#you are going to spend the rest of your life wondering why bad things happen to you

[netherfeildren]

Busy, Dying. Part 1;

Pairing: Joel Miller x F!Reader

Summary: In an in-between place called his life, Joel Miller is alone. In search of a cure. In need of a miracle. In want of God.

Can I interest you in a cure for loneliness? She'd asked him in a language without words. Taking it is the easy part. Letting her go is impossible.

-OR-

an a/b/o soulmates AU

Rating: Explicit 18+

Content Warnings: No Outbreak AU, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Soulmates AU, Infidelity, Cheating, HEA!!!!!, Angst, Fluff & Smut, Mating Bites, Knotting, Heat Sex, Breeding Kink, Group Therapy, Social Experiments, Basically puppy training for unsocialized Alphas, And by God that man will be house trained by the time she’s done with him!, Complicated family dynamics, Discussions of self harm, Depression, Existential Angst, Author returns not with a whimper but with a KNOT, I wrote this in a very unserious state of mind beware 

A/N: Gray November, I've been down since July - but we're so back, baby. I’ve missed this so bad. I’ve missed you all, I won’t drone on and on. I hope you enjoy, and please talk to me in the comments. Update me on what I’ve missed, let me know how you’ve been and what’s happening in your life.

A great heartfelt thank you to all of my wonderful friends who so supportively cheered me on while I struggled to write this. Sincerely the best people I know. 

Love you all madly.

Word Count: 6.5K

Read on AO3

Part 1;

The old linoleum tiles are the most peculiar shade of puce, and Joel has realized that there is someone sitting at the back of the room who smells… strange. 

More brown than purple—an ugly color. There’s something about it that fascinates him.

The woman that is currently speaking tells of her husband; it’s the only tale she has to tell. She’s been doing it for weeks, and they all know it well by now. Older, omega, the woman, and at the latter and less comely stage of life. Most of them here can say the same. They usually give their names, those that get up to share—although it’s never a requirement when you attend, it is highly encouraged—the sharing, he means—but he never pays much mind to them—the names, that is. That’s not what he’s here for after all—to make friends. Although, he does see how that’d be the initial assumption. 

Joel Miller is here for something more specific.

Six weeks he’s been showing up to these things now, and he’s yet to take a turn. He tells himself he’s working up to it. 

What that specific thing is…he hasn’t quite figured out. He’s listening for it, though, and intently, even if he does skip over the names. It’s the details of what they’re telling that matter to him. The hows and intricate whys of what it is that brought them here today.  

Her youth had been spent on a drunk, the woman is saying—her husband—and he’d been cruel to her in those days when there was still currency to spend in the form of her vitality. Joel nods at the puce—yes, he thinks, that’s usually the way of it. But later, there’s more to the story she reminds her audience, he drank himself into a fit, and had never been right since. The cruelty had been taken away from the marriage after that, and she’d been put in charge. 

“But I wonder,” she says, “If sometimes I don’t miss it, the way he’d been,” —if the reason she was here now, with all of the rest of them that were just like her in their own unique ways, was that she’d been left lonely after her cruel husband had been exchanged for a sick one. 

Joel nods again and wonders what sort of face the woman wears as she confesses but doesn’t bother to check. No matter, he knows they’re the same. If not in designation, then in heart. 

It’s easy, that thing, he does it too, to wish for the bad. To want to hold on to it, the thing that hurts. Addictive, even, in some cases. Missing it is easy. 

It’s why he’s here. 

And it’s what they promise you. In their flyers and pamphlets, when they stand on the corners of streets talking people up wearing that look in their eye and that slouch in their step, when they smell it on you—or in the lack there of—a mate or a purpose.

Welcome to our meeting. We’re here to find the cure for loneliness. 

That’s what they promise you when you come here. 

It’d been that word: loneliness, actually, that had caught him. L-O-N-E-liness. There was something attractive about it to him. Not a label but a state. 

You see, it was like this: Joel had seen a therapist once, several years ago, against his will and at the behest of another, who’d said all the wrong things in all the wrong ways. 

“You sound depressed, Joel,” the therapist had told him. 

He’d worn horn rimmed glasses and had a shiny bald head he could see the reflection of the overhead lights in. And worse—the non-scent of a beta which told him they’d never understand each other in the ways Joel longed to be understood. He’d—not hated him, necessarily—but felt an immense apathy for the man; more so than the regular apathy he felt for most things in his life. 

“I don’t know what that means.” 

“Very, very sad,” was the official diagnosis.

Joel hadn’t liked the sound of the word. The label. He did not like that a word so succinct could be ascribed to him and all that had happened to him in his life. There was no word for it. It just was. 

But there was something different about a state of aloneness, which if attributed to himself, he could accept. He had been left alone, in ways. It was a tangible thing he could look around a room inside of himself and recognize. 

They’re meetings, is what this place is—encounter groups this coalition offers where lonely demi humans can come to congregate, discuss their aloneness, what had led them to such a state; their lack of attachments, connections, mates—alpha, omega. Held in the basement of the Emmanuel Episcopal Church on Newbury street, right between his shop and house, although they never talk about religion which he likes because he doesn’t believe in religion. 

God is still under review. 

He wonders if the Catholics wouldn’t have them. 

Sitting forward in his seat, the metal folding chair that always leaves his back aching something fierce, he presses his elbows into his knees to distract with alternative pressure. Focusing on his fingers woven together between his spread legs, he tries to pay attention to the man who’s stood up to speak now. Older than himself, late sixties, no children, no family, no nothin’; he’d run them all off. 

But Joel is distracted. 

The smell is stronger now. Stranger too. Something full bodied, but metallic like rust, astringent bleach, built in a way that forces saliva to pool heavy between his suddenly aching gums. A mask that sits atop something of a much different chemical architecture—that’s the strange part. 

Or—no. The back of his neck itches, and Joel lifts a palm to cup his nape, quell the sting, feel the tender mark. No. The strange part is not the illusion of the smell. What it is, actually, is that he’s fairly certain what he’s smelling is someone else's blockers. Something which he’s positive he’s never consciously noticed on another person in the thirty plus years since he’d presented as an alpha. 

He has, suddenly, the quite intense urge to peek over his shoulder, certain that he’ll be caught smelling things he has no business smelling. That there will be someone just there, breathing down the nape of his neck with accusation on their tongue—boo!

Silly. But he’d known today would not be a good day. 

It’d started off wrong. The milk had gone sour overnight, the check engine light had come on in his truck, all his socks were suddenly mismatched with not a single pair to be found, and his usual route to work had been waylaid by some freak accident. A tree split in half, one side into a house, the other into the road. Not a sign of lightning in the sky all night long. 

Perhaps he might be compelled to believe in God after all. 

Joel does not like it when things are out of order or out of the ordinary. His life was organized in a way that never caused him strife or excess. And it was not that he was stuck in his ways, only that he enjoyed his routine and disliked when things were not as they should be. And this—whatever it is he’s smelling, whoever—is not as it should be. 

The older gentleman, an Alpha too, is still speaking. He had a daughter, has, who no longer speaks to him. Won’t even take his money. He’d had a long career in government that’d filled him with greed and paranoia and a radical view of life that refused to align with the way young people saw the world now. Perhaps he’d tried to change at certain times, but he was old and set in his ways. Or maybe he hadn’t wanted to change as badly as he should have when he still had the chance to. Happily stuck in the past. His wife had died, and his daughter had gone away from him. Too tired of his mediocrity as a father to give him another chance. 

The man sounds like he feels sorry for himself. Like he thinks himself the victim, and this one, Joel does look up at. He looks old and worn down, heavy beer pouch and thinning hair and sagging jowls. A sad and lonely man. Joel wonders if that’s how he looks to the other people in this room, as well. 

“No man knows how bad he is until he has tried very hard to be good.” Joel blinks, looks at him more closely, tries very hard to find similarities between themselves. But no—not quite right, not the thing he’s looking for. Their plight is different. This man is not alone, he’s got his weakness to keep him company. 

The one thing Joel had fought like hell to keep out of his repertoire of issues. He’d run from even the possibility of it as soon as she was dead, left Texas straight for the Northeast and from thereafter, everything he’d done, he’d done with a staunchness of character. If at the end of it, that staunchness was made up of apathy or numbness or dissociative fury, well, then at least he wasn’t still that man who’d been too weak to save his daughter. 

That counted very much in Joel’s book. 

An overabundance of cold numbness, little anger, everything a static haze—an abstinent winter. That was his whole life. But then, look at him now, he was here, wasn’t he? He’d taken that brochure handed to him on that last warm Tuesday weeks ago as he’d headed back to the shop from lunch. 

Hello, sir. Could I interest you in a cure for loneliness? The young omega had said. 

It’d started like anything—an experiment or a desperate ploy. The monotony had been steady going the past few years, getting older, colder. He’d grown hard and solitary around his wound, loneliness spread like a fungus, and he’d longed for any sort of change. 

“A cure…how?” The terrible shrink had come to mind.

“Oh, nothing to fret over.” The young man had a nice smile, Joel remembers. Kind and straight toothed. Honest in the way that a stranger knocking on your door to sell you a Bible seems honest. “We call it an encounter group. People come, share, tell the tales of their designation and their lives. In the end, the result is different for different people. Some move on to a second step if they need more. Others find what they’re looking for just through the connection of sharing. But no matter the result, you’ll see, you’ll be cured. Promise.” He’d winked, smile deepening, giving him an appreciative once over at the end of his spiel. Joel had blinked back, surprised, confused, but curiosity peaked enough he’d obsessed over it for three short days before he’d found himself stepping into the molted incense smell of the belly of a church so dimly lit he was sure not even God peaked in this sad space any longer.

“It’s that easy?” Joel had asked, childlike in his throat-strangled hope.

“That easy.”

It seemed the smile had been honest enough to sell him the Bible. 

The scent insists upon itself as the older gentleman finishes up, and Joel’s nose tickles with whatever it is it’s whispering at him. He wants to get up and walk out, run away, but suddenly his gut is tight and hot, and he isn’t sure he can actually stand up without disgracing himself in front of all these people. A wash of agonized heat moves through him, confused at what’s suddenly happening to his body. 

“We have a newcomer today sharing for the first time,” Maria, the woman who leads the group, says at the front of the room. “Everyone give her a warm welcome, it’s her first day and already she’s brave enough to jump on up here.”

There’s the shuffling of bodies in their seats, a cleared throat, the man sitting behind Joel breathes so loudly he thinks he’s gotta have some sort of medical condition, the puce turns more hideous by the second, and his own heart is beating so hard in his ears the rush of blood is dizzying. He feels each thump of the thing against his breast bone in some sick imitation of a fist begging to be let out. 

The new voice begins as nothing but a murmur. 

An introduction—he misses the name. His breathing goes shallow, he’d tip over in his seat if he didn’t have both boots planted firmly against the puce. The voice gains strength and with it, Joel wishes he’d been paying attention from the start. He didn’t get to hear her name. 

It’s a girl.

She’d run away from home in the spring of her sixteenth year to join the opera, she tells them. Had come upon the city in roaring spring and thought the rest of her life would be exactly like that, pure novelty in bloom, nothing like what she’d left behind. And was deeply disappointed when the reality was nothing such. 

And Joel hears it, that disappointment in her voice at what she’d not been able to find after searching for it so religiously. This is what makes him look up at her. This, unlike all the others, he thinks he can relate to—just by the sound of her voice. The search for a thing lost which can never again be found. The fruitlessness of it all. 

At that first vulnerable, terrified glance, she’s already staring at him, eyes catching like hooks. 

He blinks once, twice—color—is sure he can hear the movement of his eyelashes passing through the air, the stick of his lids meeting—color—bright. This is it.

That wash of heat turns into a blaze, every single bead of sweat blooming on his brow is a tell evaporating into the ether. This is what he’d sensed from the start of the evening. Maybe even from the moment he’d seen that split maple. 

“My mother always said I needed to be stronger, bolder, not so sensitive.” She looks away from him now. “I grew up in an angry house where you had to fight tooth and nail not to be overrun. Because of this, I left it at a very young age, and it was the greatest fight I could muster, abandoning that house of anger. I found myself something to bring me what I thought would be joy, a job and a city, and for a time, it was enough. But starting your lonely life so young…it’s hard.” After a pause of breath, “It’s been hard.”

“And it’s made me never want to have to—exert myself,” she says, searching for the right words, smiling when she finds them, and Joel has the urgency to smile back. “Now, I never want to have to be strong. I never want to have to try. I want to only be the way that I am. If that’s weak or sensitive or whatever it might be at any given moment, I don’t care. I don’t want to have to fight. I never want to be in an angry house again. I want someone who’ll see this in me and understand and never make me work for it, that they would give it to me willingly, easily, without me having to ask. Do you understand?” She looks about the room, and he hopes her eyes will land on him again, and even though they don’t, he feels she’s speaking directly to him. He nods, the hook of her temptation cast beneath his chin. “This is a fantasy. And it makes for a lonely existence. This idea of how I need it to be for it to be right—love.” She looks down at her hands folded atop the podium where they go to stand at the front of the group and share, and he wills her gaze to find him amidst the crowd again. “It’s so difficult. And this might seem very bad to you, weak willed, but it’s not. It’s only very honest. Which can never be a bad way to be.” That’s why she’s here, she tells them.

Finally, she looks back at him, and it’s that loneliness of two people amidst a crowd, facing one another, knowing themselves mirrored against the other and yet still disparate. There’s something indecent about the way she looks at him in front of all these people, the way he, in turn, looks back. A little bit like finding your own face on a stranger's body in a crowded room. Color rises to his face, and she gives him that same elusive smile from before. 

He’s the one to look away this time. 

As the crowd disperses for coffee and pastries after the last of the speakers, he searches for her. He needs to ask her name, feels as if he’s some blighted creature without it, swears he’ll never forgo attention during a meeting again if he can fish it out of her.

He finds her at the dessert table, Maria at her side and a hand at her shoulder. Something of a thank you is being imparted between the two women. The girl is saying she’s grateful for the welcome, grateful that they’d found each other. 

Joel has things to be grateful to Maria for, too. His brother, mainly. It’d been pure chance that Joel had met her here, that she knew Tommy also. She’d met his brother on a summer trek to Wyoming where they’d become friends and had kept in touch afterwards. The woman has a thing about her that ingratiates people by sheer force of will. Perhaps it’s that she’s an alpha, too. Perhaps it’s just the charisma and wide smile. The fact that she has a countenance that takes no shit from anyone, that makes demands of a person whether they’ve got any give or not. But whatever the case, they’d realize their connection through Tommy, and she kept Joel updated on his brother whom he’d not spoken with in many years. 

Watching the two women stand together and share that easy thanks that Joel so urgently owes, and yet which he cannot voice, he feels, suddenly, so angry. So awkward. So humiliatingly inexperienced. So unable to grapple with the pain of human contact, the fascination of it, the humiliating necessity. 

That decade old anchor weighing him in place and the guilt of even thinking of it as such. 

I feel decrepitly alone and odd, he thinks. And how strange, no? He was a normal man. He has a normal job. He lives in a normal house. Unexceptional in every sense. Everything in his life had been ordinary up until that one great tragedy. And then, as if none of the before had ever existed, it was as if everything afterwards was one great landslide of wrongness. The filth of it slinging mud all over his life so that nothing had ever been right after her. 

So that now he cannot even approach this girl whose name he needs to know, and Maria, to whom he owes the last surviving connection to his brother. 

As Maria turns to go, she gives him an encouraging nod, sending him into an agony of shyness. She’d sensed him hovering. 

The girl remains at the dessert table, perusing the pastries. He can see her fingertips dancing over the golden, sugared confections, before she settles on a plain, glazed donut. He watches the bend of her elbow, bringing it to her mouth and thirty seconds later, the empty hand reaching for a napkin. He can’t help the huff of laughter it draws from him. 

Watching the unknown creature with her back turned, he peers down the length of himself. Wood stain marred t-shirt, old work jeans and scuffed boots, he’d come straight from the shop. Looking back at her, she seems perfectly packaged and pristine. The two of them, different as chalk and cheese. He tells himself he shouldn’t do it, turn around and go, leave her alone, as he steps up beside her at the table. 

Immediately, there’s the heat of her skin, the smell of her shampoo, and he realizes, and it’s silly because it should’ve been obvious from the get go, she’s an omega. The epiphany, not that she is one, but that he’d been too stupid and oblivious to notice, leaves him feeling vulnerable and angry. 

Any sort of hello that’d been coming alive on his tongue immediately dies. And he’s about to make a run for it once again when she speaks up from beside him, “Would you like a donut?” Her small fingers are dancing over the pastries, searching once again. “I haven’t had one yet,” she lies, “I can’t decide which looks best.” 

The dancing hand pauses over a golden brown puff pastry, seemingly coming to a decision, when she turns to look up at him. The scent of her isn’t just shampoo, not just the blockers he’d shockingly picked up on before, sharp, burning his nose. It’s her skin now, too. The dry sweat from hustling under her coat to make it to her first meeting on time salted along her limbs. Hot, sweet almonds. The shocking vermillion of the morning’s split maple comes to mind. He can smell her.

“A puff pastry?” She presses, quizzical crook to her brow at his silence and glower. “I think you really need something sweet. It’ll make you feel better.”

He wants to agree, to say he also thinks he needs something sweet. All he can manage is a short grunt because she smells…indescribable. Honeyed musk, something heady, like she herself had just got done baking, straight out of the oven and full of sugar into his waiting mouth. 

That earlier anger, it kicks up a notch. Why isn’t he fucking saying anything? 

She shrugs, as she lifts the puff pastry to her mouth he finally manages sound. 

“You stink.”

He doesn’t know when he became such a liar.

A pause, mouth open, straight, white teeth ready to bite into the fluffy sweet bread. He can see her small, pink tongue, and it makes him go a little woozy.

He might be losing his mind. 

She’s got elegant eyebrows that shoot straight up her smooth forehead. The look of her skin is glorious. “Excuse me?”

Now, there seem to be too many words spilling out of his mouth. “You need better meds or somethin’. Need to sort your shit out. Can’t go gallivanting about the world smellin’ like that.” Oh god, shut up. 

“Excuse me!” She takes a huge bite of the pastry. “I do not gallivant,” she shoots back, mouth full of sugar and Joel goes hot everywhere. “What is wrong with you?” she demands, the pursing of a prim little mouth as she chews, eyeing him maliciously. 

He hasn’t the damndest clue. 

She is not wary of him in the slightest, which in turn tells him he needs to be wary of her.

Another large bite, inexplicably she extends her free hand towards him—potentially going into shock and entirely out of his depth when he takes it, the vulnerability of tendon and muscle soft beneath his strength—offering him a firm shake. She gives him her name. 

In that moment, she has a look about her that tells him she’ll bite back if he isn’t careful, even if she hurts herself in the process. 

And now he knows you. 

-

“We might as well acquaint ourselves if you’re going to insult me. Don’t you think?” Peering up at him, he’s tall, well over six feet, and broad shouldered. Older, distinguished, but in a rough way, hewn oak, gray. “Are you typically this rude? Or is this a special occasion?”

Incredibly handsome. 

“I’m being serious.”

“I do not stink. No one has ever said that to me, and my blockers are quality. It must be a you problem.” The puff pastry really is very good. And this man really is very handsome. Coming here today was a good idea. 

One of the girls from the theater had suggested it, handing you a pamphlet with Looking for the Cure for Loneliness? emblazoned across the top, and even though she’d done it kindly, any other person would’ve taken the implication as an insult. Hey girl! No offense, but we all in the company think you’re super weird and have you heard about this support group for losers? Kind of like Omegas Anonymous!

Those hadn’t been her exact words, and you hadn’t taken offense. After the initial agony of embarrassment, you’d warmed to the idea. You’d heard of groups like these before. Congregations of demi humans where one could come to find community or connection. Be it socializing or support for people struggling with their designations and all that they implied, they served their purpose. And anyways, you weren’t in a position to be nitpicky. 

It’s true, you’re alone. 

So alone, in fact, that even the people around you could tell. Strangers, coworkers, your roommate and her girlfriend. Like some noxious cloud of loneliness following you around virtue signaling the desperate need for love and companionship and understanding you’re so in need of. 

You increasingly saw yourself as a dancer on her toes, trembling delicately all over, vying desperately to survive to the end of the song. A monster with too many heads. A Cerberus of the richest caliber. 

Two or three would’ve been acceptable—heads—but you'd long surpassed that and moved on to something unrecognizable and unpleasant. Desperately in need of a solution. 

“Maybe you’re the one that stinks. Maybe it’s your upper lip.” And voila, the monster makes her debut. 

“My—” The rude alpha, obvious, that one, lets out a choked sound, a deeper wash of color immediately flooding his cheeks. You dip your head sideways, appraising him as you polish off your second pastry. He has pretty bone structure, masculine, and after he’s done choking and spluttering, he can’t help but laugh a little bit. You see it. 

Beneath a mouth that looks forbidding, perhaps even a little cruel, you can sense that he is not an unkind man. 

Yet you’re not so green that you can’t recognize the gnawing hunger of loneliness in others. There’s always a reason people find themselves in places like these. His face, edged with the weariness of age, makes this obvious. He has good reason for subjecting himself to this. 

Reaching for the lovely eclair you’d been deciding between earlier, you take a large bite of it. Almond cream and a thick layer of icing on top, humming happily as you chew while he stares at you like the three headed dog. 

You hold the dessert out towards him, offering. Palm up, he shakes his head no, slightly disgusted look on his face. 

“So. You come here often?”

He blinks. “Really?” Patronizing look on his face now. 

“Why not? I am actually interested to know if this is worth my time.”

He rolls his eyes. Oh, he’s fun. “Yes, I come here often. Every Friday, for the past two months just about.”

“And you like it?”

“Is this the sort of place one likes?”

“Oh, come on. You never know what you might find.” He watches your mouth as you finish the eclair, swallowing hard. “Anyways, I think the world is kind of over out there. Don’t you? Might as well make the best of it in here.” 

Thumb pressed against the edge of the table, he looks down, suddenly awash with shyness once again. A shy alpha, who’d of thought. 

“What did you used to do?” He asks, motioning at the crowded room full of chatting alphas and omegas. You wonder how many of them will go home together for a fuck after this. 

“When?” You ask, sure he means in lieu of this group, if you’d ever had another form of demi human community. 

“Before this.”

“Before this? Nothing.” Smiling at him, certain he isn’t picking up on your teasing. 

“Nothing?”

“Nope. I’ve always been here.”

“But— Don’t you…I thought...” He’s cute, shaking his head like you’re just too confusing to sustain. “You sing, right?” He pivots. 

“Sing? Me? Whatever made you think such a thing?” The sly look on your face goes completely over his head and slides to the rest of the sweets. If he wasn’t watching, you’d have another. 

“You said. You said you’re in the opera,” he gruffs back, looking visibly aggravated now. 

Such fun. 

“I’m a supernumerary,” you concede as you turn, making your way to an old relic of a pew along the far wall, tragically abandoning the desserts. 

He follows as you go, sitting a respectful distance beside you. 

“I don’t know what that is.”

“We’re the actors that fill the stage at the opera.”

“No singing?”

You shake your head, flirting with him. “I’m a wench, I’m a courtesan,” You bat your lashes, fingertips pressed coquettishly beneath your chin, “Part of a harem. I’m every woman you’ve never known. It depends on the opera.”

“I’ve never heard of that before.”

“I started as a stagehand when I first got to Boston. Worked my way up.”

“How’s it work? Lines or somethin’?”

“No lines. No anything. I’m a background actor—an extra, basically. If anything, I’m given some simple choreography direction, laugh, sigh, show fear, horror, shock. Whatever. I’m playing pretend without actually having to do anything.”

“No working for it.”

Your smile melts to blandness. So he’d been listening, then. 

“Did you want to sing?”

“No. I wanted to be a supernumerary.”

“Strange. I’ve never heard of that,” he repeats.

“You did say, yes.” Now, the smile turns auspicious. Everyone’s here for something. “What do you do?” Perhaps this is it for him. 

You eye the rest of the congregation, at the far exit, there’s a large alpha helping an omega into his coat. 

“Got a shop, furniture, woodworking and such.”

“You make things?” He nods. “Ah, a man of creation.” 

Sitting back to take him in, he’s got the beginning insinuations of silver speckling the dark hair at his temples, a well groomed beard, and large, intimidating hands. 

His small huff of laughter is bashful, tinged with something disappointed. “No, nothin’ that grand.” And he’s got an accent heavy at the ends of his words, not Bostonian. Southern.

“But you know, I wanted to say…”

“Yes?” You press when he loses his courage, leaning towards him, inhaling deeply. 

“Well, that I know what you meant earlier. Sometimes I can be the angry house.”

You blink once. Sit back. “I see.” 

“It’s hard work. I have to try every day at it.” 

Hard work being the house, or not? Two opposite sides of the same coin. 

“How do you stop yourself?” You cast a line, fishing for his character.

“Don’t know. Keep myself cold, I think.”

“That’s no way to be.”

“No. It’s not.” He sounds amused. You want to bite him.

Everyone’s here for a reason. 

“Ah, well. Perhaps that’s what’s brought you here then,” you say, twisting the toe of your sneaker against a scuff on the old hardwood, leaning forward on your palms wrapped around the edge of the pew. 

“Maybe,” he says, but a sort of pained, exasperated sound follows it. Your hung head turns to peer at the handsome face, and he’s already looking at you. 

