#would be funny if it weren’t so mind-numbing

[itneverendshere]

LOVED YOU AT YOUR WORST - r.c series - FIFTEEN

pairings: ex!sweethearts; rafe x thornton!reader; rafe x sofia. chapter warnings: angst; mentions of abortion, grief & health issues;

Rafe was a hundred percent sure the lack of oxygen made him delirious.

His palms were still clammy from the panic attack earlier—vision spotty, heart galloping so hard it scared even him. Sarah had stared at him like he was a mangled dog limping on the freeway and for once, she hadn’t said anything smart or mean, just driven him home without a word. No fight with her that night, he hadn’t screamed at her, hadn’t said something he’d regret—he kept his shit together for once. He said thank you, but his sister didn’t need it when she’d grown up watching him break down and build back up a thousand times, never quite whole.

Therapy hadn’t miracled him into some new person or whatever. He wasn’t going to start quoting mantras and hugging strangers in the street. He was trying, alright? Not to ruin everything he touched, not to say shit that hurt people only because he was hurting. It wasn’t gonna happen overnight—he knew that, it might not even occur in a year. But cleaning the water with you, of all people, that was something, a start and he had to start somewhere, or he’d drown.

That’s why he was parked outside your place, headlights off, keys still in the ignition, trying to talk himself out of going in. His fingers hovered over his screen guessing you’d follow up your text with a quick “nvm” or “that was a mistake.” But nothing came, just that green bubble, staring back at him, fucking terryfing.

This had to be some kind of trap, you hadn’t said two nice things to him in the past four months, except tonight, but his brain was foggy.

Rafe rubbed his face, still buzzing with adrenaline, a headache forming low behind his eyes, he should just go home, stop chasing something that always seemed to blow up in his face. But his hand was already on the door handle, legs half-numb as he stepped out into the night air. His heart started doing that thing again—erratic—and he wondered if he was about to pass out on your front steps.

That’d be poetic.

He was idling outside your gate, the one that used to open the second his Range Rover pulled up, he knew the code, now he had to buzz, like a stranger.

Rafe hated that.

He pressed the button, swallowing hard, already regretting it. He half-expected silence, or your voice telling him to go to hell. Instead, there was a click, then the slow swing of iron, groaning open like it, too, couldn’t believe you’d let him in. By the time he reached your front door, his hands were damp again, chest aching with everything he wasn’t saying.

Then—door swings open.

You didn’t make him knock, there you were barefoot, dressed in some enormous hoodie he hadn’t seen in months. Hair twisted up, eyes dark from either crying or just not sleeping. You weren’t supposed to look like that.

“Hi.”

“Hi?” he echoed, like a fucking idiot. It came out raspy, his throat wasn’t working right, still scratched up from earlier. His lungs hadn’t fully clocked back in from that panic attack and now this. “…You let me in.”

“You rang the gate.”

You seemed tired, not just physically, and he did that thing again, almost stopped breathing because air wasn’t a thing he deserved around you.

You stepped aside, sighing. “Come in. Before I change my mind.”

He did, swallowed hard, and crossed that threshold like he was sixteen again, sneaking in past curfew, scared your dad would catch him, but now it was just the two of you. You sat curled into the corner of the couch across from him, arms wrapped around your knees while Rafe sat stiff on the edge of the opposite one, elbows on his thighs, hands clasped like he was praying.

(He was.)

He dragged a hand down his face, his lungs were feeling funny again, but it wasn’t a panic attack this time, it was you, sitting right there, after all this time. He wanted to say something, but everything in his brain came out wrong before it even hit his mouth.

So he sat and you stared. This is probably where she slaps me, or tells me to get the fuck out. Or worse, says nothing, he thought.

He wanted to tell you that he hadn’t slept right in weeks, sometimes he thought he saw you out of the corner of his eye, and his body would react like you were real—as if he could still fix it. He wanted to admit he’d been spiraling, white-knuckling his days just to get through without texting you, begging or showing up like this.

"You're not gonna say anything?"

You looked like you’d bolt if he breathed wrong.

Rafe blinked, looking away. "I don’t know where to start."

That made your mouth drop, not quite a frown but close, he tracked it, all the little changes in your expression like they were landmarks in a city he used to live in. He didn’t know if that map still existed for him anymore.

“Start somewhere.”

Where the fuck was “somewhere”? Before the fight? Before he said all that shit he didn’t mean because it was easier to make you hate him than admit he couldn’t live without you?

“I didn’t think I’d be let in.”

“I didn’t think you’d show up.”

Everything felt surreal, as if he’d left his body behind in the car and now he was just watching this shit play out on a TV screen. You across from him, this house, this conversation—civilized, if you could even call it that. He didn’t know how to be calm around you, maybe this was hell, he died somewhere between the panic attack and your driveway and this was just the afterlife: stuck in a loop with the one person he couldn’t stop loving but always hurt.

“I don’t know how to talk to you anymore,” He confessed, his leg bouncing, nervous energy bleeding out of him. None of you were yelling, crying, rolling your eyes like usual, that scared him.

He kept seeing it in his head, how things used to be—even after a screaming match, you’d curl into him like nothing ever broke. you'd text him "come over" at 2 a.m. and he’d be there in ten, because it was understood. It was always understood.

Even when the world felt like it was falling apart, when his dad was on his ass, when he was fucking up every other part of his life—you were the one place he didn’t have to explain himself. This didn’t feel like the two of you, more like strangers in borrowed skin.

Rafe hated that he kept looking for you—the old you, who would tilt her head and laugh through her nose and throw a pillow at him when he said something stupid. The girl who could read him in a second and didn’t need him to find the right words. You didn’t look like her anymore, that was a good thing.

What the fuck happened to us.

He was what happened, if he hadn’t shut down, pushed back, said the worst thing at the worst time—he dropped his gaze to the floor, hands flexing again against his thighs. There was so much he wanted to say, but none of it would change what he’d already done.

You still weren’t uttering a single word, and he was starting to feel like he couldn’t sit here another second without doing something—saying something, but then, as if you'd taken a peek inside his excuse of a brain—

“I think we should get our excuses out of the way.”

He looked up.

Your hands were fidgeting—thumb picking at your sleeve, eyes not quite on him. God, he remembered those hands, you used to touch his face like he was something soft, you hadn’t touched him at all in months.

“I mean it. No more bullshit.”

“What are you talking about?”

You met his eyes.

“I mean, I’ve got my own shit to say,” you said. “So if you’ve got something to say, I want to hear it now.”

He suddenly felt sick, his ears were ringing again, the way they had earlier when Sarah pulled the car over and told him to “breathe, Rafe, it’s anxiety, not a heart attack”.

“…I don’t know how to say it right,” he muttered almost swallowed by the quiet. “Every time I try, it comes out fucked.”

“Give it a try.”

You didn’t say anything else, the you go first was visible in your eyes.

That was the least he could give you, right? He’d been taking and taking, his soul already hurt from just the thought. But you were offering him honesty, one chance, without the screaming, the throwing things.

Rafe cleared his throat, eyes glassy and wild and stupidly, desperately hopeful. Alright, somewhere. Fuck it.

“I regretted it the second you left.” It it hurt to say it, “I didn’t say it then. I was too—” He laughed once, humorless. “—too proud. Too fucked up, drunk.”

He rubbed his palms against his jeans, focusing on everything he hadn’t said properly for months. It haunted him, how your face had crumpled but you still didn’t cry in front of him—too proud or too hurt or both. The sound of the door slamming after you was louder in his head than the gunshots from his worst nights.

“The shit you said that night… messed me up. I know I messed you up too, but—” He stopped, jaw flexing. “I didn’t think it would come from you.”

That was the part no one ever understood.

He could take the hits, the rumours, Ward yelling in his face, his so-called friends talking behind his back. Even Sarah calling him an asshole—he could take all of that. But you? He’d spent so long thinking you saw him, even when he didn’t deserve it, especially then.

When you threw his pain back at him that night, when you looked at him like he was just another spoiled rich boy crying over his daddy—fuck, he’d felt something in him break in half.

“I thought you’d get it,” he admitted, swallowing hard. “That’s the part I couldn’t stop thinking about. You—of all people. You lost your whole family. You know what that’s like. You were there when my mom died. We were kids, but you were the only one who talked to me about it. I thought—” He shook his head. “I thought it would be like that again. That when my dad—when he was gone… I thought if anyone would understand what that felt like, it’d be you.” His mouth twisted. “But you didn’t.”

He blinked, and his vision went fuzzy again—not from panic this time, just pain, remembering too vividly.

“I deserved it, I really did. But that night?” he said, “I couldn’t forgive you. You weren’t wrong—" He bit his cheek, hard, until the taste of blood hit his tongue. “—but it was you. And I didn’t want to stop loving you. That’s why I didn’t chase you, just drank, a lot, figured I’d black out enough nights and eventually stop thinkin' about it.”

Another dry laugh.

“Didn’t work, if that wasn’t obvious.” He leaned forward again, elbows on his knees, “I kept waiting for you to come back, thinking any day now, you’d text me. Say you were sorry too. But you didn’t and I didn’t know how to fix somethin' you were the one who broke last.”

His pride had cost him everything, but it was never stronger than his hurt. And even now, with your hand resting on your stomach and his gut screaming, he was still reaching for the version of you who used to understand him without either of you saying a word.

Rafe swore that was it—you were gonna walk out, leave him sitting there like some pathetic, washed-up version of the guy you used to love.

“Is that why you started seeing Sofia?”

"I didn’t…" He paused, shaking his head, dragging a hand down his face. “I didn’t see her like that.”

You didn’t say anything, just nodded, slow and silent: go on.

“She was the bartender at the club. I’d see her when I went in—most of the time I was drunk off my ass anyway. Half the time I didn’t even remember what I said to her. I didn’t know her name for a while.” He hated himself for saying it out loud. “She was just there.”

His leg started bouncing again, and he didn’t even notice.

“She asked if I was okay once. That’s all it took, one person acting like they gave a shit. And I was pissed at you, I was pissed at everything, but mostly I was pissed at myself for not being okay and for needing you anyway.”

His hands came up, gesturing vaguely between you.

“I kept thinking—you left me. You left. When I needed you the most, and I knew I’d done so much wrong, pushed you so far that you didn’t have anything left to give me, but… I still thought you'd understand. I thought if anyone was gonna sit with me in grief, it’d be you. But you didn’t, you treated me like I was a fucking monster, it didn’t matter that I’d just buried my dad. All I was, was Ward’s son, and not just some kid trying to make sense of losing the only parent he had left.”

You looked like you wanted to interrupt. You didn’t.

“And I know he was a bad man. I know that, ’m not fucking delusional,” Rafe snapped, voice rising for a second, frustrated with himself, before softening again. “But he was still my dad. The guy who used to drive me out on the boat at sunrise and teach me how to cast without tangling the line. He was still the man who told me I could be something. Even when he lied through his teeth—he still said it.”

He dropped his eyes to floor again, voice going nearly hoarse.

“And I missed him. I still do, even when I hate him, I miss him. You made me feel like that was something to be ashamed of.” When he spoke again, it was almost a whisper. “That’s when it clicked. You were gone, you weren’t coming back. And I wanted to hurt you like you hurt me. I didn’t even realize you were already hurting, mourning me while I was still sittin' right fuckin' next to you.”

His eyes lifted slowly to meet yours again.

“That’s why I didn’t stop her,” he said, quietly, defeated. “When she kissed me the first time… I didn’t stop her. Because I wanted you to know what it felt like, to feel what I’d been feeling every second since the door slammed behind you. I wanted it to hurt when you found out.”

Rafe saw your jaw twitch, you were trying not to cry or scream or both while he admitted what you’d already known in the deepest part of your chest. He hated that you were sitting so far away, arms wrapped around yourself when all he wanted was to cross the space and warm you up with everything he hadn’t known how to say until now.

He hated that he’d ever wanted to hurt you.

“You didn’t have to make it worse.”

His head dropped, ashamed, nodding. He knew, fuck, did he know.

“You could’ve called. Texted. Showed up like this—months ago.”

“I didn’t know how.”

“You did. You just didn’t want to.”

You were right, he had let pride drag him deeper into the hole, let the silence rot what was left between you because at least in the silence, he didn’t have to see your eyes look at him like that.

That night—shit, that night—he’d said things he didn’t even remember, the kind of bullshit you don’t come back from. It scared him sometimes, what he’d become. He’d wanted to win the fight more than he wanted to keep you, twisting his grief into something cruel the following weeks, just to make you bleed a little too.

Rafe swallowed hard, voice low now, ashamed. He rubbed the back of his neck.

“I didn’t even like her,” he admitted, a little more broken. “Not like that. She was just… there, a good friend. She wasn’t you, didn’t ask questions, didn’t expect anything from me. And I hated myself more every time I saw her because I knew what I was doing. I was punishing you, for something I couldn’t admit was my fault too. I didn’t think there was anything left to fight for.”

His voice cracked for real this time.

“That’s the difference between us,” You muttered. “You give up when it’s hard. You made it look easy.”

“I needed you to hate me enough to stop trying.”

You let out the breath you’d been carefully holding.

“Congrats. It worked.”

“I didn’t want it to. I was a mess. Still am. I never stopped—”

“I thought I was going to die when I saw you together, Rafe.”

Your eyes weren’t angry or accusing, just….sad.

“I—I saw you in the bathroom,” you continued, “Thought I was going to throw up right there in the hallway.”

Rafe’s heart stopped.

“The door was open just a crack, enough to see her.” You swallowed hard, and he could see how your hands were shaking now. “She had her arms around your neck. You were smiling, laughing even. You kissed her neck, she was touching. You fucking let her.”

His soul caved in.

“I stood there for maybe ten seconds. Long enough to see you tie the strings of her bikini behind her back like you’d done it a hundred times already.” You let out a little laugh, but it sounded so wrong. “It used to take you five tries to tie mine without getting flustered.”

He felt sick to his stomach.

You shook your head slowly, eyes closing.

“It felt like someone had just reached into my chest and ripped my heart out. I couldn’t breathe, my face went cold, and all I kept thinking was you didn’t even flinch.”

Rafe opened his mouth, but nothing came out. His heart was fucking breaking.

You tilted your head, blinking up at the ceiling, trying to keep it together. “I slept on the bathroom floor that night, in your hoodie, because it smelled like you. Didn’t eat for two days.”

A pause.

“And I still would’ve taken you back if you’d just shown up. Said you were sorry.”

Rafe couldn’t take it anymore. “I was sorry,” he said, hoarse. “Every second. I swear to God, I just didn’t think I—”

“—deserved it?” you finished for him, not unkindly. “You didn’t.”

He flinched.

“But I would’ve still tried,” you whispered. “Because I loved you that much.”

No vindication or closure. Rafe pressed his fingers to his temples, exhaling hard, his whole body burning with guilt.

“I didn’t like her,” he repeated, knowing it couldn’t erase what he’d done.

"You liked her enough to keep her around."

“She was there. That’s all it was, she wasn’t you. I couldn’t even look at her without thinkin' about you.”

You shook your head, eyes gleaming. “Then why didn’t you leave?”

He looked at you, words choking in his throat. “Because I was scared you’d already moved on. You were gone for two months, I felt like a stranger."

You let out a bitter breath, “You were a stranger. The moment you let her touch you like that… you stopped being mine.”

The silence that followed was suffocating, a punishment, he deserved worse.

“I didn’t know how to come back from it,” he said, barely above a whisper.

“You don’t come back from something like that."

He nodded, devastated. “I never stopped loving you, that never changed.”

You looked at him for a long time, it almost hurt worse than all the yelling in the world — because you weren’t angry anymore. You nodded once, slowly. “I know. But that doesn’t make it hurt less.”

Your eyes were still fixed on him, lips parted like you wanted to say something else but weren’t sure where to start.

“I shouldn’t have said what I said that night.”

That pulled his eyes back to yours.

You nodded to yourself, needing to work up to it.

“I was angry. I was—I was tired.” You sat back, and pulled your knees tighter into your chest. “From watching you ruin yourself over and over again for someone who didn’t give a single fuck. You were breaking your own heart every day, and I couldn’t do anything but watch.”

He didn’t say anything, just watched you like he was trying to breathe you in all over again.

“I knew he was your dad, what that meant. But watching you keep chasing something you were never gonna get from him—his love, his pride, a real apology—it made me so fucking angry, it was killing you and I couldn’t save you from it. Every time I tried, we fought, when I tried to be patient, you snapped. Even when the good moments were good, they started to feel like pit stops before the next fight."

You bit your lip, eyes glossy.

“So yeah, I said shit I shouldn’t have said. I threw your grief back in your face, it wasn’t right. It was fucked up. And I hate that I did it, because I do get it—I do know what that kind of loss feels like and I still made it about me in the moment. That’s not fair, you didn’t deserve that, especially not from me. I'm sorry."

You weren’t done.

“But you’re not the only one hurting” you continued, “You weren’t the only one grieving. I lost you, little by little, every time you pushed me out and let Ward pull you in. It felt like I was loving someone who didn’t want to be loved anymore and I broke, too.”

Rafe blinked fast, chest rising with shallow breaths while you were still picking at your sleeve, eyes down.

“And you were right, back then. When we were younger, you were always the one to fix it. Every time we’d break up, even if it was just for a week or two, you came crawling back. Even when I was the one who started the fight, even if I flirted with someone else afterward to piss you off.” Your voice wobbled, but you didn’t stop. “You were always the one who showed up.”

His head dropped for a second, eyes squeezed shut.

“I told myself that made me better than you somehow,” you murmured. “I had the upper hand because I could make you come back, but that was just me being a bitch, you weren’t the only one who needed to grow up. You weren’t coming back and I didn’t want you to.”

That was the part no one ever understood.

Not the Cut High Society who asked what kind of psycho gave up a Cameron. Or your old friends from college who wondered why you weren’t mourning louder. None of them got it, you didn’t stop loving Rafe, you’d just spent so long dragging his broken pieces out of the fire that eventually, you forgot you were burning too.

You both looked at each other, older than you used to be, still cracked in all the same places, bleeding a little. “I had to be better on my own and I have been.”

You didn’t say it with pride, but you had learned how to exist without him, even when it broke you. Rafe’s eyes flicked to your stomach.

You rubbed your hand over it, “I didn’t tell you before because I wasn’t keeping it.”

You weren’t keeping it.

He couldn’t blame you, not when he’d made it feel that way. His gaze dropped to your hand resting gently over the swell that wasn’t there yet, still small, but he saw it now. He wasn’t supposed to know. that’s what killed him most still, you hadn’t even told him because he’d already proven he wasn’t worth telling.

“You weren’t gonna keep it,” he repeated, like saying it might help it sink in.

You gazed up at him again, eyes wet, but no tears spilling. “No.”

“Because of me?”

You didn’t need to answer. He already knew.

His heart was splitting open, right there on the floor between you both, and he still couldn’t move or close the gap. Couldn’t hold you the way he wanted to because you’d already had to learn how to live without him.

“It wasn’t fair,” you tried not to twist the knife even as you twisted it. “To bring a baby into that… into what we were.”

Rafe nodded once, a jagged little motion because it hurt to agree, so fucking bad. You weren’t wrong, but that didn’t make it easier.

“I would’ve been better,” he sounded completely desperate now, his voice breaking. “If I’d known, if I’d—fuck, if you’d just told me, I swear to God, I would’ve been—”

“You don’t get to promise that now,” you said, but there was no venom in it, only resignation. “That’s why I was so upset when Topper found out, called the clinic.”

“Have you talked to Topper?” Rafe asked, he already knew the answer but needed to hear it from you.

You shook your head. “Not yet. I will.”

He nodded once, “He meant well.”

“I know,” you said quietly. “He’s not a bad person. Just… socially dumb.”

That almost made Rafe huff out a laugh, but it didn’t quite land.

“I think he was trying to protect you.”

“And I didn’t need protecting,” you snapped, “I needed someone who wasn’t gonna treat me like a bomb about to go off.”

That shut him up, because it was true. You’d needed stability, and all they ever gave you was a headache. He knew better than to push you when it came to family matters, so he changed the subject again.

“You didn’t go through with the abortion."

“I was past the legal limit in North Carolina. The place he called was in New Mexico.”

“New Mexico?”

“I had to fly there.”

“But you didn’t.”

“There were… complications.” You didn’t elaborate, your voice was already trembling, “They said it might mean I can’t… that I might not be able to…It wasn’t my choice anymore.”

Your voice died, you didn’t say it, but Rafe heard it.

He felt like he’d been shot.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” His voice pitched up, breath hitching, "Why didn’t you tell me you were hurting?”

“Because you weren’t mine anymore, Rafe.”

He blinked, and it hit him all at once. The beach clean-up, you fainted, he manhandled you into the car, yelled at you in the parking lot. Told you to stop being dramatic. Dragged you to the hospital because he thought you were being reckless.

He forced you there when you were already in pain.

“I didn’t know I was sick then. I thought I was just tired, it wasn’t until the bloodwork came back that they realized something was wrong. Dr. Harris said it was severe anemia, that if I had gone through with it… I might not have made it through the bleeding.”

Rafe’s breath left his lungs like he’d been punched. “Jesus.”

Your lip trembled even though you were trying so hard to stay composed. “They said even keeping the baby might… it might not save me either. Giving birth could be just as dangerous. And the baby might not make it.”

Rafe wanted to crawl away.

“And you’ve been going through this alone?”

“I’ve had Sarah. She’s the only one that knows.”

His eyes flicked to the side like maybe if he didn’t look at you, it would hurt less to absorb all of it, the guilt drowning him.

“She should’ve told me,” he muttered, but even that felt weak, it wasn’t Sarah’s burden to carry.

“I told her not to,” you said softly. “I begged her.”

That part gutted him all over again, you were in pain—but you didn’t trust him with it, you’d believed so deeply that he wouldn’t show up, that you chose to suffer in silence.

“I don’t know how I let it get this bad,” he whispered.

“I do,” you said, without accusation. “You stopped seeing me. I was standing in front of you, hurting, and you were too busy trying to be someone else’s son.”

Rafe pressed a hand to his face, red-rimmed eyes that happened when he was trying not to cry. “I see you now.”

A weak apology wrapped in a confession he should’ve made months ago. It was a small thing, such a simple sentence, but it cracked something in you, too.

You swallowed hard, “It doesn’t change everything.”

“I know.”

You both sat there in that painful stillness. So much unsaid even after everything, the past had finally caught up to both of you and didn’t know where to go from here.

“Were you scared?”

“Terrified.” You didn’t let him look away. “I was scared every second. Of what was happening, of what it meant, of what I was gonna do. And I was more scared of telling you than I was of bleeding out.”

He winced but you didn’t stop.

“If I told you, and you didn’t show up, it’d break me in a way I wouldn’t come back from. And if you did show up just to make it about you, to throw it back in my face like you did everything else that scared you—” You shook your head, blinking hard. “I couldn’t survive that version of you.”

“I wouldn’t have—” he started, then stopped. “I don’t know what I would’ve done.”

He rubbed both hands over his face, then through his hair like he was trying to physically pull the memory of who he’d been out of his skin.

“I’m not letting anything happen to you.”

It was the first time in a long time you felt like you weren’t bleeding out alone.

You watched him, and for the first time in months, he didn’t look like the boy who broke your heart. He was a man trying to find a way to put it back together—piece by piece, even if it was too late.

You took a shaky breath, “I don’t want to get back together.”

Rafe didn’t flinch outwardly, but inside, there was a bomb. It was fair, and he knew that, he expected it. The words ricocheted in his head, over and over. It made sense. Fuck, it made perfect sense. He’d been a ghost of himself, lost in Ward’s shadow, drowning in every toxic version of what he thought strength was supposed to be. He’d made you feel alone when you were most vulnerable, hadn’t seen you when you were falling apart.

“I didn’t say all this so you’d take me back. I just…” He exhaled shakily, head in his hands. “I need you to know I’m sorry. And that I—I’m still here. I can’t change how bad I fucked up, but I can show up now. However, you’ll let me.”

He observed you again, eyes rimmed with guilt and love that had aged in the dark, misshapen but still there.

“I’ll drive you to the appointments. Sit in the parking lot if you don’t want me in the room, do the night runs for ginger ale or whatever the fuck else you need. You don’t owe me anything back.”

He wasn’t offering to fix it so he could be your boyfriend again, he was offering because he could finally see past himself.

“I don’t want you to go through any more of this alone.”

He was a boy you'd loved so hard you forgot how to live without him once. And now here he was, offering to stand beside you, to hold space, to carry what you couldn’t anymore.

“You say that now, but you have no idea how bad this could get. I might not make it,” you reminded him. “There’s a real chance this ends with me gone, and if it doesn’t, it could still mean I’m sick."

You weren’t trying to be cruel, he understood that, you were being honest.

“I know it’s serious, but—”

“No,” you cut in, “You don’t know. This doesn’t end with you waiting outside the delivery room and me holding the baby with a tear-streaked smile.” Your voice failed you. “This could end with a funeral, mine, the baby’s, or both. And if that doesn’t happen, if I survive, it still might not feel like a win. I might never stop resenting that I didn’t get to choose.”

He hadn’t just failed you, he’d failed everything he ever said he’d protect. He could taste the bitterness in his mouth, that acrid sting of regret, it made his bones ache. Of course you had a right to be angry.

Rafe’s fingers twitched in his lap, itching to reach out. To touch your knee, your hand, your shoulder, anything, but he didn’t dare.

“They took that from me, my body did,” you admitted, “I don’t know who I’ll be when this is over. I don’t know what will be left of me, if I’ll still be someone who can look at you without seeing every moment I didn’t get to make for myself.”

He didn’t know who he’d be either. What if you died? He couldn’t unsee it now—your body going limp, blood-soaking sheets, hospital lights, helpless. What if you lived and he lost you anyway? Could he watch you walk away—alive, whole—but still broken in all the places he helped crack? He loved you so fucking much it made him hate himself.

And that love—it didn’t ask for pretty endings or promise healing, it watched you, knowing the most honest thing he could do was not fix it, but feel it with you.

“We can be friends, maybe.”

Friends.

It wasn’t a bad word, but for him, it wasn’t neutral when it came to you. He’d tasted your breath and held your dreams and mapped the small places only lovers know, he’d once believed you were it for him.

But that’s what you needed and that’s what you could give, this time—this fucking time—he wasn’t going to take what wasn’t his.

“I’ll be your friend.”

The words nearly choked him. It was how it started, wasn’t it? All those years ago—mud-streaked knees and popsicles melting down your wrists, sunburns and scraped palms, long summer days, nights spent hiding from the storm under porch roofs, hearts still too young to know what they'd grow into.

He stared at you, the girl he’d known since she wore glitter nail polish and refused to eat the crust on her sandwiches. The woman you were now, trembling and brave and a thousand kinds of soft steel.

“I’ll be whatever you need.”

So what if he only ever got to be the one who drove you to your appointments and waited in parking lots and left ginger ale on your porch when you were too sick to eat? That was love too. Rafe let out a breath like he’d been holding it since he was seventeen.

He could do that, he would do that. It wasn’t closure, it was a better version of grace from two people who’d seen the worst of each other.

“Sarah told me you’re in therapy.”

Rafe blinked, like you’d spoken in a language he hadn’t heard in years, the conversation rerouted so quickly it gave him whiplash.

“…How does she know I’m in therapy?”

You gave a half-hearted shrug, “Wheezie.”

A dry chuckle escaped him—one of those stunned, of course kind of laughs. He shook his head slowly, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Should’ve known,” he muttered, more to himself than to you. “Girl has ears like a bat. Probably listened through the vents.”

That tugged a smile out of you.

“It’s not…a big deal,” he added, “I mean, I guess it is, but it doesn’t feel like it yet. It’s just me sittin' there trying not to lie to someone who’s already read through all my bullshit before I’ve even said it.”

“It is a big deal, Rafe.”

He peered down at his hands, they were shaking. He tucked them under his legs. “I only started recently. Didn’t think I’d make it past the first session, almost didn’t go in.”

“But you did.”

“I kept hearing your voice—old stuff. Before I started proving you wrong.”

It stung because you remembered those days too, when you believed in Rafe so fiercely it made you blind.

“I wanted to be that guy again,” He confessed, and the guilt in his voice was so sharp it could’ve cut glass. “Not for you. Well—yeah, okay, maybe a little for you. But mostly for me. I didn’t like what I saw in the mirror anymore.”

You reached over then—hesitating for only a second—and placed your hand over his.

His breath hitched, the tears coming suddenly, stinging the backs of his eyes before he could shut them down. He stared down at your hand resting on his, a goddamn miracle he didn’t deserve.

Jesus Christ, he thought, I forgot what this felt like. It was pathetic, really. He’d gone so long without this kind of softness form you, he didn’t know how to take it. You were still offering him pieces of something when you had every right to keep it to yourself.

Rafe was so touch-starved for you, from how you used to bump into him in the hallway, or grab his wrist mid-argument to make your point, or how your leg would press up against his under the table and you didn’t move away. He missed all of it.

He turned his hand slowly, almost scared you’d pull away. When you didn’t, he slid his fingers through yours like muscle memory.

“I’m glad you went.”

He sniffed hard, wiped his face with the sleeve of his sweatshirt, “Yeah, turns out I really am fucked in the head.”

“Don’t say that. I’m serious,” you said, squeezing his hand once more, then pulling away before it became too much. “You’re not fucked in the head. You’re hurting, that’s not the same thing.”

Rafe almost whimpered. He swallowed it down fast—the sound sat heavy in his chest. Your hand left his like it had never been there, and he ached in the space it used to be. His fingers twitched, they hadn’t gotten the message you were gone.

He wanted to grab your wrist and put your hand back.

He didn’t. He sat there, palms burning with the echo of your touch, trying not to look as desperate as he felt. Get a grip, he told himself. He wondered if you felt it—how much it had cost him not to lean in when you pulled away.

His throat burned. “Feels the same. Still got a million things wrong with me, still get mad too fast, still got shit I haven’t unpacked.”

“I know. But it’s not the same, is it?”

Rafe gave a small nod, that wry little smile faltering as fast as it had come, it didn’t reach his eyes. “Nah, it’s not.”

He knew you two were broken people, bruised by what they’d done and what they’d lost, sitting in the ashes of something that might’ve once been beautiful, trying to decide if they could still survive what was left.

Rafe wanted to try, more than anything.

It was the closest thing to forgiveness you could offer and it would have to be enough. Healing wasn’t going to come as an apology or a promise. It was going to be long, ugly, forged in therapy sessions where he had to say things out loud that he’d spent years trying to ignore beneath anger and loyalty and all the wrong kinds of pride.

“Why tonight?” He gripped his own thigh like if he let go, he’d lose the nerve. His voice scratchy, “Why’d you answer my text tonight of all nights?”

You spine straightened like it was a question you hadn’t wanted to ask yourself, either.

“Was it ‘cause you felt bad for me? A-after the gala?”

“Rafe—”

He exhaled, eyes wet again. “W-Was it pity?”

“I missed you.”

You missed him.

It was enough for the part of him that still woke up reaching for a body that hadn’t shared his bed in months, that still kept your contact saved with a heart next to it, even after you’d blocked him.

He recognized that tilt of your chin when you were holding in too much. He used to kiss that jaw. Bite it, even, when you were play-fighting on sun-drenched bedsheets. Now all he could do was watch.

Rafe’s shoulders hunched, chewing on the inside of his cheek, “I missed you more.”

“I’m scared. That even this—whatever this is—"

“I’m scared too,” he cut you off, with that same wreckage in his voice.

It nearly destroyed him, the way you were looking at him—memorizing him. You used to kiss like that. It felt almost wrong, like opening a box you’d locked for good.

It wasn’t reunion or redemption or the kind of love that got wrapped in ribbons and returned in the third act. It was grief, stretched between two people who used to finish each other’s sentences and now could hardly finish a conversation without bleeding all over it.

