“. But only like two days ago it actually hit me. Everything IS me. You get your desires because you are giving them to yourself, you just have to decide. You get what you want because you obviously know that you want it. That’s exactly why the laws never fail because you obviously won’t cheat yourself. That’s exactly why the laws can’t work against you, because the only energy that has the ability to change and decide shit is you. Why would you ever work against you? That doesn’t even make sense! When you are doubting shifting you are basically ordering yourself not to do it. BECAUSE ITS ALL YOU. But like it’s LITERALLY ONLY YOU. No god, no ominous universe, no power above you. NONE. It’s you or nothing. You literally want to shift yourself, but your doubts are basically you standing in your own way. There is nothing that has to approve your desires other than you. Your subconscious is you. Think of yourself like a sugar daddy. Your consciousness is a sugar baby who really loves nice shiny things and your subconscious is the sugar daddy with all the money that he wants to spend as much as he possibly can. When the sugar Baby asks the sugar daddy for nice shoes he buys them for her. When the sugar baby wants a new lambo he will buy it for her. And when she requests a whole ducking country he will buy it for her. And bestie when you are your own sugar daddy how the fuck can you not get what you request hm? Exactly! You are the sugar baby AND daddy. You are giving everything to yourself constantly. YOU PLACE YOUR ORDER WITH YOURSELF, HOW CAN YOU NOT GET IT?It’s never something else.

So here we are. Evies realizations after I spent time away from obsessing with shifting and manifestations. I don‘t remember who told me that, but since everything is you, you can always find the answers to spiritual questions within yourself. After these 3 weeks of distance I finally figured out how I (and I mean I as in particularly me, because for you shifting and manifestation can work vastly differently) need to approach shifting and manifestation. Spirituality is very very individual. Don‘t force other peoples mindsets on yourself, don‘t apply a mindset you do not resonate with and don‘t take every shifters advice at face value. Different things work in different people. The real answers to all of your questions are within yourself not on tumblr, not on amino and definitely not on tiktok.

I Hope I was able to help you guys today and I really really hope you guys have amazing holidays ❤️❤️❤️

Thank all of you for 700 followers while I am at it! I appreciate every single follower who decided that my content is worth staying for and worth paying attention to. I couldn’t be more thankful for my blog, there is absolutely nothing that fulfills me as much as helping people. Thank you for being my platform and thank you for being a key aspect to my passion. ♥️❤️‍🔥🫂

Yours in every reality,

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[knockyasocksoff2022]

Dazai's a jerk when he's sick.

From last year's Sicktember prompts.

Chuuya's Perspective:

Something slams into me and I jolt awake. I sit up and look around but the room is dark and the only other person around is my partner, and he’s fast asleep. Damn brat must’ve kicked me!

The clock says there’s still an hour before I need to be awake, but once I’ve been woken I don’t fall easily asleep again so I might as well get ready, while I can still have my coffee in peace before Osamu wakes up.

Before I can finish it though my stomach starts growling fiercely. Normally as soon as we get up Osamu starts making breakfast, but today he’s still asleep.

Huffing I walk back into our bedroom to wake my husband, I do feel a little bit guilty for waking him early but I need food.

I shake his shoulders, but he stays perfectly still. I do it again, but still nothing. It’s strange, because of his insomnia, he’s always easy to wake up.

Finally, I resort to yanking the covers off. He wakes immediately. 

“WHAT?” His voice positively drips with annoyance and anger, he glares daggers at me. It catches me off guard and I don’t answer. “Oh, so you just woke me up for nothing, is that it?”  He takes the duvet from the floor and begins to lay back down.

At last, I unfreeze, whatever guilt I had before gone, “Hey! Asshole, wake up, I need breakfast, and you owe me because you kicked me out of bed!” The words come out harsh, my tone matching his.

“I don’t care.” is all he says his eyes not even open.

We go back and forth for a while before I end up dragging him out of bed and into the kitchen.

“I can’t cook, it’s too cold in here.”

“It is not! It’s 22 degrees, you’re fine, now please hurry up, I’m starving.”

“I’m not hungry, why should I cook if I’m not going to eat?”

“Osamu, stop being a lazy bastard, we’re going to be late.” The words are exasperated more than angry.

“Hmph!”

With a sigh that sounds suspiciously like the word slug, he starts cooking. Breakfast takes way longer than usual and is a little burnt but I’m hungry so it’ll do. True to his word, Osamu doesn’t eat with me, opting instead to go back to bed. Maybe whatever grumpy monster possessed him this morning will have left his body when I wake him up next.

While he sleeps I dress and ready myself for work, when I look presentable I go to poke the beast.