There’s something animal afoot. Perhaps in terms of designation, sure, of course, like the rest of the alphas and omegas here. Your designations weigh heavily in the air. But also intrinsic to your two personalities. You feel you know him. That the two of you might have the same sorts of problems, desires. And as you stare at him, you think you may be equally measuring each other’s character, finding that similarity in one another. 

His eyes move quickly between yours, over your face, and you can tell that prolonged eye contact isn’t his norm.

He has the most surprising set of bright hazel eyes like river stones. 

Suddenly, you feel desperate to pull out a flicker of sexuality in the man, hear it in his voice. Sure, that with him, the experience would be entirely different, exhilarating. Perhaps a challenge. He seems to be more quiet and more patient than any other man you’d ever come across, but also more stern—taking in that soft mouth held so firmly. Far more remote too, by the far away look in his gaze. You want to see how he could be moved and what the sight of it would look like. 

“Maybe not,” he finally continues. “I’m looking for something, I think.” 

“Something like what?”

“Someone like me.”

“An alpha?”

“No,” he looks away, cringing. The word out loud seems a shock to him. “Did you listen to the woman at the start—missing the bad thing? I struggle…with that. Holding on, not letting go even when I know I should.”

You’re at an age now which sometimes makes it hard to realize or accept that what you’re living is your life. That it’s been time to grow up. That you have to remember to move forward when it’s your turn in line. 

Which is to say, that you understand him—the difficulties of knowing when to hold on and when to give up.

“Sometimes you hurt yourself because you don’t have anything else to do. Sometimes, because the alternative is much worse.”

“Holding on ‘cause there’s nothing else to do?”

“Sure. Or you’re used to it.” You’ll be gentle with him, you decide. He’s in need of gentle handling despite the stern face; not a puzzle so arbitrarily solved. And those eyes are still so bright, he doesn’t seem like he needs any more hardship.

“Don’t know why I’m tellin’ you this,” he says, accent heavy. 

“Well you did come here for a reason. Didn’t you?” Discreetly, you slide closer to his side, but he doesn’t notice. Apparently lost in the realization that perhaps this was what he’d come here for, to talk to someone, to have someone listen and relate. You’re almost positive he’s never gotten up to share with the group before in all his time coming to the meetings; doesn’t look like the type.

“I came here because I’m going to take better care of myself,” you tell him. “I’m going to try harder.”

“Harder at what?” He blinks as if attempting to come out of a dream.

“Everything. I don’t want to end up like my parents; drunk, angry, alone. I’m scared of it. I’ve avoided at least two of them.”

“I’m afraid of getting older,” the dream moves in his eyes. “That I’ll forget,” he says, but you don’t ask what.

All of a sudden, he seems very real. The swells of grief and loneliness moving through him so similarly, so close to the surface. 

Springing up, you turn to face him and he follows to stand too. You can hear the crack of his knees unfolding, and when he lifts his left palm to stifle a gruff cough, the band of gold around his finger is paralyzing. 

All of a sudden, he’d seemed like what you’d been looking for here too. There’s laughter coming from the church rafters. 

“You’re a widower?” He wants to forget, he’d said he wants to let go. 

Hadn’t he?

But instead, “What? No.” You stare pointedly at the ring, and he looks down at it also. “No,” he repeats. 

“So’re you looking for a fuck, or what?” You try and hold back the bite it comes with, but you can’t.

“No. No. That’s not what I’m looking for.” 

You don’t understand, impaired by your youth, you forget you’d chosen to be gentle with him. “Maybe it’s what you need,” you tell him, turning towards the exit before you can watch him cringe.

He follows at your heels, grabbing his coat from the hook by the doors before he’s stepping out after you into the fall blister. It’s cold and wet and glorious out. 

“Don’t you have a coat?” He demands.

“Nope.” You start walking towards Arlington Street and the park. 

“Did you walk here? It’s freezing out.”

“I did,” you turn back towards him, still moving, and he starts to follow. 

“From where?”

“Downtown.”

“Where?” He scowls at your uncooperation, the married man. Alpha. The truth was that he’d smelt strange to you too. Like no one ever had before. As glorious and shocking as the cold. Like if snow had a scent. Disappointment churns in your gut alongside the excitement at the sight of him stalking after you. 

“I don’t think you know it.” Your backward walk is interrupted as a hurrying stranger bumps into you, sending you staggering. Watch it, the Boston snark spits. The alpha turns to scowl, heavy boot forward like he’s half a mind to follow after the person you’ve just inadvertently assaulted. 

And it occurs to you, “You didn’t tell me your name.” How silly of you. You’d been so distracted you’d forgotten to ask, and what if you never see him again after this? What if you can’t muster the courage to come back again next week? What if he can’t?

“It’s Joel.” 

You think it sounds right. 

“I might—know it.” Where you’re headed to. You smile at the dog with a bone. The disappointment pulses. “Is it far?” He presses. You shrug, looking over your shoulder. You’re going to lose yourself in the garden for a few hours, forget about him. “Why don’t you drive?”

“I like to walk,” you tell him, turning back. 

He looks at you like he doesn’t like the things you say much less the way you say them much less the way you’re grinning at him. Perhaps he can see the disappointment and is disturbed by the sight of it, but the possibility seems too altruistic. 

“You should try it sometime, Joel. You might like it too.”

His huge body seems to be shivering in the cold. 

“I think…” The look on his face has turned suspicious now. He takes a step towards you. “You’re very strange. And you’re very young. I don’t think we should be friends.”

Your heart gives a demanding thump. “We’re not going to be friends.” When you’d first spotted him in the crowd, the strangest feeling had come over you. A tug behind your belly button, a scalding heat at the back of your neck, at your wrists. Perhaps it’s merely imagination, the look of disappointment you think you see on his face right before you turn away from him to continue on walking. “And I’m not that young anymore.”

You’d known today was going to be a good day. Extra cinnamon in your latte, a late start to your morning, warm in bed, no rain in the sky despite the cloud cover. And your director, late for rehearsals after some freak accident had befallen the roof of his house.

“That’s what all young people say.”

Part 2;

Netherfeildren's Masterlist

Updates Blog

[hees-mine]

DESTROYED - L. HEESEUNG

Pairing: heeseung ⚥ reader

Warnings: smut, oral female receiving, mentions of violence, not proofread

Genre: 18+, smut, minors do not interact!

WC: 2,332k

⟱⟱⟱

“If he puts his hands on you again, you have to let me know, you promise?” He holds his mother by the shoulders, looking at her with eyes full of seriousness, and she nods softly.

“Promise.” She stood on her toes, placing a kiss on his forehead.

With one last reassuring pat on her back, he heads towards the sofa, grabbing his backpack and putting it on his shoulders before leaving for the day.

As he exits, he locked the door, making his way down the steps and taking the sidewalk to school.

He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t thinking about his last encounter with you.

But it didn’t matter anyway. He had more important things to think about than some stupid girl.

That being said, it didn’t stop him from watching you all day.

Literally, all day.

Were you really that scared of him? Was he really like his father? Did he really even care?

He thought he didn’t, but wondering ate him up for the rest of the day, especially when you did your very best to avoid him by any means possible.

It bothered him because he never wanted to be a person to be avoided, but alas, he is, and what can he do about it?

He wishes he could go back to that day and just leave you alone.

Sure, it was quick, easy sex, but he gained absolutely nothing from it.

He knows he’s fucked up. He knows better than to get involved with others because he can’t regulate his emotions. He can only suppress them, and he hasn’t been able to do much of that lately.

So why he suddenly slipped up so easily was beyond him.

The thing he fears the most happening happened.

You were scared because of him.

He only knows two ways to deal with any situation, and that’s violence or anger.

It’s funny because only now did he realize how flawed that was. How could he deal with every situation with rage and expect people not to be scared of him?

But his past molded who he is today and instead of trying to change he just distanced himself from people cause he thought he was doing everyone around him a favor.

Who’d want to befriend a person with trauma?

When you first looked at him that day for a second, his curiosity was piqued cause you had been the first and only person to acknowledge him.

Of course, that’s his fault as well. He kept a low profile on purpose, so no one would try to get to know him.

But after years of being invisible out of seemingly nowhere on a random day, something about him apparently caught your eye, and you couldn’t stop staring.

What you wanted, he doesn’t even know, but he didn’t want to know because if you tried to get close to him, it’d only be bad for you.

Cause he was bad.

In his mission to protect his loved ones, he became a person who you needed protection from.

It started on a Sunday afternoon. He clearly remembers his dad always had that day off, a day that was meant for rest, and spending time with family turned into a never-ending shouting match with his mom's bruises and broken glass.

He was just ten at the time, a little too young to understand the gravity of it all, but by the age of sixteen, he was well aware because he was now a part of the Sunday shouting matches, the endless screams and cries that went on till late at night.

It wasn’t just yelling either as bad as yelling was he wished that was the only thing that happened.

But it was physical, too, which is no surprise because of the type of man his father was.

Tending wounds and cuts quickly became a nightly routine for the pair.

A time of bonding for him and his mother, the most important woman in his life.

But Instead of bonding over family vacations and road trips, they were bonding over their shared suffering.

Come eighteen it was just a staple in the household every night he’d prepare for it counting down the hours until a fight would ensue and pray it ended as soon as possible.

Six years later, he went from a cheerful kid with a bright future to someone who didn’t even know the meaning of bright.

All he saw was darkness, despair, rage resentment.

He doesn’t know why his mom stayed, but if she stayed, he stayed.

There’s no way he could leave her alone with that monster.

Unfortunately the situation and his lack of ability to direct his emotions elsewhere turned him into a person he had no control over.

He was angry at the world, angry at his dad, angry at his situation.

Why couldn’t his family be happy? Why couldn’t they have dinner and talk about their day like normal? Why couldn’t his father love him? Was he just that fucked up? Was all of this his fault?

He hates that he even questions himself for being at fault, but it’s hard not to when he was treated like trash by his own dad.

But deep down somewhere, he knows it’s not his fault, or at least he tries to reassure himself of that, but it was easier said than done.

So now he sits staring mindlessly out the library window, his face solemn, features tired and hardened.

An expression that never seemed to leave his face.

He doesn’t like feeling upset, but he just is. He always is, and yeah, he knows that’s a problem that needs to be fixed.

But who is he kidding? He’s a lost cause. He can’t be fixed.

Hell, he doesn’t even know if he deserves to be fixed at this point.

After what he’s done to you, to his father, to anyone that’s forced to be around him.

Sometimes he felt as if he was exaggerating because he knows people have it worse so what did he have to complain about.

He doesn’t know anymore. He’s just moving through life day by day without any regard for anyone who crosses his path, and that’s how it is going to stay.

He was set on that but as quick as his mind was made up it was changed as he saw you leaving the library the one where you first met.

Despite his better judgment and the anxiety he feels in his racing heart, he packs up and follows you out.

He stays on your trail, walking a good distance behind you so you won’t notice him.

Somewhere in him, he wished you did.

Maybe hoping that since you’re the first person to show him any interest that maybe you could bring something out of him that he couldn’t pull out of himself.

He knows it’s stupid, really, but he just wanted to be normal for once, have a girlfriend, go out on dates, make friends, and be a regular college student.

But that was buried so deep down that he knows it exists. He just doesn’t feel like it could reached.

Just like you couldn’t be reached as he watched you from afar, twisting your door open and going into your home.

-

The whole week went on like that, him following you, watching you.

It’s weird he gets that, but that's the closest he’s ever gonna be with you.

Maybe he wanted to apologize at least he thought about it but the last time a sincere apology came from his mouth was so long ago he couldn’t remember.

Would you forgive him? Probably not.

That fact made him sa-

He didn’t care one way or the other.

Yet after taking a one-day break from practically stalking you, he was at it again.

This time, doing something that probably wasn’t his best idea.

He quickly closed in behind you, catching you completely off guard.

“Shh shh,” he shushed you while covering your mouth and quickly opening the door to the dreadful classroom that you have been stuck in with him one too many times.

Before the panic could settle in your veins, he gently kissed your forehead. “I'm not gonna hurt you, y/n,” he breathed out, dropping to his knees before you and putting his hands on your thighs, stroking them up and down softly.

Shocked by the suddenness of his actions, your body grows weak at the sight of him kneeling down before you.

He grips your thighs, making you gasp softly, his hands bunching up your skirt. “I promise.” he draws his face closer to between your legs, peering up at you with his big round eyes.

You know you should say no, push him off, curse him out, and leave, but you were weak for him. Even after everything, you were still oddly drawn to him, so you stayed still, waiting for his next move.

“Let me make it up to you” he looked forward, his face leveled with your core, the outline of your pussy lips being shaped by the tight cotton material of your underwear.

He leans in, kissing you there softly and inhaling your scent, his cock growing embarrassingly hard in a matter of seconds.

Then his tongue falls from his mouth, slowly lapping at your core. “Heeseung,” you breathe out quietly, head resting on the door as you feel the familiar heat between your legs.

He listens to the sounds of pleasure that come from you, his eyes closing shut as he gets into it, his tongue sliding back and forth until your panties are damp with more than just your arousal. His hot tongue feels even better now that you can feel him through your soaked clothing.

He tugged your underwear down, revealing your perfectly shaven cunt. He licked his lips at the sight licking all over your smooth vulva, groaning at the softness as it met his tongue. You taste, sound, and look so good.

He uses his cold fingers to spread your lips apart and slide his tongue back and forth through your engorged folds.

Your hand finds his hair, fingers instinctively running through it, tugging at the roots, causing him to furrow his brows in pain, but he likes that cause pain is all he knows.

The pointed tip of his nose rubs your clit, and you whimper in pleasure cause it felt so so good.

He used his right hand, sticking two thick fingers in your aroused cunt, working you open on them as your knees buckled.

After filling you up, he removes his finger from inside you and stands up so he can take you somewhere more comfortable. He lays you on an empty desk, setting you down gently as he takes his rightful place on the ground on his knees, eating you out for forgiveness.

At least, that’s what this was in his head. In some way, this was easier than saying it out loud. He could only hope that you somehow understood him since sex was the only positive experience you had with him thus far.

His fingers slip back inside, prodding at your hole, his fingers curling up and rubbing that one special spot in you.

You gripped the desk, head thrown back as you moaned and whined at the sensation. He was so good with his tongue that you couldn’t even think about anything he’d done up to this moment.

Sucking on your clit he releases it with a lewd pop looking up from between your legs, loving the raw reaction you give him.

Chest heaving, mouth parted open, and your pussy squeezing on his fingers almost too tight he can barely push in, but he forces his way past your tight walls fucking you faster with his digits, your delicate body squirming on the desk.

He gulps down the juices that he collected on his tongue, sucking on your nub again, and you squeeze your eyes shut as your orgasm quickly builds.

“Fuck” you say breathlessly, and the soft curse that leaves your lips makes him go even harder fucking his fingers into you at a rapid pace, his lips wrapped securely around your clit, sucking an orgasm out of you.

Both your hands find his hair, this time tugging and pulling at it as you bite your lip and roll your hips into his face.

He moans against your heat as you yank on his hair. “Heeseung,” you say, blissed out, shaking before him, and the tight clench around his fingers is all he needs to confirm you’re feeling good.

He groaned, eyes rolling back in his head at your taste as he rode out your high, slowly rubbing your walls, giving you the most pleasure you’ve ever felt.

He licks your clit gently, careful not to over-stimulate you as you welcome every single last one of his touches.

You huff out a heavy breath, your heart pounding in your rib cage. As you catch your bearings, your hearing still sounds muffled due to the sheer intensity of what he’s done to you.

When you’ve settled enough, his fingers slip out of you, and he doesn’t hesitate to suck them clean.

He licks off the remainder of your cum and then kisses your clit.

He slipped your panties back up and helped you stand, his fingers lingering on you just a little longer than they needed to.

His eyes shifted, and he almost looked nervous as his eyes darted to your lips but shifted away even quicker.

You two shared eye contact for a few seconds, both of you searching for words, but coming up with nothing, he turned away and disappeared out of the classroom before the silence became too much.

A faint smile reaches your lips until you make a face of realization, finally registering what just happened.

Even when you come to and fully understood what just took place you didn’t regret a second of it.

⟱⟱⟱

Thanks for reading please reblog and leave feedback.

[maxlarens]

hi lilli!! i heard angst and i came running, how about searching for each other in crowded rooms, finding each other everywhere with logan or oscar, whoever sparks the most inspo, but plot twist—not being able to be together for some reason (the why is totally up to you, feel free to ignore if this isn't your cup of tea). thank u thank u <3

kait!!! hello!!! thank u for sending this in!!! im gonna do oscar 😁 it genuinely hurt my feelings SO BADLY to not have them make up at the end of this. so i sympathise with everyone that im about to make sad it was a bad time for me too❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹

It's familiar, this feeling.

The squeeze of your chest, the grieving, panicking thing climbing up your throat. You've been feeling it a lot lately, every time you catch a glimpse of someone with hair the same colour as Oscar's; wearing clothes you swear that he has; a person with the same shoulders, the same gait.

You've been seeing him everywhere. You just think you have. Monaco is small… not that small apparently.

When it had first happened, at the beginning of summer break, you’d half expected to be back together within a week. For Oscar to message you and half-beg to talk to you again. In your dreams, you’d both come grovelling back to each other, apologising for cruel words, making amends for various mistakes. Then you would kiss him and you’d tell him how much you love him and things would get better.

Instead, you’ve spent weeks of your summer break totally and utterly miserable. Missing Oscar like a phantom limb. You reach for him, he’s not there. You go to text him, find a thread of messages discussing the logistics of returning the other’s belongings.

You sit in your flat and you watch the Lord of the Rings trilogy twice in a row twenty two hours and forty-four minutes because it doesn’t remind you of Oscar and it occupies your time in a way nothing else can right now. You cry until your eyes are puffy and you write in a diary you’ve never touched before, because it needs to go somewhere. The feeling stuck in your throat needs to be written down said out loud and you can’t say it to Oscar, who you would usually tell everything, because he needs “distance from you right now”.

Briefly, you convince yourself that “right now”, indicates that there still might be a later for the two of you. That this thing between you that’s fallen to pieces might one day be salvaged. In the quiet moments of Lord of the Rings you spiral down a rabbit hole of ways to get Oscar back, pathetic fantasies of how you might convince him to talk to you again. Then Arwen says, “I would rather share one lifetime with you than face all the ages of this world alone” and you cry for two hours straight.

You sob, your face in your pillow and you think that was supposed to me! That was supposed to be us! And maybe it wasn’t, maybe you’re not an elven maiden giving up her immortality for a mere man, but you love Oscar. You wanted to spend the rest of your life with Oscar. And now… now…

Well—

It is the waiting that’s the worst.

No texts, no calls. Lando sends you a few, but you can’t bear to hold a conversation with him, knowing he’s playing both sides. And anyway, you’re just thinking about Oscar. Is he there? Is he reading your texts? Seeing the pathetic selfies of you on your couch in days-old PJs? Is he staring at your stagnant text thread just like you are? Has he blocked you?

Your every waking thought is consumed by him. You drag yourself out of the apartment for coffee down the street and you wonder what he’s doing. Has he been rotting at home like you? More than likely he’s been doing things. Playing padel with Lando, going out for lunch, training at the gym, FaceTiming his family.

You feel sick to you stomach. You can list on one hand the activities that you’ve done since Oscar broke up with you at the beginning of the month:

Sleeping, crying, watching Lord of the Rings, ordering takeout, training because you have to. Going for coffee had been a big step out of your current comfort zone. You’re wearing pants that aren’t sweatpants… you’d even showered properly for fuckssake.

You got your most noise-cancelling headphones on, blasting sad Taylor Swift (who you don’t even like. It’s just something to fill the void) and staring down the barista so you can lip-read if they’re saying your name or the words Large Oat Latte. And then—

Then. The barista is mouthing Oscar and your stomach lurches as the exact object of your ire temporary depression walks to the counter. You try to convince yourself it’s not him, you keep seeing him places but it’s never really him. But it is, that’s his burgundy shirt, his swoop of hair, his knobbly little ankles.

You release a ragged breath that you hope isn’t too loud. You duck your head, try to avoid his gaze as he turns, pretending that you haven’t seen him. Try to look occupied by your phone though you’ve only had time to open to your home screen. Tears prick at the corners of your eyes, you blink furiously, trying your best not to fall apart in this coffee shop.

At least he’s not with someone else, you think as a tightness crawls up your throat to settle at the base of your tongue. But he looks happy, he looks fine, he looks better than you feel right now. God, what if he’s better off without you? What does it mean that you don’t seem to better off without him?

There’s something wet sliding down your left cheek and then you see Nike trainers entering your vision, still directed firmly downward. Someone puts a hand on your shoulder— you don’t jump but it’s a near thing. You reach up to slip your headphones off, wiping the tear discreetly as you go. Then you look up and it’s him, it’s Oscar.

He’s holding out a paper cup labeled, Oat Latte and smiling at you tightly.

“They were calling your name,” he says by way of explanation.

“Right,” your voice is shaky, weak, “Thanks.”

He nods, you take the coffee, careful not to touch his hand. You’re trying to swallow down the lump in your throat that’s rising rising trying to claw its way out of your mouth. You blink away the tears filling the corners of your eyes. You can’t look at him.

You’re looking up at the ceiling instead, biting the inside of your mouth. Breathing in and out, in and out.

He says your name, and then, “Do you want to talk?”

You feel like a tonne of bricks has just hit your chest. Knocking the wind out of you. Tears, hot and wet, are slipping down your cheeks. You can’t speak, you turn around and leave the coffee shop without saying anything because surely you’ll just start crying if you open your mouth. Oscar finds you again across the road, in a dark cobbled alleyway. The heel of your hand is pressed to the middle of your chest, you’re hiccuping, trying to stifle heavy sobs that you’d much prefer to let out in the privacy of your own apartment.

“Hey,” he says, gathering you into his arms before you can push him away, “It’s okay.”

You whine, collapsing into his chest, face pressing into his shoulder, “No, it’s not.”

You cry loudly, trying fruitlessly to keep the sobs in. Oscar’s hand rubs comforting circles into your back, which makes it better until you realise it’s Oscar, which makes it immediately worse. You stay there a while. Until your eyes are puffy and your throat sore.

“Better?”, Oscar asks, the crease between his eyebrows prominent.

You sigh tiredly, shrug, “Sure.”

Your coffee is cold now, your chest feels void, hollow.

You shake your head before Oscar can say anything further, before you’re set off on another fucking pathetic crying fit in the arms of your ex-boyfriend, “I can’t talk, Oscar. I really can’t.”

“Okay,” he says, nodding and swallowing some lump in his own throat.

You bite down hard on your tongue. Turn to leave the dark alley to go home, your back prickling with Oscar’s wet brown-eyed stare on you. He lets you leave. You spend the ten minute walk wiping tears before they fall and itching to run back, to kiss him, to pour all the emotion in your chest into some physical action.

There’s an awful grieving ache in your chest that’s carving out your insides and when you check your phone after walking in the door there’s a text from Oscar that reads:

I miss you. I’d really like to talk to you soon.

not sure if it was weird but the lord of the rings Mentions were kinda about how you’re in such a fragile state during a breakup that something as irrelevant to your break up at lord of the rings will make you cry for hours for no real reason. (and not to expose myself but after a break up i did watch the lotr trilogy two times in a row. told my friends and got a text from one of them asking if i was depressed 😭 like yes… temporarily alright)

send me a prompt/req + driver and i'll write something. pls check if my requests are open first 💖

[meazalykov]

life's better on saturn

ingrid engen x reader

part two - part one here

summary: she gave you a chance and it was all worth it

six months in, and things with ingrid feel like a dream you’re afraid to wake up from. 

every day, you wonder how you got so lucky. she’s everything you could’ve hoped for—kind, supportive, sweet, funny, and the way she looks at you makes your heart race no matter how many times it happens.

at barcelona, the two of you have fallen into an easy rhythm, balancing your professional lives with the personal one you’re building together. 

on the pitch, you’re teammates first, focused on the game and the goals ahead. but off it, in those quiet moments before and after training, you’re just y/n and ingrid, stealing glances, sharing secret smiles, and finding excuses to be close since ingrid isn’t afraid of it anymore.

one of your favorite things is when practice wraps up and the team heads to the locker room, and you and ingrid always end up next to each other. 

she’ll brush her fingers against yours, just a small, subtle touch, but it sends warmth through you every time. 

you catch her looking at you when she thinks you’re not paying attention, and you do the same—though you’re not as discreet about it.

sometimes, you catch the other girls watching, too, with knowing smiles, and it makes you laugh. you’re not exactly keeping your relationship a secret, but there’s something fun about the little moments of affection that only the two of you truly understand.

but then there was the injury. a bad tackle during a match left you with a sprained ankle, and while it wasn’t the worst injury you could’ve had, it was enough to keep you off the pitch for a few weeks.

you hated it—the sitting around, the physical therapy, the frustration of not being able to play. and the worst part? missing the international break. 

you were supposed to represent your country, and the disappointment was hard to swallow. but ingrid, as always, was there to support you. 

she never let you dwell too long in your frustration, always finding ways to cheer you up. she’d come over after training, bringing your favorite snacks, and you’d spend the evenings curled up on the couch, her arms around you, making you forget the pain, if only for a little while.

when it came time for her to leave for norway’s matches, you insisted on going with her. you weren’t going to sit at home while she was out there giving it her all. 

she tried to convince you to stay and rest, but you were stubborn, and in the end, she relented. you ended up on a plane with her, your crutches awkwardly stuffed into the overhead compartment.

watching her play was an experience in itself. you’d seen her on the pitch countless times, of course, but there was something different about being in the stands, surrounded by norwegian flags and fans, watching her represent her country. 

you never had an opportunity to watch another country play another, since you would be playing for yours at the same time. 

ingrid was brilliant, as always, commanding the back line with a grace and power that took your breath away. 

you couldn’t stop cheering, even when the pain in your ankle flared up from standing too long. when she assisted caroline’s goal, you were out of your seat, yelling her name, your voice lost in the roar of the crowd. 

when the match ended, you made your way down the stands to meet her. 

the moment she spotted you, her face lit up, and despite the sweat and exhaustion, she made a beeline for you, pulling you into a tight hug. the both of you ignoring the press and the cameras that were surely snapping away wondering why you were all the way in norway.