Then, almost like it wasn’t real, you asked, “Do you ever wish we’d never met?”

Rafe looked at you like you’d just shot him with a rifle, his breath hitched, his lips parted— “No. Fuck, no.”

You nodded slowly, maybe you did, he wouldn’t blame you if you had wished that, no matter how good it started, it left bruises when it ended.

“I think about that sometimes. Not because I didn’t love you. But because I did and lost myself in you. And then I lost my body and the baby. And now… I don’t know who I am without all that loss.”

He was shaking his head. “You didn’t lose the baby.”

“Not yet.”

Rafe had no words that wouldn’t sound like hope, and that felt cruel now. You’ll be okay, or the baby’s strong, or we’ll get through this, those were promises made in ignorance. And his therapist had told him just three days ago, “ignorance isn’t innocence. It’s just fear in nicer clothes”, and while he hadn’t understood it at the time, he understood it now.

“Do you h-hate me?”

“No.” It hurt more than a yes would’ve. “I don’t hate you, Rafe. I just… don’t trust you.”

“Do you think—” he started, stopped, tried again. “Do you think I could ever be the kind of person you’d let in again?”

You looked at him, long and sad.

“I think you could be, I just don’t know if I’ll be around to see it.”

[vaxieth]

i don’t know who needs to hear this, but the only time imogen has ever questioned if the ruby vanguard had a “point” was in the thirty seconds after an extremely emotionally intense dream where she experienced what it was like to be without pain for the first time in a decade, and when she was corrected by orym, she immediately apologized because she knew she was wrong. this is not and never has been some character defining struggle.

even if we consider her pull to predathos as analogous to a pull towards supporting the vanguard (it isn’t at all, but let’s say it is), she hid how she was feeling in the immediate aftermath, again, of an extremely emotionally intense dream that clearly left her feeling overwhelmed and confused, but the next day, when she was back to herself, she told them she felt a pull and that she wanted them to help her resist it. she said herself, “i know what’s right, even if my heart would say otherwise at some point.”

the fandom’s cynical obsession with imogen “betraying” the group despite ample evidence that, in her right mind, she is committed to them fully and would never willingly chose otherwise is one of the most utterly baffling and frustrating takes i consistently see.

[supersaddoubled]

something to fight for

haymitch abernathy x reader

warnings: fluff, trauma, alcoholism, angst, depression, age gap, pet names, mentions of death and violence, most things you would expect to be involved in thg lmao. also just bad writing could be a warning, we will see

wc: 4.1k

a/n: nobody writes for haymitch and i'm going crazy waiting for sotr, don't mind me and my minimum proofreading <3

The soft morning sun brightens the dim kitchen, rays dancing off the colorful glass on the table. The smell of freshly baked cake and homemade icing permeates the still air in the house. It’s early yet, most people remain bundled in their beds due to the nature of the day. Normally you would have been the same, staying coddled in the thin blankets atop your bed as long as possible on a day when you will learn which two children will be sent to die this year. Yet, you were up before the sun, heading to the cold kitchen where you had hidden all the necessary ingredients. After all, today is no longer the same day for you.

Today is Haymitch’s birthday.

You had grown up with the knowledge of Haymitch. Obviously as twelve’s only living victor, he was quite well known. You watched him age himself tenfold through alcohol he certainly could only have obtained in the Hob. Your observant, young eyes noted the way worry lines etched themselves upon his face before you had even aged out of the Reaping. He was only sixteen years your senior, yet he often felt aged beyond that of your parents. Funny how spending your life alone at the whim of the Capitol after witnessing mass amounts of death and agony as a child will do that to you.

After successfully going through your teen years without being sent into a death arena by the government, you became well acquainted with odd jobs in your community. Wealth wasn’t exactly well known by your family, unfortunately, love never put food on the table. You spent most of your childhood watching your mother tailor the clothes of miners. Interestingly, cheap fabric that has already been passed down for a few years doesn’t tend to hold up in rough working conditions. Your father was a jack of all trades, always finding something to do to earn money for your family. Thankfully, he had the foresight to pass along some of his knowledge to you, well aware that he would not stumble upon a small fortune before you were grown. 

After a year or two of hopping from job to job, an idea struck you. Though it was a bit outlandish and if we’re being honest, anxiety inducing, it would pay off if you could make it happen. 

What if you could get hired by twelve’s victor?

Based on his own physical appearance as well as that of his house, he was in desperate need of a housekeeper. Or maybe even just someone to run errands for him? The point was, you could make a lot more money out of a victor than you ever would from the impoverished citizens of twelve.

After a few weeks of deliberating and working up the courage, you found yourself in the Victor’s Village, feet planted in the snow in front of Haymitch Abernathy’s door. Clouds escaped your mouth with every deep breath you took to assure yourself. Your eyes wandered to the windows, covered by what looked to be ragged old sheets so no one could peer in. You weren’t really even sure if he was in there, but you hadn’t seen him wandering the square in a drunken stupor today, so you assumed he must be here. After a few minutes of staring at the door nervously, as though it were the only thing between you and immediate regret, your numb fingers raised from your side to rap on the door. 

Little to no noise was heard after a moment, so you knocked again, this time with more force. Something seemed to hit the ground inside, as you heard a heavy thud, before the sound of a chair scraping the floor followed by shuffling feet. The noise paused for a moment right as it seemed to reach the door, before suddenly the wood between you and the stale air inside the house was ripped open. 

Haymitch’s eyes took in your nervous, freezing form. He looked like he hadn’t changed clothes or left one room in the house for days. He stood there wordlessly, waiting for an explanation as to why in the hell this random girl had come pounding on his door in the middle of winter.

“Hi.” You waved and tried to sound confident, but your voice wavered on quite possibly the simplest word you could have said.

Haymitch remained silent, his glare seemed more frigid than the air outside.

“I’m- uh, I’m looking for local work,” you began, trying to keep a smile on your face to seem as personable as possible. “I thought you might be looking for someone to, umm help you out? Like, around the house or something?” Your cheery attitude was lessening with every word that left your mouth with zero reaction from the hardened man before you.

After a silence that seemed to drag on for what felt like hours, he finally spoke.

“Why the hell would I need that?”

Shit. You can’t exactly spout off that he seems to be an emotional and physical wreck and that his house is probably qualifiable as a biohazard at this point.

“Well, I’m not saying you need that necessarily. I just thought maybe you-” He interrupts before you can finish your weak explanation.

“You think I can’t take care of my own house, kid? You think I’m lookin’ for handouts?”

Panic. It’s too late to run away from the house and never look back, you’re officially on the verge of pissing off one of the few people with power in the district. Luckily, your self blame and pity was built in as someone born in the poorest district in Panem.

“I don’t think anything, really. I’m just looking for a job, ya know? That pays money. And you seem to be maybe the only person around here with money, so I thought it was worth a shot. I wasn’t trying to insinuate anything, I’m just kind of, um, poor?” Your words flow out like blood from a stab wound, all sense of manners and normal human introductions out the window in a sad attempt to save your metaphorical–and maybe physical–ass from being handed to you.

He looks at you for a moment, taking in everything you just said. Finally, as you are about to run back home and plan on avoiding him for the rest of your life, he quietly chuckles. You are immensely confused, not sure whether this is a bad sign or a good one.

“I appreciate the honesty.” He says with a small smirk. His eyes meet yours with a renewed spark that wasn’t there moments before, your nerves increase, though for a new reason.

Your fingers tug at your gloved hands, anxiously awaiting some more information from him. 

“What exactly do you do?” he asks, arms folding in front of his chest.

It takes a moment for you to find your tongue, once you realize he is asking you a question.

“Well, um, I can do a lot of stuff. I clean, I cook, I know how to sew, I can garden, I mean.. anything really.” A nervous laugh punctuates your sentence, shocked that you didn’t blow this yet.

He nods, thinking for a moment. His gaze falls to the snow covering the entryway of his home. After a minute of consideration, his eyes return to yours.

“We start off small, don’t get the idea that this is permanent, this is a test drive. You can come in once a week and do some cleaning. Once I see how that goes I’ll think about changin’ your job description, but don’t count on it.” He begins firmly.

“Thank you so much! Really, I-”

“Don’t get too excited, I’m not done. I have rules. What you see in this house is for your eyes only, this isn’t a new fun story to tell your friends about. You don’t bring people in here, you’re lucky you’re allowed in here. This is a private gig, I don’t need to go to the Hob next week and hear all about my own business, understand?”

You nod at his stern instructions, before nervously adding, “I don’t really have any friends to speak of. So.. you’re in the clear.” 

Three years after that fateful day, you found yourself in a steady job under Haymitch, obviously expanded from the original plan of once weekly cleaning. You had become an assistant of sorts to him. Keeping his once rotting house neat, stocking his kitchen with items other than liquor, and reminding him of important events that he unfortunately had to keep up with as a victor.

On top of all of your paid duties, you also became a companion to Haymitch. You were the person who spoke to him the most in his life, always aware of what was going on and what his routine was like. It was honestly the most intimate connection he had since before his games. It was a dangerous feeling for him, to become so involved with someone else besides himself. Good things didn’t happen to people he cared about. Why else did he keep himself locked away from society?

Yet, he couldn’t stop himself from growing fond of you, more and more everyday. You became his confidant of sorts, one of the only people he trusted in a world filled with deceit and pain. He tried for a while to keep a wall between you two, never wanting to risk getting close to another person. But eventually his resolve crumbled, your smile melted away all the barriers he had put up. The way you understood him without judgment, and never failed to shine light into his dim existence. He felt like your voice gently cradled his heart, protecting it from the hurt and anger that had enveloped it for so long. 

He felt so fucking stupid.

He couldn’t believe he had torn down every wall he built up to protect himself. And for a girl almost twenty years younger than him nonetheless.

Of course, he wasn’t going to act on it. He wasn’t that stupid. He wouldn’t risk running off the one person he now had, or being seen as a pitiful old man who looked for comfort in the first young girl to show him a modicum of kindness. But most of all, he wouldn’t risk putting you in danger. Giving Snow a new target for the next time Haymitch inevitably fucked up was the last thing he wanted to do. 

Unfortunately, none of Haymitch’s plans ever worked out the way he wanted them to.

You had been tidying up like usual around his home, this time with the addition of fresh bread baking in the oven. Reaping day was nearing closer and closer, and Haymitch’s mood had turned sour in anticipation. His drinking was far heavier than normal, you rarely saw him sober this time of year. He lost the small amount of humor he often saved just for you, burying himself in alcohol to ease the sting of his past and the future he has grown far too good at predicting. Your hope was that something warm and filled with carbs would somehow soothe him, if only a little.

You were just finishing putting a clean tablecloth on the small wooden table in the kitchen, when you him come through the front door. The erratic shuffling of his feet told you how many bottles deep he was already. He made his way to the kitchen where he flopped down into a wooden chair, bottle in hand.

You turn to check on the bread in the oven, letting him settle in. He shifts a bit in his seat before slurring, “Was’ ‘at?” referring to the warm smell emitting from the oven.

“Bread.” You reply simply, reaching in to pull it from the oven before setting it down on the counter.

He watches you for a moment, slightly perplexed. 

“Why?”

You slice a piece from the warm loaf, laying it on a plate with a small pat of butter. “To help your feelings.” You say gently, as you turn to place the plate in front of him at the table before grabbing one for yourself.

He looks more confused than before, “What th’ hell d’you mean?” His eyes follow you once more as you come back to the table to sit next to him.

“I know.. I know it’s a hard time of year for you. With.. a certain day coming up. I just wanted to help.” You say softly, trying not to let your extreme worry shine all the way through your ‘mildly concerned friend’ exterior.

He looks down at the buttered bread before him. A simple gesture, but so rich in comparison to anything anyone had done for him. He bites into the bread, warmth spreading through him, not only from the food, but from the unbridled affection he held for you in that moment. In his drunken stupor, he decides to admit something he hadn’t told anyone, ever.

“You know,” he mumbles as he finally looks up from his plate, “my birthday is coming up.”

Your eyes widen in surprise, that having been the last thing you expected from him right now.

“Really? When? I could make you something! We could have some sort of mini celebration-” You begin to ramble with all of these new ideas to brighten Haymitch’s mood filling your mind. 

“Reaping day.” He says so casually it makes you question if you heard him correctly. Your jaw drops, all words leaving your mind at the news.

After a moment of watching him take small bites of his bread, you find your voice again. “Are you serious?” You ask so tentatively he almost doesn’t hear you.

He nods as he continues to finish off his bread.

“Haymitch I-,” you almost apologize, but you stop, unsure if that is more hurtful than sympathetic.

“Yeah, me too.” He grumbles as he rises from his chair to grab more bread from the pan, almost like he knew exactly what you were thinking. 

Your eyes are fixated on the pattern of the tablecloth as you try to process all of the implications behind what you just learned. He was sent into the games on his birthday. He has spent the last twenty three years watching children be sent to their death, on his birthday. No wonder he was so distant, no wonder his liver was almost dust. Suddenly, you understood more about Haymitch Abernathy than you ever thought you would. Your heart ached in your chest at the thought of him holding this knowledge within himself for as long as you have been alive. 

He returns to the table with more bread, finding his spot next to you once more. He looked up to find your gaze and was met by tears welling in the place he always found solace. 

“Hey..” He gently breaks the silence, as though you might run off like a wild animal. Your lack of response worries him, pushing him further than he would normally go, especially in a sober state.

“Sweetheart?” He says a bit more firmly as he reaches out to place a hand on your arm on the table. 

You are brought back to the moment by the feeling of his calloused hands grazing your soft skin. Your eyes dart to his face, where you are met with a look of concern you have never seen on him before.

“Sorry!” You try to laugh off the anguish filling your mind by the second as you attempt to blink away the tears forming in your vision. “I must be tired tonight.” You try to offer a sad excuse for an explanation. Unfortunately, the tears were a bit too heavy to blink away as they make their way down your cheeks, glistening in the lamplight for Haymitch to see.

His hand slowly rises from your arm to the side of your face, thumbing away the tears the fall there. The simple gesture is enough to completely break you, sobs starting to wrack through your body.

In what feels like an instant, Haymitch has pulled himself close enough to envelop you in his arms, cradling your head to his chest as your agony takes physical form. He sits there rocking you for a moment, gently shushing you to try and calm you down. Your fingers somehow found a grip on his shirt, as though he is all that anchors you to the ground anymore. 

“I’m so sorry.” You say through shuddering breaths, head still buried in his chest.

“Sweetheart, what the hell are you sorry for?” He laughs humorlessly.

You raise your head enough to meet his eyes to find him already gazing down at you. 

“For all of it, everything they did to you. It shouldn’t have happened!” You say through heavy tears, feeling suddenly like justice must not truly exist in your world.

“It’s ok, it’s ok.” He pets your head in an attempt to soothe you, though the only thing that truly could right now would be the public execution of President Snow.

“You should’ve gotten so much more from life, Haymitch,” you sob inconsolably, “you deserve so much better than this.”

“Well, now I’ve got you.”

It comes out before he can think about the implications. Before he can rationally think about how dangerous and stupid it is to even show an ounce of affection toward you. Had he drank one bottle less before coming home, it might not have happened, yet, here he is, drunkenly giving a half assed love confession to his employee. His very young employee.

Your body seems to freeze at his words. What the hell does that mean? Is this your chance? How are you karmic retribution for all the shit he has had to put up with?

“Fuck,” he sighs as he feels your body tense at the accidental emotional spill.

“What do you mean?” You ask hopefully quietly.

“I don’t mean anything, kid, I just-”

“Don’t bullshit me.”

He’s shocked by your interruption, but resigns. Fuck it, he could die tomorrow.

“You.. are the first thing I have cared about.. in a long, long time.” He says after a deep breath. “Actually, I care so much, it makes me sick. Because after so long..” he lets out a shaky breath, “I feel like I have something to lose again.” 

The last part of his sentence is almost a whisper. You start to wonder if maybe you’re the one that was drinking. This isn’t logical, this isn’t normal. Your mind is racing so fast you can’t decide what the hell to do, he’s searching your eyes for an answer, anything. You decide to do something else illogical. 

You lean up from his arms to meet his lips. It’s a quick decision, it’s sudden. You definitely didn’t think it through or you never would have done it. You feel him pull back from you, and your stomach drops. Fuck.

“Sweetheart,” he starts with a conflicted sigh, “I can’t- I- you work for me. I’m too old for you and I don’t want you thinkin’ that you need to act like you feel the same to stay on my good side. Ok? It’s ok, it’s better if we don’t.”

“I don’t give a shit about your good side, Haymitch!” Suddenly, your emotions overpower your fear of humiliation. “I care about all of you, every side and facet that exists. I care so much it hurts, I don’t know what to do without you. I can’t imagine life without you. Don’t act like I’m some dumb kid that can’t make her own decisions.”

He’s in awe of the confession he never hoped to get in a million years, he wants to pull you as close as possible and never release you. Until his logic comes back to tear it all away from him.

“We can’t.” He says with such finality it makes you want to flip the table.

“What do you mean we can’t?”

“It’s not- It’s not safe for you. Ok? You can’t be associated with me like that, they’ll..” he can’t finish his thought as a lump forms in his throat at the idea of anything harming you, especially if it was his fault.

You push away from him, creating distance between you before yelling, “You don’t get to decide that for me, I get to make my own choices, and I’m choosing you!”

“This isn’t up for debate!” His bite returns as his fist meets the table harshly.

“Yes it is, I love you!” You retort fiercely before the heavy meaning of your words can sink in.

He looks at you, completely stunned and speechless. You return the same look for a moment.

“Please.. I love you.” You can’t believe you’re practically begging a man to act on his feelings for you, but here you are. We all do things we aren’t exactly proud of.

Suddenly, you’re swept up in a rush of heat, your lips captured in his as his arms press you close to him. Your senses are filled with him. You taste the remnants of alcohol on his lips, the smell of smoke mixing with it. He is so warm in the cold room, so sturdy. You are completely consumed by him.

Finally, you gather the strength to pull away from him, not yet leaving his arms.

“I really hope that meant what I think it did.” You say breathlessly.

He chuckles softly, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear.

“It did.”

Now, here you stand in his kitchen. Your kitchen. Making birthday cake for him for possibly the first time in his life. Finding a small beacon of light on possibly the worst day in existence.

As you are finishing up smoothing out the icing over the cake, you hear a groggy voice from behind you.  

“What the hell are you doing up this early?”

You whip around to find Haymitch leaning against the doorframe to the kitchen, looking slightly annoyed that he is also awake now, and very confused.

“Get out! Don’t look!” You position the cake behind your back to keep him from ruining his first damn birthday surprise.

He looks even more confused than before, and tries to peer around you to see what you could possibly be hiding that was worth waking up so early for.

“I mean it! Get away, I’m doing something important.” You urge him to back off as you wave the spatula in his direction.

A small smirk grows on his face, “Is that frosting?” he asks as he points to the utensil in your hand.

You look down to see the evidence smeared all over your spatula and quickly shove it behind your back.

“No.” 

He hums in reply, heading for a cupboard on the other side of the room.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

“Getting a drink?”

You shoo him away from the cabinet with your free hand, urging him to the table so you can finish the cake that started this whole thing.

“Sweetheart, I know you don’t like it, but I don’t usually get through this day without something in my system.” He says from the table once you have your back turned to place a candle in the cake.

“I’m well aware of that, but,” you strike a match to light the little candle on top before picking it up to bring it to the table, “I want you sober for this.”

You smile as you place the plate down in front of him, candle illuminating his face that is so often shadowed by his hair.

“Happy birthday.” You smile softly as you wait for a reaction.

He looks down at the cake, silent.

“You got up, on the worst day of the year, before the damn sun was even out, so you could make me a cake?”

You can’t read his tone, you aren’t sure if this was a major fuck up on your part or if he is just that bad at showing appreciation.

“I mean… yeah? It’s your birthday.” You answer gently, hoping you didn’t trigger something you were unaware of.

You stand in front of him in silence, your fingers pick at the thread on your sweater as you wait for any sort of response from him. After a minute, he leans down and blows out the candle on his cake.

“So are you gonna give me something to cut it with or d’you want me to use my hands sweetheart?” He looks at you expectantly.

You smile before turning to find a knife in a nearby drawer. You bring it over to him, but as you place it down in front of him, he grabs your hand softly.

“Thank you.” He says softly, as his thumb gently rubs over your knuckles.

“What did you wish for?” You ask in reply to his gratitude.

“Can’t tell.” He replies, looking at you with a new light in his eyes, a new hope, a new reason.

Something to lose. Something to fight for.

[oliveyougently]

Only You

Miguel O'hara fic, word count 1,185. Entirely fluff, preexisting relationship, soft Miguel, tooth-rotting-mind-numbing-fluff.

Nothing worked for you anymore. Not videos, not touches, not anything. You were bone dry, absolutely numb to everyone but your precious Miguel. You hadn’t even noticed at first- it was such a subtle thing, too.

So what if other men didn’t make you feel that familiar tingle? So what if an intimate scene in a movie just left you bored? So what if a shameless mannequin displaying men’s boxers just made you wonder if Miguel wanted any? It didn’t matter, you weren’t super sexual anyway.

But Miguel was different, way, way different. You could just look at him and start losing your mind. The way he talked with that accented, low voice aside to you, the way his body flowed and rippled when he stretched, everything. He made you hot just by being himself. Sure, he had his unattractive moments—those funny angles that made his forehead seem big or gave him a mock-double chin. And yet they just drove you crazier. You almost kicked your legs with a fan-girlish glee at how absolutely adorable he was. And all he had to do was look your way.

Nobody could make you feel the way he did. Everything else was an annoying white noise in the background compared to him. Other men? Pass. Others touch? Pass. Even enticing videos and intimate moments on screen had you yawning. But Miguel? Miguel was the love of your life, and you went crazy just at the barest touch.

Such a night came when you were watching a movie with him. It was come cheesy romance, one you had picked just for kicks. There sat the man himself on your couch, leaning back, face neutral and relaxed as he watched the overwrought drama play out. He had been half working on a schematic for a new lab within the Spider-Man HQ on his tablet, but it lay forgotten in his lap, his large hands resting the flat device on his thighs. You glanced over, curled up with a pillow ticked to your chest. It was a chill Friday night—sweats and a t-shirt for him, shorts and a sweater for you. It was messy and sloppy and absolutely normal—and yet you still couldn’t stop your glances. Eyes tracing his nose, eyes, the swoop of his messy hair, and of course his perfectly sculpted features. You didn’t dare look anywhere else—you knew he was aware of the slightest glances, and the slightest drift to anywhere else would have been noticed immediately.

“Preciosa?” Came a familiar, curious timber. You looked up to meet his brown eyes, realizing you had been staring at the spot where his jaw met his ear. He eyes were full of a special mirth, a mix of smugness, curiosity and fondness. You cleared you throat, well aware of how obvious you were being.

“What is it, my vida?” He inquired, turning his head to you and cocking his head, thick eyebrows raised. You smiled and looked away, embarrassed. “Ah, nothing, nothing… Sorry.” He raises his eyebrows even further, his full attention now on you. Feeling pinned, you shift, looking back at the movie. At the moment there was a tearjerking confession going on—you didn’t really have the patience to understand the details—and the male leaned in, cupping his darlings cheeks. You scoffed lightly. “Wow, what a loser…” you said with annoyance. You winced, hating your own harsh words. You had a bad habit of letting unkind things slip out when I you didn’t mean them.

“What, what’s wrong?” Miguel asked again, turning his head to look at you again. You gestured to the screen, huffing. “He’s doing it all wrong! It’s just… Ugh. I don’t wanna watch some awkward dude try to romance this girl. He’s just… Ick.” You express your distaste, knowing you were being slightly unreasonable but pressing on anyway. It wasn’t a bad movie or a bad actor, really—it just wasn’t him.

Miguel gave a throaty chuckle, again leaning back into the couch and putting his hands behind his head. “Not to your taste, Hermosa?” He teased, watching your disgust with amusement. You give a small huff and cross your arms, tucking your feet under yourself.

“It’s just… It’s making me uncomfy, okay?” You answer defensively, knowing full well that wasn’t the truth. He cocked an eyebrow, head tilting back to view you sideways from the back of the couch.

“Uncomfy? You never minded the intimacy before.” As if to prove his point his hand comes to rest on your thigh—instantly triggering every single hot flash and shiver you had. He raised he eyebrows even more—an almost impossible feat, at this point—at the obvious reaction you had. You flush and look away, tapping a finger on your crossed arms.

“Darling, what’s the matter?” He asked, now actually a little concerned. His large hand stayed on your thing not moving an inch—he wouldn’t dare make you uncomfortable. You sigh, rubbing your neck and stealing a glance at him. At the sight of his worried face, skin drawn up into acute wrinkle between his eyes and the barest hint of a pout, you almost lost it. What right has he to be so cute?!

You pick up a pillow and put your face in it, curling back on the couch. “Ah, dang it!” You cry, muffled by the plush of the pillow. He could only give an Incredulous laugh, eyes still wide with curiosity.

“Sweetheart, what’s wrong?” he scoffed lightly, half getting up to move you you. His voice was concerned, amused, fascinated—what was making his pretty hermosa so flightly? He reached over to grab at the pillow, the movie forgotten. “Don’t hide your pretty face from me, vida—”

You squeal, unable to help kicking you legs a little. “Please, Miguel, have mercy! I can’t take you!” He chuckles incredulously, still tugging insistently on the pillow. “My vida, what’s wrong? Tell me.”

You finally huff as he finally drags the pillow away, leaving you disheveled and slightly grumpy. You sigh up at him, taking in the beautiful sight: his hair falling forward to curl slightly, his deep brown tone warm and ruddy, and those damn puppy dog eyes just begging to know what was bugging you.

“You’re too hot, Miguel.” You say bluntly, relenting. He scoffs yet again—this time in actual shock. He looked down, face incredulous.

“What?” He asked, rich tone filled with bewilderment. You huff and groan, sitting up. He backed away slightly so you can sit up, face frozen in a small smile of shock.

“I spent my whole life thinking I had to make myself better to attract a woman and now you say it’s too much? Apologies, love. I had no idea.” He says, tone laced with an amused sarcasm. I huff again, cheeks slightly flushed.

“I can’t even function around you! You’re too much! I just melt like a little fan girl for you. I can’t even bring myself to think of another guy or someone’s else’s touch. It’s all you!” I sigh, putting my hands to my face.

He chuckled, laying down next to you and drawing you close to his chest. "I love you too." He murmured. You sighed, irritation dissipating quickly in the face of his warm affection.

"Damn you." you murmured, closing your eyes and settling into his chest. He chuckled again, cuddling closer to you, movie long forgotten.

Hey guys! First attempt at a fic, sorry if the ending was choppy! I hope you liked it!! I love soft Miguel so much you guys. I know this fandom is a little dead but I'm still here yall. Fluffy couple life with Miguel lives on. Love you, thanks for reading <3

[cosmiclily]

.ᐟchapter five: pardon my emotions

wc: 1.5k

cw: a little bit of angst but i think this chapter is quite funny

The throbbing headache that greeted me the next morning was expected. I felt like absolute shit, and I wished I could blame it entirely on the hangover. But no, the events of last night were still fresh in my mind. Walking in on Vi making out with that girl felt like a slap in the face. Maybe, just maybe, the universe was finally on my side, screaming loud and clear: “Get over your stupid high school crush. She doesn’t want you.”

I let out a bitter laugh as I sat up in bed, clutching my pounding head. It wasn’t like this was news. Vi had always been out of my league—beautiful, confident, magnetic. She was the kind of person who could walk into a room and make everyone fall for her without even trying. And me? I was just... there. The best friend, the roommate, the one who’d always been there to pick up the pieces, never the one to hold her heart.

I rubbed my temples, as if the physical ache would somehow numb the emotional one. Get over her, I told myself again. You’ve done harder things in life. You can do this. But no matter how many times I repeated it, the words felt hollow, like trying to patch up a broken vase with tape.

As I make my way to the kitchen, the sight of Vi greets me like a cruel reminder of last night. She’s standing there, wearing an oversized band t-shirt and a pair of boxers, looking like the softest thing in the world, her hair still tousled from sleep as she makes coffee. For a second, I freeze, debating whether to just turn around and sneak back to my bedroom without being noticed. But, of course, the universe isn’t on my side.

The moment I make a move to leave, her eyes land on me.

“Hey, good morning,” she says, her voice warm and casual, as if nothing had happened. She’s holding my favorite mug, and the smell of freshly brewed coffee floats through the air. “Ekko told me you weren’t feeling well last night and that’s why you left. I figured you’d wake up with a headache, so…” She steps closer, holding out the mug with one hand and a small packet of painkillers with the other. “I got you some meds. And I made your coffee just the way you like it.”

For a moment, I just stare at her, my mind a mess of emotions I can’t figure out. It’s unfair how natural it feels for her, how easily she slides into this role that feels like more than just a friend. And yet, it’s not. It never will be.

“Thanks,” I finally manage, taking the mug and the pills from her. My fingers brush against hers briefly, and it takes everything in me not to pull away too fast. I swallow the pills with a quick sip of coffee, grateful for the heat against my cold hands. “You didn’t have to do this,” I murmur, trying to keep my voice steady.

“Of course I did,” she says with a small shrug, leaning casually against the counter. “You’re my best friend, Y/N. I’m always gonna look out for you.”

Best friend. The words sting more than they should. I force a tight smile and nod, avoiding her gaze as I take another sip of coffee. “Well, thanks. I appreciate it.”

She studies me for a moment, her brows furrowing slightly like she can sense something’s off. “You sure you’re okay? You’ve been kinda… off since last night.”

“I’m fine,” I lie quickly, my voice a little too sharp. “Just tired. Long night, you know?”

Vi doesn’t look convinced, but she doesn’t press the issue. Instead, she flashes me one of her soft smiles—the kind that always made my heart race—and pats my shoulder. “Alright, but if you need anything, you know where to find me.”

As she turns back to her coffee, I slip out of the kitchen and into my bedroom, finally letting out the breath I was holding. Her kindness is suffocating. It’s not her fault, but I can’t keep doing this. I can’t keep pretending that everything’s okay when it’s not.

I sit on the edge of my bed, staring at the mug in my hands. My reflection ripples faintly in the dark surface of the coffee. I know I need to let go of her, but every time I think I’ve made progress, she pulls me back in with her warmth, her care, her effortless Vi-ness.

So, I decide. My plan is to avoid her at all costs. Without raising suspicion, of course. I’ll only talk to her when absolutely necessary, keep things short, and focus on getting over her. Maybe I’ll pick up a new hobby, bury myself in work, or—hell—sign up for yoga. Anything to distract myself from her.

──────────────────────

By day three of my new, revolutionary plan, it already felt like hell. Who would’ve thought that avoiding the only constant presence in your life could hurt so much? Definitely not me! I mean, wasn’t this supposed to make things easier? Create some distance, set boundaries, and magically get over her? Turns out, it was not that simple.

It’s already hard enough to build this invisible wall between us—turning down her invitations to hang out, pretending I’m too tired for our late-night talks. But the real kicker? Realizing she’s the only person I could talk to about anything. And now, there’s this huge, gaping void in my life.

Shitty day at work? No Vi to rant to, no shitty jokes to lighten my mood.

The five-thousand-year-old professor dragging me through a painfully boring lecture? No Vi to dramatically reenact it with, complete with fake snoring.

A terrible grade in the one class I was confident about? No Vi to cheer me up with ice cream and terrible rom-coms—ones she’d always complain about being “too cheesy” but inevitably get teary-eyed over by the end, especially when the main couple had their big dramatic kiss.

The plan, on paper, had sounded so simple. Just avoid her. Easy, right? But the thing is, how do you avoid someone who’s everywhere? How do you avoid someone who’s ingrained in every part of your life, like a second heartbeat? Someone whose laugh echoes in your head even when they’re not around, whose scent lingers on your clothes like a bittersweet reminder, whose touch stays imprinted on your skin long after they’ve left the room?