-

I thought he might be less of a demon after a bit more sleep but, apparently not.

When I shake him this time he wakes immediately.

“Can’t even a dumb Chibi like you see that I’m trying to sleep!”

“What did you just say?” annoyance boils under my skin, I don’t want to do this again.

“I said you’re dumb,” he says curling back up.

I yank away the duvet and extra blanket he added, “Say that again, I dare you?”

“Chibi is dumb, as in stupid, and clearly has hearing problems, now go away and let me sleep!” His voice is cold, it ticks me off.

“You have to wake up. You have a job you know. I mean I don’t know how they haven’t fired you yet, but you at least need to go in.” 

“Leave me alone, Chuuya.” his tone is the same one I use when I’m warning an enemy not to try me. What’s with him today? I mean, he’s always kind of a disrespectful dick but, damn.

I make my tone just as cutting, “Well I can’t leave you here, you’ll probably burn down the house and kill yourself or something. Now get up and get dressed, you’re late.”

“I said LEAVE ME ALONE, CHUUYA!!!” his voice sounds like a roar, so loud it scares me.

“Jesus, Osamu, what’s with you today, it’s unlike you to be this shitty? You know what, don’t answer, it’s fine. I don’t even care, go to sleep and die, that’ll make me really happy. I’m going to go to work like a contributing member of society.” and with that I walk out, locking the door behind me.

—

When I get back the house is completely silent, Osamu must be out in the river or wherever he plans to stage his latest attempt on his life. My words from this morning come back to me, I told him he should just die. . . . No, he wouldn’t, he wouldn’t take that seriously. He knows how much I love him, right? It’s fine, he knows I didn’t mean it. The self-assurance doesn’t work very well.

I start to get up to go look for him when I hear loud coughing and then a thud of something human-sized hitting the floor. I run towards the origin of the sound, our bedroom, and throw open the door.

Osamu lays on the floor, on his back, looking rather disoriented. He must’ve coughed so hard he fell.

“Huh?” he sees me, “Oh, Chuuya, how long have you been here, are you going to help me, or not?” His voice is still bitter but the scratchiness of it cuts down the intimidation factor. . . and then he breaks into a coughing fit, and it doesn’t stop the coughing continues and continues a seemingly endless supply of wet hacking coughs bursting out of him so quickly it even looks painful.

I rub his back, my anger long forgotten.

When the fit finally ends his nose is runny and he scrubs it on his sleeve. I can practically feel the heat from his pale body by just being next to him, but I put my hand on his forehead anyway. He’s burning. 

Guilt sweeps through me, when I shook him and when I yanked him out of bed he’d felt warm but I’d assumed that it was just from the blankets.

“You’re sick.”

“No, really?” he croaks

“Come on, let’s get you something for that cough.”

“No, I don’t wanna move.”

“Fine. What have you taken today? Have you even eaten anything today?”

“You think I’ve been able to get out of bed like this?” his sarcasm remains strong even as his voice slowly crackles out.

I ignore it, knowing an argument is the last thing he needs right now. “Okay, I’ll take it that’s a no. Well, you need medicine as quickly as possible so, I know it isn’t really ‘sick person food’ but can you eat some tonkatsu? It’s all we have in the fridge, and you gotta eat something before I give you medicine. Your stomach’s okay, right?”

He nods, I think his voice must be completely gone now.

He pokes at the breading of the pork, slightly soggy from being in the fridge, and pouts, shoving it away.

“Well, sorry, Your Royal Highness, shopping day is tomorrow and I didn’t have much to work with.” I huff, trying not to get annoyed.

With a scowl, he pulls the plate back towards him and begins to peel the breading off.

-

When he’s finally finished, (I swear he ate so slowly just to annoy me, his hatred for medicine aside) he pouts again.

“You’ve gotta take this. You’re warm as hell, this isn’t just something you can sleep off.”

He shakes his head. His voice is long gone, but I can read his lips: “Nu-uh.”

“Yuh-huh. Open up. And don’t you dare act like this is the most disgusting thing you’ve tasted, I‘ve seen you eat year-old canned crab.”

He narrows his eyes, testing me. At last, he huffs, nodding sharply and holding up a finger. One.

“Yeah, just one big sip. I’ll make coffee after, kay.”

He takes the cup, sniffs it then mock gags. 

“Arse.”

-

Five minutes of convincing later, the cup is empty. I groan, my anklebone sore from sitting on the hardwood floor like that for so long.

“You’re a jerk when you’re sick, you know that.”

He nods again, then waves me off towards the kitchen, muttering, “Coffee.”

-

When I return he’s fast asleep.

I can’t help but laugh. “Jerk,” I whisper to no one.