“you were incredible,” you whispered in her ear, holding her as tight as you could with one crutch tucked under your arm.

she smiled, pressing a light kiss to your forehead. “y/n i could hear you from the pitch, you know.”

“good. i wanted you to know i’m your biggest fan– and i have been your biggest fan for a while.”

then there was the moment that changed everything. it was a few days after the national break ended, and you were back at the training ground in barcelona, trying to ease back into your routine, though you were still sidelined from practice. 

you’d decided to take a break and headed to the lounge, hoping to find some company. what you didn’t expect was to find ingrid and fridolina deep in conversation.

you paused in the doorway, something in ingrid’s expression making you hesitate. you were about to turn back, give them their space, when you heard your name.

this moment gave you deja vu.

“i don’t know when it happened,” ingrid was saying, her voice soft, almost hesitant. “but i’m in love with her, frido. like, in love– with y/n.”

your heart stopped. you weren’t sure if you were dreaming, but you pinched yourself just in case. the shock of it held you still for a moment, and you heard fridolina’s voice next, full of warmth.

“i’m not surprised,” she said. 

“it’s obvious how much you care about her. and honestly, ingrid, it’s great to see you this happy. i’m glad you didn’t let the age thing bother you forever.”

you couldn’t just stand there any longer. before you could overthink it, you stepped into the room. “i love you too, you know.”

both heads turned toward you, ingrid’s eyes wide with surprise, fridolina grinning like she’d just won a bet.

ingrid blinked, clearly caught off guard. “y/n, i—how long were you standing there?”

you shrugged, trying to keep the mood light even though your heart was pounding. 

“long enough to hear the most amazing thing anyone’s ever said about me.”

she looked at you, her expression softening, and in that moment, all the nerves seemed to melt away. 

“you’re not just saying that because you overheard, right?”

you shook your head, taking a few steps closer until you were standing right in front of her. “i mean it, ingrid. i love you. i’ve loved you for a while now, and i’m not planning on stopping anytime soon.”

there was a moment of silence, and then she was pulling you into her arms, careful of your injury, holding you like she never wanted to let go. 

“i love you too,” she whispered, and the words felt like a promise, something solid and real that you could hold onto.

fridolina cleared her throat, and you both looked over to see her giving you a thumbs-up.

“about time,” she said with a teasing grin. 

“now, if you’ll excuse me, i’m going to leave you two lovebirds alone.”

once she was gone, ingrid pulled back just enough to look at you, her eyes shining with something you hadn’t seen before—a mix of relief, joy, and something deeper. 

“i can’t believe you heard that.”

“best thing i’ve ever overheard.” you laughed, leaning in to kiss her, slow and soft. 

she smiled against your lips, and when she pulled back, there was nothing but happiness in her eyes.

“i’m really glad you came to norway with me to meet my family,” she said, her voice tender. “it wouldn’t have been the same without you.”

“i wouldn’t have missed it for the world,” you replied, meaning every word. 

“and now that i’m stuck on the sidelines, you’re going to have to keep carrying the team until i’m back.”

“no pressure, then,” she teased, and you both laughed, the sound filling the room, light and full of the kind of love that only grows stronger with time.

my master list is here if you want to read more fics <3

[fallstaticexit]

Prev / Next / Beginning

TW: Internalized Homophobia / Transcript / AN under the cut

AN: Here we are, just one more post before we conclude part 1 of this bittersweet story. As I've mentioned before, this story consists of three parts- Part One - Youth | Part Two - Uni | Part Three - Wife.

Transcript

Nancy Narrates: [As a treat for the few students who stayed behind, the nuns took us into to the city to shop on Christmas Eve]

[It was the first time Vanessa and I spent alone time together since I started dating Geoffrey]

[I’ve never been happier]

Nancy: [blushes] What?

Vanessa: [whispers] Do you feel like we’re being watched?

Nancy: Oh, Sister Agnes? [gulps] She’s right behind me, isn’t she?

Vanessa: [laughs] I’m serious! Let’s ditch the group.

Nancy: And risk getting a mark? Or worse, sent back home?

Vanessa: [shudders] Having to spend the rest of the break with my father? No thanks. Guess I’ll behave myself- for now anyway.

Vanessa: Sooo, what did you get your boyfriend for Christmas? A thong? One of those string thingies for his glasses?

Nancy: [snorts] I got him a broach.

Vanessa: You’re fucking with me, right?

Nancy: What? It was really nice, and very expensive.

Vanessa: Sure, if he’s your grandfather, Nancy!

Nancy: [sheepishly] I don’t know what I’m doing. I’ve never had a boyfriend before. I don’t know if I’m even doing this right. Shouldn't it...feel like something?

Vanessa: What do you mean?

Nancy: Holding hands and kissing. I thought it was suppose to feel like fireworks, like everything is burning and achy. I only felt it once...the first time, at that party.

Vanessa: Oh.. [looks away] Maybe he just needs practice...

Nancy: Maybe... Vanessa, I wa-

Vanessa: Hey! Let’s get some hot cocoa!

Nancy Narrates: [I wish she knew how much I missed when it was just me and her]

[No matter what, she will always be the sun to me]

Vanessa: So, are you going to tell me what’s in those bags?

Nancy: Maybe you should Guess?

Vanessa: Very funny, Blondie. I thought we weren’t exchanging gifts?

Nancy: [pouts] Does that mean you didn’t get me anything?

Vanessa: That’s because we said we weren’t when we were shopping! I could have gotten you something!

Nancy: [chuckles] It’s ok! You really didn’t have to get me anything. I just wanted to get you something I think you’ll like alot.

Nancy: Ta-da! I wanted to officially welcome you into the League of Blondes.

Vanessa: [cackling] No fucking way! This is the best Christmas gift ever, are you kidding!! [digs through bag] What are the scissors for?

Nancy: I was hoping you’d cut my hair. We can both have a new look.

Vanessa: You’re full of surprises, Landgraab. Let’s do it!

Vanessa: You’re being sooo quiet but your thoughts are sooo loud. What are you thinking about right now?

Nancy: Sorry. It’s nothing...

Vanessa: Tell me. Please.

Nancy: No, it’s fine.

Vanessa: Come onnn, please?

Nancy: What happened with Angela?

Vanessa: [huffs] Ah. I was wondering when you’d ask about that.

Nancy: Then why didn’t you just tell me about her?

Vanessa: There’s nothing to talk about. Pretty sure you heard the story.

Nancy: Sure, from everyone else but not from you. I want to hear your side.

Vanessa: [sighs] My side. We were best friends. We did everything together. I loved her a lot. All eyes were on us... so, I guess that’s how everyone noticed how close we were. People were saying things about us, and I was scared my father would find out and think I was like that. So, I turned on her. I called her names. I shunned her. I ruined her life...

Vanessa: It got so bad that she left the school. I never heard from her again. [voice cracks] You have to understand... if my father thought I liked girls, he would kill me. I could never let anyone think I’m like that! I’d rather they all thought I slept around with all the boys in school than think that. I had to do it...

Nancy: Do you?

Vanessa: [sobs] W-what?

Nancy Narrates: [My heart was racing. It just slipped out. And then I said it again, and that time, it felt like I was asking myself]

Nancy: Do you like girls?

Vanessa: [whimpers] I...no!! I’m not...I’m not a lesbian! I swear, Nancy! Please, believe me.

Nancy Narrates: [All that time...I had thought I was the one terrified of what it meant to love her. She was terrified of loving me too]

[This is what kissing should feel like]

Vanessa: [softly] Will you stay in my room tonight?

Nancy: Yes.

Nancy Narrates: [I had so many questions I wanted to ask her. So many things about myself I wanted to share, but there was one thing I wanted more]

[forever-rogue]

hello, lovely! i've been re-reading your works like CRAZY, you're so talented! 🩷 can i pretty please request for a friends-to-lovers one with eddie where the reader's ex suddenly comes back to her life and tries to win her back, and eddie realizes his feelings for the reader? i LIVE for jealous!eddie too sksksks thank you! 🩷

AN | Nothing good happens when the ex comes to town, right? 🥰

Warnings | Language

Pairing | Modern!Eddie x Fem!Reader

Word Count | 2.5k

Masterlist | Main, Eddie 

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“Guess what,” you walked into Eddie’s cozy coffee shop, waving at a few regulars as you made your way over to the counter. He stopped what he was doing and looked at you with expectant eyes, a lazy little half smile on his features, “hiya!”

“Hi sweetheart,” he leaned onto the counter, resting his chin in his hands as he looked at you gently, “lemme guess…chicken butt?”

“Very funny,” you leaned in and kissed his cheek before you reached over and helped yourself to one of his brownies. He always saved at least one for you, which was something that always made you feel warm and fuzzy inside, “but no.”

“Do tell then,” he grinned as he turned back to the espresso maker, “gingerbread flat white?”

“Ooh, yes please,” you watched him work in awe before he came back over to you, setting the cup carefully in front of you, “no, the exciting thing that happened to me was that I saw August today!”

Eddie’s face dropped immediately as his jaw clenched, “August.”

“Yes!” you looked happy and somehow that made his stomach churn, “he came into the office today to consult with one of the designers and I saw him when I was leaving! He had no clue I worked there and I had no clue he was there.”

“Your ex,” he pointed out as you lifted up the cup and started to drink the delicious latte, “August, your ex.”

“Yes,” you raised an eyebrow before sighing lightly, “we’re still…well I wouldn’t say friends. But we needed things amicably if you don’t remember.”

“You cried over him for weeks,” he almost shouted but quickly dropped his voice as he narrowed his eyes, “he broke your heart!”

“Yes, he broke up with me, but it wasn’t over anything bad,” you cringed when you remembered that you really had been upset when August had broken up with you, “we just weren’t good together. That’s all.”

“I never liked him,” that was the understatement of the century. Eddie didn’t just dislike August, he hated and loathed him entirely. You’d broken your heart and Eddie couldn’t stand that. Just like he hated the face that he was dating you in the first place. Eddie had been in love with you for as long as he could remember. Probably since the day he’d met you over ten years ago, “he’s always been a little bit…scrungly.”

“Scrungly?” you repeated, almost choking on the coffee in between your giggles, “what does that even mean?” 

“I don’t know, just like scrungly,” he flailed his arms dramatic, “either way I don’t like him.”

“I’m well aware, Edward,” you reached over and gave his hand a squeeze, “but it is what it is…and we’re going hang out and go bowling soon.”

“You’re what?” he looked like he was going to explode and you couldn’t help but laugh nervously. You’d always wondered why he didn’t like August but he never really had a solid reason. You figured it was just some weird guy thing, “why are you hanging out with him?!”

“Because he asked if I wanted to hang out and there’s no reason not to,” you straightened up and grabbed your coffee, “look, Eddie, I know you mean well, but you don’t have to worry. It’ll be fine. I’ll be fine. We’re just going to hang out once and if it’s completely terrible I never have to see him again, and if it goes well maybe we can be friends. Okay?”

“Yeah,” he lied right through his teeth, “okay.”

“I’ve gotta go,” you took a step back and offered him a small smile, “see you tomorrow for movie and pizza night?”

“Of course,” like he would miss a chance to spend time with you, “love you.”

“Love you too, Eddie,” you promised. If only he knew how very much, “thanks for the coffee.”

“Anytime.”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“Hey!” you looked up from your phone when you heard the sound of August’s cheery voice. Tucking your phone into your pocket, you walked over and met him halfway to say hello. He pulled you in for a friendly hug, “you look great. It’s good to see you again. Really good.”

“It’s good to see you too Auggie,” you felt your face warm up but decided to ignore it as you walked up towards the bowling alley. You reminded yourself that this was a friendly outing and not a date, “I can’t believe you’re back in Indy now.”

“I can’t believe you work as an interior designer,” he held the door open and you were immediately overwhelmed by the sounds of people bowling, talking, and laughing. You looked at him with a shy smile and shrugged. It hadn’t been a career you would have thought of either, but Eddie had nudged in the direction after you’d helped him design his cafe. Besides becoming friends with Eddie, it was one of the best designs you’d ever made.

“It just sort of happened but I love it,” you walked towards the counter to get your shoes and a lane, “you remember Eddie, right? He helped me get there, he was a huge supporter.”

You both gave your shoe sizes to the bored looking clerk and when he told you the price for everything, you moved to reach for your wallet but August gently pushed your hand away, “I’ve got this.”

“Okay,” you gave him a starry eyed smile as he grabbed both pairs of shoes and started to head towards the lane that was now reserved for you. The bowling alley always had a very distinct smell but it was so nostalgic to be there, “I haven’t been bowling in forever. This was a good idea! I think the last time I went was a couple of years ago with Eddie.”

“Eddie,” you couldn’t quite tell what he was thinking from the tone in his voice, “you’re still friends with him?”

“Of course,” you finished pulling on your shoes and looked at him curiously, “he’s my best friend.”

“He’s in love with you,” okay. That was definitely annoyance in his voice and you had no clue why, “I’ll be honest with you, it was one of the reasons we broke up in the first place. Sometimes it felt like you were dating him, not me.”

“I…he’s not in love with me,” your mind was reeling at what he had said and you couldn’t help but wonder - what if? What if Eddie really was in love with you? No…you weren’t even going to bother to entertain that thought, “you broke up with me because of Eddie?”

“It wasn’t entirely him,” he dropped his voice and looked at you sweetly, “but people change and grow, you know? You never know what could happen.”

There was definitely a suggestive tone to his voice that was not lost on you. You only managed a small smile in return before clambering nervously to pick up your bowling ball. You felt his fingers brush along your back as you moved, causing goosebumps to erupt all over your skin. 

“You never know,” you agreed nervously, voice almost a squeak as you went to take your first shot. That did have you thinking though - would you want to get back together with him? You had never really thought about it…but the idea wasn’t all that bad either. It wasn’t like people were lining up out the door to ask you out…sometimes you had to take what you could get. 

A part of you was excited by the prospect - he was a good looking, nice guy that you did love once upon a time. On the other hand, you didn’t want to open that can of worms and let anything happen that could end with another broken heart. Plus there was the issue of Eddie. Realistically it was a non-issue. But you knew that your heart would always long for and yearn for Eddie. You loved him, you’d known that for a long time, but you always knew that nothing would ever happen or change between the two of you.

August continued to be friendly enough and you didn’t think anything of it, but as the night progressed, you could tell that things had changed. You hadn’t done anything, not to your knowledge anyway, to act flirty or make it seem like you wanted anything but friendship with him. It was his comments about Eddie that had you experiencing a feeling of unease. The way he’d talked about him just didn’t sit right with you.

By the time the two of you felt the bowling alley and parted with August pressing a kiss to your cheek, you’d realized that this definitely had been a date. 

Fuck. You really hadn’t expected this to happen. 

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Ever since the night you’d gone out with August, Eddie was behaving oddly towards you. You couldn’t quite place it but you hated the idea that he was any bit mad or annoyed with you. 

You’d been texting with August back and forth, and you were both following each other again on social media. You’d made plans for a casual lunch date soon; it was since Eddie had learned about your second outing that he’d been acting weird. You were pretty sure that he was just downright ignoring you. But you weren’t about to let that stop you from being his friend. 

“Hey there,” you walked into the shop when you knew it would be slow and he’d be there. You were almost positive that he’d been avoiding you and had his employees cover for him when you came to the shop. Eddie’s face paled as soon as he saw you, but he still managed a tight lipped smile, “everything alright, Eddie? I feel you’ve been…avoiding me.”

“I haven’t been…I’ve just been busy,” he shrugged noncommittally as he went back to scrub at the counter, “that’s all.”

“You’ve always been a horrible liar, Edward,” you walked up to the counter and offered him what you hoped was a reassuring smile, “did I do something wrong?”

“I…no. You didn’t,” he still wouldn’t meet your eyes but pushed a muffin towards you. Of course he still would save your favorite for you, “it’s nothing.”

“Funny,” you willed him to look at you but the boy still refused, “it doesn’t feel like it. Ever since I hung out with August you’ve been…weird.”

"You don't get it, do you?" He sighed in frustration, tossing his rag to the side and waving his hands around dramatically as you looked at him in confusion. He inhaled and exhaled deeply before brushing his wild curls out of his face, "I want you. I want to date you. I'm in love with you."

"Oh," it came out more as a small squeak than anything as you looked at him to make sure you'd heard him correctly. Eddie looked close to tears as he waited for some kind of response from you. You pointed at yourself before whispering, "me?"

"Yes," he nodded seriously, "you. I'm sorry if that's not what you wanted to hear but it's the truth. And I just wanted to get it out there."

"Oh," this time realization set in. Eddie Munson was in love with you. Not some other girl like you'd always assumed, "you're in love with me."

"Yes. Yes," he felt so nervous he was surprised he didn't just barf then and there, "listen-"

"I'm in love with you too,” your voice was quiet and shaky, but Eddie heard you loud and clear. When he didn’t say anything at first, you completely freaked out and ran through the back of the cafe and into the chilly evening. He followed after you immediately and didn’t stop still he caught up. 

He perked up and looked at you from under his lashes, studying your face to make sure he’d heard you correctly. You offered a small, shy smile along with a shrug, “I’m…nervous. I dunno, I kind of always thought you knew but you never said because you didn’t want to hurt my feelings or let me down.”

“I - ugh, what…I’m - sweetheart,” the nickname sounded so sugary sweet now that you knew the true intentions behind it, “if I had any clue that you felt the same way, I would have said something long ago. I should have just done that anyway.”

“Oh,” your cheeks warmed up, a combination of nerves and the chilly of the winter air as you looked at the pretty boy. You were stopped from saying anything else as big, flat snowflakes starting coming down on the two of you. A grin spread across your face as you held up your hand to catch a few flakes in your hand, “it’s snowing.”

Eddie watched you in awe, enamored by every little bit of you. He reached over and put his hand on your face, brushing his thumb over your cheek. Your breath hitched in your throat as you look at him expectantly. You knew what was coming but at the same time you didn’t want to assume anything, “I really want to kiss you.”

“I really want you to kiss me too,” you grinned as you leaned in closer, meeting him halfway until your lips met his. It was a sweet, slow thing, tender but hungry at the same time. Both of you had been wanting this for way too long, and now your dreams were finally coming true.

A first kiss in the middle of the first snow of the season. How could it get any more perfect? 

Eddie took your face in his hands, and peppered your face in kisses, which only caused you to giggle, “c’mon pretty girl. Let’s get inside and get some hot chocolate.”

“That sounds perfect,” you reached for his hand and laced your fingers together and pulled him back towards the cafe, “c’mon handsome.”

“But first promise me one thing,” he stopped you nervously as you raised an eyebrow at him, “promise me you won’t see him again. He’s the worst.”

“I promise,” you definitely weren’t planning on ever seeing him again, “it’s only you for me, Eddie.”

“Yeah,” he agreed softly, “you’re it for me too, sweetheart. Only you.”

[foreingersgod]

Caitlin Clark x gf reader, the reader gets a nightmare while sleeping in bed with CC and feels bad for waking her up??

Nightmares . CC

pairing: caitlin clark x reader

synopsis: you have a bad nightmare and it wakes caitlin up.

༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶

the sheets of your bed felt stiff and cold as you rolled around, mind wandering subconsciously. your skin was damp with hot sweat and your muscles tensed with terror. your limbs jerked slightly in your sleep, sending small shakes into the mattress.

you had always had bad nightmare since you were a kid. at the age of 10, you were in a pretty bad car accident that left you severely traumatized. dreams that were once filled with little kid wonders were now haunted with the extreme horror of loss. sometimes you would dream of your family going missing, one of your friends getting hurt, so many horrible things. you’d wake up the next morning completely shaken and exhausted from the lack of actual sleep. as you approached your late teens, your parents got you onto a strong sleep medication that had kept your nightmares at bay. while it didn’t completely eradicate them, they were at least more bearable.

when you had started dating your girlfriend, caitlin, you failed to mention anything about the nightmares or the medication. mainly because the conversation never came up…but also because you purposely chose not to tell her. you had never told anyone anything so vulnerable before and the idea scared you. you worried that it might make her think differently of you or judge you. so you kept it to yourself, making up excuses as to why you could rarely stay overnight at her place or vise versa. there were occasions, though, that you’d spend the night together. you were always extra careful those nights whether that meant taking your medication before bed or lying awake restlessly most of the night.

but as of last week, you two were officially moved in together. after quite some time together and a lot of intense discussions, you both decided that you wanted nothing more than to live together. and it was true, you really did want to live with her. she’s the love of your life and you couldn’t wait to share the same bed permanently. but of course, that meant you couldn’t hide the nightmares for much longer. the first few nights you were doing fine. the nightmares were small and unnoticeable, at least to caitlin because she had yet to say anything.

until tonight, unfortunately. you knew from the second you laid down in bed that it was going to be a rough night. the moment you pulled the thick duvet over your bodies, feeling caitlin’s arm pull you into her chest, you could practically sense it. so now here you were, asleep, thrashing left and right trying to shake them away.

unbeknownst to you, the slight kicks of your arms and legs began to wake caitlin up. at some point in the night she got a harsh jab to the ribs and jolted awake, worried that something had happened to you. her eyes slowly opened, blinking to try and fight the remnants of sleep way. she looked over to where your tense body lay and instantly became panicked.

you were mumbling something incoherent in your sleep. your body was trembling, the pillow your head rested against was drenched in sweat as well her tshirt you wore. it seemed as if there were tears streaming down the corners of your eyes, though they were squeezed shut in fear.

“no, no-please!” you cried unconsciously “cait-caitlin! please!”

your chest began to heave, breathe quickening at an alarming rate. caitlin, hearing her name, knew you were having a nightmare. but you had seemed so terrified that she couldn’t help but lose her composure. she hated seeing you so upset (whether you were asleep or not) and she’d never see you this distressed.

another whimper struck, making her heart ache for you “don’t leave me! no-please please caitlin no!”

she sat up so quick that the sheets fell off of her body and into her lap. her body maneuvered to hover over yours slightly, hands coming up to your shoulder to shake you lightly. you continued to tremor in your sleep, her hands now adding more force to your arm.

“baby-” she whispered-shouted into the quiet bedroom “YN, baby, wake up”

with a few more shakes, you gasped deeply, eyes opening widely. you looked around the room confused and scared. you then felt caitlin’s arms pull you closer to her, your hips touching and her hand running through your messy hair soothingly.

“hey hey, relax” she cooed, trying to help you control your breathing “you’re ok, you’re ok. i’m right here, alright?”

a deep gulp sounded from your throat as you tried to take full breathes, your arms finding their own way around caitlin’s waist. she held you tightly, running your back and kissing the top of your head to keep you calm.

“i had a really bad nightmare,” you spoke, voice shaken from tears “i-i dreamt that you were leaving me a-and i just couldn’t bare it, cait”

“i would never, never ever leave you, baby. i’m right here, i’m not going anywhere”

“i’m sorry” her arms fell down to the bed as you pulled away to look her in the eyes.

“for what? YN you did nothing wrong-”

“i’m sorry because i woke you up” shaking your head no, you kindly interrupted her “and because i never told you about the nightmares in the first place”

she looked at you quizzically, brows furrowed in concentration.

“you know the accident i was in when i was little, the one i told you about?” she nodded “it gave me some really bad trauma and really bad nightmares and now i have to take medication to sleep. i should’ve told you about it when i first told you about the accident, i’m sorry for keeping it from you”

“baby, don’t feel bad about something like that” she traced gentle markings into your bare thigh, a mindless habit she’s picked up “that’s something personal and scary to share, i don’t blame you at all. whatever you’re comfortable with sharing with me…just know that i’m grateful you do share things with me and that i’m always here for you. even with the nightmares, i’m gonna be here for you every night and i’ll do what i can, ok?”

your heart fluttered. it was so relieving to get that off your chest, to hear her vocalized support and know that it didn’t scare her off.

“i love you so much, you know that?” you wiped away the excess tears that sat underneath your bottom eyelashes, you leaned in to kiss her goodnight.

“i love you, too, thank you for trusting me with something so delicate. you deserve the absolute world” and with that, you just smiled, kissing her once more.

the both of you laid back down, sheets finding their way back over your figures. she spooned you from behind, encapsulating you in her grasp. you nuzzled in close to her as tight as you coulda and let a satisfied sigh fall from your lips as you fell into a peaceful slumber.

[yuri-is-online]

Can we hear your thoughts on Leona! Yutu?

Since Leona died fighting the Phantom, Yutu obviously wouldn't have met him, and I'm wondering about your ideas between what Leona became after NRC, how the loss of Yuu affected him, Leona's death, and Yutu's opinion of him before and after meeting him. I had an errant idea of Leona having Died a Hero's Death and then when Yutu meets him it's like, "THIS is the guy my parent was willing to spend the rest of their life with???"

Anyway yeah. As a Leona Simp, I would much appreciate anything you write.