How do you get over someone who feels like home?

And the worst part? She notices. She notices my hesitation, my distance, the way I flinch when her hand brushes mine. She doesn’t say anything, but I can feel her watching, her gaze heavy with unspoken questions.

Things were so bad I actually considered calling my mom for advice. My mom! Of all people. And, if you knew the kind of unsolicited advice my mom likes to give, you’d understand just how desperate I was. What would I even say? “Hey, Mom, quick question—how do you get over being completely, hopelessly in love with your best friend who has no clue and never will?”

Spoiler alert: I didn’t make that call.

Instead, I decided to just push through. That’s what everyone does, right? Push through, stay busy, keep my head down.

The easiest part about my so-called plan was that it seemed like Vi had started avoiding me too. After two weeks of blowing her off and coming up with increasingly absurd excuses—"Sorry, I’ve got this huge paper due" or "Can’t, I promised my supervisor I’d get an early shift"—it felt like she finally gave up. She stopped asking me to hang out, stopped knocking on my door late at night to chat or watch something stupid on TV.

Now, I only saw her in passing—brief, awkward moments between our schedules, like two strangers forced to share the same space. And then there were the nights. The nights were the worst. I’d wake up in the middle of them sometimes, thirsty or restless, only to hear her at the door, whispering a soft goodbye to yet another random girl she was sending home.

I tried not to think about what went on behind her bedroom door, tried not to let my mind wander to the sounds I might hear if I were closer. But the knowledge of it, the fact that it was happening, was enough.

I did all of this to stop hurting—to move on, to get over her. So why wasn’t it working?

Why did her absence hurt even more than her presence? Why did the thought of her holding someone else make me sick to my stomach, like all the air had been sucked out of the room?

Wasn’t this supposed to get easier with time? Instead, it felt like I was sinking further into it, this endless cycle of pain and longing.

──────────────────────

chapters

notes: who would have thought that ignoring your problems wouldn’t make them go away 😱😱 (self-criticism)

[mypoisonedvine]

virgin neil lewis with 11: “fuck, do that again... please."

your work is so fucking good i LOVE it

thank you so much love!! i got so many amazing neil requests but I love the idea of virgin neil c: kinda made him an incel lowkey...

warnings: noncon sexual content (18+ only!!), perv!neil, grinding, neil being a creepy nice guy with 0 stamina (aka my exact type)

100 random prompts - send me a number and a character!

Neil could be a little bit... well... touchy.

You mostly didn't mind it. It was just his way of being friendly and he usually made you laugh with the way he would randomly hug you from behind or tickle you or playfight you just to hold you down.

Every once in a while it would get weird, but not too weird; just his dorky, goofy sense of humor taking a jokingly-horny turn.

Well, you thought he was joking.

Like, for example, today—when you were on the couch arguing over what to watch (a common occurrence).

“No way,” he shook his head, “it’s shlock!”

“Just because it had a big budget doesn’t mean it’s shlock!” you defended.

“Oh yeah?” he challenged with a smirk.  “Just read the box!”

He snatched the DVD case out of your hands, flipping it to read the back as you tried to pull it away from him.

“In a world,” he began reading the synopsis in a deep, dramatic voice.  “See?  No good movie starts its premise with in a world—”

“Shut up!” you whined.  “Reading the back is cheating!  Gimme it!”

You leaned over him, trying to grab it, but his arms were longer; he held it up high and tilted his head back to keep reading: “In a world devastated by nuclear war—”

“You’d like it if you gave it a chance!” you insisted.  You couldn’t reach as high as him from where you were sitting, so you thoughtlessly hopped into his lap and lifted yourself up to get closer.  He yanked it away again, leaning to the side and watching you as you laughed and groaned and tried to get it away from him.  “You just need to see it, then you’d like it!”

Three things happened at once, right then: you moved to try to get the DVD from him, twisting yourself in his lap; his other hand grabbed suddenly and tightly onto your hip; and he stopped laughing.

You didn’t really notice it at first, just happy you managed to snatch the case from him.  You only really realized something was different when you looked at him with a smug grin which fell quickly.  “Neil?”

His lip was between his teeth, and his face was a little flushed.

“Neil, what’s wrong?” you wondered, relaxing on top of him, which only made you put more pressure against his— oh.

“Fuck,” he breathed, holding your hips with both hands now, “do that again… please.”

“What the fuck?!” you snapped.  “Are you— is that—?”

You tried to get off of him, but he was holding you down.  Your face flushed as you suddenly felt self-conscious about everything you’d done— about wearing these tiny lounge shorts, about getting in his lap, about coming over to see him at all.  He rocked his hips slightly under you, and you whimpered as you understood, without a doubt, that he was rubbing his erection right against you through his pants.  You could feel it throbbing, even.  You weren’t sure what was worse: the possibility that he got that hard that fast because you were in his lap, or that he’d been hard before when you two were just hanging out.

“Let me go, Neil,” you demanded, but your voice was weak and shaking; he ignored you, looking down at you in his lap as he moved you on top of him.  “Neil, stop—”

“Fuck,” he sighed, “you’re warm.”

He did it again, again; you felt sick and strange and sort of numb as he held you tighter, groaning under his breath.  “This isn’t funny,” you whined, “this is—what the fuck, dude—”

“Sorry,” he panted, moving you faster over him, and you grimaced as you were forced to feel the details of his cock against your pussy.  It was disturbing, really, how well you could feel it with these clothes in the way: you could feel the ridge of his head, the shape and thickness of his shaft…

You swallowed, blinking quickly, not really believing that this was happening—this couldn’t be happening, right?  Not to you, not with Neil, it just didn’t make sense.  “Stop,” you begged again, quieter yet more desperate than ever.

“I will, I will,” he promised, “I’m so close— I’m almost done, then I’ll stop— fuck!”

He tossed his head back, and you felt it flexing.  You watched in shock, confusion, and disgust as a small stain began to form on his shorts, hot come soaking through the fabric as his chest rose and fell quickly while he caught his breath.

You were speechless, and confused, and you had pins and needles all over as you tried to convince yourself that didn’t just happen— that your ‘friend’ hadn’t just used you to come, holding you down and rubbing you against him.  You’d felt so helpless and dirty… so why was there a wet patch in your own shorts, not from coming but from unsatisfied arousal?

His grip relaxed on your hips, and you could get up, but you were still frozen.  If you moved now, you might have to acknowledge that this was real. 

“Okay,” he smiled, still breathing a bit heavy, eyes still shut with relief, “we can watch your movie now.”

[leonas-herbivore]

Leona Kingscholar x Reader

Summary: A blooming romance between you and Leona gets cut short when you start having nightmares over the recent overblots. You don't know how you'll be able to move on from it when something unexpected happens.

MC is written in the second POV, gender neutral. 2644 word count

Hi! I'm bad at summaries and titles. But here's an angsty (maybe) fic for ya. Enjoy :)

<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3

The murder of crows flying above, turning the blue sky into an inky abyss, would unnerve the person you used to be. You couldn’t remember when, but a numbness had crept into your heart. A numbness that took away most of the fear and most of the pain. A numbness… that took away most of your happiness, too. The ringing of the school bell drowned out the croaks and caws of the crows. Classes were over for the day. 

You tucked your sandwich under your arm and quickened your pace. In a world like this one, you were defenseless. A non-magic person in a magical world. You knew some basic self-defense techniques and could escape a sticky situation. But against magic? As the saying goes, you don’t bring a knife to a gunfight. The students here at Night Raven College weren’t bad people. Well, maybe.

Does controlling a crowd to secure victory by trampling an opposing team make someone bad? Would someone be a terrible person if they tricked others into indentured servitude? If someone used hypnosis to control and betray someone, would that person be evil? Of course, there was much more to it than that. You knew that. 

But these weren’t hypothetical scenarios. These were real-life events. They happened. And recently, too. The headmage assured you that you were safe here at the school. He expressed how generous and kind he was to ensure your safety. His words left you with little comfort.

You finally reached your dorm and stumbled inside. With your back against the door, you breathed a sigh of relief. Ramshackle dorm, even though it was a bit dingy, provided a much-needed sense of comfort and relief. I’m safe here, you thought to yourself. A knock at the door made your sense of peace vanish instantly.

“Yuu? You in there?” a voice rang out. Ruggie! Your heart raced. His unique magic, Laugh with Me, allowed him to control people’s bodies like a puppeteer. But instead of puppets… 

If he wanted, he could make you do whatever he wished. He could make you open this door, take your lunch, and steal your money. But he wouldn’t do something like that to you, would he? Would he?

“Uh, yeah, I’m here. Just give me a sec.” You took a deep breath. With your thoughts collected, you opened the door. Ruggie stood on the doorstep looking as casual and unbothered as ever. 

“Um, did-did you need something?” You hated how timid you sounded. But you couldn’t help it. The idea of magic used to be so cool and, well, magical. But now that you’ve seen how ugly it could be, all the whimsy and wonder in magic no longer existed. Ruggie’s gray eyes betrayed no emotion as he looked you over.

“You’ve got a funny look on your face. Did something happen?” he asked. Did something happen? Ugh, the nerve. Yeah, a lot of things happened.

A shiver ran down your spine. The memories were still so vivid. Ruggie was Leona's vice dorm leader. Was he close by? Memories swirled in your mind. Leona and his overblot. An inky silhouette emerged from his body, a former shadow of himself. The ink spilled over him, threatening to swallow him whole. His rage, his pain, and his sadness all seemed to manifest into something truly horrifying. He was so big and strong; it was a miracle he was defeated. There were injuries but no casualties, thank the Great Seven. 

After that, things returned to normal, and Leona seemed to change for the better. Sort of. He and Ruggie were back to being buds, not that there was any bad blood to begin with. But it was still a relief that they sorted things out. 

You and Leona worked things out between the two of you, too. You grew closer and closer as friends until something unspoken began to bloom between you. Longing glances and knowing smiles became a common occurrence. Things were going well until-

“Uh, helloooo? Anybody home?” Ruggie waved his hand in front of your face.

“Huh? Oh, sorry. I spaced out for a second there. But I’m fine. What’s up?”

“We’re having a barbecue later at Savanaclaw—Leona’s idea. I caught Grim after class, and he said he was going. Almost started drooling and everything. I was surprised you weren’t with him.”

You gave Ruggie a sheepish smile.ou skipped the last class of the day. Nothing wrong with being rebellious now and then. Technically, it wasn’t even a class. It was a boring seminar. You didn’t need to be there, especially since Leona AND Jamil were there. Facing two former overblot boys at once? No thanks.

“Thanks for the invite, but can I take a raincheck? I’m super busy with homework and stuff. You know how it is. But tell Leona I said thanks for the invite.” you forced a smile. You started to backpedal into the hallway. “Anyway, see you later. Bye!” You slammed the door shut before Ruggie could open his mouth again.

Back against the door, you closed your eyes and took slow, deep breaths. Ruggie was pretty smart, so he probably knew you were lying. Hopefully, he was smart enough to take the hint, too. You weren’t interested in stepping foot in Savanaclaw at the moment. Not after last time. 

You unwrapped your sandwich and took a bite. There's nothing like a good peanut butter and jelly sandwich to help calm your nerves. The overblots were such haunting memories. But there was no point in dwelling on the past. What was done was done. The best thing for everyone would be to move on.

You weren’t alone either. You had friends that would help you in a time of need. Even good old Grimmy would come to the rescue if needed. You chuckled to yourself, imagining your friends as a rescue squad. Everything that could go wrong would probably happen. They would fight amongst themselves, deciding on a strategy for rescue. Grim would set things on fire. Deuce would summon a legion of cauldrons. They’re all thickheaded, but they were good guys. Things would work out in the end. You felt comforted thinking of your friends. Speaking of, where was Grim, anyway? 

Ruggie said he ran into him after class. He should’ve been back by now. You shrugged. He would be fine. You yawned and rubbed your eyes. While you were waiting for him, a nap would be good. You stumbled to your bed and plopped onto it. 

Another yawn escaped your mouth. All of these sleepless nights were catching up to you. Staring at the ceiling, you thought of Leona. It was kind of him to invite you to the dorm barbecue. If things were different, you would have loved to go. The two of you could’ve walked around together, holding hands. Maybe you could’ve found the courage to voice your feelings to him. Handsome Leona, I have a crush on you! Please be my boyfriend. I’ll be the Nap Queen to your Nap King, haha. Ugh. That is so cringe. You wondered what it would be like to kiss him. Would it be wild and passionate or gentle and soft?

For now, none of those things could happen. Your fear was getting the better of you. It was still painful to look at Leona, let alone be near him. He wouldn’t hurt you on purpose. You knew he wouldn’t. He liked you. At least, you thought he did… Your thoughts trailed off as their eyes closed.

A loud knock made them jolt upright. You rubbed your eyes. What time is it? You rubbed your eyes again and stumbled towards the door. The obnoxious knocking continued.

“Hang on! “I’m coming, I’m coming! Geez,” you grumbled. You reached the door and pulled it open. “What’s your- huh?”

Instead of the front yard to the Ramshackle dorm, an endless savanna stretched out in front of you. Trees and shrubs dotted the horizon. There wasn’t a building or a soul in sight. The sky was the bluest and brightest you had ever seen. 

“How did I… get here?” you turned around and yelped in surprise. The dorm was gone. Nothing but savanna stood in its place. Lush green scenery spread out for miles. Maybe you were still sleeping. Ok, deep breaths. You closed their eyes and rubbed them so hard that colorful dots swam behind your eyelids. 

You felt a sinking feeling in your feet. Wait. Your feet? Your eyes flew open. Quicksand! Your heart began to beat faster. You were sinking at an alarming rate, and no one was around to hear your cries for help. You struggled against your might against the sand but to no avail. 

A growl ripped through the air and shook the earth. As if on cue, a sandstorm formed before your eyes. You spotted a figure through the sand. A figure that looked all too familiar. 

A strangled scream escaped your throat. Leona Kingscholar. In all of his overblot glory. Black ink swirled in the air, threatening to swallow everything whole. His eyes, oh, his eyes. His green eyes glowed with unrelenting rage and pain. He reached out his hand, a claw covered in black goo. Slowly, he made his way to you, sinking into the sand.

You squeezed your eyes shut. No! No! No! Someone, please help me! I’m going to die! Help! Please- 

“Oi! Wake up!” a deep voice called to you.

Your eyes shot open. You came face to face with the last person you wanted to see. You pushed him away with all your might.

“No! Get away from me!” you shouted. You whipped your head around to take in your surroundings. The savanna was gone, and you were back in your bedroom. A fire crackled in the fireplace. Cold sweat covered your body. Another nightmare. When will it end?

“Hey.” a deep voice pulled you from your daze. You snapped your head in the direction of the doorway. Leona was standing there, hand on his hip. He looked so cool and relaxed, as usual. But the shadow clouding his face said otherwise.

“What do you want?” you snapped at him. You winced. It wasn’t his fault. But you were so tired. Honestly, things were going well after the last overblot. Everyone was friends again. It was as if nothing happened until that fateful night. 

The first nightmare was almost identical to the one you had just awakened. It felt so real. The sounds, the sands, and that dreadful, all-consuming ink. You couldn’t get it out of your mind. If you felt so terrible about it, you couldn’t even imagine how Leona felt. Maybe he was having nightmares, too. Leona furrowed his brow.

“You declined my gracious invitation. I came to set things straight. But, I wasn’t expectin’ to find you like this.” he said in a low voice. Were your eyes deceiving you, or did he look… worried?

“Thanks for the invitation, but I’m a little busy. I got lots going on,” you said.

“Heh, you’re real bold for an herbivore. Lyin’ to my face like that.” Leona said. He sighed as you avoided his gaze. His shoes clicked on the ground as he walked over to your bed. The old mattress creaked under his weight as he sat next to you. You scooted away from him and crossed your arms. The two of you sat in silence for a few minutes. Finally, he spoke up.

“How long?” he asked. You glanced at him.

“How long what?”

“The nightmares. How long have you had them?”

You thought for a moment before answering with a whisper. “I can’t remember.”

Leona nodded. Silence fell over them again. You glanced in his direction. For the first time, you noticed dark circles under his eyes. Oh no. Poor Leona. Your heart ached for him. But what could you do? You sighed. 

Fatigue was starting to set in. You wondered what to say to Leona. He was hurting just as much as you were. Probably worse. What could you say? He came to see why you didn’t go to the barbecue. But you couldn’t tell him the truth. It would hurt him if you told the truth. I didn’t want to see you. I’m not ready. Being around you hurts. It scares me. Even though I know it wasn’t your fault, a part of me still blames you. And it makes me feel so horrible. I don’t- 

You stifled a gasp as a pair of strong arms wrapped around you and squeezed you tight. Leona rested his head on top of yours.

“L-Leona?” you whispered. Silence. You heard him take a shaky breath before answering.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I’m so sorry. You don’t deserve this.”

At first, you were too stunned to speak. And then the floodgates opened. Hot tears streamed down your face as you sobbed into Leona’s shoulder. He tightened his grip around your shuddering body. You cried for what felt like an eternity. 

Leona didn’t loosen his grip even after your tears stopped. You could feel his slow and steady heartbeat like ocean waves coursing through your body. You wondered if he fell asleep.

“Leona?” your voice cracked. 

“Mmm?” he mumbled. You pulled away from him, far enough to see his face. His eyes were red, and his ears were down. A sullen expression darkened his face. You had never seen him like this. Your chest tightened.

“Leona, I-”

Leona put a finger on your lips. “I know what you’re gonna say, but you don’t have to say it. Just-” he sighed. “If you need me, let me know. Alright?”

“What if I need you in the middle of the night?”

“Whenever. I’ll show up. For you,” Leona said. He reached up to your face and stroked your cheek.

“What if I need you first thing in the morning?”

“I’ll show up.”

“What about- hey!” you whined as Leona pinched your cheek.

“I told you whenever, so quit askin’,” he grumbled. You smiled at him. Same old Leona. It was so good to see his scowl again. You hugged him tight and nuzzled his shoulder. Leona hugged you back.

“Are we good, Leo?”

Leona hesitated before answering. “Shouldn’t I be askin’ you that?”

“Well, I asked you first.”

Leona pressed his forehead against yours and looked deeply into your eyes. Heat rose to your cheeks under his gaze. He ran his thumb along your chin before tilting it upward. 

“This may not be the right time, but can I kiss you?” he asked. Without hesitating, you whispered, “Yes.” Your lips met, setting off fireworks in your heart. Leona wrapped his arm around your waist, pulling you closer. Your fingers tangled in his thick hair as the kiss deepened. So many words you’d left unsaid passed between you, spilling over your lips, dancing on your tongues. You kissed each other like your lives depended on it. Like you would never be able to do it again.

You peppered Leona’s face with kisses before finally pulling away. A small smile graced his face. That moment made you realize that everything was going to be ok. You would be there for him, and he would be there for you. Together, you could overcome the past, no matter how much it scared you both. “So, how about that barbecue, hmm?” you winked at him. Your heart skipped a beat as his usual smug smile crossed his lips.

“Nah. Let’s stay here. We’ve got some catchin’ up to do.”

“But what about-” your words were interrupted as Leona kissed you.

“You talk too much, herbivore.”

You smiled against his lips as he kissed you again and again. Oh, my sweet carnivore. How lovely your kisses are. I will walk with you on this healing journey together. No matter where our lives take us. 

[naebaetwsog]

after seeing your youngjae drabble I NEED a jihoon version. having a dance lesson with him or just practicing together 🫣

°・ of course ft.jihoon」。

genre. Fluff

warning.non

pairing. Tws!jihoon x fem!reader

a/n. Hope it is the way you wanted ^_^

After a long, mind-numbing day at school, you and Jihoon were walking out of the building, both already dreading the thought of going straight home. You had already studied, finished assignments, and had absolutely nothing to do. Sensing your boredom, Jihoon suddenly grabbed your wrist with a cheeky grin.

“I have a surprise for you,” he said, tugging you along.

“Jihoon, where are we even going?” you asked, laughing at his excitement.

“You’ll see.”

A few minutes later, you arrived at a dance studio. It was completely empty, just the two of you and the mirror-lined walls reflecting back your confusion. Jihoon turned to you with his signature smirk, eyes glimmering with mischief.

“Remember when you said you wanted to learn tutting?” he asked.

Your eyes widened in realization, your heart swelling at how he actually remembered. “Wait… you brought me here just to teach me?”

“Of course,” he said, already setting up the speaker. “You’ve been talking about it forever, and who else would teach you better than me?” He winked playfully, making you roll your eyes but smile nonetheless.

Jihoon connected to the playlist you two had made together—filled with songs that both of you loved, including some questionable guilty pleasures. You warmed up first, laughing as he dramatically danced around, throwing in unnecessary spins just to make you laugh.

Then, the lesson began.

Jihoon was patient, breaking down each movement for you, his eyes filled with nothing but fondness. He hyped you up when you got a move right and gently corrected you when you got stuck. After an hour, you finally learned the whole choreography.

“Okay, break time!” Jihoon announced, flopping onto the floor and ordering food on his phone. You sat beside him, catching your breath as you both started talking about everything and nothing—old memories, funny school moments, and your shared love for dance.

When the food arrived, you sat on the floor eating, occasionally stealing bites from each other’s meals. It felt comfortable, warm, like every other moment you shared with him over the years.

After finishing, you stretched your arms, determined. “Okay, now help me with the details. I want it to be perfect.”

Jihoon grinned, standing up. “That’s my girl.”

You ignored the way your heart flipped at his words and got up, ready for the next part of the lesson. This time, he stood behind you, his hands gently taking hold of your arms to guide your movements. His voice was softer now, his breath close to your ear as he whispered instructions.

Your heart pounded in your chest.

You weren’t sure if it was because of the dance or because of the way he was holding you—so close, so effortlessly familiar yet suddenly overwhelming.

Then, you turned your head slightly to ask him something. And suddenly, your faces were inches apart.

Your breath hitched.

His eyes flickered from your lips to your eyes, and for a moment, the world seemed to pause.

You wanted to kiss him.

He wanted to kiss you.

But neither of you moved.

Right when the moment felt like it would break, your phone rang loudly, making you both jump. You quickly stepped away, cheeks burning as you picked up the call from your mom. Jihoon cleared his throat, running a hand through his hair as he tried to act normal.

He walked you home that night like he always did. But this time, there was an undeniable tension between you two, lingering in the air like an unfinished sentence.

When you reached your door, you turned to him, ready to say goodnight. But before you could, Jihoon pulled you into a tight hug. His arms wrapped around you a little longer than usual, his warmth seeping into you.

And then—just as you were about to pull away—he leaned down and kissed you.

It was soft, sweet, everything you had imagined and more.

When he finally pulled back, he had that teasing grin again, his eyes twinkling mischievously.

“I knew you wanted to do that back at the studio,” he teased, poking your forehead.

Your jaw dropped. “What—no, I—”

He laughed, already stepping back. “Too late, I caught you.”

And with that, he waved, walking away while you stood there, completely flustered, your heart still racing from the best surprise of the night.

[salubriwrites-blog]

You Choose Morax

I'm on a train again! Time to get funny and write romance~

This one comes with a few Content Warnings so listen up:

Satan is kind of a villain here, this story contains references to domestic violence. You come to realize through a conversation with a healer that maybe all of the ways that Satan is treating you and hyping you up aren't actually healthy? Part 2 is in the works, probably on the way home

EDIT PART 2 IS HERE!

“You gotta be pregnant.”

“I’m not pregnant!” You laughed back, even though in your eyes being pregnant with a devil’s child was no laughing matter. Especially not this devil’s child. You were doing it to offset your nerves and placate him. 

“... But what if you are?” Satan asked next, voice tame and even hopeful sounding as he rested his chin in your lap. Those big red eyes stared longingly at your belly and you suppressed a shudder. 

A month and a half had passed since you were dragged to Hell, branded by Gabriel, and broke Satan’s contract with Solomon with your new power. Quite a lot had happened during that time; you were traveling around Hell, playing politician to all of the Kings, but most of all, you were getting laid. If sex was an ocean, you were drowning in it, mostly with Satan. What had started as a need for energy transfers to help you acclimate to Hell was now becoming a passtime. 

It started only a few times a week, and you could feel it coming on. The shortness of breath, numbness in your extremities, it felt like you were suddenly having an onset of a scorching fever. You would only have seconds to fall into the arms of someone, pulling at the collar of your pants as though that would open your airways as you gasped for cock. In the beginning you had a circle of devils that you could rely on; Sitri, Amy (they spent more time fighting for the right to fuck you than actually fucking you), Paimon, Zagan, and Satan. However as the weeks passed away the circle became smaller and more elite, until Satan was all that was left. 

He fucked you often, claiming to be able to sense that you were about to go faint even though you felt fine. You suspected that he was really just using it as an excuse to throw you over his shoulder and carry you out mid conversation. For being the King of Wrath, he sure did enjoy showing off how he had unlimited access to you. You didn’t mind it. Satan was undeniably attractive, and even if his technique was primal and outside of your comfort zone, he never failed to chase down and bring you to orgasm. So no, you didn’t mind all of the sex at all.

Until now.

Your period was late, something that had never happened to you. Satan found out because he noticed that you were avoiding him that day. Meanwhile you were tiptoeing around, feeling like you were only able to confide in Sitri about your concern. He had initially done a great job of informing you that such a feat was impossible. Until Ppyong overhead and had to reiterate everything that Sitri had told you at the top of his little, red, lumpy lungs. Which in turn created the domino effect of Satan going on the attack immediately. 

“Technically, Demon’s cannot get each other pregnant, let alone a human, your Majesty,” Sitri was trying to say. He was following Satan who had once again thrown you over his shoulders. Instead of carting you to the nearest flat surface, he was carrying you out of Gehenna and to the nearest portal.

Which was how you were here, sitting on a hospital bed with a half empty bottle of water in one hand, petting Satan’s head with the other. You weren’t sure how nervous to be, you had never had a pregnancy scare before. Scared, probably, it was in the name after all. 

The hospital he insisted that he take you to was in the garden of Lost Paradise, ruled by Lucifer Morningstar himself. You knew the old story well, about the devil who disguised himself as a serpent. Hoping for a chance to meet the celebrity, every time a shadow passed your room you couldn’t stop yourself from leaning out in hopes of catching a glimpse of the unholy celebrity. Like most things in Hell, being admitted into the hospital was surprisingly normal. From writing out your details on an intake form, to peeing in a cup for the pregnancy test, you welcomed the familiarity of the act. Though unlike human hospitals, they also requested to know your natal chart, and when you didn’t know that, your exact time and date of birth and the city you were born in. You had heard on a podcast somewhere that planets and signs can affect a person’s mood, but this was taking it a step in a strange direction. 

Since you were in the company of a King of Hell, you didn’t have to wait long. Which you were grateful for because the longer you sat in silence, the more ideas about having a family began to fill Satan’s head. He was interrupted by an alarming knock at the door, and the devil wrapped his arms protectively around you and your flat belly as the doctor entered. 

Hell had many surprises for you, but this one was the biggest of all as the… man? Human? Blinking and shaking your head, you squinted at the man who walked across the room, stepping into the swivel chair and shoving himself across the room toward you. All devils in Hell had horns, it puzzled you to see only a head of red hair protruding from all the bandages- ah. You had heard of this particular devil, he was something of a celebrity himself. The devil who healed by wearing his patient’s scars.

“Lord Majesty Satan, honored to have you here today,” Morax said brightly, looking up from the folder with your name on it to blink briefly at you before turning to acknowledge the King of Gehenna. “Pleasure to meet you, miss, and welcome to Lost Paradise. I regret having you here under these circumstances, it is quite a pleasant place to visit even when you aren’t ill.” 

“Thanks,” you said slowly, staring down at his tapered fingers which were flipping through your charts. “I just wanna make sure that everything’s fine, ya know?” 

“Of course, of course,” the kind devil smiled at you, or seem to, it was hard to tell what kind of face he was making underneath the bandages that covered him. Morax had a noteworthy mastery of his emotions. Sometimes they obfuscated his emotions completely, such as when he asked for the reason you were there. His eyebrows didn’t so much as knit at the idea that you might be pregnant. Except when Satan declared himself as your emergency contact (and even labeled himself as your partner) his eyes and the bandages furrowed with polite confusion. You could tell now that he was frowning as he stared at Satan, who was still busy admiring your stomach. “Some of these questions are sensitive, would you like for his Lord Majesty to wait outside until we’re done?” 

“She can say anything in front of me,” Satan growled, hugging you protectively. Morax’s bandages shifted and you read the emotion well; concern. Why though? You expected the doctor to buckle under the King’s statement, instead he and his bandages shifted their posture, like they were all squaring up against him. 

“I’m happy to hear that you think that, sir, but you aren’t the patient.” 

Oh damn, you thought to yourself as Satan now glared up at you, looking for your response. No devil had ever given the devil of Wrath lip like that before. Morax was looking at you too, holding your chart close to him while waiting for your reply. 

“It is entirely up to you if you want him in the room for this exam. We have a perfectly well equipped waiting room just around the corner.” 

“H-he can stay,” you decided, and Satan smirked triumphantly at the doctor, who was not paying attention. Instead he was flipping through your paperwork, single eye moving erratically across the results. 

“What is the approximate date of your last menstrual cycle?” 

That was easy, it was exactly a week before… before…

Morax lifted his face from your folder when the words got caught in your throat. “A week before Minhyeok was… when Gabriel…”

Not saying a word, the devil kicked his rolling chair off from the bed, propelling himself across the room to grab a box of tissues. 

“Sounds like you have had quite some trauma recently as well,” he offered along with the tissues for you. Ignoring Satan’s low growl when he leaned in close to leave the box beside you, Morax went back to your chart. “You’ve been sexually active during your time in Hell?”

“Yeah,” you said shakily, dabbing at your eyes and playing with the wet tissue in your hands. Suddenly you were wondering if it was too late to ask Satan to wait outside as Morax made a note. 

“How many partners have you had?” 

Now there was an awkward pause as you quietly counted on your fingers, mentally listing all of the devils from Gehenna, Tartaros, and Hades. Satan’s eyes flashed red as your fingers kept ticking. By the time you had racked up the grand total in your head, the devil’s fingers were digging into your thighs, leaving deep divots in your skin. Morax on the other hand didn’t flinch at your body count, only asked the follow up question, “all male?” 

“Yeah.” 

“Are all these questions really necessary?” Satan complained, trying to lean over and peek at Morax’s scribble.

His bandages shifted and contoured as the doctor frowned deeply at Satan, flipping the folder out of his line of sight. “Yes, we’ll also be testing you for sexually transmitted infections,” said the bandages to you now. “We’ll require a genital swab or a blood draw, lady’s choice.” 

Nodding understandingly, you squeezed your legs instinctively together because it had been a while since you went to a clinic for a test like this. At least it sounded all like what you were used to, Satan’s face was red at the thought. 

“What about the pregnancy test?” The King asked, watching as Morax closed the folder and reached for a stethoscope.

Once again you were impressed at how the subordinate devil was able to shoo Satan off of you like he was nothing more than a fly. Pushing the King of Wrath away with just a wave of his hand, he rested his elbow on the examination table. 

“I’m still waiting to hear those results- deep breath please… Good, and again please, this’ll be cold on your back… very good, healthy lungs - but we devils are naturally infertile. Have you had intercourse with any mortal men in the last month?” Morax directed at you, looping the stethoscope around his shoulders as he pressed his bandaged fingers to your throat. 

His touch was swift, but even after he had pulled away you could still feel the pads of his fingers pressing on your lymph nodes. 

“N-not intercourse,” you mumbled, blushing deeply when Morax’s bandages raised at you. “I’ve been drinking uhm… A human’s essence to help with acclimating to Hell.” 