Does he like cats... you know I have always sort of seen Leona has having a petty rivalry with Grim because he thinks he should be the King Cat, so the image of Leona! Yutu lying in a field with a bunch of cats is sort of a perfect contrast. I like it: Leona! Yutu absolutely loves cats and they love him.

notes: they/them used for Yuu, for context on the fyuuture kid au can be found here and here. You can find even more stuff for it on my masterlist under the series section.

Leona and and his position in the kingdom's line of succession... Based off my understanding of what we see in the Tashmina event I think the Savanna would prioritize protecting their royal family over a lot, something that pissed Leona off. He went to fight the King of Beast's phantom because he saw it as a problem he made and that he needed to take responsibility for sure, but also because he had no faith in his brother to do anything meaningful about it. I want to say that his brother wanted to enshrine Leona as a hero for his sacrifice, but that this decision was very unpopular with his advisors so he was buried in the Elephant Graveyard without much fanfare. He is an extremely popular figure with the hyenas, as is Ruggie. They see him as restoring the Kingdom's honor in a way by defeating the false king, something no other country in the apocalypse can claim, but things are still rough since they can't rely on tourism anymore and the blot has been making the weather really unpredictable, leading to bad harvests and starving people.

If Yuu was Leona's... losing them wouldn't have a noticeable affect on him but it was a massively crushing blow. We know he hates his unique magic because turning things to sand is a curse in the Savanna, but did it really have to be his own family this time? The family he got in spite of himself, the one fucking person who chose him no matter how much he snapped at them and tried to convince them to see him for what he was; a worthless dead end that would only hurt them. And what's worse is he knows that whoever took them had his brother's cooperation.

"Couldn't let me have this one fucking thing could you?" He's laughing as he says it and not even the irritation in his sister in law's eyes makes him back down. "Stuff it. I ain't stupid enough for whatever line you got fed and I don't care about your justifications. You're gonna have to live with this one on your own, Falena. Just like I have to."

He refuses to talk to his other family after that. No matter who is asking or making demands, taking Yuu and Yutu away from him is just one step too far. His brother probably thought that Yuu would be allowed to come home and that's why he let them go, but that's not exactly an excuse Leona would be willing to accept from anyone, let alone the supposed leader of a state. He almost feels relived when the blot phantoms start wreaking things, Leona might just want to sleep until you come to wake him up again but fighting things gives him an excuse to get his mind off things. Dying is a relief, he doesn't have to deal with Idia's whining or living without you any longer than he already has. His only regret is that he had to take Ruggie with him.

I really love this fanart and head cannon fima11 had of Leona's hair being light when he was born, and the color getting darker as he grows, so the idea of something similar happening with Leona! Yutu when he's born is really sweet. Leona's hair sort of resembles a mane, it'd be cute if Leona! Yutu's did the same. And genetics are already so weird I don't think any earth doctors would like too much of it.

Leona! Yutu is a sleepy boy. His hobby is napping and his favorite place in the whole wide world is his bed. He has a bad habit of laying face first in his pillows because he snores pretty loudly and he doesn't want to wake anyone up, which sort of makes him look like he has passed out as opposed to just settled down for a good snooze.

Because he is being raised by a single parent in the human world and not a bunch of gossipy servants hired by emotionally neglectful royalty, Yutu is significantly less entitled than Leona is. He has good sense with his money and can work hard, he just has a bit of a problem with resting bitch face that leaves people thinking he is rude. And to be fair? If someone is testing his patience then he really can be. Apple didn't fall far from the tree, Yutu is absolutely brutal when people test his patience.

Yuu's memories of Leona don't exactly help with his perceived behavior problems, they recall Leona's catty personality and how rude he could be, but that he was so remarkably clever and so very strong, that they were in awe of him sometimes. I think they would mention that he struggled with depression due to a difficult upbringing and feel a need to make sure Yutu felt appreciated and like he could do anything he set his mind to, no matter who he was born as. Yutu just takes that to mean that being a bitch runs in the family and he fully intends to ride that excuse to the bank.

It's a nice thought but Yutu feels a bit conflicted by it. He has no doubt that Yuu will always love and support him, but other people? Yuu might be able to ignore what their neighbors say about them but Yutu can hear them loud and clear. They think Yuu's amnesia is an act, and that he's a weirdo freak. Not to mention they don't have any money so even if he wanted to be a doctor or something like that going to school would be a bit of a pain, even with his grades. He finds school to be boring, and even when he gets bullied by one of the coaches in to taking up a sport because of how strong he is it doesn't help much.

I could see him being very into space and astronomy because he feels like he doesn't belong in your world. He knows a lot of downright stupid stuff about UFO sightings and aliens even though he doesn't believe in them. He is SO DISAPPOINTED when Twisted Wonderland turns out to have no conspiracy theories to talk about, can't think the moon landing was faked if you never had one after all. If the world wasn't literally ending he would be pushing for the Sunset Savanna to win the space race, c'mon guys it is in our name everything the light touches totally expands to the stars-

Like the other beastmen Yutus he maintains his instincts, even in your world. He is extremely territorial about his things and especially your home. Like Cater! Yutu, he has strong feelings of nostalgia for your world, but unlike him it has nothing to do with the monsters or hardships. Lions just tend to stay in the same place for a long time so moving to entirely different world and ecosystem makes him feel weird, even if he prefers his beastfolk body to his human one.

Gets put in Savanaclaw by the mirror. He might like space but his preferred type of argument is rearranging someone's dental work before asking them to explain themselves. He'd be terrible at defending a thesis.

Leona! Yutu's place in the Sunset Savanna hierarchy is tricky. I think, as Yutu is his brother's child, Falena would want some sort of relationship with him as he does clearly love his brother. What makes that hard is that as far as the government is concerned, Leona is dead and that's the end of his part of the family line. Acknowledging that he had a son could further destabilize the already tense political situation in the Savanna since Leona's sacrifice is already a point of conflict between the royal family and a portion of their people. While Crewel has no problem telling Yutu about his father since he has a right to know, the fact that he is technically a prince is completely hidden from him for a long time.

We haven't really played with this idea yet, but I sort of like Leona having a ghost that hangs around his grave sometimes. Idia arranges for Yutu to go there on a day he thinks he'll be hanging around and while Yutu doesn't get to talk to his father he does get to see him and the look of pride in his eyes when the grumpy lion realizes who he is. Leona gets to pass on and be with Yuu while Yutu gets a lesson from his cousin about the concept of the great Kings living on in the sky and how the past lives on in him. Because while Cheka understand his dad's concerns like hell is he not going to meet his favorite cousin. His enthusiasm is really exhausting to Yutu, he appreciates the fact that someone has nice things to say about his dad but he isn't too sure how much he trusts this guy.

Oh right one more thing, I don't want to say each of the Savanaclaw boys would pass their magic on to their Yutu's so if we ever get around to Jack he won't, but Leona should pass on King's Roar to his kid. Causing a drought might be considered a curse but I want to say Leona! Yutu wears it with pride. He loves his roar and that despite all the effort put in to erasing Leona from existence he still lives in him. His head is fit to wear the crown, no matter what anyone says.

Leona clocks what Yutu is the instant he steps out of the portal. It's all in the kid's scent and what runes he used to make the jump. He takes some time to think about what it could mean and comes to a few conclusions. Firstly, if he has a kid with you then he will always have some sort of relationship with you, no not in the yandere possessive way (mostly), he just knows enough about himself and his wants to know that having a kid would not be something he did by accident. If he did that at some point in the future it would be because you were going to stay with him forever and he actually believed that. Something that clearly did not get to happen because of how protective Yutu is of his parent.

Yutu was a bit confused if he should go about interacting with his dad or even ask about him so you can imagine his surprise when he stops by Ramshackle to see Leona half asleep on the couch.

"Oh sorry Yuu isn't here-"

"I know." Leona doesn't even open his eyes, and is he seriously wearing his shoes on the couch? Yuu would kill him for that it's so unsanitary.

"Um. Ok I'll just leave you be the-"

"Why'd you travel back in time?" Oh Leona's eyes are open now and there is something about that stare that's nailing Yutu to his spot and tempting his tail between his legs. His dad must notice because he laughs and shakes his head. "Seriously? If that's all it takes to scare you shitless we really are fucked."

Leona doesn't outright say he knows he's his dad, but Yutu gathers that's probably the case from the difference in his attitude around him compared to everyone else. There's a degree of coldness and severity to Leona when he's giving orders that really isn't present when he's talking to him about overblots or his theories about who is responsible for the bad future. He's almost playful about it, like he is messing with a cub. Which Yutu supposes that he is but still, he doesn't like being treated like a kid. Something he very much regrets telling Leona because holy shit his dad is strong just like Yuu said he was.

I think Leona would make him play chess against him a lot. You can learn a lot about a person by playing chess with them, and since it's something Leona really likes to do he would enjoy sharing it with his son. I think he would also get a kick out of seeing Yutu get really competitive with him about it. Maybe there is some lion in this kid after all.

Leona also makes a subtle effort to teach him about how the court of the Sunset Savanna works. I think Leona would sort of enjoy the fact that his kid didn't grow up as royalty just because it meant he was free of the pressures that he had, but hate everything else he learned about Yutu's childhood. It inspires him to think a bit deeper about how he is going to address this when Yutu is born in this timeline, though he is admittedly lacking on solutions beyond refusing to die this time. He must have been really far gone to even consider making a heroic sacrifice that's not like him at all.

He does get the appeal of his father sort of? Sure he's lazy, but he is extremely intelligent and clearly a lot more knowledgeable about literally everything than Yutu thought he was. When they're working together he sees a very impressive person and reliable leader. When he sees Leona interact with you he has questions. Why do you let him pick fights with you so often? Yutu can tell he's making heart eyes at how you fight back but that's because he's a beatman himself so he can read his body language. And he's not crazy about how he orders you around because if his father is a Prince... wouldn't that mean by marrying him you would also be royalty? He is so confused...

Meanwhile Leona isn't rushing things just because he knows you return his feelings at some point. He wants you to choose to be with him of your own free will, wants the feeling that comes with knowing you did that and he is willing to play the game to get that. Every milestone he reaches is so much sweeter for knowing that he got you on his efforts alone, crappy attitude and all.

The reveal to Yuu, much like the reveal to Yutu is extremely mundane. Leona invites you to spend the night with him sometime after you get together and he asks you while you're curled up on his chest and he's holding you just a bit too tight (not because he's afraid you'll run, not at all) how you would feel if you could never go home.

"A little upset." Because you had resigned yourself to the possibility a long time ago now. There's a chance you're only in Twisted Wonderland because you died in your world anyway, might as well be grateful you're still kicking. "And if you stayed and things went bad here, would you still be alright with that?" You don't hesitate at all to his surprise. "I think I'd be safe if I was with you." Well he really hates to prove you wrong but you still deserve to know.

Leona is weirdly quiet in his anger. He roars sure, but that's to exert control. When he's mad he just gets smug and says a lot of hurtful stuff. He leaves the screaming to Yuu, and I could see a Yuu that got with Leona only to learn they didn't get to spend the rest of their life with him doing a lot of screaming. Preventing the apocalypse is a team effort now but first Yutu and Leona are getting scolded for not letting Yuu in on the secret sooner. Leona is down bad horrendous and Yutu wants to die, he hates making you mad.

If I had to make a list of characters I would trust to find a solution to an apocalypse, Leona would actually be pretty close to the top. He is going to bitch about it the entire way, but if he were given the facts before things went too sideways, I think he would be able to make a good plan to set them straight. And there is no way anyone is going to tell him that he managed to have something as precious to him as Yuu taken away from him and not have him do something about it. He'll swallow his pride and take his licks when he has to, but not on this. Never on this, whoever thought he'd just roll over and die is going to shatter in his hands and be like dust on the wind. He really hopes they have enough sense to be prepared....

[hungermakesmonsters]

(Once Bitten) Twice Shy

Chapter Eight

Plot summary : Desperate to get away from your controlling family, you take a job in New York as a wealthy vampire's blood source. A million dollars awaits if you can make it through a year, but life with Billy Russo is not going to be as simple as you think.

Pairing : Billy Russo x Reader

Story Rating : R  Chapter Rating : R

Warnings : [This is a fic for 18+ only, minors DNI] Mention of periods (don't worry, we're not doing Saltburn), smutty behaviour, use of toys. More sickening cuteness. All chapters will contain mentions of blood. Please check the warnings on each chapter if you choose to follow this story. 

Word Count : 5k

A/N : It's not exactly a cliffhanger but I get the feeling people won't like where it ends... Oh also spoilers for Jane Eyre (but it's 170 years old so I'm assuming people know the twist?)

CHAPTER ONE | CHAPTER TWO | CHAPTER THREE | CHAPTER FOUR | CHAPTER FIVE | CHAPTER SIX | CHAPTER SEVEN

MASTER LIST

Chapter Eight

The gentle touch of his fingers on your cheek woke you and, for a few seconds, you weren’t sure where you were. Billy was crouched in front of you, smiling softly. Your eyes threatened to close again, feeling exhausted and like all of it was just a dream.

“Hey,” he muttered softly, his fingers still tenderly caressing your cheek. “Are you okay?”

Finally, you managed to wake yourself up enough to realise that you weren’t dreaming, and that you’d fallen asleep on the sofa beneath the yellow blanket Billy had bought for you.

“I’m fine, just tired,” you told him, slowly sitting up.

Billy remained crouched in front of you, tenderly cupping your cheek and looking almost concerned.

“Did you draw too much blood again?”

“No, it's not that. I did that hours ago. I'm just really tired.”

“Just tired?” He pressed the back of his cold hand to your forehead, checking your temperature.

“And my head hurts a little.”

“When is, uh -” he hesitated, almost looking uncharacteristically embarrassed, “- when is your next period due?”

Your cheeks warmed with both the realisation and the fact that Billy had figured it out before you. That was why you felt so awful. “Soon, I think? I-I lost track of the days after I moved in,” you explained, “and I've never been very, uh… regular…”

Thankfully, Billy just nodded and sat himself beside you, an arm around you pulling you into his side.

“Do you need to go lay down?”

“No I - I want to spend time with you,” you told him, resting your head on his shoulder. “We didn't really get to finish talking last night…”

“Was there something else you wanted to say or ask?” Billy asked softly, shifting a little so you could get comfortable against him. 

You stayed silent for a few moments, thinking over all of the things you wanted to ask, wondering what you had the right to ask. “What causes it? What makes you feel like everything is... too much? I’ve only ever seen a vampire lose control from hunger...”

“Sometimes it’s hunger,” he offered reluctantly, “other times it’s just... I don’t know. Even before I was turned, I was never any good at controlling my emotions. And, now, I feel like I’m constantly fighting myself. When I’m with you, I feel like I’m drowning. Everything about you; your scent, the taste of your blood, the way your heart races... it’s a lot to try and ignore.”

Although the words were spoken to you, about you, you knew better than to read too much into them. It was the constant proximity, he probably felt that way around any human after enough time. It wasn’t because he felt anything for you.

“That sounds exhausting.” 

“It is,” he admitted, waiting for a beat before asking; “why did you apologise? I lost control but you apologised.”

“Because I -” you stopped yourself before the lie managed to leave your lips. It hadn’t been your fault, as difficult as it was for you to accept that fact, you knew it was true. “Because I’ve always been made to feel like it’s my fault when bad things happen to me. The night we met, you asked me what I was running from, and that’s part of it; I was raised to feel ashamed and believe I deserved everything bad that happened to me.”

You heard him inhale sharply before he pressed a kiss to the top of your head. He was silent a moment before speaking again.

“Who left you?” He asked softly. You lifted your head, frowning. “Last night when you asked why I was leaving you it just… you sounded hurt, like someone had left you before…”

“My sister,” you answered, “she left home when she was eighteen and my parents disowned her because of it. She said she'd come back for me, but she never did.”

“Why did she leave?”

“My parents wanted her to marry a guy she didn’t want to marry.”

“Is that why you left?” He asked and immediately seemed to regret it when your gaze dropped. “Sorry, you don’t have to answer that.”

A moment later, you snuggled back into his side and closed your eyes. “How long until you have to go to work?”

“I can stay another twenty minutes,” he told you softly, slipping his arm around you. He was silent for a few minutes, before letting out a slow exhale. “I’m not going to be able to see you for a few days, it’s not safe for me to be around you while you’re...”

He didn’t have to say it for you to understand and, as much as you wanted to argue with him, you knew it wouldn’t be fair to try and force the issue. Now that you had some idea of how he felt and how much of a struggle it was for him to be around you sometimes, you knew Billy needed space.

“It’s okay, I understand.”

You stayed that way for another twenty-five minutes until you gently reminded Billy that he was going to be late for work. He didn’t seem to want to leave you and it made your heart ache to think about why that might be. Though, rationally, you understood that it wasn’t you; he was just tired. You were finally starting to understand just how difficult and exhausting it was for him just to get through a day.

He gave you a soft kiss and told you that he’d see you again soon.

The next morning when you woke up cramping and feeling terrible, until you found that he’d left a gift basket in your kitchen, filled with things you might need over the coming days; painkillers, chocolates, a new smart-watch with a cycle tracking app, a heating-pad, various toiletries and a large teddy bear with a note pinned to his chest.

I thought you and Bill the Beagle might want some company.

Take care of yourself. I’ll see you soon.

B.

Butterflies filled your stomach at the thoughtfulness of the gifts and, later that afternoon, when you left blood for him, you couldn’t resist leaving him a note of your own.

Thank you for your considerate gifts. William the Bear is a wonderful addition to my growing stuffie collection and the chocolates were lovely. Hope you have a good night at work.

xoxo

The next day you felt even worse but, again, you were pleasantly surprised when you managed to drag yourself to the kitchen to get breakfast and some coffee. There was another box of chocolates and another note waiting for you.

William is a terrible name for a bear. I didn’t expect you to get through the chocolates so quickly, remind me to stock up next month. I hope you’ve not been watching Black Sails without me.

Take care

B.

And, of course - of course - you had to reply, leaving your note with his blood again.

I happen to like the name William. I think it suits him. He looks like a William. I hope you’re not trying to shame me for enjoying the chocolates, truffles and caramels are my weakness. Don’t worry, I’ve not been watching anything without you, I’ve been reading. You were right, Jane Eyre was a very apt choice.

xoxo

His notes became your reason to get up in the morning, though they were a bittersweet reminder of his noticeable absence in your life. It filled you with a strange yearning and an uncomfortable sadness to think about him out there on his own. But that was a silly thought. You didn’t know anything about his life outside of the penthouse, about his work or his friends, maybe he wasn’t even noticing your absence.

(Or maybe he felt it just as much as you did.)

Okay, I have to ask; what does a William look like? Of course I’d never shame you for enjoying the chocolates, but now you’ve told me your weakness I might have to use it to my advantage. I hope you’re enjoying Jane Eyre more than you enjoyed Dorian Gray.

I hope you’re not feeling too bad. I miss our talks.

B.

Your heart stuttered as you read and reread those four little words; I miss our talks. He missed you. Maybe not quite in the same way that you were missing him but, still, it made you long for him even more.

Well, in my experience Williams tend to be cute and cuddly, even though they look a little dark and brooding at first glance. Oh no! Please don’t use my weakness for chocolate truffles against me!!! (The extra exclamation marks are so you read that in a sarcastic tone.) Yes, I think I like Jane Eyre more than Dorian Gray - Mr Rochester kind of reminds me of you.

I’m feeling a bit better today, I should be fine in a couple of days. I miss spending time with you too. I hope you’re not too lonely without me around.

xoxo

You doodled a little picture of the teddy bear he’d given you on the corner of the note but gave him a grumpy looking face and a tag that read ‘my name is William’. 

There was a strange feeling of embarrassment when you left the note and you almost changed your mind about it halfway back to your room, and you spent the rest of the evening wondering if it was a little too much.

So, the next morning, you felt a little reluctant to go into the kitchen, and had to take a deep breath before reading his note.

Dark and brooding?? I think you might have to elaborate, but I’ll let you save that for when I see you next. I hope that there will come a point in the book where Mr Rochester doesn’t remind you of me quite so much (I don’t know where you’re up to and I don’t want to spoil it).

I’m glad you’re feeling better. The penthouse isn’t the same without you. It’s strange, you’ve only been here a couple of months yet and it already feels empty without you. I miss you.

B.

P.S. Is the doodle supposed to be me or the stuffie?

It felt like your head was spinning as you read, reread, and read again. 

He missed you.

Billy missed you.

You spent half the day writing and rewriting your note to him, in one attempt confessing your feelings, in another acting completely blaise about his confession. Nothing you came up with felt right but the thought of not replying seemed worse.

I see what you mean about Mr Rochester... though I don’t know if I can completely rule out the possibility of you having a strange woman tucked away somewhere in the penthouse. It would certainly explain where all of the chocolates have been going.

I miss you too. I know what you mean, I feel the same way, like I’ve been here longer. But I suppose that’s how things feel when you get close to someone. Hope to see you tomorrow.

xoxo

P.S. I’ll never tell. An artist never reveals her secrets.

There was no end to your relief the next morning when you woke up finally feeling better, knowing that you’d be able to see Billy again. Part of you expected not to find a note, but there it was, waiting for you on your kitchen table, just like the others had been.

I can think of a less mysterious explanation for the disappearance of your chocolates, little hummingbird.

I’m not used to missing people. I’m not used to being close to them either. Some days I feel like my whole life has turned upside down since I met you. I can’t wait to see you again.

B.

P.S. I think it’s magicians that never reveal their secrets, not artists.

Again, he left you searching for deeper meaning in every word, your heart aching for a man who seemed so lonely and alone, a man who didn’t deserve that life at all.

After breakfast you showered and washed your hair, wanting to look your best when you saw him again.

Slowly but surely, over the course of the day, your nerves started to eat away at you; what were you going to say to him? Were you going to pretend that the notes hadn’t happened and that their contents was just idle talk to help the other feel less alone?

You couldn’t sit still as you waited, counting down the hours before sunset, perched on the edge of the sofa and watching his door. The moment it started to open, you were on your feet.

Before he had the chance to even realise that you were there, you’d cleared the distance between you, throwing your arms around his waist and pressing your face against his chest. Billy let out a breath but, for the life of you, you couldn’t tell if it was a sigh of relief or simply because you were squeezing the air from his lungs.

“Hey,” he muttered, his arm slipping around you and holding you almost as tight as you were holding him.

A minute or two passed, neither of you moving or saying anything, until he pressed a kiss to the top of your head and your grip on him started to loosen. You didn’t pull away, but gave yourself enough space to look up at him, smiling shyly as your cheeks started to warm.

“Hi.”

“Hi, hummingbird.”

Neither of you seemed to know what to do or where you were supposed to go from there so, again, you both fell silent, still holding each other. Finally, you dared to reach for him, placing your hand on his cheek. His eyes closed and he leaned into your touch, and butterflies began to swarm in your stomach. Before you could talk yourself out of it, you lifted onto your tiptoes and pressed your lips to his.

It was a soft, chaste kiss, nothing at all compared to some of the kisses that you’d shared, but you felt his lips pull into a smile against yours before his eyes finally opened again.

“I missed you,” he admitted in little more than a whisper. 

His hand moved to rest on your neck and you found yourself glad of his cold touch after what seemed like so long without it.

“I missed you too,” you confessed, “I - I missed you more than I probably should have.”

If Billy understood what you were trying to tell him, he didn’t show it. Instead, he just shook his head and smiled before kissing you again.

You sank against him letting him deepen the kiss and turn it into something else, something new. Normally when he kissed you it felt explosive and desperate, like he was laying claim to you, but this kiss was tender and filled with longing, like he was savouring being with you again. It stole the breath from your lungs.

“I missed you,” he muttered again.

“You already said that.”

“I know, I just -” his head shook, and he let out a huffed laugh, “- this has felt like one of the longest weeks of my life.”

“Have you been okay? Was it -” you hesitated, not sure you wanted to ask the question, “- was it easier without me around?”

Billy pulled back a little, frowning. “Why would it be easier?”

“The other night, you said you feel like you’re drowning when you’re with me,” you shrugged a little, letting your gaze drop for a moment.  

Before the notes, you’d assumed that everyone made him feel that way, that it was just part of being a vampire for him. But, now, after his last note and after that kiss, part of you longed for him to admit that it was more, that it was you, that he felt something for you, that he cared.

“I was wrong,” he told you, waiting until you looked up again to continue, “I feel like I’m drowning without you.” 

“Oh.” Whatever you’d expected, it hadn’t been that.

“It’s a lot. I know it’s a lot -” 

“No,” you shook your head, “no, it’s not.”

“I wish I could’ve met you in another life. I wish it wasn’t like this.”

The words caused your chest to ache, understand what he was saying and why because you felt the same way; the situation was a mess and all either of you could do was make the best of it.

There was more you could say - more you wanted to say - but it didn’t feel like the right time, and it wasn’t fair for you to try and push anything when you had every intention of leaving him once you’d finished your year. So, instead, you pressed yourself against him and hugged him tight.

Once you’d managed to pull away from each other, you spent the next hour sitting with him on the sofa, talking while he drank, trading gentle touches and kisses until he needed to leave. You followed him to the elevator, not sure if he was keeping hold of your hand or if it was the other way around. 

It took a couple of weeks for things to start to return to some sort of normal between you.

Karen noticed the first time she saw you, mentioning that you seemed distracted as you walked through Central Park together (thankfully with no sign of Madani in sight), but she didn’t bring it up until you were sitting together a week later, having lunch in a little coffee shop.

“Is everything alright with you and Billy?” She asked, deciding to just go for it.

“Yeah, it’s fine,” you answered. And it was fine. You were happy. You just could stop thinking about what he’d said to you and how you wished that things could be just a little bit different so you could both be happy.