“That won’t get you pregnant,” Morax assured you, patting the back of the table and urging you to lay down. “You’re going to feel a little bit of cold again.” Pulling up your shirt and quick as a cat before Satan could be outraged, Morax pressed the pad of the stethoscope to your belly. Running the cold metal along the hem of your naval, he didn’t ask you to breathe this time. “Hello? Anyone home?”

Just as Satan was about to grab Morax by the tails of his bandages, the devil was retreating, tossing the stethoscope aside. “We’ll wait for the test results to come back, let me go and see if those are ready now. I’ll be right back.”

Sighing with relief once Morax was gone, Satan went back to moping with his chin on your thigh. You sat on your hands this time, busy wondering if a nurse was going to come in for the other stuff. Satan was too occupied with mourning a child that would never exist when a different, wicked thought took root. 

“W-what are you doing?” You hissed when his thumb began to ride along the seam of your pants, moving inward to stroke at your clothed mound. “We can’t fuck in a hospital.” 

“Why not?” He asked devilishly, sitting up and kissing you to quiet your protests. Meanwhile his hand squirmed its way to unbutton your pants, his fingers about to rub your clit between them, when Morax knocked at the door again. 

“Come in!” You called, jerking your whole body out of Satan’s grip as Morax reentered, head down and conveniently not looking at you. Instead he was focusing on a tray which had been lined up with the test kits, parking that on the other side of the bed. Glaring at the utensils, Satan frowned deeply and stood from his chair. 

“I’ll be outside,” he grumbled, slamming the door with enough ferocity that a jar of cotton swabs threatened to fall from their shelf.

“Sorry,” you started to say, but Morax tutted and he and his bandages smiled at you. That easily undid the knot in your mind and allowed you to relax. 

“Your situation is… unique, there’s no need to apologize for it. Though I am obligated to ask,” he paused, tilting his head towards the door as if listening for Satan. You found yourself doing the same, wondering if the King may be standing with his ear pressed hungrily to the door. “Are you currently experiencing any kind of abuse or violence?” 

Oh yeah, you thought to yourself, realizing that human hospitals and clinics really were fashioned like the ones in Hell. It made you think though, because at first your response was going to be no, but now you were thinking about it. It wasn’t a straight and simple no, you realized. Satan’s voracious appetite to have you all to himself did bother you to an extent. Was that really enough for you to say yes?

“Your answer is confidential,” Morax spoke up when you didn’t immediately reply. He must have been mistaking your hesitation to answer for fear of retaliation. “We have resources that you may use, even as a mortal. He may be a King, but he is not free to mistreat you, even if you aren’t a citizen of Hell.”

“It’s not like that,” you began, but you were still thinking about it. It had been easy for you to write off Satan’s behavior of isolating you as sweet possessiveness because he was handsome. He was handsome and one way or another you always came on his dick. Your stomach began to turn as that simple question was undoing everything you thought about the King of Wrath. “I-I need to have sex with devils regularly because of my condition.” 

“Yes, PDD,” Morax said easily, flicking open your file. “Planar Dissociative Disorder, when your body is unable to stay in one realm. We’ve only had one other case of this.” He gave you a look as he made another note. “There is a way for us to stabilize you to Hell without all of that… extra activity, if you’d like.” 

 “Wait, really?” You asked, shimming to sit on the edge of the bed as Morax nodded enthusiastically, the tails of his bandages were working out from under his coat. You wondered if he would come apart like a cartoon mummy if you tugged on them.

“Of course, transferring raw energy from one being to another is not a new practice. Devils need energy transfers for many things, and while sexual activity is potent and works, it’s not the only means.” He tilted his head now so that his unobstructed eye could look at you fully.

He didn’t ask the question, because the answer was written on your face as your epiphany made you light headed. Before you could faint from the dizzying realization that you had been tricked, a bandaged hand was guiding you to lay back on the bed. “Easy, take a deep breath. If you’re going to have an attack, do it. I promise you are in the safest place for it.” 

Were you really mad about falling for it? Letting Satan fill up your head with the idea that the only way for you to survive in Hell was dick? That was your next question, and that answer was also apparent in your eyes as Morax sat patiently at your side. You felt uncomfortable, this new truth was forcing you to reexamine every sigh and every pair of eyes through a new lens.

“Do I have to answer that question?” You finally gulped, looking to Morax who had pressed the stethoscope to your wrist. It looked like he was keeping time of your heart, and when he looked up at you he didn’t move from his spot. 

“If you want to continue using sex as the vehicle for the energy transfer-”

“No, not that question,” you flushed and pulled your hand out of his. The bandages scraped on your skin and begged you not to leave, but you put your hands in your lap anyway. “The question about abuse.”

Up above the clock on the wall was the only noise in the room; you were holding your breath, Morax’s eyes were closed as he was summoning up words of wisdom to serve. Each second that passed made the question feel heavier on your head. “You don’t need to answer, but for my own peace of mind as a healer, I would like one.” 

His gaze followed yours as you stared at the office door one more time, still wondering where in this hospital Satan was. 

“I wouldn’t call it domestic violence, but he’s been… uh, really needy.” 

“Would you call his Lord Majesty your primary partner?” Morax asked, reaching out with a foot to pull the trolley of syringes and cotton swabs closer but not picking anything up. 

“Yeah, I guess I would. Ever since I came back from Hades he has been nervous about letting me out of his sight. Or anyone touching me,” you added with a shiver, remembering the first time you two did it after you returned to Gehenna. He broke his desk pounding against you, eyes and face flushed red with passionate fury. Snarling desperate promises to not let you out of his sight again.

Nodding along, Morax drummed his fingers against the bed before putting a hand empathically on top of you. “I understand if you don’t want to answer, it can be hard to reject a King. Especially one as impulsive as he, but King or no, he is not entitled to you beyond what you are comfortable with. I have an open door policy for all of my patients, and I would do everything in my power to shield you from retribution.” 

“Thank you, doctor,” you answered awkwardly, pulling yourself to sit up straight as a familiar urge took root in your belly. Calm down, you told yourself as Morax switched gears swiftly, reaching for the syringe. 

“I presume you’d prefer a blood draw?” He’s being professional, don’t hit on him. Do not hit on him, do not- 

“Is there a Mrs. Morax?” What the fuck, you asked yourself, pinching yourself when he turned his back to you for something off the trolley. 

Chuckling lightly, the devil twisted the rubberband around your forearm, rubbing at your skin to find a vein. “No, this profession and appreciation of my patients is my love. How are you liking Hell?” 

Grateful that he was a better conversationalist, you went back and forth with the small talk. The blood draw was the easy part, he was gentle and the needle breaking your skin felt a little bit like a kiss. After the way that Satan had bent you over a few nights before, a syringe’s prick was small comparatively. 

You started to feel bad for your flawed flirting because despite all of it, Morax was kind. He made eye contact with you while you spoke, his kind expression reading your animated hands while you went on and on. Even his bandages seemed to hold you as you talked about traveling to Tartaros, your ability to break contracts, and the death of your best friend. Before you realized it, you had confided in him about everything that had happened to you and what you endured during your time in Hell. As well as some of the things you endured on Earth too. The craziest part about your visit? He listened. Didn’t try to demean or simplify your worries, only asking clarifying questions before going quiet again, he listened and understood. Which was its own kind of healing, you hadn’t been allowed to just talk about what you’ve been through, the things you left behind. 

“Maybe going home for a day would be good for you,” Morax suggested as he assembled your pamphlets to take home. Quietly, you appreciated the insert he hid containing his contact information inside of a generic health brochure. Something Satan would never look at, so if you ever needed assistance, he was just a discreet text away. “Pluto will be entering retrograde in about a month’s time, which is also what’s making your condition so much more pronounced.”

“Oh wanting to know signs wasn’t a personal request?” You teased, and Morax shrugged defenselessly. 

“You aren’t a doctor, you’ll never know the truth… Anyway, Pluto descending is a time of personal healing and closure. You are a Leo,” he declared, pausing at a small desk alcove that looked like it might be his. A group photo of other devils lined up shoulder to shoulder in military uniform was above the computer screen. Pulling out a sheet of paper, Morax stuffed it into your take home folder. 

“Pluto in retrograde for you will be defining, damning even. You’ll enter the final phase of a transformative experience, and also have the chance to be the hero of your story… or the victim. This will be decided by your own actions, as well as the ones of those you trust.” He avoided giving you a pointed look, instead wrapping his hands behind his back and escorting you to the waiting room. 

“You got all that just from knowing my sign?” You asked, once again feeling a little light headed and dizzy from realizing just how close to home his observations were. 

“Medicine is more than just anatomy, chemical reactions, and alchemy. Sometimes the stars push us to be destructive, and knowing the star’s plans can be life changing ammunition.” Coming to a stop just outside the double doors, Morax looked at you again. “All in all, you are healthy and not pregnant. You will be forced to look at a few aspects of your life, and tie up loose ends. The following month is about closure and healing, allow yourself to do both. We’ll be following up with you on your test results for the STIs in about a week. If you don’t hear from us, assume it's good news. Should you need anything, anything,” he stressed and tilted his red hair toward the door. “Call me.” 

Stepping out into the lush waiting room, Satan jumped to his feet at the sight of you, wrapping his arm around you and pulling you to stand away from Morax. “How is she? What was the result of the test?” 

“Negative,” Morax replied, and you could have sworn that, even for just a second, there was a glint of delight in his face at Satan’s open disappointment. “Her body is just going through transformative measures because of the energy transfers. Expect your cycle to be spotty from now on, as long as you have PDD. You will need to have these transfers while you remain in Hell, so as discussed we can look at alternatives.” 

“Will going back to Earth help with that?” You dared to ask, aware that Satan’s grip on you tightened defensively. 

“I doubt it, it might only reset and make the condition worse… but it might help with all of the other things you mentioned.” The doctor concluded with a short bow, not looking at Satan as he started to pull you toward the door. 

“Thank you again for everything,” you called over your shoulder as the King hauled you out of the hospital and into the Garden’s gradient light. "That wasn't so bad," you added to Satan as you walked arm in elbow to the portal back to Gehenna. "He was nice."

"I guess," Satan gritted his teeth in reply, eyes ahead and focused on the task at hand. Which was finding a place to flip you over and pretend to impregnate you all over again. "Let's never do that again."

"Yeah, definitely," you lied, casting your gaze backward as the portal swallowed you home. Part of you hoped you had every disease in the book, just for a chance to see Morax again.

[slut4msby]

Vigilante Shit. atsumu miya x model!reader x suna rintarou

+ synopsis; Don’t get sad, get even. You and Miya Atsumu always had a toxic relationship. There was no denying it. However Atsumu called your relationship off in the worst way possible, sleeping with your number one enemy, Miyazaki Aoi. However you’re an adult, who should deal with this in adult ways but, once a cheater always a cheater, right?

+ 02. like a brother [✎]

⤷ masterlist ; 01. childish. ; 03. ???

“Tetsu… I don’t know what to do. I know we weren’t perfect for each other, but I always felt I needed to go back to him? Was I always an option…” You cried into your best friends neck. At this point a pool of tears collected in Kuroo’s collarbones. You had been crying for at least 2 hours by this point. 

“Princess you were always too good for him.” he responded, kissing the top of your head. His hands combing through your hair as you laid on him aimlessly.

You can’t help but stare up at Kuroo with glassy eyes. You looked so fragile, so innocent. You let out a small chuckle at a thought that crossed your mind - an instant change in your mood. You move away from Kuroo, laying flat on your bed, the tears slowly fading. “Y’know Tetsu, Atsumu used to hate me seeing you. He always thought I would leave him for you. But you’re like a brother to me, Tetsu. Shows how much of an insecure prick he really is.”

Like a brother. That phrase repeated in Kuroo’s head. You were Kuroo’s best friend, there was no denying it. However, Kuroo also couldn’t deny his feelings towards you. He would be a naïve asshole to do so. But he was like a brother. “Funny.” Kuroo responds, the sentence making him feel numb. He was supposed to be helping you, making you both happy. Instead you handballed your emotions to him.

“Tetsu, you know I love you right?”

He nodded, he knew what you meant. You loved him like a brother.

“Let’s say HYPOTHETICALLY I have the urge to do something stupid… You would be my partner in crime?”

“Always, princess.” He smiled weakly.

You dart up from the pillow. 

“Wait, what do you have planned Y/N.” Kuroo asked worriedly.

“Don’t get sad, get even.” You mumble quietly, “don’t get sad, get even.” You repeat.

It hit you. Atsumu and you fought constantly, a daily ritual essentially. Fighting with him wouldn’t solve anything. You had to mentally fuck him. Mindfuck him so hard all he thinks of is you. Your scent, your body, your voice, you. Could you sort this out like adults, of course. But where’s the fun in that?

"I don't like the sound of this, Y/N..." Kuroo mutters.

"Just trust me, Tetsu?"

Trust you? You're making that hard to do.

+ funfacts;

⤷ atsumu was aware of bokuto & akaashis presence, but tried to ignore it. snitches get stitches after all? or something about bro-code :p

⤷ before you and atsumu got together kuroo's parents would pester you about becoming their daughter-in-law

⤷ when atsumu first called u "doll" you wouldn't shut up about it for weeks

+ taglist; @hearts4itoshi @ellesalazar @chocopuchino @bl4ckhoney @noodleswastaken

(please ignore the timestamps x)

[silcodependent]

Sway Chapter 13

Silco x Fem!Reader 1.5k words Mature but not explicit

You woke up panting, fingers twisted in sheets, hair stuck to your forehead with sweat. 

Where were you?

Your heart hammered in your chest as you jolted upright. You were surprised to find you were still in your nightgown. Still your apartment. Still in your bed. 

Surprised to find you were alone.

You collapsed back to the bed with the realization; It had been a dream.

A dream? Surely not but…

There was no other explanation. Your apartment hummed its usual electric silence in what felt like confirmation. Everything was exactly the way it had been when you’d forced yourself asleep, only you felt out of place. 

This was unlike any dream you’d ever had. The wetness in your underwear was proof of that, but you’ve had those kinds of dreams before. This. This was real.

Or at least it felt real. You grappled with that feeling as you rose to your feet and pulled on a robe. It would be impossible to sleep until you’d settled down some.

The kitchen was dark, illuminated only by the light spilling in from the windows of your balcony. It wasn't much, but you liked it that way. The dark in here reflected the dark out there and allowed each small ray of dancing light to make its way into view from your perch overlooking the city. And it was light enough to make tea anyhow.

Once the water was on, you couldn’t help but peek out into the alleyway where you and Silco had spent so much time earlier that night. Your back pressed against the brick, his whisper in your ear, the feeling of his fingers in you as--

No. That part hadn’t been real. There hadn’t been a midnight tryst where Silco made you cum not once, but twice, on what you could only assume was your mind's best guess at what his office looked like.  

Funny. You wouldn’t have picked green. 

But dreams were strange and rarely made sense and what else could it be? A dream. A strangely realistic dream. Then why did you still feel the heat of fire down the pathways his fingers had traced on your body?

Movement caught your attention in the street below and your heart skipped a beat. A small animal digging through the dumpster. You let out an exasperated sigh. What did you think it was going to be? More concerning, what did you want it to be?

Him. 

As much as you hated to admit it, you knew it was his silhouette you’d hoped would emerge from those shadows. Gods, you were in trouble and far past the manageable kind if tonight was any indication.

The whistle of the kettle drew you back to the kitchen where chamomile tea awaited you.

You had enjoyed some variety of chamomile tea on every sleepless night you could remember, although you never recalled its effectiveness. It was habit mostly, after watching your mother brew teas for her voice every night before a show and teas for you on nights when you didn’t feel well or couldn’t sleep. And then there was the night she was gone and you woke up in a strange house in a strange bed with frantic voices that bounced off the walls of the rooms below. You had been so tired then and your limbs had felt like they were full of water. Things were slow and numb and cloudy and it wasn’t until you were sitting in a kitchen with a cup of chamomile and rose tea in front of you that started to wake up from what surely was a dream. The man seated across from you had lines on his face, he was short and more round than your father and seemed desperate to give off pleasant energy. You weren’t sure if that meant he’d be more or less inclined to tell you the truth but that hadn’t stopped you from asking.

“Why did my mom leave me with you?” You remembered asking through tendrils of steam. 

“Well--you--She didn’t leave you with me. She left you with Sh--” You knew the excuse he was going to make and interrupted him.

“Why did she leave me with Him?” You inclined your head towards the next room where a very tall man, you had learned was to be your guardian, spoke emphatically with a woman who only responded in pained whispers. None of which you’d ever laid eyes on your whole life. A menagerie of strangers somehow destined for family. If you could use such a word to describe them.

You had seen the conflict on the face of the man before you. He had been sent in here to keep you company while this new guardian of yours tried to sort the situation out. Sort you out. And this man, the pleasant one, was family or perhaps a friend and here you were asking the wrong questions to the wrong people. You expected him to deny you. For him to tell you to be a good child and drink your tea. But he didn’t. Instead he heaved a great sigh and poured himself a cup alongside you.

“Sometimes--Sometimes there are people who are a part of you, meant to be a part of you. That come into your life for a reason, even if you never know what that reason is. Irene was one of those people for him. Well, for both of them really. I think.”

“So, they are friends?”  You asked in the only way eight year olds know how. The man across from you hesitated.

“You would have to ask them that. But when I was a soldier, I used to travel all over the world and visit lots of places. Kinda like Irene--I mean, your mom.” The voices in the next room raised and quieted in quick bouts that stole your attention away, if only briefly.

“And in one of the places I traveled to, the people there talked about ‘The Golden Thread’. It was kinda like destiny in a way, but they often spoke about how it could tie people together, friends, family, sometimes even complete strangers--but if they were connected through the Golden Thread then there was a…connection--they would be important in each others lives, could feel or see things sometimes, that the magic of this world had linked them for whatever reason. And sometimes I think that’s what happened with him and your mom.”

Those words hadn’t meant anything to you that night but you had never forgotten them. Uncle John would go on to repeat them in years to come, although never again referring to your mother. That night, while two people argued one room over about your fate, he tried his best to give you answers without a concern if it was right or wrong for a child to hear. You didn’t know how to thank him for that. But when you looked into your cup that night there was something new.

“What’s this?” You asked, fishing what seemed to be a small leaf out of your cup.

“It’s a rose petal. Or a piece of one anyway.” He responded with a small smile unsure if he had done something right or terribly wrong. 

“In my tea?” This was new. Is that the kind of thing they did here?

“Yes. Well,I thought you might like it. Rose petals for Rosalind. Roses for Rosie.” That had been the first smile you’d ever shared. 

Uncle John certainly was someone who you felt connected to by his “Golden Thread,” though you were certain he didn’t even know what city you lived in these days. Perhaps he could see it or sense it, if his stories were true. Rose petals for Rosalind still brought a smirk to your face, though no one had used your given name in years. You had no objection to it, but since you had struck out on your own in search of answers to your mother’s disappearance you had used her name in an attempt to draw out anyone who knew her. But that hadn’t gotten you anywhere…except to Remy. 

As you stared down at the petals circling your cup, you could see the faces of all the people life had placed in your lap. 

You were starting to understand Uncle John’s words for the very first time. Maybe there was such a thing as a connection that bridged space and time. Maybe you could be destined to impact another’s life. 

Or maybe you just really needed to get laid. 

Would that get Silco out of your head? Or make things worse? 

You could so clearly see his eyes, fire and ice, between your legs. You could feel the wood desk strain on your nails.

That was some dream. 

You gulped down your tea as quickly as possible, casting one last glance down on the street below. Stillness. What would you have done if you’d seen movement? If you had seen him?

Nothing.

You told yourself, tired enough now to believe your own lie. Tossing your dishes into the sink, you headed back to bed for the second time. If nothing was to ever come from this, Golden Thread or not, at least you could still dream.  And with dreams like that, you didn’t mind so much.

[iamfruitie]

Caution and Care Pt. 11

Part 1: Link Prev: Link Next: Link

Murdock

“The jeweler said it’ll take a few days to make everything,” Chase explained as he leaned against the meeting room table while Anti and Mad looked around the space. 

“And then you’ll ask him to be your mate?” Mad asked. Anti was too busy trying to open the drawer to a tall filing cabinet, making a face at finding that it and every other drawer was locked.

“That’s the plan. I hope he says yes.” Chase weakly laughed as he rubbed the back of his neck. 

“I can’t see why he wouldn’t,” Mad said with a shrug. 

“Are you guys going to live together?” Anti asked, giving up on getting into the cabinets for now. 

“Dark said he can move in here,” Chase answered.

“Looks like this place won’t be filled with endless alphas anymore at this rate.” Anti chuckled. 

“I can’t see JJ complaining about that.” 

“We could do a cuddle pile.” Mad smiled brightly, and there was a hint of a purr as he thought about having somewhere so warm to nap. “Oh-I-I mean-” He looked away, and his face got hot as he realized what he had done.

“You are so cute!” Anti teased as he pulled Mad into a hug. “I’m sure the other omegas can’t resist a good pile.” 

“There you are, Chase.” Wilford popped his head into the room. “Good morning, Mad. Good morning, Anti. Do you mind if I steal Chase for a moment? Got some work questions.” 

“Ask away,” Anti said while Mad was now looking at the cabinet, noticing some different scents that weren’t just paper and ink. 

“Give me a second,” Chase said as he stepped out of the room. 

“There’s something else in here,” Mad said to Anti, trying to get a better scent of the cabinet. “There’s so much paper in here, I can’t figure it out.” 

“Have I ever told you that I love how strong your nose is?” Anti tried to see if he could catch what Mad did, but all he could focus on was Mad’s scent. 

“Just a few times.” Mad chuckled. “Maybe if you could get a bobby pin or something like that, we can unlock it.” 

“Stay right here, and I’ll get some really quick,” Anti remembered the collection of bobby pins already stocked in their bathroom. 

“I won’t go anywhere,” Mad promised, and he was still messing with the cabinet, his concentrated face proving that he really wasn’t going to go anywhere.

“I’ll be just a minute.” Anti felt confident in leaving Mad alone; it was only for a little bit, and Chase and Wilford were both right outside the room. They wouldn’t let him get hurt. Anti would literally bite their throats out if they did. 

Mad heard the door close as Anti slipped out the other entrance to the room, and his attention went solely to the cabinet. He really wanted to know what else could be hidden in there. There was a bit of a sweeter scent. Maybe it was another candy stash? That would be kind of funny if Dark had more than one place where he stored his treats. Although the sweetness didn’t remind him of candy, it was something else. 

“Well, who do we have here?” A new voice and a new scent had Mad go still. He looked over at the alpha, his coppery scent almost fitting for his appearance. Red horns that slowly got darker the closer they reached his head, almost looking bloody. His eyes were hidden behind a pair of dark red sunglasses, and his grin made Mad uncomfortable. “Such a little thing, aren’t you?” The alpha chuckled, stepping closer, and Mad started shaking. He forgot where he was, forgot that he was safe, and whimpered. Where was Anti? He needed Anti. “Oh, don’t be scared. I’m not going to hurt you.” Mad felt his back hit the wall and wondered how he was standing with the numbness in his legs. “Who could ever want to hurt something as fragile as you?” The alpha hummed, his grin growing as he trailed his fingers across Mad’s jaw, stopping them to hold his chin. “I was told there were two of you. I wonder if your partner is just as soft. Imagine being the lucky alpha that gets both of you.” Mad wanted to do what Anti would, to bite this alpha’s hand, to call him names, to lash out somehow, but all he could do was let out a weak whine. He hated how nothing was working in his body or mind. He hated feeling so defenseless. “Maybe-” 

Whatever the alpha was going to say stopped when a hand gripped his wrist and yanked him away from Mad. Dark shoved the alpha into the nearby wall and pressed his other hand against his throat. 

“Don’t touch him,” Dark growled. “Do you understand me? Don’t you ever touch him.” The alpha took a moment to chuckle. 

“I didn’t-”

“Answer me, Murdock. Do. You. Understand?” 

“Yes, yes. I understand.” The alpha, Murdock, tapped Dark’s arm twice, and that was enough to get the hand off his throat, but he was still trapped against the wall. “He’s off-limits. I hear you loud and clear.” 

“You are walking a fine line. You are lucky that my father knows yours. Now get out.” Dark dropped both hands, but his anger was still thick in his scent and clung to the air.

“You can’t fault me for not knowing. And you know what your father’s said about that temper of yours,” Murdock clicked his tongue, fixing his shirt before heading out of the room. He gave Mad a smirk and a wink as he passed, and Mad slunk further into the wall with a whimper. Dark was trying to calm himself, taking deep breaths, but as soon as he heard Mad’s whimper, all that leftover anger turned into worry. 

“You shouldn’t have seen that. I’m sorry. Do you need-” Dark stopped his question when Mad suddenly hugged him, face tucked into his chest.

Anti rushed into the room a moment later, having seen the new alpha leaving, and got slapped with the scent of Mad’s fear. Seeing the two hugging only added to his confusion.

“What happened?” He demanded, dropping the collection of bobby pins and going over to the two. “Maddy? Are you okay?” Anti was ready to go back out there and bash that alpha’s head in with something. 

“I’m okay.” Mad let Dark go with a sniff. He then went to Anti and started whispering to him. Dark assumed he was filling Anti in due to the hardened look on the other omega’s face, but it changed as he looked at Dark. 

“Thank you,” Anti said as he hugged Mad. Dark had protected Mad while he was away. Dark had stepped in when he wasn’t there, and Mad was okay. Dark kept Mad safe. 

“I thought the message went through to the entire pack. I will be sure to check that everyone understands. I’m sorry that he got too close. I will be sure that never happens again.”  Dark promised. 

“Can we ask something?” Anti asked, wanting the mood to get better.

“Of course.”

“What else is in the cabinet?” 

“What else? It’s just paperwork.” Dark turned to look at which cabinet Anti pointed at.

“There’s something else in there,” Mad said, and Dark felt relief that he was talking to him. He had worried for a second that he would go silent around him again. 

“I’m not sure what else there could be, but I can check.” Dark offered, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a ring of keys. “The only ones that use this cabinet are myself and Wilford, so maybe Wil-” He paused when he opened the top drawer, saw something in there, and then closed it. 

“Well, now I have to know what’s in there.” Anti chuckled. 

“It’s me contemplating my friendship with Wilford.” Dark sighed. “And speaking of the devil.” He added as Chase and Wilford came into the room. 

“Murdock had a lot to say.” Chase rolled his eyes. 

“We’ll discuss that later. Right now, I’d like to know why this is inside one of my filing cabinets.” Dark gestured for Wilford to come over. He opened the drawer, and Wilford instantly started laughing. 

“I forgot I put that in there.” Wilford was still laughing as he reached in and pulled out a bottle. 

“Artificial slick?” Mad squinted to read the label. His eyes widened when he realized what it was and found the reason behind the odd sweet scent it gave off. 

“Lube? Why do you have lube in there?” Anti was now laughing as well. 

“Me and Jamesy wanted to…experiment and-”

“Stop. I do not want details.” Dark cut off what he knew was going to be a long and not the most appropriate story. “Just take that to your room, and don’t use my cabinets to store that kind of stuff.” 

“Oh, don’t be boring.” Wilford chuckled. “Do you want it, Chase? I already have plenty.” 

“I-uh-you-we-ah.” Chase just sputtered and went bright red in the face. 

“That’s a yes.” Wilford placed the bottle into Chase’s hand. “Now, we have some work to do.” He clapped his hands and grinned. Dark just sighed while Chase continued to make sounds, and that got Anti to laugh more, and Mad ended up joining in. 

[certifiedlovergirlsstuff]

when one leaves, another arrives

pairing: neteyam x female omatikaya!reader, lo’ak x female omatikaya!reader

WC: 11.8K (she’s a big one)

warnings: cursing, mentions of blood, r being emotionally messed up, lo’ak and r share a moment. should be it!

summary: when you lose someone close to you, you close yourself off from everyone else. except for one person.

A/N: i wrote this when i haven’t even seen the movie, only edits and clips on tt, so forgive me (i have now seen the movie by the time i’ve posted the fic). ITS FANFICTION LET ME WRITE WHAT I PLEASE!!! also neteyam and lo’ak are probably a bit ooc, but you know we only saw hints of their character in this movie, IM TAKING CREATIVE LIBERTY. also pretty much movie ages for our characters, r is same age as neteyam.

thank you to my lovely friend @alecmores​ for being my proof reader as always and leaving funny comments for me to giggle about. also if any na’vi is misspelled blame pandora wikifandom and the online na’vi dictionary.

reblogs are appropriated💗

been sitting in the drafts since feb25

masterlist

Numb

That’s all you felt, your whole body numb to the touch. Felt like you were floating, skin no longer touching the ground, only the stiff breeze that would ghost through you. You weren’t even sure if you were breathing at this moment.

Eclipse 

It taunted you as your eyes stared at the heavens above. Cold, wet tears streamed down your dull blue cheeks, while another dull blue face stared lifelessly at the darkened sky. Lifeless eyes that used to hold so much love and admiration within his glowing golden eyes.

Shaking

Your body was shaking, hands unable to stop the tremors that reached your fingertips. Lips quivering as you tried to hold back the scream that wanted to rip from your throat, the whimpers of pain that built up in your chest, and were just waiting for the scale to completely tip before you crumble.

The waves were crashing loudly against your boulder, it almost felt like they were shaking your rocky asylum. There were only four bodies stationed on the jagged stone along with a burning fire in the near distance. Everything felt like a realistic nightmare, something your mind conjured to tear you away from the sugary sweet dreams that you would slip into. But this wasn’t a nightmare or dream, this was reality. Something you constantly had to remind yourself before your brain could trick you into ignorance.

There was a ringing in your downturned ears that soon started to pick up choked sobs that flicked your ears at attention. You looked away from the darkened sky and down at your three companions.

Neteyam. Once alive and full of energy, gentle touches, and commanding tones were all left behind and just a corpse with his head laying on your lap was left behind. One hand cradled his cheek, wishing to feel movement or heat while the other brushed his braids, something you always did when he rested his head on your lap. You wished to see his easy smile one more time, just for a moment, you needed the image fresh in your brain.

Tsireya was the one quietly crying, her hands holding onto Neteyam’s legs. You wanted to comfort the girl, this is probably the first time she’s had to feel the pain of losing a close relationship, the Metkayina clan not forced to see the horror of war every day for the past few years. She was a sweet girl, a caring soul, she didn’t deserve to witness this pain.

Lo’ak was the last one of your group. He was staring toward the burning and drowning ship, you weren’t sure why, but taking note that Jake and Neytiri were missing, along with Spider, Kiri, and Tuk not around; the only answer you could think of was the ship. He dropped to his knees, eyes staring down at his dark red palms, palms covered in Neteyam’s blood as he tried to save him. He took another look at the ship before facing you and Tsireya.

“I- I have to- I have to help them.” Lo’ak took stuttering breaths.

You saw Tsireya shake her head, barely heard the pleas for Lo’ak to stay on the rock with the thre- with the two of you. But you knew Lo’ak, you knew that even if his dad told him to stay, he would follow him to the ends of Pandora, just like Neteyam did with him.

He knelt in front of the shaking girl, a hand coming up to hold her cheek for a second before he walked to you. Both hands rested at the side of your head, his fingers seeping into your braids with his extra finger touching your jaw.

“I’ll be back. I promise.” Neteyam used to tell you that all the time when he was allowed a position in the raids.

Lo’ak pulled your head forward and his lips met your forehead, and they were held there for almost a minute before he pulled away and jumped off the rock and into the crashing waves. Leaving behind two shaking and emotionally wrecked girls that held onto a corpse of a friend and loved one.

“He’ll be back,” you choked out to Tsireya, “they’ll all be back.” Reassuring the both of you, needing just that tiny bit of hope to stay above the dangerous waves. Your hand continued its comforting motion of pushing Neteyam’s braids from his face.

-

Pandora forest

Your feet jumped from branch to branch, the ground below leaving behind a trail of bioluminescent spots before they disappeared. Light chuckles floated from your parted lips and into the open air, the breeze able to carry the sound further out. The nightlife of the forest filled your ears, something you’ll never get used to, in a good way.

You slowed down after having ran and leaped for a while, needing a minute to take in your surroundings. Your chest moved up and down pretty fast with your mouth panting for air, and fists landing on your hips to rest. Your ears flicked at each little noise, but you were trying to find the specific sound you wanted to hear, nose twitching in the air for the right scent combo.

A twig snapped and you knew already you found him. You crouched down, body low to the bark as you followed the direction the noise came from, not wanting to spook your target. You jumped to a branch below yours and surveyed the surrounding flora. You grabbed your bow and nocked an arrow in the string and waited with bated breath for any new signs. Another twig snapped, the opposite direction you just came from, you were on high alert now.

You counted in your head, to keep your heart steady and to count when the next noise might occur. It wasn’t until twenty did another sound appear, this one much closer now. You thought you were ahead in the game but looked like you just lost so you put away your arrow and sat on the soft moss, waiting for the boy.

Lost in your thoughts, staring ahead into the open air, the feeling of two hands landing on your shoulders almost made you jump and that would end up resulting in your possible death due to gravity.

“I win.” A high-pitched voice spoke into your ear.

“Neteyam!” You twisted to look at his boyish grin, “don’t sneak up on me! I’ve told you multiple times!”

He just laughed at your raised voice and moved to sit beside you, thighs touching and fingers just an inch away from touching. You wanted to make a move but were too scared so you stayed content with your slim fingers ghosting near the other.

It was well past the eclipse and both you and Neteyam knew you shouldn’t be running around in the forest at night, but it was always so peaceful and sometimes the only time either of you could be alone together without parents or siblings hovering or clan duties getting in the way.

The two of you could just get lost in nature and each other and it was the most magical thing you got to experience.

“Are you excited for tomorrow?” You voiced to the silence.

It took a minute before he responded, “nervous, but yes. I’m excited.” His pinky tapped yours.

Tomorrow a couple of young hunters would complete their iknimaya and finally earn their ikrans and then later that night they would go through uniltaron, the dream hunt. You originally were going to join Neteyam in the rites of passage, but you felt you weren’t prepared enough, so you decided to wait a bit longer. At first, you were embarrassed to tell Neteyam that you were going to take longer, but he reassured you that it was completely fine and that he was proud of you with either decision you made. It made your heart grow with love.

“Should probably head back. Long day ahead of you.” You stood from your seated position and threw your bow over your shoulders, waiting for Neteyam to follow your actions.

You looked down when you noticed he was still seated and to your shock he was already looking up at you, an easy smile adoring his stunning features. He did look like his mother, a stunning woman with a strong will and a loyal heart.

“What?” You whispered the question.

He gave a light shake of his head, his smile never fading, “nothing. Just… just appreciating.” And he grabbed his bow and stood up, eyes level with each other. Both standing at around six feet and a few inches, neither hitting your growth spurt yet. You don’t know how you’ll feel when Neteyam is taller than you one day, even if it's just by an inch or two.

The two of you stood face to face, no one talking, only watching. Eyes danced over the other's features, memorizing every stripe and every glowing dot gracing their blue skin. If you could freeze time, you would do it at this moment, not wanting to leave the quiet night. You so badly wanted to reach up and caress Neteyam’s cheek but held yourself.

Instead, you cleared your throat and broke eye contact, “race you home?” And the smile he flashed gave you your answer and you took off without a warning.

Giggles and shrieks of joy followed you two home all the way, music to your ears.

-

You were still numb, your ears were still ringing, and your stomach grumbled but you wouldn’t touch a single fruit. It still didn’t feel real, none of this felt real. The battle was over, the injured were being tended to, and families were reuniting with tears and hugs. But your family, your family was grieving and preparing for a funeral that none of you thought would come for many moons in the future.

You just sit in a corner with your knees pulled up to your chest, arms wrapped tightly around them, your head resting atop the joints, staring into the void. You haven’t moved from the tiny spot since you all came back to your pod, Jake and Neytiri leaving with Neteyam’s body to bring to Ronal and have him prepared for his final living goodbye. Kiri and Tuk were huddled together in another area of the pod, Tuk sitting in her lap with Kiri stroking her hair and whispering soft words. Lo’ak sat outside with his feet in the water. He probably wished Tsireya was with him but she was pulled away by her family to help with preparations. You wanted to be there for him, someone needed to be there for him, he thought Neteyam’s death was his doing when it wasn’t; it was the sky people’s war that did it.

You finally found that bit of strength to move, Lo’ak needed someone at this moment and you knew Neteyam would want his brother to know that he loved him. With cracked joints you finally moved from your spot, arms wrapped around your waist for a phantom comfort and you walked slowly towards Lo’aks’ hunched figure. Your feet stop just a few steps away from him, just watching how his back muscles moved with his breathing, how his head would move slightly when he would focus on something else.

You didn’t say anything as you sat next to him. He didn’t say anything as his eyes took notice of your appearance. No one said anything, just two sets of golden eyes staring out at the dimming sky that was slowly dipping into the endless ocean.

You took the first step, one arm reaching out to gently touch the bicep close to you and then you slowly glided the hand down his arm until your palm fell atop his knuckles. Your four fingers settled in the open space between his five digits, a light squeeze was all you gave, but still no words.

“I’m sor-“ “It’s not your fault. None of it.” You immediately stopped him.

Silence once again.

Hands still touching.

Waves playfully pushing and pulling.

You leaned your head against his shoulder, Lo’aks falling atop yours after a second. Then you moved your hand off his and threw it around his waist with your other following, wanting to give him warm physical comfort. Knowing a hug was something he needed at this moment, to feel grounded, to feel loved, to feel seen.

An abrupt cough makes your head turn over your shoulders. Jake and Neytiri stood in the opening, both their faces littered with cuts and stitches, eyes darker and dull. You pulled away from Lo’ak and stood from your spot, walking over to the two taller na’vi.

“We must prepare.” Was all Neytiri said before holding her hand out.

- 

High camp

The air was thick with tension, everyone on high alert for the day, no, not just the day. Everyone has been on alert for the past two years.

The sky people have brought war back to Pandora, back to the Omitikaya people and your home. The demons bring fire to burn the trees and flora, to bring extinction to the animals that roam freely. Their metal weapons are much stronger than your bows, and many people die or are injured each day during a raid or battle.

Jake Sully is very high-strung, he’s quick to snap at someone out of line, and even more angered when the people he’s yelling at are his children. Neteyam and Lo’ak stand with their tails between their legs and heads tilted down, Neteyam receiving the harsher words that struck his heart.

You would watch from afar, hands rubbing your banshee in comforting motions as your heart broke at the pain written across their faces. You just waited, waited until Neteyam was dismissed by his father and he would head immediately to find you and distract you with his pretty smile.

“How is palï?” His own hands stroked down the side of her neck, soft purrs heard from her throat. You chuckled, “happy now that you are here.” Just like you were happier he was now with you.

Your smile dropped just a bit when you remembered a few minutes ago, “is everything…is everything okay?” His hand slowed then stopped before dropping to his side, eyes facing away from you.

“Just Lo’ak doing dumb shit again and me getting my head ripped off for not keeping a close eye on him.” “Hmm.”

Men and Women were moving to and fro in the caved holding. Some were slow with their heads bent down as they conversed with the person beside them, or warriors carried their bows with their heads held high as they rushed past everyone. People were going in and out of Mo’at’s tent, many exiting with wrappings covering wounds they gained during the war effort. You could hear the faint sounds of ikrans screeching in the distance mixed with the gleeful giggles of na’vi children.

“Would you like to go somewhere quiet?” You abruptly asked.

Neteyam’s ears twitched at your question, eyes widening just a bit but then softening with a tiny curve of his lips. A meek nod was all you needed before you wrapped a hand around his wrist and pulled him behind you and further into the cool mountain. It was a small area further back, the shadows helping in keeping the carved-out piece a secret to one who isn’t curious, but you were one curious cat.

Since your parent's passing, you would travel through high camp in silence, a ghost among the living just trying to survive by yourself. You lived with the Sully’s since they were like a second family to you, but being around them, seeing the love they have for each other and how much they care about everyone’s well-being, it just twisted your heart. So at night when everyone was asleep and the camp was quiet, you would sneak out and roam around, just needing to be alone and wallow in pain and you needed to find a place within the camp where you could step into the shadows and disappear just for a few hours. And you found it.

With Neteyam still being pulled behind by you when you abruptly stopped, his chest ran into your back making the both of you stumble for a moment. Light giggles escaped without thought before you reluctantly let your grip slide from his skin, but you didn’t get far before Neteyam reached out on his own and intertwined your hands together.

You felt warm all over at the simple action.

“Ma ‘teyam, I’ve- I’ve been missing you. As of late.” You dipped your head down, flustered at the sudden words leaving your mouth. It wasn’t a declaration of love, though it was in your ears.

“I’ve been missing you too, ma tanhì (my star)” Almost a whisper to the winds was his reply, but a whisper that blew near your ear making it twitch at the caressing touch.

Involuntarily your eyelids fluttered closed and a breathy sigh left your chest. The silence only grew in tension when a finger was hooked under your chin and pushed your face up, eyes focusing in on the speckles of glowing dots dancing along Neteyam’s face and body. Your own personal sky of stars to gaze upon.

“(Y/n), there’s something I’ve been wanting to confess to you for some time now. But it seems you gave me the perfect opportunity, and I will try to say the words before they evade my mind.” His thumb swiped over your chin, along with a swift feeling of him touching your bottom lip before it was gone too soon.  All you could do was tilt your head with your eyes firmly set on Neteyam’s, waiting intently to hear what’s been on his mind for this long.

He licked his lips, eyes moving side to side, “as you know it’s been a while since I’ve become one of the People.” Another simple nodding of your head, “I as well.”

“Yes. And we both have fashioned our bows out the branches of the home tree, both of us mighty warriors and aiding our clan in a time of crisis-” “Neteyam I’m well aware of these events. I’m living through them, along with them added to my songcord.” A mindless giggle showed your delight in this scene.

Neteyam gave a huff, “yes, yes. Now if you’ll allow me to speak before I lose my small ounce of bravery-” “Yes, sorry. Continue… sorry.”

A hand still twinged with yours and his thumb ran over the back of your hand, “Since we’ve become one of the People, and crafted our bows, the only thing left is to… is to find a mate.” You sucked in a breath.

He wanted to find a mate.

You understood, courting could take months and usually you’re not officially mated before Eywa until you are a full-fledged adult, so there was still plenty of time for the both of you. But hearing that he’s thinking of someone who he wants to court,  hurts like a knife being twisted between your ribs.

“Have… have you,” you had to swallow past the thump in your throat, “have you already chosen. The one you wish to begin courting?” You needed to step away from Neteyam’s intoxicating self.

You tried stepping away discreetly, but before you were even two steps away Neteyam pulled you right back in, even closer than before. Toe to toe, chest to chest, your whole body so close to touching but only an inch of air separated your bodies from molding together. The hold he had on your hand didn’t loosen, only held tighter, like he was scared you could run away at any moment. During this discussion, you wished to vanish into the forest and not come back until sunrise.

“I have. I’ve had my eye on her for years, long before my rites of passage. She’s very special to me, someone who’s been by my side through many of my hardships, lifting me back up to the light from the darkness I was walking towards.” His eyes stayed on your linked hand, “she is beloved by my family, each one of them having a special relationship with her already, so I don’t have to worry about them turning her away,” he breathed a laugh. “She is a fine warrior, her skills growing each day, and might even surpass my sa’nok (mother) one day.”

Neteyam took the final step. Hands squished between your bodies, your chest touching, and every breath you took caused your top to brush against Neteyam’s chest and move it out of place just a hair. Your breaths mingled with your lips in front of each other, it took every last bit of strength within you to keep your eyes trained on his face rather than his tempting lips.

“Neteyam-” “I hope you are understanding what I’m trying to say.”

Your will broke and your eyes dropped before meeting his eyes again, “I think it best if you say it aloud. I’m a bit thick in the head.” A comment Neteyam has made to you before.

He wetted his lips, “(Y/n), ma tanhì (my star), would you allow me the honor of courting you, to eventually in the near future, become my mate for life?” He almost vibrated with energy, nervousness or anticipation, or even both was your conclusion.

“Neteyam, ma atan (my light), I would cherish nothing more and it would be a pleasure to become your mate.”

-

The air felt still, thick that you almost suffocated from a simple intake of air. The water felt still, even though you rode on the back of your ilu, ripples following the creature. It felt like everyone was holding their breath, worried that even the most simple release of air would cause something further to shift in the world. But nothing worse could happen, not in your mind, your worst nightmare came true and you still can’t process it.

Jake and Neytiri were at the front of your group with Tuk seated behind her mother, Lo’ak and Kiri with Spider behind followed up the rear and you were at the very back. Everyone was painted with white stripes down their face, Neytiri fashioned with a woven headpiece and the necklace Neteyam wore when he died. A hand went to your neck, another intricate woven piece of jewelry that Neteyam would wear, it also happened to be the one he wore the night he asked to court you.

The tears dripped down your face, you didn’t make an effort to wipe them away, they would just keep coming.

Many of the Metkayina stood in the shallow waters of the Cove of Ancestors, further away from your family. You saw the familiar faces near the front, the Olo’eyktan and the Tsahík, both of them stood tall and held themselves high. You saw the tear-stained faces of Tsireya and Ao’nung along with Roxo just off to the side of the leaders.

The ilu tugging Neteyam’s leaf finally stopped at its designated spot, silently telling all of you that this was the end. Jake, Neytiri, Tuk, and Lo’ak slid off their creatures and into the water, treading themselves on each side of his body, his mother and sister on the left with his father and brother to the right. You so badly wanted to join them, wanted to touch the boy you loved so badly one final time before his body was taken away from the physical plane. But you stayed back, you weren’t his mate, you were just the girl he was courting, his girlfriend- something that Jake said was between the stages of friend and mate; you were just a friend that left their home behind for a boy that stole your heart and made you a part of a loving and protective family.

So it was just you, Kiri- who you thought should have joined the others but didn’t push her into it, and Spider who watched his blood-related family give their final caresses to his skin. The kisses to his forehead by Neytiri, the fingers reaching out to his for the hand that rested atop his shoulder then a feather-light touch to his cheek by Tuk, the hand that patted down Neteyam’s tied back braids by Lo’ak- something Neteyam used to always do on the younger boy, and Jake. Jake, who still seemed in shock, that he didn’t make for a comforting gesture.

Once Neteyam was free of the giant palm leaf, Tuk and Lo’ak moved further back to where the three of you stayed. Jake and Neytiri shared a look before taking their breath and diving under the water with Neteyam between them.

You slid off the ilu saddle and floated on the right side of Lo’ak, Tuk as always was beside Kiri if it wasn’t her mother. With the water stinging your eyes just a bit, you watched as Jake and Neytiri swam down, down, down until they were just above the glowing anemone and they released their hold on their boy. They kept themselves afloat while his body succumbed to gravity or the pull toward the Great Mother, and once they touched his deep blue skin, he was covered in golden glowing light before his body was completely gone.

If you weren’t submerged under water you knew the tears would be running at the speed of a waterfall, your nose clogging with snot, and your throat choking up causing hiccups and stuttering to your breath. With a glance to your left, the sight before you broke you even further. Lo’ak, with his left hand, held out for his brother to take, was choking out sobs that were silenced by the water, only the air bubbles leaving his open mouth told you of his cries to the Great Mother. 

Swiftly you reached out and linked your hands together, he needed someone to ground him from slipping away and you just needed to feel living flesh.

-

You couldn’t sleep, sleep had been avoiding you for weeks since your arrival to Awa'atlu, always tossing and turning on your mat. Eventually, you started to leave the mauri when the darkness would slip away through your fingers, finding yourself either sitting on the roped walkway with your feet swaying in the water or you would venture towards the sandy beaches and stare out into the open water.

You weren’t sure when he noticed your absence, but one night when you walked to the beach, you heard footsteps that were muffled by the grains on the floor and the push and pull of the water. Your heart rate picked up, you didn’t have any weapons on your person, and you chose to leave your knife with the others. But your panic died down when you saw the noise coming from someone who wouldn’t lay a harmful finger on you, but for sure would punch someone just looking at you wrong.

“Ma ‘teyam.” You all but sighed as he got closer.

He instantly pulled you into his arms, one arm around your waist and the other pushing your head into the crook of his neck. Your limbs wrapping tightly along his waist, your hearts beating as one, chest to chest. Fingers started to run through the free strands of your black hair, tiny circles by the pads of his digits.

“What is wrong ma tanhì?” He murmured by your pinned back ear.

You huffed a sigh, unintentionally tickling his skin, “sleep escapes me. No dreams enter my mind, only darkness and even that leaves me to my thoughts.”

He hummed, hands continuing their rhythmic motions, giving your bodies a light sway with the wind. Then he just stopped, hands landing on your biceps giving a light push away. His eyes held so much love within his tender gaze, “why don’t we go for a swim? We could star gaze, we haven't done it for a while.” And an instant smile split your face.

The two of you floated on your backs in the middle of the water, the water safe within the mauri pods. The quiet night was the only thing surrounding the both of you, the water was still with only a few ripples here and there causing a push to your bodies. Your backs floated atop the darkened water, hands clasped together to keep from drifting apart, braids and loose strands snaking around your heads as two sets of golden yellow eyes focused on the glowing stars above.

-

One Year Later

The memory vanished into the air from your mind, and the last thing you felt was your heart growing warm at the sight of Neteyam’s breathtaking smile before he pulled the both of you into the cool water.

Your legs were hugged to your chest with your thin arms wrapped around them tight, your chin digging into your kneecaps while your eyes stared out into the open water. You thought about going in, either to look at the stars as if he was floating beside you or to drown yourself and join him with the Great Mother. You knew the latter would win more in this situation, so you kept yourself grounded and forced your mind to go blank, the lull in the water helps.

You shifted a hand through the sand beside you, the texture feeling nice on your skin. Eventually, you got bored, but you didn’t want to head back, so you just laid down and let the scratchy grains cling to your skin and burrow into your hair. You turned on your side, back facing the homes with you facing the swaying trees, but you let your imagination run.

You pretended that you were lying beside Neteyam, both facing each other with only an inch of separate space. A hand from both of you resting in the middle, fingers doing a mindless dance of touching and curling, bringing smiles to your faces. You would move closer, your hand that lay on the ground would make contact with his stomach, and his muscles would flex automatically with the graze. Neteyam would move his head closer, a quick bump of your nose, giggles spilling from your lips. He would throw an arm over your waist, knuckles gliding along your back, and you would lift your hand from the ground, let your palm rest upon his plump cheek, and thumb would stroke the stripes decorating his skin. And you would clear the final milometer of air, lips a breath away, you would look into his piercing eyes and with all the bravery you could muster, would whisper the words only meant for his ears.

“Neteyam… ma ‘teyam… I see-”

“(Y/n)?”

Your hand dropped from the air and sunk into the cool sand, you didn’t even bother to turn and face the approaching voice, you already knew who it was. It was always you and one other person who would leave the home for hours and wallow in pain.

You felt his body heat, skin just barely flicking over yours. You felt his eyes on you, you knew they would drip with pity and pain for you, and you didn’t want it. You were a mighty warrior, you withstood your cuts and bruises and persevered in the battle, even your mental ones.

“(Y/n)... I’m here- I-” “Lo’ak. Stop.” You closed your eyes, the tears making a comeback. You still kept your back to Lo’ak, not finding the mighty warrior in yourself to withstand this battle, instead shrinking away from the fight.

He didn’t say anything again, you didn’t say anything again, and the silence enveloped the bubble. With the sound of shuffling you thought he got up and headed back to sleep, probably knowing how guarded you are these days, but he didn’t leave he walked around you and laid beside you.

With the past year, you’ve closed yourself off, built a stone wall high to the heavens, and wrapped around the world. Only allowing small slips into the cracks, sea shell collecting with Tuk, enjoying the flora and fauna with Kiri, weaving baskets and jewelry with Neytiri in the mauri, and you’ll do whatever you can find with Jake. With Lo’ak, there was something that pulled the both of you a tiny bit closer. Be it the Great Mother, grief, Neteyam, or all of it together, you and Lo’ak always found each other in times of comfort.

You peeked your eyes open, Lo’ak watching your every breath, an arm pillowing his head with the other hand in the open space. It felt weird that he was in the same position you imagined Neteyam, but you didn’t think anything of it.

“(Y/n), I miss him. I miss my big brother.” Lo’ak’s voice was small, cracking on the words him and brother.

You didn’t speak, something you often did these days, you just linked your sandy hands together. You gave a squeeze knowing it would silently say to him, ‘I miss him too’.

Before…everything, you were a pretty touchy person. At least when you were super close and comfortable around the individual. And because you were comfortable around the Sullys you would express your love through all forms, touch sometimes being the easiest with the quick access. But after- after he was gone, you reclined into yourself, like you were waining off the feeling of na’vi skin. But Lo’ak was someone you felt naturally drawn to just touch, and it made you hurt because you always felt that way about Neteyam. Sometimes you didn’t want to be separated for even a second, needing to have a finger touching or your tail grazing by his legs.

You were worrying a bit that Lo’ak might be taking your intimate moments, your touches as something they weren’t. You loved Lo’ak, but only as a brother. Neteyam always filled the spaces in your heart. Friend, partner, ‘girlfriend’… future mate, your future husband. No one could fill those holes, they’ll always be empty until you die.

“Have you visited?”

You blinked your eyes, focusing back on the present. Lo’ak was just watching you, waiting for some type of response to his question. You heard him, faintly, but still heard. 

You didn’t say anything, the quiet your nonverbal answer.

“I haven’t either,” his thumb ran over your knuckles, “I’m too scared.”

“Why scared?” A hushed whisper.

He shrugged, “might argue with me or something. Tell me it’s my fault, which is t-“

“False. Sky people are at fault.” A constant reminder from you to him.

Silence once again. Talking always takes too much energy for you.

“Would you be willing to visit him, together?” Lo’aks’s question drifted into the air. 

“When we are ready, we will go. Together.”

-

Two Years Later

“I would like to visit Payakan.”

Lo’ak sat up from his lying position and looked down at you, his head blocking the blinding sun rays. You just peered up at him, face completely neutral.

“W-why?” His feathered brows furrowed, “it’s not safe.”

You cocked your head, striped brow raised, “never stopped you before.” A ghost of a smile mixed with some teasing.

Lo’ak scuffed and rolled his eyes at the remark, but you saw the smile. He looked at the open water for a moment before looking back at you. You could see the tiny gears turning in his head, probably weighing some pros and cons to your proposal.

He stood up and held a hand out, his answer to your request.

With a firm grasp, you let him pull you to your feet, his growing muscles pulling you against the gravity causing a light crash with your chests meeting. His free arm wrapped tight around your back to keep you from stumbling, it caused your breath to stutter and get caught in your throat before you cleared it.

“Lead the way, mighty warrior.” A quirk of your head caused Lo’ak to move, arm off your waist but the hand still held in yours.

He called his ilu with a yelp and grabbed the saddle. You didn’t bother calling yours, you still weren’t the best at riding even after living here for two years. Neteyam usually helped with your teaching and would have you ride with him when going out. You didn’t bother with learning further, not wanting to explore without him.

“(Y/n),” Lo’ak grabbed your bicep, “come on.”

He slid on the saddle with you just behind. His left hand holding the bar tight before looking over his shoulder and tapping your thigh with his right hand, “hold on tight. Breathe deep.” And he went under.

The crystal clear water past the reef felt like a whole new world. Almost nothing for the eye to see except for a few rocks that broke the surface, but other than that everything was below the surface.

“Where’s Payakan?” You whispered in his ear, it twitched against your nose.

“Uh, should be around here. Sometimes he finds me before I do.” His head looked side to side, trying to find the giant tulkun in the vast ocean.

You wrapped your arms around Lo’ak’s abdomen and leaned your head between his shoulder blades. Your ear could faintly hear this heart beating as he touched your forearm with his fingers, his heart speeding up just a bit.

“Is Payakan friendly?” Voice slightly muffled.

“Yeah. As long as you don’t provoke him or offend him. But he’s my spirit brother, he’ll accept you happily.”

“The sea gives and the sea takes.” Words you heard from Tsireya during lessons.

Your heart lurched at the phrase. Lo’ak lost Neteyam to the rocky seas with a fire burning in the distance but gained a Metkayina spirit brother in the calm and clear seas. Eywa must keep a balance of life, but this wasn’t a balance.

“Oh! (Y/n), look!” He eagerly tapped your arm and pointed to the horizon.

In the blink of an eye, a tulkun appears before the both of you, its eyes watching intently. It made some noises of communication, out of happiness or a threat, you couldn’t tell. But Lo’ak happily slid from the saddle and swam beside his eye and gave a very open hug to the creature. Its eyes closed and hummed a higher pitch, happy.

“(Y/n), come.” Lo’ak held a hand out for you.

You quickly joined the two, Lo’ak’s hand moving to place yours along the tough skin of the animal. A smile was pulled at your lips, you weren’t sure why, but you didn’t think too hard about it. You felt extremely happy for the first time in two years and you’ll absorb the feeling into your bones.

“Payakan, this is (Y/n). She’s part of my family.”

“Hello. Lo’ak speaks very highly of you. I’m grateful for the opportunity to meet you.” Your hand moved in soothing circles.

Another higher-pitched hum, “he likes you.”

Your attention away from Payakan focused on Lo’ak. He sat on the floating fin, hips and lower half submerged in the water with his torso and up dry. He held a delicate smile on his lips, small indents on either side. His eyes which were already focused on you looked gentle, his lids dropped just a bit, and his golden irises held a tiny spark.

It caused a shiver to run along your spine.

-

Three Years Later

Your lower half sat in the shallow waters of the beach. Water pushing and pulling, lapping at your body giving a gravitational pull, a pull that you resisted each time. Your hands would dance atop the surface, palms skimming the pleasant texture and fingers doing quick taps that cause a tiny plop.

You watched with fondness as Kiri lay on her stomach with her body submerged below the clear waters. One arm kept her upper body from dropping into the sand while the other ran through the still grains. Something so simple and she was mesmerized, you loved it.

With a turn of your head, you noticed two figures further down the beach, one teal and the other blue. Tsireya and Lo’ak. They were sitting beside each other, you couldn’t tell much about their conversation, neither giving off blatant expressions. They seemed to be making jewelry or carving, maybe both, each doing their own thing while just wanting to enjoy the other's company.

They looked happy, at peace. You felt glad for them.

“They make a good couple.” Kiri’s sudden voice causes you to jump a bit. You just nodded, “they do. Maybe they’ll mate when older. He’s been into her since we arrived.”

You couldn’t help but smile at the memory.

Everyone is tired and wishing for rest, hoping they grant uturu to your family. Neteyam and you automatically stand beside each other, fingers grazing as you walk to the formed crowd. With your curious eyes, you try and take in everything around you, from the people to the village, and it amazed you. And then with the perfect timing, you noticed a girl slipping into the water before making her way to the shores, and you heard a slight gasp. With a slight turn of your head, you noticed how Lo’ak couldn’t take his eyes off her, he was instantly fixated on the beauty.

You bumped your hand against Neteyam’s calling for his attention.

“It seems your brother has found a potential mate,” a quick chuckle, “if they allow.” Was all Neteyam followed up with.

“(Y/n), did you hear me?” Kiri’s fingers dug into your ribs.

You shifted away from a potential second attack, “no. Sorry, a memory came to mind.”

You ignored the eye roll she gave, “I said, but it seems like Lo’ak might have affection for someone new.”

A furrow came to your brows, “where are you hearing this? Do you not see the way he acts around Tsireya? He acts like a skxawng about… ninety percent of the time, and that’s just now. It used to be a bit higher.”

She licked her lips and her eyes dipped to the ground before meeting yours, “there’s something different…in the way, he looks at- his eyes hold something when he gazes upon you.” You couldn’t believe the words leaving Kiri’s mouth, “his eyes hold something when he gazes upon you.” She was wrong, simply wrong.

“You are wrong.” You shook your head at her absurdity, “Lo’ak doesn’t see me as anything other than another sister.”

She huffed, “(Y/n), I don’t know if you ever knew this, but when Lo’ak was younger he would tell me how he admired you. You probably thought nothing of it, but he would try to follow you around like a lost direhorse. I noticed the tiny scowls that came upon his face when Neteyam would steal away your attention. Plus he’s the only one you’re physically affectionate with besides-“

“I’m affectionate with all of you. Neteyam was extra special in my heart, he was my promised mate.” You started to get defensive.

She placed a hand on your shoulder, “yes, I understand. I just notice how the two of you hold each other in the night, Lo’ak holds you firmly to his chest with his arm over your waist and you will have your face tucked under his jaw.”

Your ears twitched, “I’m just trying to say, be careful. The both of you. Someone is gonna get hurt, and we’re just starting to heal our wounds.” Were her last wise words before standing up and walking away.

-

Three Years and Five Months Later

“I want to go to the cove and see Neteyam.”

You turned your head to the side, and bits of sand scratched your skin. Lo’ak kept his eyes on the sky, hands clasped over his stomach. You looked away when he didn’t meet your gaze.

“You are ready?”

“Not really, but I need to see him again.” It seemed like he had more to say so you waited, “are you ready?”

This time you knew he looked at you, the movement caused your ears to twitch at attention.

“No. But his face has started to blur and I lost the sound of his voice, his laugh. I miss it all, so it must be time.” You pushed off the ground and hunched over your legs.

His hand touched your back and you flinched before relaxing. Kiri’s words from a few months ago echoed in the back of your head. “If you are not ready, we can wait. You said we would go together when the both of us are ready. I’ll wait for you.”

You peeked at Lo’ak, something about that last part struck a chord with you. You see how his brows were raised just a bit and pinched in the middle, eyes open and clear. Full of understanding and love.

You fear Kiri’s words are becoming true.

You licked your lips, “we’ll go to the cove.” And you instantly stood up and walked away, Lo’ak following a step behind.

The both of you trod water for a bit once you reached the spirit tree, fully realizing that you're finally gonna see Neteyam again after three years. With a look to Lo’ak and a nod from him, the both of you took a breath and dove under and down.

As you stared at a tendril you started to think maybe you weren’t ready to see him, but with your hand being tugged by Lo’ak, you pulled your queue from behind your back and let the moving tendrils be pulled closer until they connected with your mind.

..

You were back in the forest.

It was midday, and the bright sun held high in the clear blue sky, not a cloud in sight. The grass was a luscious green, soft beneath your bare and calloused feet. Helicoradian and Octoshroom stood at their tall heights, you hit a few helicoradian causing them to shrink in on themselves which brings a laugh of joy out of you.

You walk to the stream where you and Neteyam would usually hang out during the day when both of you were free to escape. As you get closer the sound of the rushing water causes your heart to speed up just a bit, you’ve missed that sound for a while without even knowing.

When you entered the clearing, pushing a few low hanging leaves away from your face, your breath caught in your throat and you almost tripped over an unseen root. Head popping away from the rushing water and in your direction, Neteyam.

He hasn’t aged a day, which, obviously. But it just causes you to freak out a bit, you’ve grown three years, would he see you as past you or present you?

But focusing back on the boy you’ve missed so much. His usual head of braids, feathers, and beads were missing, just a curtain of dark black strands falling over his face and shoulders, it must have been a washing day. He’s also free of a necklace and armband, you notice his knife and bow are near the banks.

“(Y/n), come join me!” His voice made your chest rumble. Has it always been this deep?

“No tricks?” You stepped closer.

“No tricks,” he echoed back.

“Are you naked?” Hands at your hips.

He rolled his eyes, “obviously. Will you hurry up?”

“Nìhoet (perv), turn around first, skxawng.”

“We are to be mated, I’m allowed to see.”

“Not for a while, ‘evengan (boy). Turn.”