“I know Billy’s my friend and you don’t really know me all that well, but you can talk to me if something’s bothering you. Or if he’s done something to bother you.”

There was something in her voice, something knowing that you really didn’t like. But how could she know what was going on with you and Billy, when you didn’t even know yourself?

“Everything’s fine, honestly. It’s great, actually. We’ve been really getting on lately; we’ve been hanging out talking about books and I’ve been making him watch Black Sail on Netflix,” you told her.

Karen nodded, though it didn’t look like she believed you, but she let it drop, leaving you with the sneaking suspicion that she knew a little more about the way Billy was than she wanted to let on.

Your quiet evenings with Billy slowly started to become a little more physical again, though neither of you seemed in a rush to try and push for sex again. Instead, most evenings he’d end up with his head between your thighs, or you’d slip your hand into his pants while you made out. And, even though you found yourself longing for more, you didn’t want to push him. No, you wanted to take things slowly, wanted to make sure that he wouldn’t get overwhelmed again before you took that next step.

Time seemed to fly by and it wasn’t long before the whole penthouse was being turned upside down in anticipation of Billy’s big party; live music, caterers, decorators and, of course, more blood than you felt comfortable seeing in one place. The whole place was transformed over the course of three days and, when the night finally came, you felt almost sick with nerves.

Even Billy had a strange energy about him, checking and double checking every little thing, including a security team from his company whose presence he seemed reluctant to explain to you. You watched from the sofa as he led them around the apartment, explaining where he wanted them and which areas of the penthouse were off-limits. He introduced you to one of them, a human man called Curtis who would be spending the night near the door to your quarters if you needed any help during the night (and, again, Billy didn’t explain what that meant).

A couple of hours before the guests were due to arrive, you went to shower and draw blood before doing your hair and makeup, and getting changed into your dress and shoes. For a few minutes you found yourself staring at your reflection, hoping to find some of the confidence you’d had that night in the dressing room with Billy.

When you stepped out into the penthouse, it only took a moment for his eyes to find you, his jaw threatening to drop as he took in the sight of you. His appearance had the same effect on you; his well tailored tux had you biting your lip.

“Wow, Russo, you really know how to pick them,” Curtis called across the penthouse, earning himself a withering look from Billy and causing your cheeks to heat.

Billy made his way towards you, not bothering to hide the way his eyes were taking in every inch of you. When he reached you, he placed a hand on your hip and kissed your cheek.

“I got you a present,” he told you, using his hand to start guiding you towards the library, pausing momentarily to tell Curtis and his team that they could go take a break before the party started.

Your heart was hammering in your chest as he led you into the library and towards the seldom used desk by the window. Waiting for you were three boxes, each beautifully wrapped in silver paper and tied with black ribbon. Without thought, you found yourself gripping Billy’s arm as your legs threatened to turn to jello beneath you.

He smiled softly, picking up the first box and handing it to you.

“Open it,” he instructed, managing to sound as excited as you felt about this whole exchange.

It felt wrong to destroy the immaculate wrapping, so you took your time, carefully untying the ribbon and peeling open the paper to get at the box. You removed the lid and there, in amongst black tissue paper was an ornate black and silver mask.

“It’s for the party tonight,” he told you when you looked at him for clarification, “we wear the masks until midnight and then take them off. It’s supposed to symbolise vampires being seen by society, but really it’s just an excuse to have fun while no one knows who you are.”

You laughed, head shaking. “Thank you, it’s beautiful.”

But he didn’t give you time to linger, gently taking the box and mask from your hand before offering you the next present, seeming to get more eager with each passing second. He was practically vibrating with excitement.

Your breath caught as you opened the second box. It was a beautiful choker style necklace with diamanté detailing - at least, you assumed that it was diamanté because you couldn’t even start to imagine how much it would have cost if they were real diamonds. For a few seconds you were lost for words.

“Here, let me,” he offered, pulling the necklace from the box before you even had the chance to answer him. Billy stepped behind you, gently draping it around your neck and fastening it for you.

Your fingers immediately reached up to touch it; it felt a little heavy around your neck and you’d never had a choker style necklace before, but the feel of it would be a constant reminder of Billy and you loved that. 

“Thank you, Billy,” you finally managed, turning and wrapping your arms around him before pressing a kiss to his cheek.

“There’s one more.” He reached for the last present but seemed a little more reluctant to hand it to you. 

And once you’d opened it, you understood why.

“Oh...” said somewhere between shock and confusion. 

You weren’t sure what you’d been expecting, especially not after the mask and the choker, but a new sex toy certainly wasn’t it. Your cheeks heated as you looked at the box, trying to make sense of it, the words discreet and remote play only confused you more.

“I want you to wear this for the party,” he told you, a hint of nervousness in his voice, “if you want to, I mean. If it’s too much, I get it. I just - I thought we could have some fun. And there’s going to be so many people, I guess I want to know you’ll spend the night thinking about me...”

Your cheeks continued to burn, part horrified by the notion, but a much larger part couldn’t help but find the idea interesting, arousing even. And, after everything that had happened between you, part of you was still longing for more.

“You want me to spend the night thinking about you?” You asked quietly.

“More than anything,” he answered in little more than a whisper, like he knew it was something he shouldn’t say.

It felt like your heart leapt into your throat for a few seconds and you struggled to swallow around it. All you could think about was that night a couple of weeks ago, how he told you it felt like he was drowning when he wasn’t with you, and you knew that you couldn’t say no to him. (You didn’t want to say no to him.)

“Okay,” you finally answered, “how do I...?”

“Let me,” he offered, perhaps a little too eagerly, taking the box from your hand, muttering something about how he’d cleaned it and charged it ready before wrapping it.

You bit your lip, watching as he pulled the purple silicone toy out of the box, knowing that he could hear your heart pounding. Then he kissed you, slipping his tongue between your lips and enjoying you for a few moments. When he pulled back he began to trace your lips with the tip of the toy before slipping it into your mouth, causing your cheeks to burn hotter.

You watched him suck his fingers, leaving them glistening with saliva before dropping to his knees and slipping them beneath your dress and into your panties. His free hand nudged your knee and you parted your trembling legs a little further while his fingers stirred between your folds, wetting you before slowly slipping into you.

You moaned softly as his fingers slowly started to pump inside you, twisting and bending, easily finding that special spot. 

Your hands gripped his shoulders, feeling like your legs were going to give out. Another soft moan escaped you when he looked up at you, holding your gaze as his fingers filled you, over and over. You clenched around him as he licked his lips, knowing that he was imagining the taste of your arousal on his tongue.

“You can come whenever you need to,” he told you, smiling up at you like he was in awe of you.

“Billy...” you moaned, your voice muffled by the toy in your mouth, hating how close you were to falling apart.

Your walls clenched and tightened around his fingers again, but you were already so wet that you couldn’t hold onto him or make him slow. There was something about all of this that seemed so obscene, so dirty, and it just made you want it ever more. His fingers hit that sweet spot one more time and it was enough to push you over the edge. Your legs started to tremble and your thighs pressed together, trying to keep his fingers inside you.

And, all the while, Billy smiled up at you.

A needy whine slipped out when he pulled away his hand, but you soon fell silent when he took the toy from your mouth. Your eyes fixed on the bookshelf behind Billy as he inserted the toy, suddenly feeling embarrassed despite everything you’d just let him do. Once he was done, he straightened your panties and made sure your dress was perfect.

Shifting your weight between your legs, you tried to get used to the feeling of the toy while Billy stood up and took out his phone.

“Let’s give it a little test,” he said with an almost mischievous grin on his lips that caused you thighs to clench. Something told you he was going to enjoy this. A lot.

A sudden whimper was pulled from you as the toy started to vibrate.

Billy’s grin grew as his finger swiped on his phone, causing the vibrations to intensify. As good as it felt, a mixture of shame and concern threatened to ruin the moment.

“What?” Billy asked, stopping the vibrations the moment he noticed your discomfort. “If it’s too much, you don’t have to do this.”

“I want to,” you answered shyly, a little embarrassed by just how much you wanted to, “It’s just... what if someone realises?”

He offered a soft smile, placing a hand on your cheek. 

“They won’t,” he told you with confidence. “It’ll be too noisy for anyone to hear it, and you’ll be good; you won’t come until we’re alone together and I give you permission.”

His thumb tenderly caressed your cheek as he leaned in to kiss you, his tongue slipping between your lips and wiping away any misgivings you might have had. You wanted to do this. You wanted to give Billy the comfort of knowing that you were thinking about him all night. And you wanted to do it for yourself too. You’d wanted to have new experiences and this was definitely new for you.

“Come on,” he said, slipping his hand into yours, “let’s go have a glass of wine and wait for the guests to arrive. It’s going to be a long night...”

Chapter Nine

End Note : So, originally, this chapter and the party were going all be one chapter, but then I got carried away with the cute notes between reader and Billy. That means next week will be a whole chapter of party shenanigans.

As always, thanks for reading/commenting/liking/reblogging, hope you're enjoying this as much as I'm enjoying writing it! Have a great weekend!

Let me know if you'd like to be tagged in future chapters! If tagging doesn't work for some reason (aka Tumblr being dumb) I post most Fridays around 7:30 gmt.

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[gyubakeries]

𝗰𝗵𝗲𝗰𝗸𝗹𝗶𝘀𝘁 | j.ww

a/n: i had a terrible nightmare, but it inspired this lmao. apologies if the plot seems weird, i just went with the flow. hope you like it! (p.s. took me just a week to write this bad boy, but trust, there's more angst on the way! itll take more time bcs im super busy but i promise im gonna deliver angst)

word count: 5k contents: dystopian au , kinda inspired by divergent too , wonwoo x afab!reader , doctor!wonwoo , reader is going to die , a little graphic at the end but for like 2 seconds , flashbacks , forbidden love , HEAVY angst , sad ending

[ present - 24th november, 2024 ]

"756, your three hours begin now," an automated voice booms through the speakers placed in your cell, reverberating through the small metal chamber you've been kept in for as long as you can remember.

the door to your cell slides open, allowing you your last bit of freedom, last few hours of life, before it was all going to be taken away from you.

hyejun, the girl who occupied the cell next to you, comes into view, her eyes already filled with tears. the two of you had become friends of some sort over the last twenty-one years of captivity. although, your friendship wasn't like the ones people wrote about in books or played out in movies.

the Misfits would never have the privilege of a real friendship.

you couldn't tell each other about childhood memories, dreams, goals, or regrets, because the last twenty-one years of your lives had been spent inside the same grey walls. you couldn't go shopping at the mall, or watch movies at the cinema, because you weren't allowed to leave the facility, no matter what.

yet, hyejun was the closest you'd ever have to a friend, which is why it hurt you to see her cry profusely.

"don't cry, you idiot," you laugh, trying your best to keep yourself calm and composed. nothing good ever came out of the both of you crying together. "don't act like you forgot that this would happen some day."

"it hurt less to pretend like it wasn't," hyejun sobs, hugging you tightly. "why did we have to turn out this way?"

you wish you could answer that question.

there wasn't really any research or accurate information on how the Misfits came to be. the only piece of information told to every Misfit child the day they turn three years old is that they didn't have a place in society.

and the next thing you know, you've been shipped off to a facility to spend the rest of your lives as outcasts; as children who were deprived of their life too quickly.

at least once during their twenty-one years in a prison, every Misfit has wondered how this system came to be. who was it that decided what the Misfits were? was there a war? or an uprising? why was it declared that upon turning twenty-four, every Misfit would be executed?

you had resigned to your fate a long time ago. somewhere between the age of five and eight, when you realized that this was your life—living locked up in the facility. it wasn't as restrictive as a prison, as you were allowed to spend time outside your cell for meals, showers, interacting with others, and visiting the in-house library, theater and much more. but you when you learnt that you were strictly denied any permission to leave the place where childhood innocence came to die—you had given up.

you stopped throwing tantrums and crying like all the other children. you stopped wanting to see the outside world again. you stopped trying to live your life. you stopped hoping. you stopped loving.

it was a cruel realization to come to at such a young age, but you never had a choice. your entire life had been decided for you, because of some goddamn reason no one knew, so you gave up on trying to fight the system.

which is why, on the day of your twenty-fourth birthday, when your last three hours on this earth were announced, there wasn't any dread or anxiety filling you. there wasn't any urge to resist and rebel against the oppression you've been subjected to.

you were just another number on the list, the seven hundred and fifty-sixth person to be killed this year.

one of the things you were thankful for was the painless death. back when you were thirteen, an old lady who worked at the facility as a cleaner had given into hyejun's incessant pleas to know how the executions occurred.

the lady had said, "it doesn't hurt at all. first, they inject you with some drug. then, you're taken into an empty white room. they have a machine in there, which i don't know much about, but in merely three minutes, you're gone."

hyejun had ended up in tears after she got to know, but all you could do was laugh to yourself. three years to live a normal life, three hours to spend before you die, and three minutes to completely wipe out your existence, as if you ever really mattered in the grand scheme of things.

ever since you came into the facility, you've seen countless people being escorted upstairs to meet their end. some scream and yell for mercy, some stab a knife into themselves before they die in a way they're not even aware of, and some people, like you, have this empty look in their eyes. they look like lifeless dolls being dragged to their doom, because anything worth living had already been snatched from their hands.

—

"one hour and fifteen minutes," hyejun whispers, looking at the timer on your wrist counting down your last few moments. "y/n, how am i going to live without you?"

"this isn't called life, junnie," you chuckle, the sound hollow and meaningless. "they should've just killed us before we were brought into this prison. this isn't a life worth living."

"how can you say that?" hyejun asks, and you look at her to gauge her expression. hyejun is one of the many people who still haven't accepted that their days are marked. she's one of the many people who hope that there is a second chance at life.

"i can say it because it's the truth," you sigh. "there's no point in grieving the loss of a life you never had."

hyejun falls silent, her expression distraught, and you feel bad for this being your last conversation with the one person you've spent your entire life with.

your heart softens just a little bit for the person who's shared this meaningless life with you, so you move closer to her on the single bed in your cell.

"i'm sorry, i guess i hadn't realized that you haven't accepted this fate like i have," you apologize, wrapping an arm around hyejun's shoulder to comfort her. "don't be too upset after i'm gone, okay? probably not the best source of motivation, but you'll just have two weeks to spend without me before..... you know." you trail off awkwardly.

"i know," hyejun nods, looking up at you. "promise me you'll find me wherever we end up once we're gone?"

"i promise," you smile, and it's probably the most genuine thing you've felt your entire life.

the two of you huddle closer, spending your last hour in silence.

the door to your cell remains open, which is why you aren't startled when two women, dressed in all-white clothing, appear at the door, one holding a glass of water, and the other a pill.

hyejun isn't as calm as you, and tears quickly spring to her eyes when she sees the two officials at the door. "y/n, it can't be-"

"764, please return to your assigned cell," one woman speaks, her tone cold and sterile, devoid of any emotion.

"i- please, just some more time, please," hyejun begs, her hands clinging onto yours, as if bargaining for more time would do anything to delay the consequence you were going to face.

"please return to your assigned cell," the woman repeats. "i will not hesitate to call security."

"junnie, go," you whisper, slowly freeing your hands from her grip. "i'll be fine, you'll be fine."

hyejun shakes her head, sobbing incessantly. "i'll miss you."

"i'll miss you too," you admit truthfully. "i'll wait for you, okay?"

hyejun nods, and after another threatening glare from the officials, she shares one last knowing look with you, and for a moment, you feel thankful for being loved by someone in this life, no matter how short or miserable it was.

hyejun goes back into her own cell, and you let your last ever interaction with her sink in.

"756, please take this pill, and then follow us upstairs," the second woman instructs, and you get off the bed to approach the women.

"happy birthday to me," you scoff to yourself, taking the pill and swallowing it down with the water.

as if some countdown has started, the two officials spring into action. each grab one arm of yours and escort you out of your room. out of the corner of your eye, you can see hyejun by her door, collapsed to the floor on her knees, sobbing and grieving the only real connection she had with anyone in this ruthless world.

you wish you could say the same, but it would be a lie.

because when you finally climb the last step, and the door to your death is opened in front of you, you find yourself looking into the chocolate-brown eyes you had foolishly let yourself fall into.

jeon wonwoo.

—

[ flashback - 28th october, 2022 ]

"i wasn't aware that you were allowed to be outside your cell past 11 p.m.," a deep voice speaks from behind you, and you nearly jump five feet into the air.

you turn to see a tall, bespectacled man standing in the kitchen, a white lab coat hanging off his broad shoulders.

he's a doctor.

"i-i'm so sorry," you gasp, realizing that you're in deep shit now. realistically, you knew that the only way you were going to leave this facility was when you died, but you had no idea what the protocol was for people who snuck out of their cells at midnight, which was against all the rules. "i just really needed some water and i didn't have any left in the cell and-"

but the doctor just smiles at you, his intimidating demeanour replaced by possibly the only smile you'll ever see that is so beautiful.

"it's alright, don't be scared," he assures you, in that rich, warm voice of his. "i'm doctor jeon. you are?"

"y/n," you reply, confused about the whole situation. were doctors supposed to be on a first-name basis with the Misfits? "i'm sorry if this sounds stupid, but are you supposed to be talking to me?"

a flicker of sadness appears in his eyes, and disappears just as quickly. "it's alright for me to talk to you. you do realize i am required to interact with everyone in this facility if they visit the infirmary, right? i'm a doctor, it's kinda my job."

your face burns with embarrassment. "sorry, that was a stupid question."

"no worries, y/n," doctor jeon laughs, seemingly endeared by your mini-meltdown. you had no idea why you were behaving this way. never in your life had you been this embarrassed or flustered around anyone. you've been living in a prison all your life, where showers are taken in communal bathrooms and privacy was a rare luxury. why did this man have to change that?

"i'm going to head back to my cell now," you clear your throat, eyes focused on the water bottle you had just filled for yourself.

"alright," doctor jeon nods. "goodnight, y/n."

you give him a nod in return, stiffly walking past him to tiptoe back to your cell. you catch a glance at his name-tag.

dr. jeon wonwoo.

the name stays on your mind for way longer than it should've.

—

[ present - 24th november, 2024 ]

"have you taken the prescribed pill?" wonwoo asks, his tone formal and cold, as if he's never seen you, never known of your existence.

you know that's far from the truth.

"yes, doctor," you reply promptly, attentively watching as wonwoo goes through a few files on his desk. you see his features harden for a second at the name you addressed him with, a giveaway of how much he hated it when you called him that.

"it'll take a minute for the pill to take effect," wonwoo says. "please head over to the chair."

you wordlessly move over to the black leather armchair in the room, sitting on it as instructed. the situation is built on similar circumstances from the past, but it feels so devastatingly unfamiliar and strange.

you don't know if it's the air-conditioner or the cold look in wonwoo's once-loving eyes that makes you shiver.

—

[ flashback - 24th november, 2022 ]

"i'll walk you to the infirmary," hyejun offers. the morning of your twenty-second birthday, you had woken up with a high fever. your body was so weak, you couldn't even move to get off the bed.

thankfully, despite the prison-like feel, the facility wasn't too restrictive with regards to the cell doors being locked, or neighbouring cellmates interacting, which is why hyejun could come into your cell and take you to the infirmary.

you're barely conscious when you enter. you can hear hyejun's muffled voice talking to the doctor on duty, explaining to them your condition, all while you struggle to stay standing upright.

soon, a familiar pair of glasses swim into your vision, strong arms lift you and place you on one of the beds, and a gentle touch on your forehead lulls you to sleep.

the name-tag catches your attention before your eyes close.

—

"doctor jeon?" you croak out, voice groggy with sleep. the doctor looks up from his desk to see you sitting up in bed, finally awake after being asleep for almost the entire day.

"ah, y/n, you're up," wonwoo smiles at you. "how are you feeling now?"

"the fever seems to be gone," you reply after a moment, feeling much better than earlier in the morning.

"that's good to hear," wonwoo nods. "your friend mentioned that it was your birthday today. happy birthday, y/n."

you sigh. "doctor, i appreciate your gesture, but having a birthday is hardly an occasion that calls for happiness, is it? birthdays are never happy for someone like me."

a similar flicker of sadness flashes in wonwoo's eyes, reminding you of the first encounter in the kitchen a month ago.

"i'm sorry, i should've known-"

"it's alright," you interrupt his apology. "at least the infirmary is a change of scenery. never had a birthday party in here before, doctor." you joke, because somehow, seeing a frown on wonwoo's face felt like it should be a crime for him to be anything but happy.

"call me wonwoo, please," he chuckles. "being called doctor by someone who's the same age feels a little embarrassing."

"we're the same age?" you question, sitting up a little straighter. "next thing you're going to tell me is that we have the same favorite color."

"i like blue," wonwoo says.

"me too!" you gasp, the both of you bursting into laughter instantly.

the infirmary was empty for the rest of the day, and the two of you filled it with laughter and stories. wonwoo gladly took the lead, telling you all about his life up until he was hired to work at the facility six months ago, and you listened eagerly. it felt like you lived life through his stories, and it stirred this dangerous feeling inside you.

you had found something that gave you hope, in a universe where hope never worked in your favor.

—

[ present - 24th november, 2024 ]

"details of subject 756. full name, lee y/n. sex, female. date of birth, 24th november 1999-"

wonwoo's voice reading out all your details, the only pieces of information that gave you any form of self-identity, was getting hard to listen to with no response.

"stop."

"756, not interrupting the procedure would be advised," wonwoo addresses you, not even looking your way, his eyes trained on the file in front of him.

"why are you treating me like you don't know who i am?" you ask him in a quiet voice. "as if we didn't spend almost two years together, in love-"

"756, no interruptions, please." wonwoo grits out, sounding just as hurt as you felt.

"you hated it when i called you doctor, and now you won't even call me by my name?" you scoff, and that seems to rouse a reaction out of wonwoo.

"you are nothing but a number on this long list of people that i have to kill," wonwoo seethes, leaving his desk to come stand in front of you. "this is our reality now, 756. whatever happened in those two years, it was a dream, a fantasy."

"our love wasn't real? the hope you gave me wasn't real?" you challenge, standing up from the armchair. "you promised me, every day, that you'd change this, that i wouldn't have to-"

"then you were stupid for believing me!" wonwoo yells, cutting you off. "you should've known that i was an idiot in love, that i would've promised you anything if it meant i could see you smile. if it meant i could see you live the last few years of your life happily."

—

[ flashback - 1st january, 2023 ]

soon after your twenty-second birthday, you had grown much closer to wonwoo. you'd visit the infirmary for no reason, just to spend hours with him, learning about how the outside world worked. there were afternoons where he'd show you pictures of mountains, oceans, parks, children, and animals that he'd taken. there were evenings where he'd sneak you into his quarters, where he'd read you a book, or turn on a random movie he thought you'd appreciate.

it started feeling less like a friendship, and more like love. the way his eyes would light up when you entered the infirmary to greet him good morning, the way his ears would turn red if any other staff at the facility would get close to figuring out his relationship with you, the way he'd hold your hand or run his fingers through your hair, and the way he'd smile at you, kissing your cheek as a goodnight before going back to his own quarters.

you knew you were foolish for falling in love with wonwoo, especially when you had such limited time to love him properly. so you began to distance yourself from him. you stopped visiting him, avoided his attempts to talk, and tried your best to forget him.

it didn't work.

it only ended up in you being dragged to the infirmary by hyejun, when you woke up on january 1st complaining of a terrible stomach ache.

it was wonwoo who took care of you then.

"you've been avoiding me," wonwoo says quietly, watching you take the medicine he gave you. "did i do something wrong?"

you stay silent, wondering if you should tell him the truth or keep it hidden.

"i've fallen in love with you."

the truth it is then.

wonwoo gapes at you, blinking repeatedly as he tries to process your words. after a minute, he regains his composure and says, "i love you too. now why were you ignoring me?"

he asked you to be his girlfriend three days later, and for the first time since you've entered the facility, your heart starts to long for more time.

—

[ present - 24th november, 2024]

"yeah, i was stupid," you laugh sadly. "i was stupid to believe that you'd actually do something to fight for us."

"and risk both our lives in the process?" wonwoo argues. "if anyone would've found out, we'd both be killed, and not the painless way."

"well, one of us is going to die anyways!" you raise your voice, the tears you've desperately held back finally spilling over. "why did you have to love me? why did you have to make me want to live? do you know how hard it is for your face to be the last thing i see before i die?"

"and you think that this is making me happy?" wonwoo says, anger, love, helplessness, all emotions bleeding into his voice. "i loved you too. heck, i still do, and even after you're gone, i'll-"

"just do it. do whatever you need to do to kill me," you stop him from finishing his sentence. five-year old you had promised to give into your fate no matter what happens. and even though seeing the only man you've loved about to end your life is breaking your heart into a million pieces, you wouldn't be alive for too long to feel that pain.

"no-" wonwoo shakes his head. "i was stupid. i should've done something sooner. i was scared and i'm sorry. i'll get you out."

—

[ flashback - 19th september, 2023 ]

"i'll get you out," wonwoo whispers into your ear. you've just pulled him into a hug before you go back into your cell for the night when the words are muttered into the skin of your neck. "i won't let you die, y/n. not like this."

"won, what are you saying?" you ask, pulling away to face him. "are you nuts?"

"i love you and i can't bear the thought of having to lose you," wonwoo breathes out, his voice sounding strained. "i can't lose you."

"wonwoo, this is the system," you scoff. "i can't not die, it's not possible."

"just trust me," wonwoo shakes his head. "i'll get you out."

you let yourself believe him.

—

[ present - 24th november, 2024 ]

"i'm not letting myself fall for empty promises anymore," your words ring out loud and clear. "just get this over with, doctor."

"y/n-"

"756. that's how you're instructed to address me, doctor," you correct him.

"i can't. i won't do this to you," wonwoo refuses, moving closer to stand in front of you and place his hands on your shoulders. "we can get out, y/n. please, let me try."

—

[ flashback - 19th september, 2024]

"there's no way out," wonwoo mutters, and you feel the hope building in your chest crumble to dust.

"what- what do you mean?" you stammer. "wonwoo, you said you'd find a way-"

"i couldn't," he sighs. "not with management breathing down my neck. they already suspect i'm in close contact with one of the Misfits, and i don't want to give them a reason to make your last few months any worse."

"did you even try?" your voice breaks, your hopes and dreams slowly getting crushed.

"i didn't," wonwoo replies hesitantly. "i'm being monitored, especially after the promotion-"

"promotion?"

"i've been assigned to the room upstairs."

the room upstairs. where every Misfit goes to die.

"you- you never told me about this," your voice is strangled, the weight of wonwoo's words pressing down on your chest like an invisible weight.

"that's because you had no business knowing about it," wonwoo snaps. "look, y/n, from now on, you and i are nothing but strangers. whatever we had between us, it has to end now."

—

[ present - 24th november, 2024 ]

"you ended things. we're strangers now," you remind wonwoo, and the tears finally escape his eyes. "you shouldn't care this much for strangers, doctor."

"y/n, i'm sorry," wonwoo chokes out, tears streaming down his face, and you belatedly realize that you’re crying too. with the back of your hand, you wipe away the unnecessary and immature tears. this was your fate.

“you didn’t try when you said you would, wonwoo,” you lower your gaze, staring at the floor. "there's no happy ending for us now. there never was."

"i know. i was an asshole for promising you something i couldn't give to you, but i know i'm going to spend the rest of my life regretting not helping you now," wonwoo argues. he holds your hands in his.

"please, y/n, give me another chance."

"you know what's funny, wonwoo?" you laugh bitterly, looking up at the man you will love till the moment you die. "at least you have a lifetime you can spend regretting. at least you have a lifetime to start afresh, find someone else, fall in love. i only had you. you were my world, and it hurt so much when you lied to me and showed me dreams i never should've seen."

"i only said all those things because i loved you then, and i love you now as well," wonwoo's voice is shaky now. he knows your time together is nearing to a close, and with every passing second, he dreads the passing of the remainder of his life without you. "i was foolish to promise you freedom, but it was only because i hated that look of hopelessness in your eyes. and you have all the right to blame me, but let me just try-"

"if you're so sure you can get me out now, why didn't you do it earlier?" you cut him off. "why now? right before i have to die?"

you see the look of guilt flash in wonwoo's eyes. your eyes fall to the white lab coat he's wearing, the symbol of the facility embroidered into the fabric, right above where his name-tag sits.

you raise your hand to brush your fingers against the only name you had desperately hoped to call out for the rest of your life.

you realize that while it was your fate was to die, wonwoo's fate was to live. the purpose of your life was to live twenty-four years on this miserable earth and then vanish, while wonwoo's role was to take your life.

no matter how realistic those two years felt, it was impossible for the two of you to be together. you were carrying out your meaningless life, and wonwoo was fulfilling his duty. a duty that never involved loving you or rescuing you.

the bitterness brewing in you for the last couple of months comes to a rest, because you understand.

"i don't blame you," you utter quietly, hands coming up to rest against wonwoo's chest. if you tried really hard, you could delude yourself into thinking that this was just another morning you would spend with wonwoo, in his embrace, living life as if you had the gift of endless time.

"you were scared too, weren't you?"

wonwoo's face crumbles. he leans forward into you, resting his head on your shoulder as his body shakes with the intensity of his cries.

you hold him tight, and you feel sorry for giving him this warmth and comfort right before you left his life forever.

"you should have never loved me," wonwoo sobs. "i thought i was making your last years something you wouldn't hate, but i just-"

"you made my last years the happiest i've ever been," you stop him. "i don't regret loving you wonwoo, not even for a second. and i'm sorry i was angry at you for not helping me get out. i was too blinded by betrayal to realize that it could cost your life too."

"it wouldn't have mattered if you got to live," wonwoo shakes his head.

"it would've, because i wouldn't have you to live my life with," you say softly. wonwoo pulls away from you. his eyes are red and puffy, and your heart aches with the urge to kiss him, one last time.

"i'm sorry," you whisper. "i'm sorry that we ended up this way. god, if i had it any other way, i would've done anything to grow old with you."

"i'm sorry too," wonwoo sniffles. "for not fighting enough for us."

"it can't be helped now," you smile sadly at him. "maybe in another universe, we get to travel the world with each other and do everything we couldn't do in this one."

"it's time to let go, wonwoo," you say, pressing one final kiss against his lips.

wonwoo inhales deeply after you back away from him. he walks back to the desk, takes out a syringe filled with a clear liquid with shaking hands and comes back to face you.

"i'll find you in every other universe, and i'll love you till the end of time," wonwoo looks into your eyes, and this one feels like a real promise.

"i know you will," you hold the wrist of the hand holding the syringe to steady it.

wonwoo presses the needle into the skin of your neck, the place where he had whispered a promise of a better life before, and you squeeze your eyes shut.

"it won't hurt at all," wonwoo whispers as an assurance, and his free hand holds yours tightly.

the needle breaks through skin, the liquid is injected, and your last three minutes begin.

you open your eyes, and nothing feels like it's changed, but then wonwoo approaches you with a black eye-mask.

"i don't want you to see what happens," he explains, and you nod to give him permission. he slips the fabric onto your head, and your vision is blocked.

the last thing you see is his name-tag.

you hear the turn of a door knob, the sound of a door creaking open, and wonwoo's last words to you.

"i love you."

you feel gentle hands guide you into the room just opened, a pair of lips pressing a kiss to your temple, the warmth of wonwoo leaving you.

you're alone.

you smell the sterile antiseptic used to clean the room, a vague burning scent, your impending death.

your time is nearly up.

you taste the salt of the last tears you'll ever shed, the sour flavor of tragic love, blood.

it's almost over.

and then, nothing. it's like your senses have stopped working all of a sudden, and you're in a vacuum.

your hands tug off the eye-mask, but you can't see anything either. you realize it's the effect of the injection.

and it's good that you can't see, hear, feel, smell, or taste anymore.

otherwise you'd see the transparent glass wall separating you from a sobbing wonwoo, hand trembling above the red button that brought about your end.

you'd hear the lasers in the room charging up.

you'd feel a scorching heat all over your skin.

you'd smell your flesh burning till you're reduced to ashes, meant to be swept off.

you'd taste the kiss of death.

the timer rings; three minutes are up.

dr. jeon wonwoo ticks 756 off his checklist.

- fin.

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[yaksha-lover]

Track #2: Sunlight - Hozier Drabble Masterlist

Azul Ashengrotto x Reader

Summary: Azul treats everyone as a business arrangement. He thought it would be the same with you, until he realizes he’d much rather have you than your resources.

i. all the tales the same

An octopus has three hearts - that’s the explanation Azul’s mother would always give when he’d come home crying as a child. It was comforting, to explain away his sensitivity in a single phrase. You have to be more careful with yours, Azul, she’d say, rubbing his back. There’s more of you to break.

He understood what she meant far too well. Every tease, every taunt, every comment muttered behind his back (and most of the time to his face) was far too much for him to bear. They were only children, but so was he. Is it any wonder he’d stopped seeing people as more than transactional when all they’d seen him as was a joke?

If he didn’t care for them, if they were reduced to nothing but an inky signature, how could their words hurt him? They were nothing.

He thought you’d be nothing too.

You started off like most ‘relationships’ in his life; a business transaction. At least, that’s how he’d thought of you.

You, who was so blissfully kind and innocent, doe-eyed and naive, thought of him as a friend, and then eventually, more.

To him, you were easy prey. It would be simple to gain your friendship, your trust, maybe even your heart if he was so lucky. Then, it would be oh so simple to gain access to all that you could do for him.

ii. told before and told again

The plan requires more commitment than he’d realized, but he knows it will be worth it in the end. You, the sole heir of your father’s estate, will be in a position to let Azul gain access to a brand new market he’s been looking to expand into. If he has to play friend, he’s willing to do it.

You’re…lonelier than he expects. Azul isn’t exactly a social butterfly himself (at least, for non-business related reasons), but your eagerness to spend time with him certainly stems from more than just his ‘great companionship.’ He almost feels bad, for a moment, to lead you on, but he steels himself with the justification of his success.

You won’t mind, right? He gets your help, you get his friendship, even if it is manufactured. It’s an equal trade, he tells himself.

Spending all this time together, he learns things about you. Things that are disconcerting.

Azul hasn’t had trouble sleeping since he was a child. Everything he did was perfectly scheduled; how was he to function if not by keeping up a meticulous sleep cycle which guaranteed him a satisfying eight hours of rest per night?

He thinks you’re the reason he’s started lying awake. He can’t stop thinking about the things you’ve told him - maybe ‘let slip’ is the better term.

He’s used to coaxing information out of his clients; it’s good for business. Now he only wishes he wasn’t so good.

They aren’t so much secrets; it’s not as though you’ve made a great effort to hide them, only that no one has made an effort to look in the first place.

He’s played the dutiful friend long enough to know how…pitiful you can become after a night out or a hard day. He’s been there to take care of you, always making sure you get home safe or that you’re well fed. You’re a poor, unfortunate sight; you’re lucky it’s only Azul taking advantage of your resources and not someone much worse. His stomach churns at the thought of it - that’s one of the many things that keeps him up. It’s not that he’s worried; no, no, you were only a business arrangement of his. If anything were to happen to you, his whole plan could go to ruin.

That’s why he stays the night in your apartment, sleeping on the couch so he can check on you despite the fact that the commute will make him late for work and his back will hurt all day from the lumpy sofa. That’s why he can’t sleep, forced to make sure you’re sleeping soundly every few hours.

You’ll apologize in the morning for being a mess; you always do. The two of you put on a charade of sorts - you promise it won’t happen again, that you’re sorry for forcing him to take care of you (although you’d never asked a thing from him) and he pretends that none of it matters, that it’s not a big deal.

It’s only for the sake of business when he asks you to spend more time with him; if you’re not with your undesirable friends (who only get you into trouble, he thinks) then you (and his deal) will be safe. It’s certainly not because the last time he’d come to check on you, you’d had light bruises peppering your neck, almost as if someone had nipped at your skin gently and-

Azul perishes the thought from his mind. So what if he hasn’t won your heart? That’s not his goal, he doesn’t need your love to get your help, he’ll just-

iii. a soul that’s born in cold and rain

You kiss him, one night. You’re at his apartment, and it’s been a peaceful evening. He’d invited you over for dinner, cooking you one of the most recent dishes he’d been testing for his restaurant chain. The two of you had settled into his sofa, a movie playing in the background.

He noticed you hadn’t been paying attention; he was watching the screen, but you kept sneaking (not so subtle) glances at him every few seconds, putting him on edge. He turned to you, about to ask what was wrong, when you kissed him.

Your lips brush against his lightly; he almost wonders if he’d fallen asleep and was only dreaming the whole thing. He’d only just closed his eyes when he felt you pull away and begin to apologize for kissing him without asking. He can’t even form a response, only pulling you in to continue what you’d started.

Things only seem to spiral from there. Azul is, admittedly, a sensitive soul, perhaps too sentimental for his own good. He’d vowed to be utilitarian about his relationships; to view everyone only per their use value, and thus to never have to care. Caring, for him, typically meant getting hurt in some way, but he can’t quite help himself with you.

Your affection feels good. Your love is addicting. He refuses to let either of them go, thoughts of business and markets pushed to the furthest place in his mind.

It’s only natural, then, that the two of you quickly become closer than ever before. A toothbrush at his apartment quickly becomes you moving in; he’s a busy man, after all. What better way to see more of each other than living together (you practically spent all your time with him, anyway).

If you depend on him, that’s okay. That’s how it’s always been with the two of you, hasn’t it? He takes care of you, he always has.

iv. knows sunlight, sunlight, sunlight

He’s drifting off to sleep with you in his arms when he hears you speak.

“Azul?”

“Yes, darling?”

“I’m sorry.”

That makes him open his eyes. He moves to turn on the lamp, but you stop him. “Sorry? For what?”

“For taking advantage of you.”

That almost makes him laugh. “Pardon? I don’t seem to recall such a thing happening.”

“I know, Azul. You…you don’t need to pretend that you like me. I know you just want access to my father’s contacts. I knew since the beginning and I should’ve put a stop to it. I’m so, so sorry I just - you were so kind to me, and I couldn’t help but bask in your sunlight a little. But it’s gone too far. Look at us. You never should’ve had to become so close with me, it was wrong for me to hold on. For that, I’m sorry. There’s no need for us to continue this charade, I’ll give you the contacts you want. And…and I’ll be sure to get out of your life…”

Azul is silent for a moment, before he can’t hold back his chuckle any longer. He tries to contain himself once he sees the tears begin to pool in your eyes. You start to pull away, but he pulls you close with one arm, wiping away your tears with the other.

“Oh dear, you’re truly serious! You’re laying in my bed, in my arms, and you think you’re taking advantage of me? You thought I only wanted you for your resources and yet you feel sorry? I suppose your tender heart and naïveté are endearing, but it won’t do for you to be so vulnerable, my love. It’s a good thing I love you so much, any less and I might truly be tempted to take advantage of such a poor soul like yours~”

You look at him in confusion. “You mean it…but how can I trust you, Azul?”

His arms move to slip around your waist, pulling you in close to him. You can feel the heat of his smooth skin move against your body, the warmth of his breath on you face.

“How indeed, my love? I suppose I’ll have to show you, then. Actions speak louder than words, after all.”

With that, Azul lifts himself off the bed, drawing you under him and capturing your lips once again.

[imaginespazzi]

Part 3: Shades of Grey

Masterlist - Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 4 - Part 5 - Part 6 - Part 7

That's the thing about illicit affairs (they lie and they lie and they lie)

(In which a masochistic writer makes things difficult for herself and makes things even messier than they were before)

Pairing: Paige Bueckers X Azzi Fudd

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

Words: 7.2K (nice and short as always)

TW: Explicit Sexual Content (MINORS DNI), Swearing, Cheating

A/N: Hello my lovelies <3 I feel like I'm doing a pretty good job of sticking to my deadlines, who woulda thunk it? Fun fact, I'm at ~ 50 google-doc pages with this fic and despite my constant "trying to write less" rants, I'm actually lowkey proud of that. Anyways, there's a pretty clear hint (I am not a subtle person) as to why what happens at the end happens and if you pick up on it, I promise it'll save you from losing your minds till I write part 4. Also a couple of logistical details about the Cayman Islands are probably off but it's what worked so it's what I did, just pretend lol. Per usual, I did edit, there's probably still typos any way, feel free to point them out. And as always, let me know what you liked, what you didn't and what you'd like to see in the future. Happy reading and have a wonderful rest of your week lovelies!

August 2021

The fight was inevitable but neither of them can tell you what really lit the flame. One second they had been fine (well as fine as two girls who knew tonight was their last night in a while could be), the next they were hurling bullets at each other. There’s a subconscious part of Azzi’s brain that tells her to grab Paige and duck for cover, to preserve whatever little bit of friendship they can. But her whole body vibrates with anger as Paige’s words crash around her like a tsunami, drowning out the good angel on her shoulder that’s pleading with her to stop. 

“It’s a good thing really. You and your non-existent nerves would have never survived playing for UConn,” Paige sneers, and that mean smirk on her face just doesn’t quite fit right, “I don’t know what I was thinking with that honestly. You’re not built like that.”

Azzi flinches, eyes blazing, “some of us want to be more than just another good UConn player.”

“That’s what all the people not good enough to play for UConn say,” Paige retorts bitterly and Azzi doesn’t think she knows this girl standing in front of her, one whose words are aimed to make her cry instead of laugh. 

“Not good enough and yet you still wanted me on your team.”

“Nah you know what, my bad, I didn’t realise you’d fucking stab me in the back like that, ” Paige hisses, “you’re a fake as fuck friend and you’d probably make a shit teammate.”

Azzi’s never had a heart attack. She doesn’t even fully think she knows what a heart attack really is. But she’s certain this pain in her chest can’t possibly be anything less than one. It starts at her heart and then spreads to her lungs and then floods through her body, until she can’t move, she can’t breathe. 

“You don’t mean that,” she whispers. 

Paige hesitates, as if suddenly aware of the fragility of the moment, her voice considerably softer when she speaks but she doesn’t take it back, “ real friends choose each other.”

“Oh my god,” Azzi laughs, it’s the worst thing she could do in the moment and Paige’s eyes flash with anger, “you’re so fucking full of yourself.”

“Watch your fucking mouth-”

“Don’t you even dare. You say all that shit to me and now you can’t hear some of it back? Contrary to what you might think Paige, my whole life doesn’t revolve around you. My decision for where to spend the next four fucking years, does not revolve around you,” Azzi’s voice rises with each word. 

Fighting is cathartic in a way. They’ve spent almost a year delicately tip-toeing around the subject, growing further and further apart and yet still holding on for dear life. And Azzi doesn’t want to let go, but everything feels burning hot, and her hands are starting to blister. 

“Oh you’ve made that very clear,” Paige bites back, “you’ve made it very clear just how little I mean to you.”

“Because I chose a different school? That’s all it took Paige, seriously? That’s all it took for you to call our friendship fake?”

“No what it took Azzi was you being a fucking liar.”

“I didn’t lie about anything.”

Paige scoffs, her voice taking on a pitchy mocking tone, “ ‘I’d love to play with you Paige’, ‘being on the same team would be nice P’,  all of that fucking bullshit when you didn’t mean any of it.”

“Oh we’re playing that game,” Azzi seethes, “how about ‘Az I’d support you no matter what’ huh? Where did all of that go?”

“Maybe if you didn’t make stupid decisions then.”

“No, actually choosing not to play with you might have been my smartest decision yet,” as soon as the words are out, there’s a part of Azzi that wishes she could wrench them back in. 

“Right,” Paige’s voice is eerily quiet now, “well I hope that works out well for you then. Go to UCLA Azzi, have a great fucking life and stay the fuck away from mine.”

“I didn’t mean it like that,” Azzi takes a cautious step towards the blonde and almost immediately, Paige steps backwards, her expression suddenly blank. The change to indifference is somehow worse than the previous malice, “Paige-”

“Fuck this, I’m going home,” Paige says resolutely, her fingers fidgeting with themselves as she reaches for her phone and wallet. 

“We need to talk this out, we need to try and fix this,” Azzi all but pleads, trying to position herself in front of the persistent older girl who’s trying to make her way to the door. 

“I don’t know if I want to fucking fix this,” Paige yells, shaking away Azzi’s hand on her shoulder, “I don’t know if it’s worth it,” her voice breaks as she says the next words, “I don’t even think  I wanna be friends.”

When Azzi’s 14, Paige Bueckers dribbles through a USA basketball camp court straight into her life and teaches her all about how one person can come into your life and carve out a permanent shelf. When Azzi’s 16, Paige’s casual smiles and not-so-insignificant touches teach her all about the complicated space in-between just friends and something more. When Azzi’s 18, Paige says those words, ones that sound a lot like giving up, and teaches Azzi that sometimes in life, even the people you thought would never make you feel this way, are the ones who'll break you the most. And that’s the day Azzi makes a promise to herself that she’ll never give someone that part of herself again, unaware that when she’s 20, Paige will teach her that some promises are meant to be broken. 

***

July 2023

Azzi doesn’t know what god she pissed off to get herself into this position, stuck in a booth with Zoe on one side and Paige on the other. Her girlfriend’s left hand is placed firmly on her thigh and Azzi has to fight the vehement urge to shake it away because Zoe’s normally soft, sweet touch feels itchy and heavy. But the way Paige’s biceps are pressed against hers might be even worse. Every time the blonde moves a little, the sliding of her smooth skin against Azzi’s arms, sends a jolt of electricity through her veins. And Azzi doesn’t know when she became that girl, the girl who already has someone to hold her but is desperately craving somebody else’s touch. 

When people’s girlfriends surprise them with an unexpected visit, the appropriate reaction is to be overwhelmed with happiness. Except since she’d met her, Azzi’s summers have always belonged to Paige. With them having lived in separate states most of their lives, it was the one time they got to be with each other for an extended period of time. It was an unspoken rule really, one that they had subconsciously still followed the year before when Azzi had shown up at Paige’s door, even if they’d only gotten the last couple of weeks of the season; summer was theirs. So, when Zoe had shown up that afternoon with a bright smile and shining eyes, all Azzi had been able to register was a sense of loss as Paige pulled her hand out of Azzi’s. 

Introductions had been somewhat awkward. Her parents knew of Zoe, but hadn’t met her yet. They were nice of course, her dad pulling the shorter girl into one of his bear hugs and her mom giving her a warm smile. Jon and José were more awkward, nodding their greetings but making no move to actually welcome her. Paige had managed to muster up a smile, one that didn’t quite reach her eyes, and shake the other girl’s outstretched hand. And then there was Drew, whose normally goofy smile seemed to have disappeared. 

“Who are you?” the young boy had asked quizzically, his eyebrows crinkling together. 

“Oh umm, I’m uh- Azzi’s girlfriend,” Zoe had replied, the last word causing Paige to involuntarily flinch. 

Drew had looked over to Azzi then, his eyes wide and accusing, “you can’t be Azzi’s girlfriend.”

“Is that so?” Zoe hummed, clearly not taking him seriously. 

“It is,” Drew had said petulantly, ignoring Paige’s warning squeeze, “she’s Paige’s.”

The silence after had been deafening, as Azzi tried to stop herself from choking on air. Eventually Paige had regained her senses first, apologising for her younger brother’s lack of filter (“he says stupid things all the time”) and then Azzi’s dad had swooped in before things could possibly get any more awkward, proposing that they all go out to dinner. And that’s how Azzi has ended up here, shuffled in a booth, opposite her parents, with Paige on one side and Zoe on the other. Life really and truly isn’t on her side these days. 

“So girls, what are y’all pizza orders?” Tim asks jovially. Azzi’s brothers and Drew, desperate to go enjoy the sun (and avoid Zoe), had already told them their orders before zooming to the park right outside the restaurant. 

“Oh uh- Az you wanna share a Margherita pizza?”

“Azzi and I’ll just have our usual.”

It’s as if the world wants Azzi to suffer as both Zoe and Paige immediately look at her expectantly. The girl in question keeps her eyes focused on the menu in front of her, unsure how to best handle this predicament by doing anything other than maybe just running out of the restaurant. 

“What’s your usual?” Zoe asks, her voice all curiosity and no ill-intent. 

“Grilled chicken and bacon with spinach and onions.”

“But Azzi doesn’t like onions, she says they make-”

“They make her breath smell I know,” there’s a hard edge to Paige’s voice, “but she-”

“She can’t pick them off. She can’t pick anything off of her pizza because it takes-”

“It takes the cheese off, I know that too. That’s not what I was going to say. She doesn’t eat them because she thinks they make her breath smell but she does like them. It’s just-,” Paige’s eyes flare with mischief, “she only eats them around people who are close to her. Guess you’re not quite there yet.”

Since Azzi had mustered up the courage to finally tell Paige about Zoe, right before summer break started, Paige had been nothing but respectful, supportive even. Until tonight apparently and Azzi doesn’t even know to react to the fact that her best friend has started a pissing contest over fucking onions. 

“Right,” Zoe bites her lips, her ever-present smile slipping slightly as she slowly pries the menu out of Azzi’s hands and looks at her with hopefully eyes, “but we’ll get the Margherita tonight babe?”

“I-” and Azzi really should say yes, side with Zoe like the good girlfriend she is, except, well, all she can think about is that Paige hasn’t smiled since the California girl had arrived in D.C., “I think um- I’ll stick to my usual Zo, I’m sorry.”

She’s a terrible girlfriend, because immediately Zoe’s smile fades, and Azzi barely notices it, too busy watching Paige’s grin light up her face. Her baby blue eyes sparkle as if she’s won some important battle and it’s not even dark yet, but Azzi swears it feels like the stars have come out. 

“Okay,” Tim says slowly, looking between the three younger girls, as he waives over the waitress, “if that’s decided then.”

The issue with Paige being pretty, is that nobody’s really immune to it, including the cheerful waitress that practically skips over to serve them. Her eyes glaze over a little bit as they roam across the blonde’s face and then to her arms before drifting down to her torso. Paige’s tank top doesn’t leave much to the imagination, exposing both her muscled biceps and toned torso and Azzi doesn’t need an x-ray to know the widely appropriate thoughts going through the waitress’s head. The feral roar of mine takes birth in her stomach and the quieting whisper of she’s not does little to subdue it. 

“I’m Libby,” the waitress says, tongue darting across her lips, eyes solely focused on Paige, “and I’ll be your server today.”

Libby collects orders dutifully, polite and agreeable, but doesn’t once fully look away from the blonde, practically drooling once she finally gets to her, “and what can I get for you to drink babe?” 

Azzi’s not sure whether it’s the sultry tone or the nickname that gets Paige’s attention, but all of a sudden her best friend is staring up at the waitress with her own flirty smile. She likes to think she’s not a particularly violent person, but Azzi thinks she might end up in jail for homicide tonight. 

“Well babe,” Paige winks, Azzi wants to die, “what would you recommend?”