He put his hands up in surrender and turned, his toned back showing off his defined stripes. Quickly you stripped yourself of your feathered top and loincloth and rushed into the water with a splash.

You swam up to Neteyam who turned around at your disruption to the quiet. You kept your body under the water with just your head peeking free, your hair a halo behind you.

“I’ve missed you, oeyä sayrìp (my handsome).” A hand touched his cheek before pushing the free hair away. Needing to see all of him.

A hand fell atop the one resting on his cheek with his free one sitting along your jaw, thumb gliding with your stripes as his other three fingers dug into the root of your hair.

“I’m right here, oeyä sevin (my pretty).”

You teared up at that. He says he’s right there, but he’s not. You can’t touch him or converse with him whenever you choose to, you have to make the journey to the spirit tree now just to see figments of memories you had with him. And it seems he doesn’t even know he’s dead, so you can’t tell him these qualms you have.

“Ma tanhì, what hurts you?” Both hands hold your face, caged in his clasp.

You hold his wrist and close your eyes, the tears leaking from your waterline and down your cheek. You feel him wipe them away. You have to bite your lip to compose yourself.

His lips kiss your forehead, they linger and it breaks you even further. He pulled away and you said the words that have been lingering on your tongue.

“Ma Neteyam, Oel ngati kameie (i see you).”

He smiled, that easy smile you always loved seeing, “I know.” And he pulled you close with the hands still on your face, and pressed his lips against yours.

-

Your eyes peeled open.

All you saw was the bright light of the tree with your queue still attached before you pulled it free. You turned your head to the left where Lo’ak was floating, he still seemed to be connected, his eyes closed and hand still held firmly in yours. You bit the skin of your bottom lip and squeezed your eyes shut.

This was the reason you waited to visit because you knew that when you saw him again, it would break you like the first time. He didn’t get enough time with you, with his family, with himself. It wasn’t fair, this was the cruelest thing Eywa has ever done to you.

With a pull to your arm, your legs automatically began scissor kicking you back to the surface. You took a gulping breath when you broke the surface, droplets of water running into your eyes and on your mouth, and your ears almost felt clogged. You pushed your heavy limps back to the ilu, biceps straining with the sudden weight before flopping on the saddle, ready to leave.

“You okay?” Lo’ak asked as he saw beside the animal, left hand on the saddle while his right touched your knee.

You looked away before making eye contact, “just tired.” Both emotionally and physically.

Lo’ak watched you but didn’t say anything, he just climbed in front of you and told the animal to go home.

When you reached the shore you quickly climbed off and walked away, needing to be completely by yourself and allow yourself to wallow or break down or just stare at nothing. You just wanted to be alone. But of course, with Lo’ak, he’ll come chasing after you.

“(Y/n). Come on, we should head home.” And when his hand grasped your wrist, you exploded.

With a blind rage in your heart, you barred your fangs and released a hiss from deep within your chest. He let go of you and you stepped away before running into the trees. The instant regret took away a bit of the fire in your heart, you’ve never bared your fangs at any of the Sullys, even in playful moments.

As you walked through the small jungle area of the island you scrubbed your hands over your face, trying to erase any evidence of your tears. Cheeks flushed with your blood rushing and eyes touched with a red hue in the whites, chest heaving with hiccuping breaths and your ribs hurt with every few beats. Finally, your knees just gave out causing you to collapse to the floor, a deep growl building in your throat.

With a scream, you cried to the Great Mother, begging and pleading for Neteyam to come back. As exaggerated as it sounds, you needed Neteyam to breathe, to live. He unknowingly gave so much purpose to your life, you planned a future with him, you talked about children when you were ready. Pandora doesn’t have the same vibrant colors you use to see every waking day, it doesn’t hum with the high-pitched energy that you felt in your bones. Everything was dull and gray, the food tasted bitter on your tongue.

In your moment of heaving air and pleading to the air, arms snaked around your waist and pulled you in tight against a solid chest. You indulged for just a moment, pretending it was your beloved, but the voice snapped the trance.

“Just pretend,” he kept his voice low, “pretend you are in his arms. Say the words to free your heart.”

Your cries died off, your brows furrowed at his words. You tried to turn your eyes on him, but he removed a hand from your waist and draped them over your eyes, blocking out everything unimportant. You heard the water crashing, the wind brushing the leaves and grass, and your ears twitching with every breath that touched the sensitive skin. His skin was a warm comfort, chest pressing with every breath released, the pads of his fingers just a bit rough from time, the arm still holding your waist was a welcome weight.

“Talk to me, ma… ma txe’lan (my heart).” A nice pet name, but you heard the hesitance, and ignored it.

You touched his forearm, “ma ‘teyam… how I yearn for you day and night. Fruits aren’t as rich and juicy, the sky isn’t as bright and clear, and the children’s shrieks of joy aren’t as full in my heart. You were the air I breathed each second and now with you gone, I feel like I am suffocating. So right now I am angry at you. You had to be the fucking fkew tsamsyiu (mighty warrior)! I- I know how Kiri and Lo’ak- how they care for the human, Spider, but- you couldn’t be selfish or- or pull Lo’ak away. You couldn’t say no, he- Lo’ak, has such a soft spot in your txe’lan. And I know, I know already, I’ve told him plenty of times, it is not his fault. He just wanted his friend back, I understand. And- and I understand your actions, your family was in danger- our family was in danger,” you heaved a breath, “I- I am not angry with you, I’m angry with the sky people. They can’t leave us alone, touching and violating our home and destroying every beautiful gift Eywa has blessed us with. We should have been able to grow old… grow a lor (beautiful) family in the forest. We would teach them the way of the bow, grow them into fkew tsamsyius or zeykoyus (healers), and they would learn from Mo’at.” Your body slumped, and energy vanished.

Lo’ak felt the tears but didn’t speak, only kissed your temple. The kiss lingered and then another kiss near your ear, another to your cheek, a fourth one to your jaw that lead to a few more. You felt him turn your head, both hands touching your neck, you didn’t dare open your eyes, too lost in the spell to break it just yet. With your hands moving to take hold of his biceps, you felt the breath of air ghost your lips.

“Please,” you begged with your heart.

His lips pressed to yours hesitantly, waiting to see if you’ll push further or break away. You tilted your head just a bit, granting better room for your lips to properly move together. And within those few seconds of kissing, you knew. You knew that the spark that was usually there every time has disappeared, telling you that this wasn’t your Neteyam and that you couldn’t see Lo’ak in any other way than as a friend, a brother.

You pushed away, shame filling your blood. ‘You shouldn’t have done this’ ‘This wasn’t fair to Lo’ak’

“I am sorry. I- I shouldn’t have…” “(Y/n), would you mate with me?”

Your head snapped to Lo’ak, eyes wild with confusion at his sudden question. He looked serious, with no hint of mischief within his glowing eyes. His hands still held a firm hold on your neck, his fingers grazing your skin. His ears were pressed to his skull, awaiting some type of answer from you.

“I- I… why would you ask such a question? Whe- where is this coming from?”

He licked his lips, “Neteyam would want you happy. He would want you to have that family, to grow old with someone who cares for you as he did.”

‘No one could care for me as Neteyam did’

“It hurts to see you in pain and I would do everything in my power to take it away-” “You do not like or love me, Lo’ak. You are just confused, I have confused you.”

He shook his head, “no, no. I do, I do like you. I hold love for you that can grow with time-”

“Lo’ak! Stop this!” You wretched free of his hold, “mating is a serious affair. You should not be proposing this pairing just because I have lost my promised one. You say that you are doing this because Neteyam would want me happy, but what about you? Would this union bring love into your life every time you think about it? Because you are blinded by- by our- by my unintended intimacy. I have taken advantage of your comfort, I have twisted your thoughts. You do not love me. You do not see me.”

“Oel ngati kameie, (Y/n). I do,” Lo’ak tried to reach out to you.

You shrunk back, “do not throw those words around worthlessly!” Your arms wrapped over your stomach, “Lo’ak, I know that you had some type of- of feelings for me when we were younger. Kiri mentioned it to me. And with time I assumed they faded because when we arrived here you were instantly transfixed with Tsireya. I saw how your eyes followed her movements, your brows raising, the- the greeting you said to her that caused giggles to spill from her lips. I could feel that this was something more. And when our training started I saw how nervous she made you, how she said your heartbeat sped up every time she touched you, the both of you sharing dazzling smiles. Tsireya makes you happy, Lo’ak.”

A sigh left your lips, “do not throw your happiness away because of me.” Lo’ak tried to take a step towards you but you backed away, throwing a hand up, “I think it best if we are away from each other for a while. I- I need to heal properly and you need to rid yourself of these thoughts for me and focus on spending time with Tsireya again.”

-

Four Years Later

“Fkew Tuktirey! A glorious catch! The family will be proud.” You shifted her head of braids, her laughs filling the air.

The two of you trudged back to your mauri pod, Tuk holding the fish she was able to catch. She’s grown so much in four years, now age eleven and standing at shoulder height, it brought tears to your eyes, she was already starting to be confident and outgoing. Neteyam would be so proud of her.

As she ran ahead into the home you could faint voices having a conversation, voices talking loudly and over each other. You were worried someone was getting yelled at, but when you walked in it was a different scene than what you expected.

Near the entrance, Jake and Neytiri were seated on the ground, smiles brightening their faces in glee. And you noticed that two other bodies sat across from them, Tsireya and Lo’ak, their hands clasped beside their thighs. They all looked up at your and Tuk’s interruption to the home, but no smiles faltered at the intrusion.

“Sa’nu! (mom) Sempu! (dad) Look at the fish I caught with (Y/n)!” She hopped her way over to her parents. They both gasped and applauded her catch, Jake pulling her into his lap, pecking her face in quick kisses causing her to laugh. It was a joyful sight to behold.

“This will make for a wonderful dinner tonight. A celebration of two!” Neytiri boasted. You cocked your head, “what’s the other occasion?”

You took note of Jake and Neytiri sharing a look and Tsireya and Lo’ak doing the same, you and Tuk were the only two out of the loop. It wasn’t until Tsireya gave a simple nod that Lo’ak turned to you, “Tsireya and I are to be mated.” Tuk shrieked in delight before leaping to the couple for hugs.

“I always knew the two of you would come together,” a declaration heard by everyone but meant for Lo’ak. “You were always wise, (Y/n),” then suddenly Lo’ak did the gesture, hand to his forehead before dropping. I see you. The others might have thought it weird, but it meant a lot to you, Lo’ak finally understood you.

“Oh, Tsireya, I can’t wait for you to be an official family member!” Your arms are thrown over her shoulders. The two of you giggle with infectious joy and wiggle your bodies with buzzing energy. 

-

Four Years and Two Months Later

The waves crashed and cried, the thundering in your ears almost a welcomed melody at this point. The blazing sun of the late afternoon warmed your skin in a nice hug, and gentle kisses to your cerulean stripes.

Your back sunk into the grains of sand on the beach, the shade of a palm tree leaves bringing relief to your face. Your eyes were closed in peace with lips slightly parted to release puffs of air, hands clasped over your stomach as it rose and fell. With your hair free of braids and the wind blowing, your jet-black strands would tickle your chin or nose, a crinkle forming to stop an incoming sneeze.

Almost slipping into a calming slumber you missed the soft steps heading your way on the beach, the wind and water covering the tracks. It wasn’t until a crunching noise grew louder that you heard the sigh of someone beside you. So you peeled an eye open and in the corner you saw-

“Lo’ak. Did you need something?” You just closed your eye and waited for an answer from him. Body stays in its tranquil state.

He didn’t say anything, you only heard shuffling on his part. But you waited, letting him collect his thoughts since it’s been a while since the both of you have been alone together. It was nice to be around him again, but you knew it was for the best, for both of you.

There was a graze to your forearm and it made you tense up, the touch unwelcomed. You didn’t push him away, just turned your head and stared at the boy- the man before you. Your golden eyes squinted at his quiet demeanor, knees pulled up and head bowed with his braids falling over his shoulder and shielding his face.

“Lo’ak,” he jerked his hand away like you burned off fire, “why have you come here? It is best if we are away from each other.”

His head moved, “I’ve missed my old friend. Missed sitting in silence with you and just keeping each other company as we mourned for Neteyam. Missed having you join me when visiting Payakan, he misses you as well,” a quick laugh, “and I- I just missed being with you.”

You let the words sink in, digesting and absorbing every syllable and word. “I have missed you too, Lo’ak.” A simple confession. You saw the tiny smile on his face.

“Are you excited to be mated with Tsireya?” Wanting to have an easy conversation.

Lo’ak looked out into the clear waters, “yeah. I’m lucky she accepted me, flaws and all. She’s so perfect and gentle and sweet with everyone she meets, always having my heart squeeze with admiration for her. And she chooses me, reckless and carefree Lo’ak who’s always doing shit to get me into trouble or danger. The perfect girl chose the disappointment. It is almost like a dream.” His fingers twiddled, pulling at the joints or tapping fingers together.

“You are not a disappointment, Lo’ak.” A poke was sent to his thigh for his attention, “your family loves you very much. And, yes, some of the things they have said to you haven’t been the nicest, but they bubbled from a place in their heart from fear of losing you.”

He looked away, hands still fidgeting so you pulled the closest into your grasp as you continued speaking, “and you say you are lucky for Tsireya choosing you, but she is also the lucky one. She looks at you like you hung every star that sparkles in the night sky, you pull laughter from deep within her chest, her heart. She touches you with a fragile air, hands always clasped between your bodies or caressing your cheek as she gets lost in your eyes. I see all this from far away. And- and I envy the both of you.”

Lo’ak opened his mouth to speak but you stopped him still needing to speak your mind, “I am so happy that you are able to have this love in your life. You truly deserve the best Lo’ak and being with someone who makes your days brighter and heart lighter, Eywa has given you a great blessing.”

You saw his eyes gloss over with water forming and his tongue popping out to lick his lips. You said all that needed to be spoken, so now you let him understand your words and waited for anything to be said from his side. With his hand still in your hold you ran your thumb over his knuckles.

“(Y/n), I know these are probably the words you don’t wish to hear, but I too need to speak my mind as well.” His eyes bore into yours. You had a guess as to what he was going to say, but just nodded your head and let him speak.

“I did like you. When we were younger and I saw you in action for the first time, it was like Eywa crafted you with such care and precision. I was in awe, but Neteyam got to you first, so I kept a certain distance when it came to you. But when… when he died… I felt- I felt just a bit of hope that- that- I don’t even know now. But I do want to say… you were right. Us being separated helped clear me of confusing thoughts and feelings and allowed me to focus on the one who loved me right away.”

-

Four Years and Nine Months Later 

The beach was crowded. Every resident of Awa’atlu was present and dressed in their finest for the union of Tsireya and Lo’ak, the first pairing of different clans. Tonowari and Ronal along with Jake and Neytiri stood to the side of their children, and their siblings at the front of the crowd. You stood between Kiri and Tuk, a hand in both of yours.

You watched and listened as Ronal stepped forward, with her being tsahík she was the one to officiate the wedding, giving her blessings and wise words from Eywa. You saw the smiles pulling at the parents' mouths and the tears welling in their eyes, their children have grown up.

Tsireya with her hair intricately fashioned with beads and shells, her top that shimmered with pearls covering every inch of skin, but her smile and teary eyes were the most beautiful part of her. Her ever-expressive face showed that she was excited to spend the rest of her life with the man standing before her, ready to start a family with him in the future when they are further into adulthood. Excited to wake up every day to his face and arms wrapping her tight to his chest and falling asleep every night to the feel of his chest moving with every breathe and feel the light kisses he would place upon her hair or forehead before mumbling how he loves her and wishes her a good night.

With Lo’ak it looked like he was holding himself back from jumping into Tsireya and tugging her into a steering kiss. He wore a newly woven armband with a feather attached and an Omatikaya cummerbund, almost like his final goodbye to the forest before he gets his tattoos of the Metkayina warriors in due time. He held her hands tightly, thumbs constantly moving to show his nerves and excitement. His smile was ginormous, it was pushing his cheeks high and causing his eyes to squint, it was adorable. His tail was swinging side to side in a rapid movement and his ears were perked high, listening to every word being spoken by Ronal. His eyes shine with love, probably thinking of getting to kiss his mate whenever he wants, day and night nothing would stop him from a quick peck or a passionate melting of lips that caused hands to wander. He’ll enjoy all the loud and quiet moments in their home, just enjoying the other company as they do their own tasks. He’ll talk about his day over dinner and she listens with focused ears and watchful eyes.

The loud cheers of the crowd snapped you from your daydreaming, imagining you and Neteyam’s future.

Tsireya and Lo’ak share a kiss before the clan, their joining of queues and mating before Eywa would take place away from the eyes of others.

With a feast held in their name, everyone was in high spirits. The music was flowing and people were dancing, the food was cooked to perfection and in abundance, and the drinks splashed causing people to let loose. You clapped, cheered, and laughed with your new clan, your new home. Conversing with people your age and allowing yourself to make new friends.

When the eclipse was high in the sky you excused yourself from the festivities and walked to a secluded part of the beach.

As you lay on the beach with your hands behind your head and eyes staring up at the sky, you yearned for him once again. Yearned for his warmth and his touch, his voice and laugh. Yearned for the domestic life you envisioned yourself to have with him, imagining your children squealing and running amuck, but bringing endless light and joy to your lives, as he’d done to yours.

With almost five years passed since his departure, everyone has healed most wounds. There were still cracks and tears within your hearts that might never mend, but you knew that Neteyam was watching all of you. He would be smiling and almost shocked that Lo’ak mated before him, but he would be happy because he knew his little brother deserves every ounce of love. Neteyam would be happy that everyone is living their lives happily and growing more into themselves, with great love filling their bones.

And with that knowledge, he’s happily waiting with Eywa until his family can join him on the other side.

...

[theknightmarket]

"I think this belongs to you."

In which Google and Bing experience some flaws in their code. Part 1 - Part 2 TW: cursing Pages: 22 - Words: 8000

[Requests: OPEN]

It was funny to realize Google had developed that classic android trait of ‘ew humans’. It was funnier to see happen in real time. You went from Titanic to The Shining to The Truman Show, before you ended on the Sound of Music. That last one was a treat for you, especially because you were hiding a pen at your side to mark on your arm the number of times Google grimaced in the course of the movie. It wasn’t hard to predict his distaste for musicals, which was half the reason you were tempted to show him the illegal ones filmed with a shaky phone and constant background chatter. The other half was because this was likely to be the last time you would spend quality time with him.

Sure, it was a little odd to call part of your job ‘quality time’, but you were enjoying yourself, and Google had yet to leave in a huff, so he couldn’t have been that off-put by random bursts of song. It gave a hint as to why you felt so bad when you saw the email notification pop up on your laptop just a couple hours after the quant movie festival.

You were finally doing the worst part of building anything electrical – transferring the sketchy code, with all its inside jokes and midnight ramblings, to the formal logs to send off to the company. Clean it up and stick it in a file, really, that was all you had been planning to do for the night, so that you could gradually wind down from the stress and excitement of the day. Plus, you needed a break from Google’s philosophical questions, and typing on your keyboard a toned-down version of what was already there was about as mind-numbing as it got.

And then, as the click of a square bracket showed the end of an instruction, the notification pulled itself out from the corner of your screen. You barely had time to read the address line before you paled, swallowed, and then promptly ran out the lab altogether.

Your mind was racing just as fast as you were. You swung yourself out the door and up the stairs, aiming for the bowl where your car keys were thrown every morning. You felt like you were going to have a heart attack. It ached like you were already going through one. How long did you have until it gave out? Minutes, seconds? Nothing registered until you were in the driver’s seat of your car, hands on the wheel and the keys jammed into the ignition, albeit untwisted. You weren’t planning to go anywhere. Where would you go? Where could you go where you could get away from the consequences of your actions?

In the end, you let your head fall to the top of the wheel and held it there while your shoulders slackened, and your breathing evened out.

You knew this was going to happen eventually. You had known since that first email the company had sent you. 

Your time was up, and so was Google’s. With you, at least. You hadn’t read the full thing but there was no doubt that the email contained the dates he needed to be completely finished and polished by. Deadlines always made you feel queasy, but this made you feel sick to your stomach.

It only got worse when you returned to the lab after your little freak-out.

You had taken ten minutes by yourself to think it all through. You were alone, the car was quiet, you were protected by the metal casing from the reality of the situation. Still, you should have known that the android designed to care for people would be concerned by your rushing out of the house like a bat out of hell. Google didn’t have the mother-hen instincts that you had first assumed anything domestic would need – he had traded in the hushes and smiles for sarcasm and deadpans, instead – but that didn’t mean he was completely ambivalent about your state. If he wasn’t going to chase after you, then he was going to fix the problem at the source.

The door to your lab, which you had left open, teased you as you stumbled towards it. You weren’t at your best yet, and you had a moment wherein your vision swam and your throat went dry before you forced yourself down the stairs again.

Damn it.

Google stood right in front of your laptop, back facing to you and head fixed directly to the screen. Despite not having opened the email, it would take less than a literal super-computer to access it.

Tentatively, the softest you had ever spoken to him, you called out, “Hey, Google?”

You grimaced at your own voice, and then ever more so at the silence that followed. Did he have the ability to be angry? This was the most you had ever cared about another’s emotions, and you didn’t even know if he could have them.

“Google?” You stepped forward as you tried again, and then took another step when he stayed silent. “Are you back to shutting off?” Another step. “Look, I know the neighbors are loud, but Abigail is just a baby, and you’ll find out how hard they are to keep quiet…”

You regretted the joke the second it was past your lips. It both fell flat and reminded you exactly what you were worried about. You were just great at comforting people, weren’t you?

Now standing only a few feet away from Google now, you could feel something coming off him. You thought you imagined it until you stopped assuming the metaphorical; it was warmth. It was then that you noticed the whirring of his fans in his chest, ineffective if the heat streaming from his was anything to go by. The last time you had seen something like this was when you had first given him mobility in his legs, and he spent the first day and a half looping the lab’s tables and machines. You had been overjoyed back then.

You were plagued with regret.

“Eleven-fifteen, April 12th—” Google stayed perfectly still as he read out the email, “—‘Dear Chief Engineer, the android project has been arranged to be showcased at the Ladia Electronics Center on April 20th at four-thirty PM. Members of staff are due to retrieve the android project form your residence at twelve PM on April 15th, and we trust that everything will be in order by then. Sincerely, David Plymouth’.”

Well. You were right. It was the deadlines. But what could you do about it? Nothing. Nothing at all. You were helpless. Google spoke with such formality that, if you weren’t the one to build him, you would think he were running off a script. But you were the one to build him, and you knew that, beneath the metal faux skin, nestled in the wires and pumps and tubes, he was livid.

“Google, we’ve been over this,” you muttered. You wanted to sound confident, convincing, calculated, all the things you weren’t. “You were created to be a service android; they’re going to want to show you off to potential buyers of investors. I, I can’t do anything about it.”

The word service left a sour taste in your mouth, because he wasn’t just some microwave or vacuum cleaner. He was alive. It was your mistake, but you couldn’t change it now.

Even as your throat tightened, as if to strangle itself so the words wouldn’t get out, you kept talking. “It’s either I let you go, or I blow off an insanely powerful company, one that could easily get me arrested for breach of contract and take you anyway.”

He still wasn’t talking – why wasn’t he talking? He was capable of speech, he was just being petty. When he couldn’t form a word, he was more responsive. You hated this. The feeling of disappointing someone you cared about was exactly why you went into robotics in the first place, and then you’d taken the stupid job of creating an entire person, with all those feelings that you hated. You regretted it. If you were able to go back, you would have trashed the email and blocked the number immediately.

Except you wouldn’t. Obviously. Google was the best thing that you had ever made, that had ever happened to you. You wouldn’t give him up for the world.

You just had to convince yourself and him that you weren’t giving him up.

“Why don’t you want to go?” you asked. “It’s just one afternoon.”

Silence. The air was stifling, and the room was closing in.

“Hey, I know you can talk now, so give me an answer.”

“I don’t want to go.”

Finally. You sighed in relief, unaware of yourself as you moved beside him. From there, you could see his eyes better. They were transfixed on yours, those blues the same shade as everything else about him. So robotic, and yet so vibrant. 

“Why not?” It was easier to be reassuring when you were face to face. “I know it’s not going to be fun, but it was bound to happen eventually.”

“Your prime instruction allows me to deny any other instructions that I do not want to follow.”

As proud as you were of him for figuring out the concept of want, this was an inopportune moment, and for all your preaching of his freedom to choose, everything was falling down around you now that neither of you could.

“I know, but not without explanation, I…” You felt something snap within you as you averted your eyes. Immediately, everything went out of focus, and your thoughts took over. Google stayed watching you, never moving, never blinking, never removing his attention. “Google, you’re going to have to go eventually.”

Permanently. That was the word that chocked you in your throat. A hand wrapped around your neck, squeezing with a vengeance, like it was your fault. Was it your fault?

“I am aware,” came the response, slow and steady, “but, and I apologize if this is inappropriate, please, do not let them take me, for now, at least.”

His tone shattered your heart; if you had been told an hour before this moment that the sarcastic, teasing android who would sigh and roll his eyes if you were drowning, would ever say please, you would have asked if you were talking about the same guy. And yet, there he stood, close enough that you could wrap your arms around him for comfort, hesitant desperation coating everything.

“I’ll try.”

His eyes softened, you could have sworn you saw the edge of his mouth twitch upwards for the briefest second, but the fans in his chest still whirred as if they were tasked with cooling hell. In fact, they seemed to pick up in speed.

Gently, you patted his arm. “We need to get you checked out.”

He nodded. You swallowed. The pair of you assumed your positions at your desk. 

You promised that you would try.

But apparently you didn’t try hard enough.

“With all due respect, the robot is a robot, it can’t think for itself or make decisions.”

Every time you thought it was as bad as it could get, it got worse, and every time you thought it was the end, it started up again. You had responded to that email, went back and forth with the company, compensations, exchanges, bargains – at one point, you had lied to them that Google had a severe glitch in his system that made him unsafe to be around families, but they shot you down by pointing out that he’ll just be on show for the first few months. Now that the framework was complete, they could build the rest of the features into him with updates from a team of engineers.

They were taking Google and leaving you behind.

“It has no authority here, and, frankly, neither do you.”

The staff member that stood in front of you was pissing you off, plain and simple. She wore that classic, stuffy get-up of a black suit, sunglasses, and an earpiece – as if you needed any more reason to glare at both her and the rest of her posse as though they would keel over if you tried hard enough. The woman, presumably the leader, had already sent two of her colleagues down to your lab, while another two stood behind her. If they thought it was for her protection, they were damn right.

“How do I not have any authority? I built him!”

“Yes, and, as you can see, he has been built.”

Familiar clunky steps covered the sets that accompanied them. Google didn’t say anything as he was escorted to the door, but that didn’t make it any less painful. In fact, you would have preferred he did. You knew he should have been making snide remarks at someone, even if it was you. Instead, he stared at nothing in particular, mouth closed and marching forward like a toy that had been wound up at the back.

“That means that, really, you aren’t needed anymore,” the woman continued, ignorant to or uncaring of your disgust. “It’s fine, you can let him go.”

Your blood was boiling beneath your skin. Google and the men had gotten to the bottom of your driveway, where a white van was parked. Your body reacted automatically, and you were taking steps forward and out of the house before you could process it. The thing that stopped you was a hand on your upper arm. This was spitefully similar to a kidnapping, except you were watching it happen, and the victim wasn’t fighting back.

“And what happens,” you spat, “if he breaks, if he gets damaged or something goes wrong? Who are you gonna turn to then?”

A mocking smile crept onto her lips. “That’s why we have the code logs, isn’t it? Every detail is there, so if anything goes wrong, we’ll just check it.”

“And mess him up even more?” Just the thought of someone else getting their hands on Google’s wiring made your stomach churn and your fists clench. It had taken you months after he became conscious to get that far. You built up a relationship, you listened to him, you made sure to be safe and gentle. There was no way to make sure that the cold scientists he was going to be delivered to would pay attention to him.

But that was in the future. In that moment, you could only bargain.

“Why don’t you just bring him back after the conference and then I’ll be able to check him over?”

She didn’t respond immediately, and there was enough of a pause for you to catch Google’s look over his shoulder. It wasn’t long, and it was overshadowed by the sunlight framing the scene, but it was the first time you had met his eyes since those crooks had arrived. The pure panic would stay with you for the rest of your life. There was no anger, no sadness, just a fear that made your mouth go dry.

And you couldn’t do a damn thing about it.

The woman put her hand on your shoulder. You fought back the urge to snap her wrist.

“Look, I get it.” Her tone was a poisonous mixture of faux-comfort and smugness. “When I was younger, I had this pet gecko, and he lived on my bedside table. I took care of him like the son I never had.”

What the fuck?

“One day, I came home, and my parents were putting him in the wild because they didn’t think it was good for me to be so attached. And they were right. So, even though I was sad, I let them take it. And look at me now, I’m better than I was when I was a kid, right?”

Your only thought of ��what the hell are you talking about and what substances have you taken today’ was translated to her as, “What’s your point?”

The gentleness fell out of her voice as quick as it had arrived. “Let us do our jobs, and let the damn robot go.”

The sliding door to the van slammed shut, followed by the opening and closing of the front doors. The other three that were left didn’t say a goodbye before they were walking to their own car, and, soon enough, you were the only one still standing on your doorstep.

You were alone.

Google was gone.

What were you supposed to do now?

You cried. For the next two weeks, you cried in every room of your house. The worst places were your bedroom and the lab, for obvious reasons, until it got to the point that you turned out the light, locked the door, and simply stopped going down those stairs. You didn’t have any work to do – getting the message from your bank to say that the payment had gone through made you dizzy with regret – so you had nothing to distract yourself with. You wandered through the halls of your empty home like a ghost.

Before the company had commissioned an android to be built, you had lived alone. Going from a college student who only just managed to take care of a Roomba to checking up on a whole fully functioning person was a drastic change, and so was returning to square one. Everything was so quiet. Google didn’t always talk, but there was a whirring that accompanied him wherever he went, and he had no chance of moving quietly with all the stuff packed in him. When he did voluntarily make noise, it was a sarcastic comment or a philosophical question that made you think about your own life. They were gone, and so was he.

It was weird to admit that you missed him.

You were sitting at your dining table, fiddling with a finance spreadsheet on your laptop, when the mail icon appeared at the side of your screen. Your hand sprang into action and made to close it, the wound from what happened before not fully healed yet, but you stopped when your curser was hovering over the ‘x’ button. It wasn’t from Google.

And yet the subject line was eerily similar to what had kicked everything off all those months ago.

Figuring you could deal with actual work later, you opened the email and skimmed the information. Time, sender and grammar all checked out, so it wasn’t a scam. That didn’t ease your nerves much, and you were left with furrowed eyebrows and heightened shoulders by the final signing off.

It seemed that Microsoft had caught wind of Google’s little project, and, instead of fruitlessly searching for another engineer who could construct an android to the same quality, they went straight to the original source; you. They offered a six-month deadline, free reign over your work, and a $400,000 payout. Still riding high from certain recent events, you would have needed half of that to start working. The only problem?

You would have rather gouged out your own eyes that go through the heartache again.

Two trains of thought ran through your mind as you sat at the table. On one hand, getting attached to another of your creations would put your mental health into the red. You would be risking your sanity and your happiness because there was no way mega-corporation would let you keep the android. You would just end up in the same place as you were now, sitting alone in an empty house. But, on the other hand…

Who said you had to get attached in the first place?

You got close to a cold and calculated bastard of a bot, so, in theory, if you did a 180 and went down a completely different design path, you shouldn’t run into a problem. The email didn’t specify a personality, and there would be no need for two sarcastic pricks on the market – said with the most affection in the world, of course.

Tentatively, you opened up a new model creator on your laptop with the plan in mind to screw around for an hour or two and see what came of your experimentation. If nothing worked, that was that; you would reject the offer and go about your wallowing in your misery. If something did crop up, you weren’t going to fight it.

You were almost disappointed in yourself at how quick the ideas came to you, but not as much as you were at how quick you actually built the android.

It took you half the time to get to where Google had been at the six-month mark. You reused most of the physical assets from before, the body-shape, the circuitry, all the diagrams that you had safely tucked in a draw were spread out like a nest on your lab’s desk. The difficult part was the personality, because you planned to take the completely opposite path than you had with your first. Google treasured logic? This one would take the fun routes. That single comment about not liking the Vans Triple Crown? You plugged his storage right into YouTube’s Top 30 Epic Skateboarding Tricks. You went so far as to challenge his color scheme so that not a single drop of a cold palette would be seen.

After the fact, when you were wiping iron filings off your gloves and splattering yourself with orange paint, you couldn’t recall a single thing you had done in the last three months. Everything was a blur, but you had the code sitting on your laptop, as well as a fully complete android in front of you to prove it had happened.

Bing was ready.

And the very next day, you were ready to show him the world.

That led you to the local skatepark. It had been a while since you had last stepped outside your house, and even longer for something other than groceries. You weren’t sure if the place was still open before you were walking with Bing down to the metal fencing, but the skidding of wheels and uproarious laughter of children assured you that you didn’t need to turn around in shame.

The android bounced on his heels as you looked around the park. There were plenty of ramps – all with a healthy collection of graffiti, as you had expected – and a few groups of youths hanging about. Hell, you saw what you were pretty sure was a six-year-old glide down a stretch of tarmac in front of an ambivalent junior. Aside from the fact that Bing was slightly jacked for a teenager, he was going to fit right in, so you pushed him towards the closest feature and scanned the edges.

You noticed a bench underneath the leaves of a larger tree, so you made that your base of operations while Bing had his fun. You didn’t know how to skate yourself, and you were more than content to do work in the background. The code wasn’t going to transfer itself, right?

Your hand stilled over the trackpad. Damn it.

No, it wasn’t going to turn out like last time. You weren’t going to get attached. You weren’t, otherwise you wouldn’t have been allowing yourself to continue the project. You pledged that the minute you started to feel close with Bing, you were going to pass him off to one of Microsoft’s internal engineers.

Your own thoughts made you grit your teeth. ‘Pass him off’, like a chore that you didn’t want to deal with, like a job? But he was a job. You were commissioned to build an android for a powerful company. You didn’t need to care about him.

But it had happened last time, and you didn’t realise it until it was too late. What was stopping you this time? Your flimsy boundaries that you were already running over with a tank?

You slammed your laptop shut. The snap made you wince.

Everything was fine. You were capable of fulfilling an order without getting off track.

“Yo!”

The yell came from the ramp some distance away from you, but you still had a clear line of sight to watch Bing rocket into the air. Panic flooded you, pushing you to your feet and propelling you forwards. He was going to crash against the tarmac, he was a two-hundred-pound man of literal metal, and he was in the air, and he was coming down, and you couldn’t stop him. You stumbled over a spare skateboard in your flurry to get closer, but it didn’t matter because, when you skidded to a stop, Bing was back on the ground.

What was it with robots and putting you into mortal peril?

A cheer erupted around you. Most of the kids you had seen in the skate park at the beginning had convened around the newcomer, including a group of eighth graders who dashed to meet him in the dip. They gestured to parts of the ramp, exchanged some skater jargon that you were not young enough to understand, and then they all backed away again. Bing was left there, staring at the opposing concrete with a determined expression.

Your heart picked up again as you realized his thought process, but you didn’t try to stop him. He wanted to do this, and you weren’t going to be the one to stop him.

He clambered up to the higher platform while the kids continued to watch on. You tapped your fingers at your elbow, a nervous habit you never seemed to crack, and thoughts ran rampant in your mind. None were helpful, so you ignored all of them and simply shifted your attention to the excited grin drawn across Bing’s face.

He was encouraged by the whoops and whistles of the spectators, but he took a few seconds to run some calculations in his head. He wasn’t an idiot, at least, not in this situation. He understood the risks and consequences of sending a heavy – and, not to brag, expensive – piece of machinery down an eight-foot half-pipe. If he didn’t protect himself and everyone around him, things had the chance of going south real quick. That, and you were watching. He couldn’t mess up in front of you! The whir of his internal fans reached his ears at the mere thought of failing at something he was built for while the one who had actually built him for it watched.

He had to get this perfect.

Bing took a step closer to the edge, eyeballed the distance, which, for an android, was correct down to the millimeter, and then propped the skateboard a quarter into the air.

One last look at you revealed your obvious trepidation, but there was also a layer of pride underneath.

He took an unnecessary breath in and out, and then dropped off the side.

When you had been programming Bing’s skills and personality and everything else about him, you went in with the idea of going completely against your instincts. Unfortunately, that also meant going completely out of your comfort zone, so a good majority of what the android did wasn’t anything you had intimate knowledge of, and – as much as you would have liked to beat the nerd stereotype – you knew absolutely nothing about skateboarding.

Hence why your jaw dropped to the ground when you saw Bing’s trick.

Hell, it was more than a trick; it was a performance. He tipped off the edge and, with more force than normal because of his whole being-a-block-of-metal thing, picked up a lot of speed, which let him fall into the dip of the ramp and shoot up the other side, barely giving enough time for him to become more than a blur of amber. When he was in the air, everything moved so fast that you didn’t see his hand wrap around the board and only processed his 360 spin and then the complete flip of that same board. In your mind, warning lights flashed, and sirens blared. That panic reemerged with a vengeance – until Bing caught your eye and winked at you before rocketing back down to the half-pipe and gliding gracefully onto the other side’s platform.

Luckily, the cheering of the kids was enough to cover up the vicious beat of your heart that was in no way tied to that sneaky wink and had all to do with the danger he was most definitely in.

Obviously.

“Your boyfriend’s real cool, dude.”

“What?”

The kid at your side, no older than twelve, nodded towards Bing, who was trying to perfect a kick-flip with the guidance of the bunch of gremlins that surrounded him. For a moment, you regretted not programming him the ability to blush because it would have made the image so much better. For now, you had to be content with Bing’s nervous grin, orange rings flitting back and forth between chattering children and trying not to accidentally break the board in half – not that this was that bad in the first place. You deserved it after the things he put you through.

You looked back at the kid, barely able to open your mouth to ask, “Wait, boyfriend—?” before your feet started moving on their own. Or, more accurately, two pairs of tiny hands wrapped around your wrists dragged you towards Bing, who looked just as surprised that you were getting closer as you were.

Another third grader tapped on his elbow, prompting him to lean down so they could whisper in his ear.

A feeling of acute dread settled in your stomach at his sudden and worryingly devious smile.

It only took you another two minutes to start screaming, and it wasn’t some dignified, heroic yell. No, it was very much a shriek that translated how much you thought you were going to die.

“Oh, my god, oh Jesus goddamn Christ!” 

In context, it was even more pitiful. You were moving around 15 miles per hour in a straight line with Bing on the board behind you to hold your waist. You weren’t in danger, and, in theory, you knew that. The problem came with your inability to steer the damn thing, which intensified when your pseudo-instructor decided that now was the best time to hop off and let you go forward without him.

“Bing, I swear—!” You only restrained your language because there were kids around. 

Bing didn’t let that dissuade him, and he wouldn’t let your fear discourage you, either, if his encouragements were anything to go by. “You got it!”

“No! No, I don’t!”

“Sure ya do!”

You sure did not, because you crashed right into a park garbage can, and you might have assumed that calling it a crash was an exaggeration. It was not. Your stomach was pressed into the metal top – slightly warmed by the sun – but your legs curled around, so you ended up sliding right off and into the tarmac, which was as equally hot as the can. Neither of them compared to the burn of your face, spreading down to your neck and up to your ears, that you hoped you could blame on the humidity.

After flipping onto your back in an attempt to lessen the contact between you and the ground, you preemptively squinted to block out the sun, but you were, instead, greeted by a cooling darkness.

A groan dragged itself out of your throat when you noticed the utterly smug smirk on Bing’s face.

“You good down there?”

“Shut up.”

He was laughing at your plight, but he put out a hand, nevertheless. You were more begrudging to take it, even though take it you did. 

“This doesn’t make you cooler than me,” you muttered, swinging your legs around.

“’Course not.”

“Because you aren’t cooler than me.” You were about halfway up now, crouched but no longer feeling like select parts of your skin were on fire.

“Totally.”

One final tug had you pulled forward into Bing’s chest. Really, you had to stop colliding with stuff or you were going to look like you’d lost a paintball match, it was getting to be a bad habit, a truly serious problem, and you weren’t using the beratement as an excuse to not think about how close you were to Bing. The metal casing around his circuits wasn’t the superheated danger you imagined it would be, but then you heard the whirring of his fans beneath that shell. They seemed to be working overtime in the end of July weather, but you’d had far hotter days in the peak of summer. Were they malfunctioning? Distantly, a memory from months earlier knocked at the back of your mind. 

However, had you looked up, you would have realized that the cooling system wasn’t having technical difficulties. You would have realized that Bing’s eyes were buffering, the orange rings dipping in and out of focus through his sunglasses, as he struggled to process the situation. You would have realized that the trouble came not with his body, but in his understanding of his body. He was stronger than he assumed, and he had put a bit too much force into pulling you to your feet.

It was in that moment, that both you and Bing had a similar epiphany.

This was bad.

“Comfy?”

“Genuinely, yeah.”

You hadn’t put much stock into that thought at the time. Instead, you had taken a step back from Bing, ignored his hands that stayed on your upper arms to make sure you were steady, and moved on. You left the skatepark with a wave to the kids, while he had taken a few seconds to promise to return. He seemed to have had fun, so you wouldn’t mind going back every week or so. When you had offered, Bing accepted with none-too-little excitement. It had put a smile on your face that lasted even to eight o’clock that night, when the temperature and the lights dimmed into a peaceful atmosphere.

With no other projects to occupy your time, you were able to take the night to relax, mold yourself into your sofa and get your mind off current events. And future events. And past events.

It was a good thing the old college game of throwing food into someone’s mouth and scoring points based on how close you got was the perfect way to forget yourself, for the time being. That meant you were leaned on the arm of the couch and Bing was at the other end, a bucket on the floor and a pile of popcorn in his hand, as well as the remains of everything that missed tucked into the divots of the cushions. His feet were propped up on your lap, a weight that should have been heavier than it was.

The TV had been on since you had flopped down, but you didn’t switch over the channels, so it was mostly an indistinguishable background to the chatter between you and Bing, whenever you weren’t chewing on a kernel.

You were in the process of swallowing one, because you didn’t want to just grossly spit it out, when you unintentionally picked up on a news report. Going from the teenage-dirtbag experience of your little game to listening to that, you froze and hoped beyond all hope that it wasn’t what you thought it was.

Out of the corner of your eye, a newsperson relayed the most important stories they could fish out for the day from behind a white desk. A shot of a skyline backdropped them as they read from the teleprompter behind the camera. All of that was what you expected. You did not expect to see your first ever android appear where the buildings had been in the background.

You adjusted to sit up straight and turn your body to the TV.

It had happened that very day, apparently, at a conference meant to showcase Google’s domestic abilities. Just that mental image made you internally scoff. You had programmed him the ability to cook, sure, but you weren’t about to be the one to test them out. He hated making a meal more than he hated cleaning, and even then, he had grumbled and groaned the one time you made wash the kitchen floors.

He had hated. He had hated making a meal.

Despite the distance put between you, both city-wise and time-wise, it appeared that little fact hadn’t changed, because the order to make a pot roast resulted in a broken cutting board, a smashed light fixture and two separate fires. The conference was cut short, obviously, and Google was returned to storage while representatives apologized to everyone present. Investors weren’t so forgiving, and neither were the press. Insults were tossed left and right, some of which made your brow furrow, especially those aimed at the programming.

Yet, with all that, you weren’t sympathetic. You weren’t even sad. You were split between vindicated and totally and utterly pissed. Had they listened to you, none of that would have ever happened – and, sure, it didn’t affect you anymore after the company stripped your name from everything and anything attached to Google, but you had made him, dammit! He was good. He had been good.

You were silent in your anger and pride, staring intently into the screen, before a piece of popcorn hit your cheek and you slowly turned to look at the offender.

“You made that old man?” he asked. The teasing came with a concerned tone.

“Oh, yeah, but that was months ago.”

You sat back into the couch, softness embracing you. It would have been a lie to say you didn’t miss him. Anytime that your thoughts wandered close to your memories of him, you threw a lasso around them and tugged them back. You took a risk going down to the lab at all, and, even though you hated the comparison, Bing was an android just the same as Google was. You had built both of them. Their personalities were miles different, but they were both yours.

“Are… are you okay?”

You blinked back to reality. The android actually present had taken his feet off your lap and moved closer. The gentle frown was not the first thing you noticed about his face; the lack of sunglasses covering his eyes was much more shocking.

You muttered back, “Of course, just, uh, thinking.”

Once more, the room fell into silence, besides the report that had moved on to the weather, but it lasted only a moment before Bing piped up again, “What’d he do?”

“What? Bing, he didn’t do anything.”

“But he’s not here anymore, so he must’ve done something.”

Maybe it was sweet for him to assume it was someone else’s fault, and you could have allowed him to believe it, but you knew the guilt would gnaw at your heart until you caved in.

“No, he didn’t,” you sighed, “I- I let him go. The commissioners wanted to store him in a warehouse for conferences, and I couldn’t say no to them. You’ll have to go, too, when your company wants you.”

The unspoken question hung in your mind; would you be able to handle it, when that time, as it surely would, came?

Bing didn’t seem too worried about it though. “Nuh-uh! I’ll just use my charisma and good looks to make them let me stay.”

He said it like it was the obvious solution, with so much confidence that it rivalled Lord Byron, and maybe even Microsoft. There was a part of you that wanted to believe him.

“You’re going to bat your eyelashes at the retrieval staff, and, what, seduce them into leaving empty-handed?”

“Bet.”

Sometimes, you regretted hooking him up to Urban Dictionary to save time.

“Or would you rather me leave the seducing for you?”

And sometimes, you really regretted it.

Your heart was going wild in your chest. It batted against your ribcage as though it were trying to escape a lion, but it would have jumped into the danger of the shark-like grin on Bing’s face. Still, it only sped up when one of his hands came up to rest on your waist and the other dragged up your arm.

Bing may have been the android, but you were the one who short-circuited.

Whatever coolness remained in you after that whole skateboarding debacle dissipated into the surroundings, because your eyes were wide, and your heart was pounding, and Bing was getting closer and—

And he was laughing.

He pushed himself back onto the arm of the couch and clapped his hands together, violent glee racking his body. “Ha, gottem!”

The blush didn’t die down on your face, even as you took deep breaths in and deep breaths out. Of course, they weren’t to calm down your embarrassment, they were actually to convince yourself that literally pulling the plug on a three-month long commission for a mega-corporation wasn’t a good idea.

Your mind still wasn’t made up when a knock sounded at the front door. Bing was plastered in the cushions, so you were free to answer it without him trying to act as an ineffective guard dog.

His call of, “I’m sorry!” was interrupted by more giggles.

Shaking your head, you added another factor to the ‘pros’ column as you pulled open the door.

“I think this belongs to you.”

You weren’t given enough time to process the view on your doorstep before a heavy weight was thrown into you. 200 pounds pressed against your front, which you struggled to pivot into the wall. When you were able to let go, though, all of the redness in your face drained out of it.

“Google?”

The android himself spared a pleasantly apathetic look down at you – one you recognised as being the happiest you had ever seen him in his time with you. What the hell had happened?

“Did you see the news?”

The voice, familiar enough to make your blood boil at the intonation of it, snatched your attention away to the sight of that woman from before, who wore the same black suit and sunglasses.

“Yeah, the conference—”

She cut you off, as if you needed another reason to hate her, “Was a complete failure because of some bug in its code that you’re responsible for.”

“How can I be responsible for something that I wasn’t given the chance to cause or fix?”

She stepped closer to you and through the doorway, and you could have sworn you felt Google tense up. “You’re the Chief Engineer, aren’t you? That means you’re in charge of the coding and- and whatever else goes on with that robot, right? And that means that its faults are your faults, too.”

You paused for the moment. You made no noise as you thought it through. You could have rolled over, could have nodded, said ‘yes, ma’am,’ and gone back inside the house, could have fixed Google up right as rain and then sent him off to the warehouse again. You should have let him go.

But you had already let him go once. You weren’t going to do it a second time.

“No, it doesn’t,” you stated roughly, “considering I haven’t spoken to anyone affiliated with Google in four months. In fact, I assumed this freelancing gig was over and done with.”

“Obviously, it isn’t, and we need you to sort out the robot before the conference next Tuesday.”

Oh, how kind of them to give you until Tuesday, when your calendar showed it to be a Sunday.

“There is no way I could figure out the problem and solve it in two days!”

“Oh, because you have anything else to do?”

“Hey, hey, hey—” In your brewing fight with the cliché of a super-agent, you hadn’t noticed the clunking steps of someone approaching, but you were proud to catch the slight look of confusion on Google’s face, “—chill it with the arguing.”

From around the corner, Bing swung into view. One of his hands grasped the border of the doorway to the living room, and his feet separated so that he filled more of the space. He reminded you of an owl puffing up to intimidate another bird.

The frown on Google’s face became more apparent as Bing spoke, “Look, lady, if the smartest person in the room says they can’t do it, then they can’t do it, ‘kay?”

The woman addressed you with stern distaste. “You made another one?”

“Yes, I did.” You leaned back so that she could see him better, and vice versa. “And this one was not commissioned with the laws of robotics in mind.”

In reality, you had made sure Bing didn’t have the ability to hurt anyone because you faced the very real risk of being arrested, but her paling face made the lie worth it.

“Is there anything else, or can I get to my work with a reasonable timeframe?”

Her eyes flitted behind you, but you didn’t pay much mind. You were too busy reveling in the panic you were causing – even if it was a tad mean – to notice what your boys were doing.

Bing was naturally a sweetheart; his guard dog attempts normally looked like a chihuahua who was biting off more than he could chew, and they never failed to make you smile. However, he was still a six-foot tall box of metal that was able to generate enough force to move a large truck. A lazy smirk and orange sunglasses weren’t going to easily distract from that, especially when he was purposefully showing off his teeth.

Google, on the other hand, maintained a threatening aura without having to be physically imposing. He looked much the same to Bing, but those factors were overshadowed by a glare that could make hell freeze over. A human body between him and a target was like putting a puddle in front of a raging wildfire, and his time at the warehouse had done him no favors. Any bartering for a sense of ethics or morality was better spent on dolphins.

You didn’t question why the woman was so quick to spit out an answer. “I can give you three days, then.” A glance over your right shoulder. “Four.” A glance over your left shoulder. “Five?” Her shivering gaze returned to yours. “A week, and that’s my final offer.”

“Alright, then, I’ll see you next week.”

And, just like that, she scuttled off to the white van that was waiting at the end of your driveway. You didn’t bother watching her drive away, and, instead, slammed the door shut and spun around to look at the now-two androids that stood in your home.

Bing was smiling brightly – not that you would have known he ever looked any different – and Google was as nonplussed as ever.

“Welcome home, Google.”

“It’s good to be back.”

Getting a hug would have been too much, and you knew that, but you assumed that was all you were going to get, a nice comment and the briefest twitch upwards of the corner of his lip. You weren’t even aware that a handshake was an option, but he definitely chose it.

Google’s hand was colder than you remembered, prompting you to briefly wonder how much the other engineers tampered with him before you brushed the question off in favor of tightening your grip. He nodded, and you nodded, both certain that this was the best outcome.

You parted slowly, and the warmth of a summer night swarmed your skin again.

“So, introductions are in order?” you asked. This wasn’t something you had prepared for, and you were already worried about how this would play out. With such drastic personality differences, there was bound to be friction. Hell, you had intentionally created Bing to be the opposite of Google, everything he…

Everything that he would hate.

As it turned out, spite always came back to bite you.

Still, you gestured to the orange android now stepping closer to lean against the wall next to you. “Google, meet Bing—” Your hand switched sides, “—Bing, this is Google.”

“’Suh, dude?”

Internally, you were screaming. Externally, you were waiting with bated breath. Neither were good sensations, and it only got worse in the seconds that were filled to the brim with tension.

Google didn’t say anything in response; he simply set his jaw, spared a glance towards you, and then promptly marched through to the living room, leaving you and Bing behind in more silence. 

But he didn’t kill him, so you’d take it as a win for now!

“We can always try again in the morning.”

“Definitely,” oh, you knew that tone, “little Chief Engineer.”

And you were right.

“Shut up,” you huffed.

You smacked his arm, winced at the sting afterwards, and then dragged Bing back to the living room, the android laughing all the while.

If he was going to be like that, he was going to have to figure out there was only one recharge station himself, then who would be laughing? Although, you would undoubtably have to deal with a petulant Google in the morning, so, just maybe, it wouldn’t have been any of you.

But that didn’t mean you would stop smiling.

[What do you mean it's been a year since the first part of this? What, totally not, no... noooooo... totally not. Uh, anyway, thanks for reading?]

[luviisabella]

Nothing lasts forever

Fem’Reader X Yuji Itadori

“I do it solo” -Demi Lovato

Summary: Reader has been struggling to let go of people but she understand she needs to protect her peace and herself, so impulsively she removes and unfollows a “friend”. Now the weight was gone, but she wasn’t expecting the flood of emotions, she’s been acting different and eventually it’s noticed…

this was a personal mini story, it does suck letting go but just remember, you are never alone. 🤍

JJK Character: Yuji Itadori

Yuji Itadori

“Just do it” your best friend entices you, the phone call had been going on for an hour already with you expressing your thoughts and feelings. You just couldn’t get the idea of removing so many people out of your head, but the feelings of what would come after are what made your heart ache. You ended up doing it anyways, you unfollowed and removed them, at first you felt okay.. until the weight of what you did pulled at your heart. You didn’t say anything aside from “I did it” to let your best friend know you went through with it. “Good, now move on and leave it alone”, it seemed harsh, the words, but you knew it came from a place of love. “Thanks again, for listening, I’ll talk to you later, Gojo was looking for me to talk about our next mission” and with that you hung up the phone. You weren’t entirely wrong, you did have another mission coming up but Gojo was not looking for you, you just needed some fresh air.

You were in just an oversized shirt and shorts, but considering it was a bit dark outside it shouldn’t have mattered what you were wearing, you just wanted to take your mind off of things. You left everything in your room and went out, quietly closing the door to make sure no one would wake up. Usually Megumi would be up around this time to let his cat out but there was no sight of him either. You leaned over the wooden balcony/fence, it was a little cold but it seemed to numb the feeling you had so you didn’t seem to mind it. “1..2..3..5..9..12” you began counting the stars, anything to keep your mind off of the racing thoughts. Why did letting go have to hurt so much? You were hit with so much nostalgia it made you nauseous, back when you were a kid running around with not a care in the world. Before you could bury yourself in your emotions you saw something move from the corner of your eye, it was a white bunny. It belonged to Yuji, her name was “Minnie” and for a bunny she was pretty smart. You bent down and stuck your arms out, signaling her to come over to you and she did, her little jumps making the floor creak.

You cupped her into your arms gently and she buried her little head into you, assuring you she was comfortable and trusted you. You smiled at how soft and warm she was, it was peaceful, you needed it. “Ah man, Gojo’s gonna kill me” you hear Yuji’s voice from a distance and looked over to see him walking around in pajama pants and a white t-shirt, he was wearing those funny grandpa slippers too. It made you laugh seeing how messy his hair looked on top of the shoes, he looked over startled and was relieved to see it was you. “Minnie!” He softly exclaimed, “You found her y/n” and you could hear the relief in his voice. “I took my eye off of her for one minute and somehow she got out”..”So that’s what you were doing out here all on your own?” You looked at the bunny who seemed to be acting innocent. “Why are you out here, isn’t it late?” Yuji asked in confusion, he was right, it was pretty late and you’re never out at night, at least not like this.

“Couldn’t sleep.. I just wanted some fresh air” you turned away from him a little, another lie leaving your lips, you needed more than just fresh air. “Oh okay” he could tell something was wrong but wasn’t sure how to address it or if he should, he leaned on the balcony/fence and looked up at the stars. From the corner of your eye you could see how intrigued he was, as if he’s never seen stars before. “I hope whatever you’re going through, you know you’re not alone.” His voice was so soft but the statement was a bit bold so it caught you off guard. You didn’t say anything, you were still holding Minnie in your arms, enveloping yourself in the warmth she radiated. “She knows you’re not okay”, “That’s why she’s cuddling you like that, animals can sense when a person is sad, so she’s trying to-“ you couldn’t take it anymore and started sniffling to fight back tears. “I’m sorry?! Did I say something wrong?! I didn’t mean to offended you-“ Yuji started freaking out, not expecting you to cry, you never do this is the first time he’s seen you do so.

“It’s too much..” you started crying, Yuji frowned, he hated seeing you like this. “Letting go hurts, I hate it so much, leaving people behind, even when I know I need to, even when I know it’s best for me, I just, I don’t know..” you held Minnie a little tighter with each sentence. “What if I made the wrong choice? What if I have to live with that regret? Or what if-“, “You’re overthinking it, y/n” Yuji cut you off, he saw how badly you were in your head and it made his heart ache. “If you ever have to come to the decision of cutting someone out of your life, it’s more than likely because it was the right thing to do. You should never regret doing something like that because you’re protecting yourself.” He gently placed his hands on your cheeks, wiping some of the tear stains away, “And anyone dumb enough to not treat you with the same kindness you give them is just an idiot, you deserve more than what you give, stop thinking less than that.” You looked at him, eyes still glossy from the tears but you gave him a warm smile, because you knew his words were genuine. He was right.

You neglect yourself for others and you hurt your own peace every time you do it. You’re so kind and yet when it’s not reciprocated you’re hurt, you can’t afford to do that anymore, you deserve better. Yuji’s eyes widened when you kissed him, it was impulsive and when you realized what you just did you pulled back, “I’m so sorry. That was the heat of the moment and I-“ but you were cut off by a kiss back, his hands found their way to your waist, hugging your lower back. The kiss lasted 3 seconds before you both pulled away from each other, he still held onto you. “I like you, y/n, and you deserve all the stars the sky could have to offer. You deserve more love, especially from yourself, so please, you’re going to be okay but in the meanwhile, love who you are, and don’t worry about anyone else.” He gave you that look again, like he was hurt but hoping you’d agree and when you nodded he gave you such a sweet smile you nearly melted.

“Let’s go inside before it’s too dark out, this time Minnie, you’re going back in your bed.” You laughed at the way Yuji seemed so serious and grouchy about her escaping, but if she didn’t, you wouldn’t of found yourself like this or Yuji. So you were grateful she did escape, but you’d never let Yuji know, at least not while he’s still a hot head.

The End. 🌷

[smallraindrops-blog]

hi! requests are open, yes? may i ask for a poly tsc!reader x wmftd!y/n x hypno? idk how this’d work but it seemed fun and v self indulgent which is the Best kind of fun hehe. have a nice day!

Constellations of Us

(Part One)

Pairing: TSC!Reader X Hypnos X WMFTD!Y/N

Word count: 7.5

Warnings: Angst, post-breakup for TSC!R x Y/N, jealousy, AU, mentions of infidelity ( none that occurs between the main ship), multiple POVs, no beta.

Summary: 

‘Nothing is more unintelligible than the human heart.’ - Homer, The Odyssey.

Brokenhearted and the new resident of the House of Hades, you are left to pick up the shattered pieces of yourself. 

Funny enough, your hands aren’t the only ones in the pile.

Notes:

Requests are not open.

I am simply working on a very overdue request. 

For sake of readability, TSC!Reader will be in second person aka ‘you’, Hypnos and Y/N will be in third person’s. I will also attach who POV is. 

This will likely be two parts. 

Thank you for waiting. I hope this first part is worth the wait.

~

(Reader’s Pov)

The administration chamber had quieten down as the last few shades hurried out, done with their duties for the day. Their happy chatter faded with each step they took. The room was dimmer with just a few candles, the warm light smothered by the dark. Walls of scrolls seem to go up and up into an endless height. 

You paused on the paper you were working on, your quill left in the ink pot as you reread it. You were mildly impressed that the Master’s son had managed to find new ways to break apart the underworld.  

Who knew fire could be used as a surfboard?

You gave a quiet chuckle at the mere thought but slowly, your smile faded.

This wasn’t what you thought it would be. 

A skilled healer turned into a bookkeeper. What would Patroclus say?

You weren’t sure how you felt about it but it was an undeniable fact that the dead didn’t need healers. At least, this way you were getting paid. Not that money meant much to you. 

It was just proof that you were doing something and not wasting away.

The bureaucracy was mind numbing and exhausting. It was also what you wanted.

You didn’t have to think about anything that wasn’t the work on your desk. You didn't think about your shattered heart. That the love of your life was just a few steps away, unable to meet your eyes.

Or think about the god that had taken your place.

Only if there was paperwork you could use to sign away your own useless heart.

You rubbed your forehead, hating that the moment you stopped working was when you thought about him.

About them. 

With a sigh, you picked up your quill and signed the paperwork, verifying that the money will be needed to fix the damage. 

“Oh! You’re still here.” 

With a muffled gasp, you looked up. Did you somehow summon the god of sleep by a mere thought?

Lord Hypnos blinked at you slowly, drifting closer to your desk like he wasn’t a intruder. His red cloak floated around his shoulders, so heavy it looked like a blanket. He didn’t have the regal appearance of Queen Persephone, or the terrifying aura of Lady Nyx but it was undeniable that he was a god.

The god of sleep smiled at you hesitantly, staring down at you. If the god stood on his own feet, he would be taller than you. Another insult even if unintentional.

You hated that you couldn’t deny how beautiful he was. Heavy lidded golden eyes, full lips and perfectly messy curls. His form was mostly hidden under his modest clothes but the glimpses of his arms revealed a slender masculine shape. 

“I am, Lord Hypnos.” You kept your voice quiet, respectful as you stood. You bowed your head, your hands curled by your side. “How may I be of service to you?”

“Just Hypnos.” The god corrected with a hand wave. “I think we both passed that point, hm?” 

You didn’t know what to say to that. 

Hypnos lifted up the thick stack of paperwork in his hands, giving you a rueful grin, “Master Hades had loudly informed me and everyone else in the hall that I had messed up my paperwork once more. Form ZEY -1 to ZEY-213 and um…Form S-3 to Form S-111. I think.”

“I will be happy to make you new copies.” You said in a rush, glad to be given a task. The sooner you can get this god away from you, the better. With a speed you didn’t know you had, you hurried to get him new paperwork. 

You wondered how he could mess up simple paperwork but didn’t ask. One, you didn't want to even look at him. Two. It wasn’t your problem. 

The god had shamelessly picked up your quill and studied it with his head tilt when you returned. Soft white curls spilled over his ridiculous sleep mask. Another thing you didn’t understand, how a god could be so... ungodly.

It was an ugly thing to think of and you hated that small, petty side of yourself. Afterall, the god did nothing wrong. 

This whole mess was yours and Y/N’s fault. You were grown enough to admit that at least.

Lord Hypnos’ face lit up when he spied you. His graceful hands took the fresh stack of paperwork, and your quill floated back to its ink pot with a wave of his finger.  You winced when you noticed how ratty your writing quill was getting. You just didn’t care enough to replace it when it was still working perfectly fine.

His old forms were on your desk. There were doodles of random animals, flowers - and maybe a person? There were a few of them, each one different.- everywhere on the paper and you saw many, many blank lines with missing information.

Well then.

“This is horribly awkward, isn’t it?” Lord Hypnos chuckled, drumming his fingers along the papers. You bit the inside of your cheek. Lord Hypnos lifted an white eyebrow, and you realized that he was waiting for a response.