Libby smirks, clearly feeling triumphant as she leans on the table, one hand reaching out to brush Paige’s forearm, “sex on the beach.”

Several things happen at once. Tim chokes on a breadstick. Katie immediately thumps him on the back. Zoe lets out a laugh. Azzi’s nails break the skin of her palm, drawing blood as she fists both of hands. And then-

“She has a girlfriend,” it’s a blatantly untrue but all Azzi can think about is stopping this  random girl from eye-fucking her Paige. It does the trick, Libby’s eyes go comically wide, as she steps back from the table, from Paige. 

“She does?” Tim asks. Next to him, Katie, shoots her daughter a knowing look that veers on the edge of disappointment. 

Azzi stutters under the heat of Paige’s glare, the blonde clearly unamused by her lie, “I uh- I mean um- it’s not official but um yeah,” she doesn’t even sound convincing to herself, “I’m uh- I’m gonna go to the bathroom.”

She practically shoves Paige out of the booth so she can climb out of it herself, adrenaline pumping through her veins. Her heart hammers in her chest and she tries to block out the sound of Paige’s being questioned by her dad, as she rushes into the restroom. 

There’s no amount of water she could splash on her face to make this heat go away, but she tries anyway, unsure of when the tap water starts to blend in with the tears streaming down her face. The unsettling anger of how dare she flirt with another girl beating in her heart is replaced by the guilt of i’m not allowed to feel this way thrashing around her rib cage. It hurts all the same, as Azzi clutches her chest, trying to even out her breathing.

She doesn’t hear the door open or close until, “What the fuck was that?”

“Get out,” Azzi whispers, closing her eyes and leaning her head on the mirror, “just give me a second okay?”

“Oh no, no, no, you owe me a huge fucking explanation right now,” Paige hisses, “what the fuck was that bullshit? I don’t have a girlfriend.”

“It was a joke-” before Azzi can even finish the sentence, there’s a hand on her biceps, forcing her to turn around. When she opens her eyes, Paige’s face is far too close to her own and when she tries to move back, she’s trapped with the cool edge of the sink. It’s too much, the proximity, the tension, the lingering touch of Paige’s fingers curled around her arm. 

“Stop lying,” Paige bites out. 

“It just slipped out babe,” and fuck, Azzi absolutely hadn’t meant to add that last part, hadn’t meant to make it so obvious what exactly had triggered her little outburst. Realisation flashes across Paige’s face, as she takes a step back, letting go of Azzi, and the distance should be freeing, but instead it just makes her feel lost.  

“That’s what this is about?” the blonde asks in disbelief. 

“Yes- no- I don’t know, okay,” Azzi’s voice is high-pitched, “I’m sorry okay. I’ll tell the waitress it was a joke,” she lets out a humourless laugh, “I didn’t mean to fucking cockblock you.”

“Cockblock me? Dude I wasn’t trying to fuck the waitress what the fuck?”

“Could’ve fooled me babe,” Azzi sneers. 

Something menacing flashes in Paige’s eyes, “stop calling me that.”

“What? You don’t like me calling you babe. You didn’t seem to have a problem when it was her.” 

“Oh my fucking god Azzi,” Paige throws her hands up, “you don’t get to do this. Not when your girlfriend is sitting right there.”

The reminder of Zoe is like being splashed with cold water and Azzi feels everything inside of her freeze. She grips the edge of the sink, trying to find some semblance of balance as Paige continues to glare at her. 

“For the past few hours, I have had to hear your girlfriend call you every fucking nickname in the book. I have had to watch her kiss you and move your hair back and grip your fucking knee under the table,” with every sentence, Paige inches closer and closer, until she’s accentuating every word by pushing her index finger into Azzi’s chest, “and you can’t even fucking deal with me calling some other girl babe?”

“Paige,” Azzi whispers when Paige’s voice breaks on the last word. Their faces are so close, she can feel the other girl’s uneven breathing all over her skin. And it takes everything in her to not cave in and reach a hand out to caress away the tear that's threatening to fall from the blonde’s tearline. 

“It’s been hell Azzi,” Paige spits out, “so you don’t get to be upset if I want to fuck someone-”

Something snaps and before Paige can complete the offending sentence, before she can imprint an image that will forever haunt Azzi’s mind, Azzi silences all the warning bells of why she really shouldn’t, and pulls her best friend into a searing kiss. Immediately, Paige’s hands come to rest against Azzi’s hips, pressing her firmly against the edge of the sink. It’s as if they’re trying to meld their bodies together, both of them gripping each other as close as possible. Outside, it’s a summer evening of clear blue skies, but here in this random restaurant restroom, lightning strikes.

Paige bites at Azzi’s bottom lip and then traces her tongue over the bruise she’s created, smirking when it elicits a gasp from the younger girl. Lips still firmly moving against Azzi’s, her hands work expertly on the buttons of Azzi’s tight shorts. The sensation of everything Paige is all-consuming and Azzi feels like she’s drunk on the taste of her best friend’s skin, as she moves away from Paige’s lips, to pepper kisses on her neck, before moving down to suck a mark into her collarbone. Mine, mine, mine. 

“Fuck Az,” Paige moans when Azzi’s teeth grate against her skin and it’s the brunette’s turn to smirk. But her cockiness is short-lived when Paige’s fingers finally find their way into her now unbuttoned shorts. They press down on her clit through her underwear, making her whine. 

A cry of “Paige,” escapes her lips when the blonde slides Azzi’s panties to the side, her middle and index finger beginning to rub circles around the younger girl’s clit in a tantalisingly slow rhythm. 

“So wet, so fucking wet for me,” Paige’s voice is wrecked with want, as she brings her free hand to cup Azzi’s jaw, forcing her best friend to look her in the eyes. It scares Azzi, the sheer amount of emotion she can see swirling in the blonde’s eyes. There’s lust and then there’s something else, another l-word that she can’t bring herself to acknowledge, knowing it’ll ruin her, ruin them. 

“Please,” Azzi whispers against Paige’s mouth, as the older girl’s fingers slip from her clit to tease against her soaking entrance, dipping into her folds but not giving her what she wants. 

“If you want something baby,” Paige traces Azzi’s lips with her thumb, “you have to ask for it.”

Azzi's hands moved away from where they had been firmly gripping Paige’s waist, to wrap around her neck. She bites softly against Paige’s left earlobe, eliciting a low groan, before bringing her lips as close to the blonde’s ears as she can, “I want you to fuck me.”

It’s all it takes, Paige finally gives Azzi what her body’s so desperately craving, for far longer than she’s willing to admit, pumping two fingers into her pussy, while her thumb stimulates her clit. And fuck, Paige knows exactly what she’s doing, fingers curling in the exact right spots and Azzi feels like she’s floating or flying or falling, maybe all of the above. 

“Please, please, please,” Azzi babbles incoherently, burying her face in the crevice of Paige’s neck, tears beginning to blur her vision. Because, it’s too much, the ecstasy, the fact that it’s Paige behind the ecstasy, the fact that this is better than her wildest fantasies. 

“Doing so good for me baby,” Paige praises, fingers starting to move faster, “taking my fingers so fucking well Az, think you can handle one more?”

Azzi whines in response. Paige pushes in a third finger, both of them letting out identical sighs of pleasure. She’s slow for a second, giving Azzi time to adjust but-

“Fuck, Paige, faster, please,” the younger girls moans, grinding fervently, desperately,  against Paige’s fingers, trying to create more fiction. 

“Anything for you Az,” Paige whispers, and even in the high of the moment, Azzi knows those words are about more than sex, “whatever you want.”

As Paige’s fingers begin to move at a rapid pace, curling around her g-spot, over and over and over, Azzi can feel that familiar pressure building in her stomach. Her fingers claw at Paige’s neck in warning, too worked up for words. Paige nudge’s Azzi’s face out of her neck, free hand cupping the younger girl's jaw. 

“Come apart for me baby,” she whispers before pressing their lips together. 

Azzi’s hips stutter as her orgasm rolls all over her, pussy clenching around Paige’s fingers, as she moans into the older girl's mouth. Spent, her body goes limp, her best friend’s  firm grip pressing her against the edge of the sink, the only thing anchoring her and keeping her uprights. Paige slowly pulls her fingers out of Azzi’s pants and the loss of contact feels wrong. It’s instinct really, as Azzi reaches for Paige’s hand and brings it up to her mouth, sucking each of the older girl’s fingers clean one by one, and it’s worth it for the way Paige looks wrecked. 

“Az-” she begins softly, eyes filled with questions but before Azzi can even think about any answers- 

“Azzi,” reality crashes and burns around the two girls as Zoe’s voice calls out for her girlfriend. The sound of footsteps gets closer and closer. Panic takes the place of pleasure as Paige and Azzi jump apart from each other and the realisation of their surroundings hits both of them at the same time. Sweat sheens against Paige’s collarbone and Azzi’s lips are bruised, her eyes still glazy. Their identical dishevelled demeanour gives away far too much. Just as the restroom door creaks open a little, Azzi dives into one of the stalls. 

“Oh, hey Paige,” guilt pools in Azzi’s stomach at the sound of Zoe’s innocent voice, as she presses her ear against the stall door,  “is Azzi in here? She’s been gone for like 20 minutes.”

“She- she was,” Paige stutters, and Azzi hates herself even more for putting her best friend in this position, “I-uh I think she um- she wanted some fresh air.”

“Ah okay, I’ll go try and find her,” Zoe pauses, “are you okay? You look a little flustered.”

“Me? Oh yeah, I’m fine,” Paige assures in a high-pitched voice, “just uh miss my girlfriend you know.”

Azzi flinches at the lie. She’d made such a fucking mess today. The lying, the cheating, all of it was so out of character and all of a sudden, she feels dirty. Tears brim in her eyes as she begins to process the gravity of what she’d done. And perhaps the worst part of it, is that she can’t find it in herself to fully regret it. If she could turn back time, she doesn’t know if she’d do anything different. Because when it comes to Paige, Azzi’s fine living in shades of grey. 

“Yeah, I didn’t know you had a girlfriend,” Zoe says slowly. 

There’s a pause and Azzi knows the words neither did I are floating in Paige's mind before she answers, “yeah, it’s uh- it’s new.”

“That’s good. I’m happy for you,” the sincerity in Zoe’s words hit like stones, rupturing whatever built up image of i am a good person Azzi had ever had of herself

“Thank you,” Paige replies quietly. 

“It just-,” Zoe draws in a breath, “Azzi she- she worries about you a lot you know. Even before- you know- when you guys weren’t- you know? Like I think she thinks about you a lot,” there’s an unmistakable wistfulness in Zoe’s voice, “ like- if you’re doing okay and all that. And I don’t- I don’t even know you but I know she wants you to be happy- and- and I want whatever Azzi wants- so- so if you’re happy- that’s good.”

“That’s- that’s really sweet of you,” Paige sounds as guilty as Azzi feels.

There’s quiet for a minute until, “do you think I make her happy? Does she- does she talk about me?”

Zoe’s voice is laced in insecurity and hopefulness and Azzi wishes she’d never brought this girl into her mess in the first place. The sun-kissed Californian had been a classmate who had accidentally stumbled upon Azzi mid-breakdown on a random Thursday. One second she was hesitant, the next she was spilling her woes to a stranger, tired of holding it in. And from then on Zoe had been on a mission to just be there. She’d never hidden her intention, always clear that she wanted more than friendship and Azzi, despite knowing that her heart didn’t really have space for anyone else, had let her loneliness be her guide and given in to the urge to just let someone hold her. But the truth is that while every other second spent with Zoe was filled with mentions of Paige’s name, every moment spent with Paige was never about anything else other than her. 

“She- she does, she seems happy,” Paige can’t bring herself to say the with you. The blonde sounds defeated, as if the admission that Azzi could possibly be happy with someone else has taken everything out of her. 

“Good, it means a lot,” Zoe’s voice is lighter now, like there’s a smile hidden in it, “especially from you. Thank you. I’ll uh- I’ll go see if I can find her.”

Azzi waits for the sound of footsteps shuffling and then the sound of the door clicking behind Zoe, before prying herself out of the stall. Paige is hunched over the sink, face buried in her hands. And the words my fault, my fault, my fault imprint themselves all over Azzi’s heart. 

“Your girlfriend’s looking for you,” Paige says, not bothering to look up. 

“Paige I-”

“Just go Azzi, we’ll just” Paige scoffs, “we’ll just play pretend again,” the walls are up again and Paige is unreachable in her castle built from the ashes of the purity in their friendship that they’d just sacrified for a fucking quickie in a barely-lit restroom. And maybe Azzi should say something, maybe she should stay and see if she can fight her way into Paige’s castle. But Azzi’s no knight in shining armour, not Paige’s, not Zoe’s, not anybody else’s because knights don’t cheat and they don’t lie and they don’t break people’s hearts. So she listens to what her best friend says, she walks out, and she pretends she doesn’t hear the sob that’s let out behind her. 

***

November 2023

UCLA is up on UConn, it should be a pretty momentous occasion and it is. Azzi’s had one of the best games of her career to get her team mere seconds away from getting their first win over the powerhouse. For UConn, so has Paige, except there’s nothing but frustration gleaming in the blonde’s face. The game had been bad for UConn, the cracks created by injuries on full display. And the competitor in Azzi was more than happy to take advantage of that. But the part of her that was Paige’s best friend was stuck on how tired Paige looked. Someone fucking help her, Azzi had thought throughout the game, she literally just came back from injury. 

The outcome of the game is clear and Azzi’s already on the bench getting rest, cheering for her own team of course, but keeping a subtle eye on what’s happening with Paige. Azzi’s eyes follow Paige as she’s finally subbed out. The older girl walks to the end of her own bench, hands coming to rest on her thighs as she hangs her head, face scrunched up in irritation. Paige does that thing where it's like she’s trying to bite of all the skin on her lips and Azzi has the familiar urge to march over and make her stop, preferably by kissing her, not that that’s a thought she’s allowed to have. 

It’s ironic really, the 2,943 miles that had once been the reason they’d fallen apart, is the only thing holding them together. Being out of each other’s reach makes it easier to ignore what had happened over the summer, makes it easier to not give into that same vice all over again. And it makes sense, Azzi thinks, because since she’s met her, whenever Paige had just been a blurry goofy face on her screen, they’d been good at the just friends thing. The moment they could touch though, that’s when lines got blurry. As much as Azzi’s not sure how she survived a year without Paige, she’s even less sure about how she’d survived that one year where they’d practically lived in each other’s skins. 

Things in the handshake line are somewhat icy with both teams being overprotective of their star players. Muhl’s eyes are full of disdain once she reaches Azzi and Arnold barely shakes her hand, only doing as much as she has to, to keep up appearance. Azzi’s teammates aren’t any better, Angelica smiles at everyone until she reaches Paige, and Kiki rolls her eyes at the point guard. But it doesn’t matter what anybody else does, not when Paige practically falls into Azzi’s arms, her tense body finally beginning to relax a little. 

“You did good,” Azzi whispers into the blonde’s hair, tightening her hold on the other girl as she soothingly strokes her back.

Paige scoffs, burying her face further into Azzi’s neck, “you did good, I did what I had to.”

They break apart reluctantly, the shutter of cameras ruining the intimacy of the moment. Their hands hold on a touch longer but the minute they finally slip away from each other, the familiar feeling of i’m tired of missing you that seems to always be lingering within Azzi, prickles against her heart. 

*** 

UConn and UCLA don’t have a rivalry but if you were sat at the hotel restaurant in the Cayman Islands on a lovely November evening, you wouldn’t know that. There’s multiple women’s basketball teams present at the restaurant and everyone’s mingling with each other but the Bruins and Huskies seem determined to avoid each other at all costs. At one point, Angelica and Muhl, of course it would be them, accidentally bump into each other and Azzi holds her breath at the icy glare shared between them. She’s not sure how she and Paige ended up with something akin to the women’s basketball version of the Montagues and the Capulets, but it seems fitting with the way her life’s been going, that it would eventually start to take the shape of a tragedy.

It’s around 10pm when Azzi notices Paige moving in the direction of the door, towards the beach. Azzi hesitates for a moment, knowing her need to go after the blonde isn't just one born out of a best friend’s concern, but it’s Paige. It doesn’t matter if there’s inevitable destruction on the other side, it’s Paige and when it’s Paige, Azzi will follow. 

Paige’s silhouette on the beach, glowing underneath the moonlight, with waves crashing onto the shore beyond her, is straight out of a dream. Azzi’s not an artist by any means, but she thinks if she were, this moment would be her muse. The sea wind causes Paige’s hair to flutter with it. Her eyes are closed in concentration, knees pressed against her heaving chest as she takes in deep breaths of salty air. Azzi traipses across the sand, sandals in hand, before falling to the ground next to the other girl. A whisper of a smile is the only acknowledgement Paige offers her as they let a comfortable silence glide over them. 

“It would be nice to live here,” Paige says after a moment, “it’s peaceful.”

“Except when it storms,” Azzi surmises. 

“It’s not peaceful anywhere when it storms,” Paige counters matter-of-factly, “can you just let me have my moment?

“Right, right, continue.”

“Well now I don’t want to.”

Azzi laughs. Paige grins. It’s so easy. It’s so fucking scary. 

“Why’d you leave the restaurant?” Azzi asks cautiously. 

“Fresh air.”

“And?”

Paige sighs, fidgeting with the hem of her shirt, “it’s gonna be a long season.”

“It always feels like that at the beginning.”

“I know- it’s just- after last year- I just thought it would be different. We’d show the world this time. Be like the other UConn teams of the past. Maybe I just wanted something easier.”

“No you didn’t,” Azzi nudges Paige’s shoulder, “you’ve never wanted easy in your goddamn life Paige. If it’s not a challenge, then it’s not for you. Because you’re God’s strongest soldier, and He’ll give you  his hardest battles, right?”

“Right, but sometimes I just don’t feel so strong.”

“Remember what I said in LA? It’s okay to feel that way P. It’s okay to feel however you feel. Let yourself breathe sometimes, it’s good for you. Fall down, let things go, just- remember to get back up and hold on again. It’ll get better, I promise.”

“You always say the right things,” Paige says quietly, and then even quieter, she whispers under her breath, “you make it so hard Az.”

Azzi’s not fully sure what that means. She’s not sure she wants to. Instead she tangles her and Paige’s fingers together, ignoring the way it feels a little too right,  and lets them fall back into a peaceful quiet.

“So,” Paige begins again, after a couple of minutes, “Zoe didn’t make the trip here?”

I’m holding your hand and you’re thinking about my girlfriend. Maybe you’re a better person than me. 

“She can’t just leave all her schoolwork and follow me wherever,” Azzi says, trying to keep the defensiveness out of her voice. It’s true except the part where Zoe had asked if she wanted her there and Azzi hadn’t been able to give her the enthusiastic yes she wanted, starting an unspoken argument that quashed any chance of a nice romantic island getaway for the two of them. 

“She did for the Elite 8 last-” Paige bites her tongue. 

“How did you-,” Azzi’s brain feels dizzy with confusion, “how could you know that? You left- after the Sweet 16, you- how did you know Zoe was there?”

“I didn’t leave,” Paige keeps her eyes adamantly on the ocean, “the team wanted to stay longer,” that’s a lie, Azzi knows her too well, “and so I stayed and you know me, I love watching hoops so I uh- I watched your game.”

“You were there,” Azzi whispers more to herself than Paige at this point. She’d been so sure she was just hallucinating, her heart trying to trick itself into seeing what it wanted to see, “why didn’t you tell me you were there? Why didn’t you come see me after the game?”

“I did- fuck Azzi- I did-”

“Where? I would’ve seen- I didn’t see-” 

“I saw you,” Paige cuts through Azzi’s frantic questioning, her voice heavy with unspoken emotions as she continues to refuse to look at the younger girl, “you and Zoe. Together.”

“Paige-”

“After the game, you were looking for someone in the stands and I- I thought maybe you were looking for your parents but then I saw you- with her- outside the locker room and- it hit me that- that you were looking for her,” Paige spits the last word out as it feels like lava on her tongue. 

In the grand scheme of things, maybe Azzi should let Paige keep this misconception, maybe it would make things simpler if she let Paige believe in the idea that there was someone else Azzi sought out when she was struggling. But- 

“I thought I saw you,” Azzi breathes out, “I should have been looking for Zoe but-” she has to draw in a breath when Paige whips around, piercing blue eyes that feel like they can see straight into Azzi’s soul, “Paige, I was looking for you-”

The last bit of sound is stolen away from Azzi as Paige’s lips crash onto hers. And it’s so different from summer and that wretched bathroom. Something softer, more gentle, but still desperate and passionate. Time slows down, as Azzi pulls Paige into her lap, hands caressing her waist, mouths still moving against each other with perfect rhythm. They only pull away when air becomes a necessity, resting their forehead against each other, as they breathe in sync. 

“You’re so beautiful,” Azzi whispers, moving a strand of hair out the blonde’s face. 

The way Paige blushes is everything, “stop.”

“You are,” Azzi insists, pressing a kiss against the corner against the edge of her lips, “you’re perfect P.”

If she goes blind tomorrow, in the next second even, Azzi thinks that would be okay. As long as this, Paige with her soft Azzi smile, looking at her with that sparkle in her eyes, face illuminated by the shine of the stars, is the last thing Azzi sees. 

Slowly Paige climbs off of her, stretching out a hand to pull Azzi up. 

“You don’t have a roommate right?,” she asks with a soft smirk that transforms into a shy grin when Azzi nods. And this isn’t a version of Paige that Azzi's ever met before, so different from her cocky loud best friend, but she’d like to learn her all the same. 

The hotel staff probably think they’re a little drunk as they giggle their way to Azzi’s hotel room. Azzi barely manages to get the door open, before Paige’s lips are all over her again, drifting everywhere from her lips to her neck to her collarbone. 

“Off, off, off,” Paige urges, hands pulling away Azzi’s shirt and she can’t help but giggle at the older girl’s impatience. She keeps her eyes firmly on Paige as she unhooks her bra, smirking as her best friend’s eyes glaze over. Paige moves to touch her, and Azzi moves back immediately. 

“Nuh huh. I show you mine, you show me yours.”

“You’re so fucking annoying,” Paige groans but does as she’s told, discarding her shirt and Azzi’s smirk widens. She moves towards Paige, slowly tracing her tongue down the older girl’s neck. 

“Am I?” Azzi whispers, as she backs her best friend onto the bed. Paige’s eyes follow her every movement as Azzi slowly slides down Paige’s pants, and then her underwear. She runs a finger down Paige’s soaked folds, causing the other girl’s body to shiver, “so wet already, for someone so annoying?”

“Fuck y-” Paige cuts herself off with a groan, when Azzi’s fingers find her sensitive clit.

Settling herself in between the older girl's legs, Azzi grazes her teeth against Paige’s left thigh, satisfied when it makes the other girl’s breath hitch,  “if I’m so annoying maybe I should go?”

“Don’t you fucking dare,” Paige warns breathlessly, head propped up against Azzi’s pillows. 

“That’s what I thought,” Azzi smirks, as she peppers kisses up Paige’s thighs, her right thumb lazily flickering against Paige’s clit. 

“You’re such a fucking tease,” Paige lets out a frustrated whine, “just fuck me already.”

Azzi bites down hard against Paige’s thigh, wanting to leave a mark in the one place no one would ever see it, before looking up at Paige, “whatever you want.”

Paige’s entire body writhes as Azzi fucks her tongue into Paige’s pussy, building pace with every thrust. One hand fists around the sheets, as the other moves to grab at Azzi’s head, trying to guide her in deeper. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck shit Azzi please,” Paige curses, eyes rolling into her skull, “just like that fuck.”

She’s so close, words becoming incoherent noises, thighs beginning to shake, when Azzi pulls her tongue off.

“What the fuck-” Paige almost yells but it turns into a groan when Azzi replaces her tongue with two fingers instead, “shit- FUCK.”

Azzi attaches her now-free lips to Paige’s clit and she can tell it’s too much. Paige’s back arches off the bed as her eyes go hazy. And then Azzi’s above her, fingers still rapidly pumping into Paige, as she places a delicate kiss against her lips. 

“Let go baby, I’ve got you,” Azzi whispers into Paige’s ear as the blonde closes her eyes, letting her orgasm wash all over her, “I’ve got you.”

Paige is still for a second, as Azzi slips her fingers out, continuing to press lazy open-mouthed kisses against her best friend’s neck. She squeals when she feels herself being flipped over, back hitting the mattress. 

“What was it you said?” Paige asks cheekily, as starts to unbutton Azzi’s jeans, “I showed you mine, now you have to show me yours.”

Azzi rolls her eyes, a laugh escaping her throat. Trust them to be dorks even in a moment like this. And then Paige attaches her lips to Azzi’s clit and the giggles turn into loud desperate moans. When she slips her fingers in, it’s clear Paige remembers exactly how to push Azzi over the edge. 

“So fucking perfect,” Paige whispers from between her legs, eyes looking up at a blissed-out Azzi with awe, “you’re so fucking perfect.”

“That’s you,” Azzi manages to get out in between bated breaths, before her own orgasm hits her, and Paige’s name waterfalls out of her lips like a prayer. 

There’s no more words after that, only shared looks and soft grins as they make their way into the en-suite bathroom, lazily washing each other between stolen kisses. They fall asleep, wrapped in each other's arms with matching content smiles. 