Gods were supposed to know when morals lied, or so you were warned by your mother growing up.

“Very much so, Lord Hypnos.” You sighed. No point in denying it. It was horrible. It was right down painful. You didn’t know loving someone and knowing they belonged to someone else could hurt so much.

“Hypnos. Please. Just Hypnos. I have rank over you so you have to obey. Or at least pretend to.” Hypnos said with a wink. The joke came effortlessly to Hypnos or so it seemed. It was a talent you couldn’t help but admire. 

“Hypnos.” You admened with a jerky nod. 

A thick pause filled the space between you and the god. All your life, you were taught to respect and worship the gods. Now you were handing one of the infinite beings paperwork.

It was surreal.

“Well, I guess I will go and try not to mess this up again.” Hypnos laughed again, like it was another joke. You tried to smile but you weren’t sure you had succeeded. 

It wasn't until Hypnos vanished that you allowed yourself to slump against your desk. You covered your eyes with your hand and let out a shaky breath. 

You survived a lot. This was nothing compared to the brutal war that stole so much away, your heart shattering into millions pieces or even your death.

With an inhale, you made yourself straightened up. This was nothing and you will get over it.

You had to.

~

A moment later, you realized that his paperwork had been left on your desk. Unsure what to do, you just shoved the pile into one of your empty drawers. 

You will deal with it later. 

~

There were many things you missed about living. What surprised you that one of the things you missed the most was the ability to tell time. There were no sundials in the underworld nor calendars.

The closest thing you and every other shade had was the coming and going of Queen Persephone, her gentle smile was nothing more than a fading memory. 

Sometimes the Prince would let something slip when he came in for paperwork. 

His very appearance was enough to terrorize every administration shade, yourself included. 

“Please don’t touch that, your highness.” You begged as Prince Zagrues began flipping through files, tossing them aside or worse, putting it back in the cabinet but out of order when he didn’t find what he was looking for.

You thought you heard one of the shades begin to weep.

“Don’t worry, I won’t be long.” Prince Zagreus assured you cheerfully then he picked up a box too quickly, the scrolls rolled out onto the floor.

Several of the scrolls unfurled, hitting your foot. You bit on the inside of your cheek, so hard that if you were still alive, you would taste blood.

Then Prince Zagreus dropped the armfuls of scrolls he was holding.

The weeping turned to full on sobs and horrified stares. You couldn’t quite stop the strangled noise of anger that spilled from your lips.

“Sir please just tell me what-“ you tried to speak but Zagreus was already going back to the next box of scrolls.

“Why are they crying?” The prince asked you with a frown, like he didn’t realize that he had single handedly ruined everyone’s hard work. “I know spring has ended since I last came in but I just need this one record. I still remember where it is. I think.”

Your ears perked at that.

It had been a while since Queen Persephone returned, and if Spring had ended with Zagreus’ last visit, along with the rumors she will be returning in due time. It must be close to the end of summer then. 

Gods, what wouldn’t you give for a sundial and calendar?

“Hey! Didn’t your Father ban you? Or had he unbanned you again?”  Hypnos swept through the crowd of shades, his cloak bellowed behind him as he came closer. He lifted an eyebrow at the mess that Prince Zagreus created then slowly he glanced toward the crying shade.

“Wowie.” Hypnos murmured. “You already made one of them cry. Good job, your highness. Just like your father.”

Prince Zagrues had the grace to look guilty. “I just need this one thing, Hypnos.”

Hypnos gave Zagreus an unimpressed look, a hand on his hip. “What? Do you need to know how many times you've been run over? Or stabbed? Or nibbled on? Or how many times you annoyed me?”

“Fish.” Zagreus admitted with a shrug. “I wanted to see my fishing records.”

You slapped a hand on your forehead, prompting both gods to look at you. You flushed when you realized how disrespectful it was and murmured an apology. You immediately went three spaces over and pulled the box labeled with Zagreus’ name and quickly found what he was looking for.

“Oh thank you, my good shade.” Zagreus said, reading the scroll. “Huh, I haven’t been fishing as much as I thought.”

“Are you done terrorizing everyone?” Hypnos’ question was honey-coated, his smile fake.

“Oh come on now, I am not that bad.” Zagreus replied then he looked at you, flashing you a gorgeous smile. One that told you that Zagreus knew he was a troublemaker. “Am I?”

Hypnos grabbed a random scroll and began smacking Zagreus with it. “Out. Out, you foul thing. Shoo!” 

“Ow! Stop it, Hypnos. You are going to give me a papercut.” Zagreus batted at the air as he left, Hypnos was still hitting him. 

Exhaustion hit you like a wall. Suddenly, you just wanted a bottle of wine to drink and maybe a small nap. However Prince Zagreus’ mess was calling to you. With a sigh, you kneeled and began gathering the scrolls. 

You were going to have to stay late. Again.

“Hey, I am sorry about him. You should see his room, I mean really.” Hypnos had returned like a ghost, hovering near you. You nearly dropped the scrolls when you heard his voice.

“No, thank you.” You muttered. You had no intention of ever seeing or stepping into Prince Zagreus’ chambers. 

“Wise decision.” Hypnos said with a nod, grabbing some of the scrolls himself only to immediately give it to some unfortunate shade. 

You dropped the scrolls on your desk, and turned to face Hypnos. You wanted to shoo him out much like he just did to Zagreus but you didn’t. You bit your tongue. 

The god gave you a grin but you saw the tension around the corner of his smile. He was nervous. 

Why would a god be uneasy around a nobody moral like you? There was that certain someone you and the god had in common however one look at you then at Hypnos would make it clear that you were outclassed in every sense of the word.

“Is there anything I can help you with, Lo- I mean Hypnos?” You asked when he still didn’t speak up. You could feel the weight of eyes on your back, no doubt you were going to the main conversation for post-work drinks. 

Lovely. Just lovely.

Hypnos bit on his bottom lip, his long fingers drumming on your desk. “Well, yes. I seem to be missing some forms. Like could you see if you have any for me? Um. Please?”

“Of course.” You murmured as you went to check for him. There was a nagging suspicion that Hypnos didn’t have any missing paperwork, one that was confirmed when Hypnos’ paper tray was empty. 

When you went back, the god was gone.

You glanced down the scrolls and frowned. On top of the pile was a brand new quill and a note.

‘A thank you gift! - Hypnos.’ There were little smiley faces and flowers surrounding the words. 

You took a sharp inhale. The quill was nice, far nicer than what a normal shade should have. But you weren’t glad for it. 

It felt like he was mocking you. There was no point in him giving you this. It felt like a slap, one more taunting gesture toward your worthless heart.

You didn’t hesitate to grab the quill along with the note and dump the stuff into the drawer, the one that was still filled with Hypnos’ forgotten paperwork. 

The loud slam of the drawer closing echoed out though the administrative chamber. With a huff, you returned to work, glaring at anyone brave enough to glance your way.

~

When everyone else left for the night, you pulled the quill out. You twirled it between your fingers, resting your chin on your hand as you studied it. 

The quill was high quality, the orange color shone like fire in the candlelight. If you remembered correctly, it was the same type that Hypnos used. 

Maybe Y/N use the same one as well.

With a sigh, you closed your eyes, the heartache settling in like an old friend. Perhaps taking this job was a mistake. Not that you had much choice. When one is summoned by Master Hades, it is usually in their best interest to obey.

Regardless, it would be best to thank the god of sleep. You highly doubt that Hypnos took time out of his day to mock you. Besides you saw how he bullied Zagreus. He wasn’t the type to hide his teasing. 

Nor will you be ruled by your own heartache. You had seen the ugly paths a soul could take doing so.

You closed your eyes against the memories. Maybe someday you won't be haunted by your own ghosts.

~

It shouldn’t have been surprising when you found Hypnos by your desk when you came in yet it still caught you off guard. 

The god flashed a toothy grin, waving with far too much enthusiasm for the start of a workday. His curls looked messier, his sleep mask loose around his neck and his right cheek were marked by lines. It looked like he just woke up from a pleasant nap.

Yet that only seems to add to his beauty and you tried not to think about how unfair that it was.

“There you are, my favorite administrative shade- worker-?” He paused, tapping his chin with a finger, then with a nod. “Shade.”

“Hypnos.” You greeted in a more relaxed manner, “I take it you need something from me?”

His smile turned sheepish. “Well. It seemed I messed up my papers once more. I am surprised the house is standing after all the Master's screaming.” 

“Oh that must be why the house was shaking earlier.” You teased him, surprising yourself and him. Mostly yourself.

Hypnos looked delighted, his hands fluttered in the air. “See, I knew you were my favorite for a reason. The others just roll their eyes at me.”

You cleared your throat, stuffling the papers on your desk. “So what forms do you need?”

Hypnos opened his mouth then closed it with a clink. “Um-well-”

Pity bloomed in your chest the longer Hypnos struggled. It must have been obvious on your face because Hypnos crossed his arms. He was actually scowling.  At you.

You blinked in surprise. Not even Master Hades could break Hypnos’ smiles, it was a fact everyone in the house knew.

“I don’t know how you- or anyone for that matter- can keep up with the forms! Everytime I think I know which ones, I turn around and there are a billion more.” Hypnos ran a hand through his curls, frustration clear in the furrow of his brow. 

“There are a lot of forms.” You agreed, your eyes darting over to the walls of scrolls. Only problem was, those forms were necessary. There was so much that needed to be documented for Master Hades to fully understand everything that happens in his domain. 

Or you hoped so. Otherwise you and everyone else are doing busy work for nothing.

Then an idea came to you. You immediately began to pull out your drawers, ignoring Hypnos’ curious glance as he floated closer. 

Where was it-

“Ah! Found it!” You grinned as you revealed the small notebook. It was a blank one that you haven’t gotten around to using yet. It wasn’t as nice as the ones you saw Master Hades used but it will suit.

Hypnos lifted an unimpressed eyebrow. “Yay?”

“Lists.” You told him with a smile. “Whenever I have a lot of work, or stuff I need to remember, I write down everything in a to-do list.” 

You offered the notebook to Hypnos. You held your breath, sure that the god was going to reject it.

Hypnos reached out, his slender fingers brushing against you. You resisted the urge to jerk, shocked at the sheer amount of warmth that came from the god of sleep.

The god flipped through the pages. He was obvious, thankfully. “Do you really think this will help me?”

“Yes.” You said, giving him a sure nod. “I still remember when Patroclus was first teaching me. There was always so much information I needed to know. Once I could write and read, those lists were a lifesaver.”

Hypnos nodded slowly. “Okay. Yeah, you know what? I’ll try it. I mean, there is a reason Y/N calls you a genius, right?”

Those unassuming words caused you to flinch like you were slapped. You didn’t realize that Y/N still called you by your old nickname especially to Hypnos. Or that he told Hypnos that much about you. 

The god caught on immediately. His heavy lidded eyes going wide, his golden irises gleamed with shame.

“I- I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hit a sore spot.” Hypnos grimaced. “I am quite talented at sticking my foot in my mouth.”

“It’s fine.” Your smile was brittle. 

Hypnos bit down on his full bottom lip, the silence filling the hollowed space. Then the door opened, then a flood of shades came. Some brightly chattering as others tried desperately to wake up. 

Some of the office busybodies caught sight of you and Hypnos with wide eyes. They stared shamelessly, even slowing down as they walked passed. You rolled your eyes. 

As the newcomer who hasn't had a breakdown yet, you were a novelty among the gossipy office workers. It didn’t help that you also had a certain god who wouldn’t leave you alone. Hypnos closed the notebook with a nod and offered up a smile. One that you returned.

“Find out what forms you need and I will make sure to have a fresh batch ready for you.” You told him.

It wasn’t until he left that you slumped into your not so comfortable chair. Immediately, it was Lydia who came up to you. Her blue eyes staring a hole into you.

“What was that about?” She asked, placing her hands on your desk and you thought she might be attempting a friendly smile.

“Our favorite type of paperwork. You know how crazy I go over forms for TA.” You replied blandly. It was petty but the look of pure indignation she shot at you was totally worth the uncomfortable moment with Hypnos.

~

Don’t leave me! Don’t- don’t! please!

You jerked awake, gasping for breath, limps tangled in your blanket. You stared up at the dark ceiling with wide eyes, the candle in your room was so dim it was almost nonexistent.

Hating yourself, you pressed your palms against your damp eyes, willing the tears to stop. Only more came, running down your cheeks. You let out a quiet sob. 

You hated that dream. 

It came over and over again. Never letting you get true rest.

Eventually, you curled under the blanket like you could hide from it, your hands clinging to it, all alone in the dark.

~

You weren’t embarrassed to admit that your knees still shook whenever you were called forward by Master Hades. It was the most perfectly respectable response a moral could have.

His size was impressive, beastly in comparison to a moral. He flipped through the report you gave him, his scowl deepened as the silence grew. You resisted the urge to shift on your feet. 

You felt like if you just twitched, it would attract the god’s attention, like a cat to a very dumb rat, and that was the last thing you wanted. 

“On form TA11 to TA13 regarding Tartarus’s last chamber, it looks like you corrected the previous shade’s work. Why was that necessary?” Master Hades said. His tone was polite - for him anyway.- but there was an undercurrent of danger. 

“Yes, Master Hades. If you please refer to the file on your desk, you will see what the contractor shades had noted down for repairs versus what was listed on the forms. The document will show with the corrected information along with the new knowledge that we can reuse the materials and save a decent amount.” 

The words came out quickly, your fingers shaky as the god did as you requested. Hades studied the forms and the documents, his red eyes darted between the paperwork.

“Very well.” Master Hades signed the paperwork and you felt your soul resume in a dizzying rush.

As you began your return to your overflowing desk, Hypnos waved at you. When he saw he had your attention, he gave you a double thumbs up with a wide grin. It made him look utterly ridiculous.

Not wanting to be rude, you gave the world’s most awkward thumbs up back. You didn’t know why he wanted to be friendly with you of all people. 

Pity, maybe.

You kept your head down as you hurried down the hallway, eyes skimming over Master Hades’ notes. It was better not to look, to not see him.

“Genius, slow down.”

You paused in mid step, your body going on autopilot at the mere sound of his deep voice. With a sharp inhale and a silent prayer for strength, you faced him.

It didn't stop the devastating knife from twisting in your heart. He was just as you remembered, his eyes intense as he studied your expression. You jutted your chin out, your nails digging into the paperwork.

Unlike you, he looked like he belonged here among the gods. His strength was undeniable even as a shade, his presence commanded respect. You hated that you still wanted to reach out, to wipe away that brooding expression to reveal his smile.

“That isn’t something you get to call me anymore, Sir Y/N.” Your tone came out abrupt, harsh among the gentle light of the hallway. 

His eyes flashed and it was obvious that he wanted to say something back. You straighten your back, ready to counter. It was comforting in a horrible sort of way since disagreements were normal for you and him even before the war. It would feel good to blow off some steam.

Then he only nodded. His voice low as he took a step back. “Of course, reader. Forgive me for overstepping.”  

And just like that the wind went out your sails. Were you really going to have a full on argument with Y/N in the middle of your workplace? You closed your eyes for a single moment then adjusted the papers in your hands.

“Was there a reason you wanted to speak with me?” You didn’t look at him again. You don’t think you could bear it.

“I heard that you and Hypnos had been...working together.” He said after a pause. His voice was a lower octave and you shivered at the sound of it. “That notebook you gave him, it is actually helping him. A lot.” 

“Good.” You said. You actually meant that. Even if you weren’t sure about Hypnos, you hated the idea of anyone struggling. Then you heard him repeat your name, his voice lower.

It took everything in you to not look up at him. To reach for him. “I’m glad to hear that. Was there anything else you wanted?”

“I wanted to say thank you.” He murmured. “So thank you. For helping Hypnos when I couldn’t.”

His quiet gratitude hit a new soreness in your heart - one that you didn't know even existed- but you forced yourself to take a breath. With strength you didn’t really feel, you made yourself look.

There was an unexpected softness in his expression, one that you recognized. You had seen it countless times, during long nights after battles, whenever he pulled you close or the quiet moments of just you and him with the sunshine warm on your skin.

Your breath hitched, and you wanted to tell him that you missed him, that you were sorry about how everything went down, that you just wanted to hold him one more time.

You wanted to ask if he missed you just as much.

Then you caught a glimpse of white curls, Hypnos’ curious expression shifted to one of guilt and he darted away as Y/N turned his head toward the noise. 

“I’m more than happy to help anytime. Tell him I said thanks for the writing quill.” You said, your cheeks flushed hot from pure shame. You were already hurrying away like the guilt was nipping at your heels.

His presence was the reminder you needed to snap you back to reality. 

You thought you heard Y/N began to call you back only for his voice to fade as you pushed past the doors.

~

(Hypnos’ pov)

“A writing quill?” His voice was low, only for Hypnos’ ears even though they were alone. With a quiet hum, Hypnos gave an indulgent stretch, too stated to actually get up. His arms flopped down around his head and grinned when he caught the flash of hunger in Y/N’s expression.

He met Y/N’s cool stare with an innocent blink.The shade had somehow still had energy, sitting up in the bed. Blankets were pooled around them, with countless soft as cloud pillows spilling onto the floor. The firelight was golden and peaceful. 

His mortal looked gorgeous, the light casting shadows over his muscular form, tempting Hypnos to move closer and use his tongue to trace the lines of his powerful body.

For some reason, his mind flashed back to Reader, or Genius as Y/N called him. The guilt in the Reader’s face was a mirror to Hypnos’ own. Hypnos didn't mean to eavesdrop on a private moment, really. 

He just wanted... he didn’t know, not yet.

Hypnos gave a dismissive wave of his hand. “He needed a new one. The one the house gave him was falling apart.” 

Y/n said nothing. He didn't need to, his silence was enough.

Hypnos sighed, closing his eyes. “You will have to accept his presence here eventually.”

“I have.” Y/N said, his calloused fingers caressing Hypnos’ bare hip. Hypnos let out a  soft gasp, goosebumps forming on his skin but he didn't move. 

Y/N moved downward, pressing open mouth kisses against Hypnos' neck. “What I don't understand is why you are so determined to befriend him.”

Hypnos gripped Y/N's broad shoulders, torn between wanting more or making him stop so they could talk. His eyes traced the stars that gleamed above them. If he was completely honest, Hypnos still didn’t completely know why he cared.

But he did. 

There was something about Reader...

“I like him. Hades still hasn't found anything wrong with their work. And I know he tried. Many times.” Hypnos said, not even attempting to hide his jealousy. He never knew someone who could stand toe to toe with Master Hades with paperwork.

not even his Mother could say such things. Certainly not Hypnos nor the Queen herself.

Hypnos huffed. “ And he actually wants to help people, do you know how rare that is? I think anyone else would have refused to help me, considering the situation.”

Y/N pressed a lingering kiss against Hypnos' collarbone before rolling off on him. His voice was quiet. “I do.”

Hypnos bit his lip, his thoughts whirling. Maybe he should confess to maybe taking quite a few peaks of Y/N’s nightmares and of his gentle dreams. That Hypnos had seen moments shared between lovers. Ones that weren't him and Y/N.

That Hypnos knew Reader still dreamt of y/n. 

Jealousy had definitely been there but not as much as Hypnos thought there would be. If anything, he wanted to keep watching. He didn’t but now, he was curious about this other person. 

This other person that his dearest had loved once. Maybe he still did.

Hypnos wasn’t sure what to expect when he finally met Reader. There was nothing unique about him. He could have easily been lost among the crowd, even if he was pretty for a moral.

Then Hypnos saw it. The spark in those eyes that spoke of an unnatural intellect. Then Reader kept helping Hypnos, again and again.

Reader had been someone Y/N had loved. Surely that meant something. Especially if Hypnos was right, that he saw the same longing in Reader's eyes. 

Hypnos stared up at the canopy, turning the moments over and over in his mind like a puzzle to be solved. Then you reached for him and Hypnos went obediently, sighing when he found a comfortable position, his leg over y/n’s thick quads, his hand on Hypnos’ hip.

”Love you.” He murmured, kissing Hypnos’ forehead gently. Hypnos returned a kiss against Y/n’s bare skin. 

“Love you too.” Hypnos murmured, his fingers trailing over familiar scars.

It felt odd, like something was shifting into a new shape but it wasn’t quite sure what shape it wanted to be yet. Hypnos knew all he could do was wait and see.

~

(Reader’s Pov)

Shades were rushing past your desk, their arms overflowing with scrolls, orders yelled overhead as the chaos grew. One of the more experienced shade were already passing around a flask, muttering about how it was going to be a long night.

You skimmed over the scroll once more. You were obvious to the chaos around you. It was almost like being back in the war, only this time you didn’t have your hands inside a pulsing body, rushing against time and the fates themselves to save lives. 

This time, it was just your -and everyone else’s- livelihood.

Queen Persephone was due back any day now and Master Hades’ list of demands had only grown.

New flowers needed to be ordered, fresh wood for the hearth, there was a rare type of soil mix from Olympus that Queen Persephone had requested months ago and it still hasn't arrived. Fancy food and types of wines that you have never heard of, fine fabric and so on and so on.

Your fingers danced along the abacus as you went over the numbers of Hades' orders and the cost of everything. It was already more money then you would have earned in a thousand lifetimes but the numbers were easy and mind numbing. 

Which may be why you didn't notice him at first.

“Reader.” His low voice was enough to jolt you out the trance you were in, your fingers lingering on the wooden beads.

Y/n stared down at you, his arms gripping a huge stack of scrolls. You blinked once then once more as you registered just how many he was holding. His strong jaw clenched, the glint in his eyes hard as stone. 

It was a familiar expression, one that told you just how close he was to losing it. Once you had been the one to reach over and smooth away the anger. But that wasn’t your place anymore.

Not that your body didn’t seem to get the memo. Your fingers twitched.

“What is this?” You gestured toward the pile of work, trying to keep your voice cool. 

He exhaled, “Master Hades had decided in his infinite wisdom to increase security for the house. Again. I have the paperwork for the new routines for myself to be filed, along with new procedures for the administration staff.”

With that, he dumped the scrolls in the ‘IN’ box. 

“You’re kidding me.” You breathed, plucking the top scroll and unfurling it. You skimmed over the words, a pounding headache forming behind your eyes. 

This was just more work, not even necessary with all the last minute preparations for the Queen. No one was going home until the Queen arrived, that was for sure. Maybe you should have taken that offer for a drink after all.

“Here.” 

He placed a wrapped parcel on your desk, the rich scent of spiced meat and herbs hitting your nose immediately. Your mouth watered. 

With a head shake, you pushed it back to him. “I don’t-“

But he was already walking away, “You need something, gen- Reader.” He scoffed. “You get cranky without food.”

That made your mouth snap close and you let him go without another word. The parcel was still warm when you picked it up. As a shade, food wasn’t a need. But it was a gift from Y/N. 

And he wasn’t wrong to be honest.

You unwrapped the parcel, inhaling the scent of the gemista. A simple food, a large tomato stuffed with herbs, meat and vegetables. It took you back to long nights over bonfires, of your thigh pressed against Y/N’s, of Achilles’ lyra playing sweet melodies, Patroclus’ dark eyes watching over with pride. 

When you took the first bite, you let yourself savor the meal like chaos wasn’t surrounding you. Then you devoured the rest in a single bite and got back to work. The gods wait for no one.

~

The fates must still keep an eye out for the shades because Queen Persephone’s reunification with the house went off without a hitch. Laughter from the celebrations reached even as far as the administration chamber.

No doubt that wine was free flowing and the tables were stuffed with delicious food. Your stomach growled even if you didn’t actually feel hungry. The thought over an overfilled cup of wine sounded heavenly.

But the thought of possibly running into a certain couple made your gut turn sour. So you looked down at your desk, biting down on your lip.

Numbers were nothing but blurry ink to you now and the lights felt like a thousand sun. You forced yourself to blink your painfully dry eyes. Others were celebrating, some already packing up to return home. It must have been many days since the start of this whole madness.

As you listened in, you wished that you could have done something. But you were dead and so was the child. At least, their many grandparents were more than happy to fuss and spoil the little one.

One of the older men was telling the others about the young grandchild that had recently made their journey to the underworld.

An short and brutal illness was the cause.

You began to clean up your desk, sighing at the chaos. Ink bottles and papers were scattered everywhere and you cursed yourself for getting so messy. 

“Hey, you should come join us.” One of your coworkers, you had forgotten his name, said quietly. He nodded toward the mess on your desk. “I promise it will be more fun than cleaning up.”

The shade was good-looking, his eyes were a charming, gentle brown and his smile was perfect. It made you smile in return but nothing stirred, no breathless sparks in you.

”No. I can't come along but thank you for the invite.” You told him. 

“I insist, let me buy you a drink. Gods knows, you were the only reason none of us lost our jobs today.” He pushed a little more, his smile was still there but it looked a little more colder.

You parted your lips but before you could say anything else, a voice piped up.

”He can’t, because he already promised to join me.” Hypnos beamed at your coworker, blatantly lying. “Early birdie get the worm as they say.” 

The shade narrowed his eyes at Hypnos as if doubtful of Hypnos’ words.

”Soooo.” Hypnos waved him off, like he was a bothersome and pushy merchant. A beat and the shade ducked his head, “Of course, Lord Hypnos. See you around, Reader.”

“Yeah.” You murmured, noting that Hypnos didn’t bother to correct the shade on the title. Far as you knew from rumors and your own handful of interactions, Hypnos didn’t let coworkers call him by any titles, or even strangers if Hypnos liked them on sight.

Once the group left, it was like the air in the room went with them. 

Suddenly, you were aware that you were alone with Hypnos. You have been before but it was different this time. One that you couldn’t put your finger on.

“Thanks but I had it under control.” You told him, stacking the last bits of paper and sitting it aside.

”I don’t doubt that for a moment but I never get to play the hero.” Hypnos grinned at you. It was so boyishly sweet that you actually were a little charmed by it. “Beside, you and I are going to go get a drink, I need to thank you for saving my behind from Master Hades.”

You shook your head but Hypnos held up his hands. His fingers were spread out a little, each one was slender and long. Hands that artists would craft into marble. Unlike your rough hands, ruined by years of creating herbal medicine and cleaning them with harsh soaps.

”I won’t push.” Hypnos said quietly. “I would like to thank you. I usually get yelled so much, my ears would ring for hours but the making a list thing, it really did help. But I understand if you don’t want to.”

His words struck you as sincere. You bit down on your lip, torn. Did you really want to share a drink with Y/n’s lover, to act like you and him were friends? It would be the adult thing to do, but you might only be sitting youself up for a world of hurt.

“Why are you trying to be so nice to me?” The words spilled out before you could stop them. You slapped a hand over your mouth as if that would help take them back.

Hypnos cocked his head. “I’m curious about you.”

You blinked, surprised at his honesty. “You are?”

”Aren’t you curious about me?” Hypnos asked, his golden eyes watchful.

You considered his words then slowly nodded. “I am actually.”

At those words, Hypnos reached into his cloak and pulled out two bottles of nectar.  He wiggled one of the round bottles at you, the liquid appeared like melted gold in the lighting. “So how about those drinks?”

~

(Y/N’s Pov)

Hypnos had vanished. 

Among the partygoers, he saw Zagreus along with Thanatos and Megarea, sitting on one of the temporary chaise, set out just for the parties. They looked cozy, with their heads close together as they talked in low voices. One of Zagreus’ hands was in Thanatos’, and his thigh pressed against Megarea’s

Y/N didn’t want to interrupt, besides they probably didn’t know where Hypnos disappeared off too. 

After making a quick loop, he still didn’t find Hypnos. Unfortunately, he had to work during the celebration, leaving Hypnos by himself. If Hypnos decided to call it an early night, he would usually let Y/N know. 

With a frown, he scanned the great hall one last time. He pretended that he also wasn’t looking for another face among the crowd.

Guilt settled deep in his chest. He didn't like this side of himself. He always thought of himself loyal, he didn’t have a problem keeping his dick to himself unlike many others he knew. 

Yet, he found himself wanting to talk, to make sure that Genuis- no- No. Reader. He had lost the right to call Reader by the little pet name Y/N gave him so long ago. That had hurt like a knife to the guts. It hurt far more than it should have considering everything.

Sighing in annoyance at himself, he turned to go to Hypnos' chambers when he caught the cast of lights coming from the administration chamber. 

No one was supposed to be there right now. 

He began walking toward the doors, just one more thing to deal with before getting to see Hypnos. He didn’t know what he would say if he saw it was just you.

It was until he was a few steps away that the sound of laughter reached his ears. Two distinct ones, both of them were so different but wonderful to hear together. He froze in place. 

For a moment, he considered being a coward and turning around. He didn’t, his own need to know was far more powerful. He needed to be sure.

Quietly, he pushed the door open just a crack. 

Hypnos sitting on your desk, you in your chair, giggling like children. Hypnos’ sleepmask resting on your head, your fingers brushing on the cloth. 

“I don’t think I can pull this look off.” You told Hypnos as you returned it. Hypnos placed it back on, resting his cheek on his palm as he leaned closer to you. You began telling Hypnos something but your voice was too low.

The sight of Hypnos and you sitting together, smiling and laughing warmly, was like lightning bolts shooting down his back. The contrast between you and the god was beautiful, the dimness in the room softening the difference, bringing two separate pieces together.

He swallowed. 

Hypnos saw him first. His smile grew, bright and cheerful. He also looked quite tipsy. “There you are! All done with work for tonight?” 

Reader jolted upward, blinking at him in surprise. You swayed a bit, cheeks flushed red. It was then he saw the four bottles of nectar sitting on the desk. That would explain a lot then.

“I thought I was but then I found two troublemakers.” He teased, trying to hide the shock to his system. 

That caused you to scoff and you pointed at him. “Hypnos, did he tell you about the time he nearly got killed by a bull because he kept sneaking out at night?”

Hypnos whipped back to you with a dramatic gasp. “Are you serious right now?”

”Wait- don’t tell him-“ he tried to speak over but you went off, telling Hypnos all the sordid details.

“So after killing the bull, they had to pay the owner for lost income and Y/N had to stay in his parents’ tent for three weeks.” You finished the tale. Both pairs of eyes rested on him. 

It caused his guts to twist, a heat clawing up the back of his neck and he scowled at them.

Hypnos shared a pointed glance with Reader, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “So him being bull headed isn’t a new thing, then?”  

That got a genuine laugh from you. Gods, he had missed it. He shifted, trying to shove the unwelcome thoughts away.  He was a grown man, he wasn’t going to play these games.

“Nope.” You replied, giving the ‘p’ a loud pop. 

”I don’t like this.” He grumbled, crossing his arms. “Why are you ganging up on me?”

Another shared glance between you and Hypnos and the pair broke down in loud, drunken laughter.

Despite him being the butt of their jokes right now, it warmed something in his stomach to see them getting along. Even if it did take alcohol to help smooth the process. 

~

It didn’t take much coaxing to get Hypnos and You to call it a night. He walked behind them, readying to grab one or both everytime they swayed a little too far. Both of them were chatting over office gossip - One of the shade was leaving to work as a blacksmith, there was a rumor of an affair between two of the HR workers and so on.

It wasn’t until they stopped in front of the Reader’s dorms that they went quiet. 

Hypnos shamelessly pulled you into a tight embrace, his cloak enveloped you and him in soft red. You gave Y/N a surprise glance, silently asking and he nodded. If anyone understood the unusual process of becoming friends with Hypnos, it was him.

After a beat of hesitation, you returned it. 

A knot formed in his throat. He should have looked away but he couldn’t. He didn’t want to. There was something beautiful in this moment, two halves of his soul embracing under the warm candlelights.  

He knew that he would be returning to this memory again and again, saved between quiet heartbeats, admiring a sight that only he got to see. 

Hypnos broke the hug, his hands on your shoulders and beamed at you. “Friends?” 

Returning Hypnos’ smile, you nodded, carefully not looking at Y/N. 

“Friends.”