***

Azzi wakes up alone the next morning. There’s no scribbled note, or even a text. In fact there’s really no proof that Paige was ever there to begin with, except for the ghost of Paige’s touch written all over Azzi’s skin. For a second, Azzi sits in bed and stares out her window. There's a thunderstorm brewing outside (it's not peaceful anywhere when it storms). She watches the raindrops slide down one by one and decides that, that’s the only water that’ll fall today because she won’t shed a single tear and she won’t cry and she most definitely won’t sob. 

She replies to Zoe’s i miss you text with a me too she doesn’t mean.

And then she gets up and goes on with her day. 

[shoutaaizawas]

20. How long did you think you could hide that? with Shouta, please! I feel like you'd be one of the best writers for it. (:

↳ aizawa shouta x reader → ❝look at me❞

summary: you get locked in a building while it's under attack, the last person you expect to come to your rescue is your ex boyfriend. word count: 2.6k+  tags/warnings: january hurt/comfort event, light descriptions of head attack, injury, and blood a/n: thank you for your prompt! a late addition to the january event.

masterlist

Having an ex-boyfriend that was a hero was not the best thing. Picture it, you’re facing one of the scariest moments of your life. In dire need of help and then your ex shows up.

It’s really a nightmare scenario.

The day started normally, you just had to run one errand then you could spend the rest of your day relaxing. All you had to do was go to city hall to pick up some papers then you were free to do nothing.

You made it a point to get up early and head over there early so you could enjoy your day off. That was the wrong choice evidently and you were quickly punished for your attempt at being productive.

You were walking down a hallway when lights began to flash and alarms sounded. Lockdown.

The city hall was under attack and it was under lockdown.

Quickly you took shelter in an open office under a desk, not fully knowing the threat yet.

It was loud, there was commotion in the building. It was clear something was happening but you weren’t sure what yet.

The next thing you heard was the office door open, you held your breath in fear.

“Is anyone in here?” You heard a man’s voice.

Peeking around the corner of the desk you tried to see who was talking. Surely a villain wouldn’t ask that. Right?

The last thing you wanted to see was Aizawa Shouta, otherwise known as the pro hero Eraserhead.

Maybe you wished it was a villain.

“Aizawa?” You said, coming out of your hiding spot.

“What are you doing here?” His voice was steady but you saw through his calm demeanor. You had been with him long enough to read him.

“I-I was just here to pick up paperwork.” You said. “What’s happening?”

Aizawa sighed. “There’s a gang of villains disgruntled with the mayor. They’re going after everyone in the building.”

“Oh no,” That was bad. Why did you have to be here right now?

“Stay here, okay?” He said. “I’m going to clear this floor and I’ll come back and get you out of here. Put a chair to block the door. I’ll knock when I’m back.”

You nodded. There was a conflicting feeling of not wanting to be alone right now but also not wanting to be around your ex.

“Okay.” You said. Aizawa nodded before closing the door. You took the chair and wedged it under the handle praying that they wouldn’t try getting in.

Sitting on the desk you wondered how your peaceful day off had turned into this. The last person you wanted to see was Aizawa Shouta.

You had done all you could to push away any thought of him. Despite the time that had passed since he broke up with you the wound still felt fresh.

Aizawa was your everything. You had met him by accident, he had come to your rescue one night. You offered to get him coffee and the two of you hit it off. You kept running into him and before you knew it you were falling for him. The two of you started to date.

You had dated for over a year and you thought everything was going great. You had even moved in together. Then one day he broke up with you, with no warning, no explanation.

It devastated you. You loved him more than anything, you thought the two of you would get married. Just like that you were alone, it was hard. He had moved out leaving you in the apartment where you had shared so many beautiful moments. It felt like living with a ghost.

You moved out to an apartment on the other side of town. You didn’t care if it meant being far away from work you just wanted to be away from all the places you had memories at.

It still hurt, one day living with the love of your life, the next he’s gone refusing to explain why. It ruined your confidence, took away the future you had in your head, and left you feeling empty.

The memory still hurt.

“What do you mean you’re breaking up with me?” You asked him in disbelief. If he was the type you’d think he was pranking you.

“This isn’t working out anymore, I want to move my life in a different direction.” He said all emotion gone from him.

“Did I do something?” You questioned, tears already burning in your eyes.

“No, things have just changed.” He said.

“Did you meet someone else?” You asked heartbroken at the thought.

“No.” He said quickly. “It’s just- Things are different now.” He said.

“What things?” You asked feeling desperate for an answer.

“I’ll be moving out.” He said. “I’ll be back tomorrow while you’re at work to get my stuff.”

He left with a packed bag and it felt like your world had fallen apart. You had created every horrible reason he would have left you since you never got a real reason from him.

A bang at the door brings you back to reality.

It’s not a knock and as you hear more noise you realize that someone is trying to break in. You get up and hide under the desk again hoping that they won’t be able to get in.

Your hopes are dashed as a loud noise tells you that the door has burst open. You curl up as small as you can and hold your breath. Maybe there’s a chance they don’t search the room.

Footsteps sound around the room as the man looks around, throwing furniture as he goes. It’s silent for a moment before the chair covering your hiding spot is torn away.

Before you can even react you’re grabbed by the ankle and dragged out. The villain above you is much larger than you and try as you might you can’t fight him off.

You’re picked up and thrown onto the desk. You scream for help, Aizawa can’t be far away, he’s always come to your rescue in the past and despite your split, you believe he still will.

There are a few more moments that feel like they last forever before the villain is pulled away and tossed to the side. You watch as Aizawa makes quick work of the villain.

His gaze turns to you, concern on his face. “Are you okay?” He asked you.

You start to stand up and you feel a pain in your stomach, your hand moves under your jacket and you feel something there. When you touch it, it hurts and you quickly realize what it is.

“I’m fine.” You told him.

He nods. “Okay, the floor is clear. Let’s go to the stairwell and I’ll get you out of here.” He said.

Aizawa leads you out of the room and down the hallway. It feels like every step hurts more and more but you keep pushing. You know it’s stupid, that you should tell him you're injured. That he should probably carry you out of the building but you can’t stand the thought of telling him.

In your head, there are only two options. One, that his reaction is stoic and he treats you like he would any other victim he would help as a hero. Or two, that you would see something more in his eyes and it would give you some hope that maybe he still felt the same way you did about him.

Getting to the stairwell you could feel more blood leaking from the wound, you knew the knife was still in the wound so it would keep you from bleeding too much. You were starting to feel light-headed as you descended the four floors to the ground level.

It was when you were almost at the ground level you missed a step, slipping down the last few steps. Aizawa was quick to grab you by your shoulders pulling you up. “Are you okay?” He asked.

“I-I’m fine.” You said trying to stand but your legs were shaky.

“Is that blood?” He asked spotting the red spreading through your shirt and now jacket.

You moved to try and hide it but you realized it was too much now. “I’m fine.” You said trying to sound more confident now.

Aizawa moves your open jacket out of the way to see the knife in your stomach. “You’re not fine!” His voice is harsh and you can see in his eyes how upset he is.

“I-” You start but he cut you off.

“How long did you think you could hide this?” His voice was firm but still upset.

Your eyes move to the ground, not wanting to look at him.

Aizawa lets out a heavy sigh. “We need to get you to medical now.” He said. “I’m going to carry you.

Before you can argue he picks you up carefully, holding you in a princess carry. He moves out of the stairwell through the lobby and to the lockdown checkpoint.

You hate it, you hate the memories of the times he carried you like this while you giggled and nuzzled your face into his neck. You hate the way his hands are so gentle around you. You hate the way you miss him so much even after all this time.

The sunlight should feel like relief, feel like safety but all you can think about is how you wish you never had to leave his arms.

Aizawa sets you down on a gurney at the triage tent set up for this disaster. Laying down you feel dizzy and sick but you have this overwhelming want to have him stay.

Maybe it’s the fear of the knife still stuck in your stomach or the attack you just faced but when Aizawa turns to move you grab his wrist.

“Please-” Your voice is weak. “Stay.”

“I-” Aizawa’s voice is low. “I just need to get a medic. I’m not going to leave.”

You’re surprised, you think that he should probably go back in and help the other heroes to stop the villains there but the last thing you’re gonna do right now is argue.

Aizawa returns to your side and you’re shocked when he takes your hand in his. A doctor approaches you and assesses your wound.

“We need to get her to a hospital, if we remove this here she will bleed out.” They said.

“I’ll go with her,” Aizawa said shocking you again.

They loaded you into the ambulance and Aizawa stayed by your side. You didn’t understand why he was staying with you and you felt conflicted. Every part of you wanted him here but you didn’t want to face the moment he walked away.

At the hospital, they’re able to stabilize you and get a scan to confirm the wound hasn’t hit any organs or major arteries. Aizawa stays by your side as much as he can and when they finally are ready to remove the knife and stitch you up he’s there holding your hand.

“It’s going to be okay,” He said as he held your hand, you hate how much you love it. You close your eyes as they pull the knife out, it doesn't hurt because they’ve numbed you but the sensation is still disturbing and you let out a gasp.

You need something to distract you.

“Why did you break up with me?” The question leaves your mouth before you can stop yourself. Out of the corner of your eyes, you can see the doctor who is stitching up your wound glance over at you for a moment before resuming. You know this isn’t the time or place but you aren’t sure if you’ll ever get it again.

Aizawa stares at you for a moment before sighing. “I was scared.” He said. You’re surprised that he answered you but you’re even more surprised by his answer.

“What?” You asked confused.

“I broke up with you because I was scared of losing you.” He explained.

“I would never leave,” You said.

“I didn’t think you were going to leave- I-” He paused, his eyes glancing away before returning to your gaze. “A friend of mine, a hero, she lost her husband. It was really hard to watch, she fell apart- I couldn’t stop wondering what would happen if something happened to you.”

“Shouta-” You said softly.

“I obsessed over it, and when you had that run-in with a villain because they targeted you because you were close to me- it was the breaking point. I didn’t want to put you in danger and I didn’t want to lose you.” He explained.

“And here we are,” Probably not the right time for a joke but you couldn’t stop yourself.

“Yeah.” He sighed. “You’re right. I realized a while ago that I was wrong for breaking up with you. It was cruel to do that to you with no explanation and I ruined the best thing I’ve ever had in my life.”

You stared at him surprised by his words. Your attention was fully off the discomfort of being stitched up.

“I regretted it from the day I broke up with you but for months I told myself it was to protect you but the reality is I was scared and I should have just dealt with my feelings in a healthy way instead of pushing you away.” He said. “I’ve been a coward, avoiding you when I should have been at your door begging you to forgive me and take me back.”

Maybe you died. That was your first thought at his words. How many times had you wished Shouta had come to you and asked for you back? And here you were, being stitched up by a doctor for a stab wound and Shouta was holding your hand telling you he should have never left.

“Shouta-” You said looking up at him. “I can’t tell you how long I’ve wished you would come back, how many times I wanted to chase after you and beg you to explain what happened.” Your eyes started to burn with tears.

He looked relieved, a soft smile on his lips.

“You’re all stitched up, we’d like to move you to a room so we can keep you overnight to make sure you don’t have an infection.” The doctor said feeling hesitant to interrupt your moment.

You looked at her feeling awkward that you just had that moment in front of a stranger. “Thank you.” You said.

After being moved into a regular room Aizawa sat at your side.

The room was quiet for a moment before he spoke. “I know I don’t deserve another chance, I know what I did was hurtful and immature and I’ll never forgive myself for hurting you like that.” He said. “But I would regret it for the rest of my life if I didn’t ask you if you would ever consider taking me back. I love you, I never stopped loving you and you’re the only person I’ve ever wanted to spend the rest of my life with.”

Maybe it was the pain medicine but you stared at Shouta for a moment in disbelief.

“I’ve missed you so much.” You said, maybe it was the stress of the day but you started to tear up. “I never stopped loving you, all I’ve ever wanted is you back.”

Aizawa looked at you with soft eyes. He moved closer, leaning in to press a kiss against your forehead. “I was so scared today when I saw all that blood. I thought the worst.”

You grabbed his arm, gently pulling him closer. “Thank you for saving me, for getting me out.”

He looked at you with warm eyes, you could feel his love through his gaze. “I will always be there to save you,” He said softly. “I promise, I’ll never leave your side again.”

Your hand moved to the back of his neck, pulling him down for a soft kiss.

You didn’t know what the future held but it didn’t matter now that you had the love of your life back at your side.

[bonefall]

Talk and/or rant about why you like Bumble from DotC please?

Bumble makes me want to cry. Her story is just... heartbreaking. She's one of the sweetest, most honest characters in the entire series, and the way she is abused by Tom the Wifebeater and denied asylum by the Moor Cats, then murdered for Clear Sky's arc, genuinely makes me feel sick.

But I've talked about that before. Many, many times. Let me celebrate her brief life for this one post, just covering her during The Sun Trail. Her first appearance in Book 2 where Clear Sky murders her, Thunder Rising, is the start of the scene that begins her slow, agonizing death.

I don't only love her out of spite for how she died; I love her because she was a wonderful, warm, confident character, and an excellent friend. She provided relief from the agonizing Settler group, who are insufferably angsty and controlling of each other, and most importantly, space away from Turtle Tail's awful friend, Gray Wing.

The closer that Bumble gets to Turtle Tail, the more confrontational Gray Wing becomes. He starts to hate Bumble, as if she's stealing his Plan B while he spends all the rest of his time with Storm. I'm convinced that the writers (and the fandom sometimes <_<) believe that this is "compelling romantic drama" which makes Turtle x Gray sweeter when it finally happens, but it just makes me feel like TurtleGray is the Bad Ending for every woman character involved.

After a brief appearance as she witnesses the Settlers arrive on the moor, the very first time we get to meet Bumble is when Gray Wing and Turtle Tail are hanging out on some sunny rocks. She's cheerful, outgoing, and curious, wanting to get to know her new neighbors.

Gray Wing, the POV character, immediately makes an incorrect assumption about her weight, thinking she won't be able to climb. She can, just fine, and she plays an Uno Reverse card on how skinny they are lmao

First thing out of her mouth is, "Oh you are SKIN AND BONES!!" Same energy as grandma who is about to make you feel more full than you have ever been in your entire life, considering she's going to open her home to Turts in a couple chapters.

They get into a conversation where Bumble asks where they came from, and why they left the mountains. She remains friendly and open, just enjoying small talk with these total strangers. She's enjoyable and lighthearted, in welcome contrast to the Settler's group which is full of moping, miserable cats.

(and in my live-read I was even frustrated at the time by how it seemed like the Settlers would have 1 or 2 nice moments, and then go back to fighting or brooding. It's unpleasant.)

In this first interaction it's just a glimmer, but it seems that what Turtle Tail LIKES about Bumble is that she makes her feel special. She LISTENS, unlike how Gray Wing is going to be in a couple of chapters.

She likes telling the shocking tale of giant birds to Bumble, and Bumble is happy that they're away from such hardships now. When Turtle Tail turns the questions back on her, Bumble is happy to gush about her life as a house cat.

She loves her people, playing with their children and always having plenty of food, explaining that when she gets bored she comes to the woods for a nice walk. Then, she mentions something very important.

Historically, there WAS no aggression towards outsiders. Cats like Bumble didn't take what they didn't need, and were left alone for it. This first interaction paints the full picture. Bumble wasn't afraid of the Settlers because there never was a reason to be scared.

CLEAR SKY is inventing the borders to aggrieve random cats. Him. His idea. Before him, you could walk through the forest freely like Bumble did.

This is before the arc irrevocably goes up in flames at the end of Book 3 by committing to a Clear Sky "Redemption," and is forced to create One Eye and Slash out of nowhere for Books 4/5/6. Before that absolutely baffling mistake of a choice, it is clear that The Settlers are the problem.

There WAS no Slash or One Eye. They were retconned in midway through the arc to make Clear Sky and The Settlers look less bad.

After this exchange, Turtle Tail dismisses Bumble's way of life and chuckles at a joke Gray Wing makes about how they'll probably never see Bumble again because she'll be afraid of them... but she's thinking about her. It strikes me as being the same kind of feeling as the swirling, murky feeling of a new crush.

Can't get the chunky kitty girl out of her head, can you, Turtle Tail?

We don't see Bumble for a few more chapters, but in her next appearance, it's implied she's been visiting Turtle Tail for a while. Gray Wing sees them sharing a meal. Please note how Turts is immediately defensive. As if she feels like she's being caught in the middle of doing something wrong.

(Tangent: note the constant suspicion and aggression towards Wind and Gorse. who live here.)

Gray Wing is as oblivious as ever. For a character described as "wise" he's incredibly dense towards the feelings of others. Yet, always, ALWAYS, Bumble is cheerful. This brewing animosity is NOT returned, she's happy to see him again.

He tries to recruit her to the moor group and she enthusiastically declines with a "No way! I love my life, actually!"

As soon as she's out of earshot, Here Comes The Confrontation. The exact one that Turtle Tail correctly anticipated when she got defensive earlier;

"You shouldn't have friends I don't approve of, Turtle Tail. It bothers me."

How can I NOT love Bumble? When her primary purpose is to be a friend for Turtle Tail, while Gray Wing is either ignoring her or sending her on guilt trips through this entire book? She's RELIEF for a woman who's being treated like trash, and every time she shows up she's doing something cute or helpful!

(Tangent: This book's pacing is garbage. The next scene is a sudden fox raid where a billion foxes attack the camp, and then the Settlers reveal that they don't know what a fox is. BUMBLE taught Turtle Tail about the danger of foxes. This is contradicted by the later books where there's cats back at the tribe named after foxes and Quiet Rain calls her shittiest son a foxheart. But there's waaay worse continuity errors in this arc.)

Gray Wing, the POV, hates her for no goddamn reason. It's right there on the page that he can't give Turtle Tail an answer as to why she should stop hanging out with her. The two continue to fight as Turts desperately tries to salvage their relationship while Gray Wing finds ways to snap at her or offend her.

I think the next appearance of Bumble is actually the most cringeworthy, though. I get secondhand embarrassment reading this one.

Turts just stayed with her friend overnight, and Gray Wing throws a fit about it, hissing at her that she's using the wrong terms and that she's forgotten where she belongs. Bumble watches this all happen like 😬, and then when Turtle Tail apologizes for this asshole having a conniption, he hisses AGAIN and whines about how he doesn't need to be apologized for.

But Bumble, up to her very last appearance in this book, is helpful and open.

After Gray Wing is nearly slaughtered by Fox at the border on Clear Sky's orders, so he kills him in self defense, causing Clear Sky to disown Gray Wing as his brother, which is the final straw for the pregnant Storm to run off, and then The Pacing Brothers have a casual chat over the still-warm corpse of the dead lackey, the input lag finally sends the signal to Gray Wing's brain that he needs to go find Storm.

It's BUMBLE that tells him where she can be found, as always, cutting through tension. Turtle Tail stays behind because she's understandably fed up with Gray Wing, so Bumble brings him where he needs to go. She guides him through the town, over roads, to the abandoned building where Storm is staying.

Gray Wing whines the whole time because he is a loser.

It's also interesting to me that when Bumble's annoyed with him, she doesn't huff or even get rude. She just glances back, and points out that there's disadvantages to his lifestyle too. You get used to it.

In better books, Gray Wing's POV would be considered unreliable in the end. He's an oblivious jackass whose thickness causes him to treat other people poorly, EXCEPT for his monstrous brother, whose violence and abuse he enables through the entire series. Though he's hailed as a "perfect boy so very full of love," he causes a LOT of the problems in his own relationships and familial dynamics.

Smarter books would encourage you to step back and think critically about the events as he perceived them;

Why did his judgement of Bumble begin to harden as Turtle Tail spent more time with her? Did Bumble do anything to deserve this?

Did Gray Wing's behavior lead to Turtle Tail's eventual decision to leave the moor? Were there other factors?

What are the flaws he can identify about himself? How will he grow from this?

Are there broader problems with The Settlers, which may have influenced the mindsets of both Turtle Tail and Gray Wing?

Unfortunately with Gray Wing, the only thing they identify as a "problem" in how he treated Turts in The Sun Trail is that he spent less time with her, as he pursued Storm. The controlling behavior and frequent arguing, the condescension, and the public embarrassment are NOT treated as negative traits to address as the series goes on.

(they never are. These are not directly addressed in any of the other terrible men in the series; Clear Sky, Bramblestar, Raggedstar, etc. only paternal neglect is condemned. Men are even allowed to beat their kids and it will not be called out.)

And breaking through that lens, you see Bumble. Who is just here to be a person that Turtle Tail needs, a good friend, someone who's confident, self-assured, and LOVES the life that she lives. I can't help but feel joy every time she walks onto the screen in The Sun Trail, because Gray Wing is SO frustrating that I'm rooting for Turtle Tail to go somewhere that she'll be appreciated.

It's as if they NEEDED to invent Tom the Wifebeater, who spawns in like some kind of random event just before Thunder Rising (the humans just... went to the shelter and adopted The Worst Cat. No checks on if he's aggressive towards other cats or anything), so that Turtle would HAVE some kind of reason to leave. Because, as you can see here, she wouldn't have gone back otherwise.

[autumnmobile12]

I am happy for Natsuo's decision to go no-contact with his father. I think that's the best choice he could have made.

But I am sad that it had to come to that.

I genuinely think there was a part of Natsuo that did want to forgive his father, not because Endeavor deserved forgiveness but because Natsuo did want the father figure he'd been denied his entire life. For every time he comforted Touya, he had to have held some bitter thoughts that encompassed, "At least he loved you once. I never even had that." Only he could never say that out loud for the sake of his suffering sibling.

Still, no matter how much he may have wanted that, he knew there was no way Endeavor could realistically make up for his ruined childhood and so there was no way he could forgive him.

So yes, I am sad that Natsuo's circumstances led him to the completely justified choices he made.

I hope he has better luck with his in-laws.

...

That said, there is one thing about that decision that concerns me and that is the fact he will not allow his future children to meet their grandfather. And I don't mean that in an, "Aw, at least let your toxic father meet his grandchildren."

No, this is my concern:

Does Natsuo plan on hiding his father's identity from his children entirely? I cannot stress what an emphatically bad idea that is. One, unless he cuts contact with both his parents and remaining siblings, it's impossible. Two, even in the unlikely event he does go that far, his kids will figure it out one way or another. And if they find out the hard way, that's only going to cause resentment/raise questions. "Why did Dad lie about Grandpa? What else is he hiding?" Transparency is the only option to avoid that kind of drama.

If Natsuo does tell his children about his family, will he be comfortable with the idea that they may want to meet their grandfather regardless of what they've been told? In spite of their upbringing, kids are their own entity and not a complete reflection of their parents. Even if they know Natsuo's side of the story, even if Natsuo paints their grandfather as the unspeakable monster who destroyed their family, even if he makes it clear exactly what happened, there is still a fifty-fifty chance they may want to meet the man in question regardless, if only to sate a curiosity about where they came from. Natsuo can say 'no, absolutely not' all he wants, but that's not a decision he can control once his children are legal adults.

And in that scenario, he would be putting his kids in an awkward situation where they have to choose between alienating their father and meeting their grandfather. If they choose their father, then they will spend the rest of their lives wondering, "What if...?" If they choose their grandfather, they run the risk of Natsuo resenting them for going behind his back. No matter how Natsuo feels, unless Endeavor dies before it becomes an issue, this is a boundary that's going to be tested in some manner when his kids get older.

...

I'm not saying Natsuo doesn't have good intentions in wanting to protect his future children from what he went through. He has no obligation to capitulate and play happy family, but the above scenario is a very real situation that could absolutely happen whether he likes it or not. If he doesn't navigate that carefully, his determination to keep Endeavor away from his new family could very well end up pushing his new family away from him.

I guess what I'm saying is, "Natsuo, however justified you are, don't become the next Shimura Kotaro."

[websterss]

HOWEVER LONG IT TAKES — NETEYAM SULLY

SUMMARY: You’ve been struggling with Neteyam’s death ever since his funeral. This causes the Sullys to worry about your well being. To ensure that you don’t do anything irrational, the kids follow you to the spirit tree every night, where you spend your time with your lost love.

WARNING(S): angst, mentions of dying, mentions of suicide, attempt drowning, fluff at the end

WORD COUNT: 5,989

PAIRING: Neteyam Sully x Omatikaya!fem!Reader

A/N: I hope you enjoy it! Feedback is always welcomed!

MASTERLIST

Denial was the first stage of grief that one felt when trying to cope with trauma. At some point and time, everyone falls subjective to it. Finding ways to trick the mind to believe something other than the truth. When someone is in a state of denial they begin to suppress their emotions. They grow incapable of coming to terms with what is and what has happened. That’s the current state you resided in. In a cycle of trial and error. Attempting to process a sudden change, but then avoid doing so to neglect the pain you don’t want to endure. Rather, neglect the fact that Neteyam was gone. It’s crazy to think how only hours ago he was rescuing you from the ship. Telling you to run and get to safety, but you were willing to follow his skxawng ass anywhere. You got him back for a few minutes, it was only a few minutes you wished you’d have cherished longer. 

You didn’t want to let go. You didn’t listen to him, didn’t flee, didn’t return home, and didn’t think that you were putting yourself in danger, not when he was still risking his own life. He had the habit, his prolonged responsibility to watch over his siblings, be there to guide them, protect them, but who was protecting him? Who was making sure that he was okay and that he was protected? You bore that pain. Wondering why you let him push you into the water, instead of grabbing his hand to jump with you. His struggling attempts to stay afloat haunt you. A bad nightmare that looms over you when you're trying to sleep and causes you to wake up alarmed. The thought leaves a foul taste in your mouth. It makes you shudder, makes you twitch in discomfort, especially when you recall the blood that dyed the ocean red. His blood coated your cerulean hands. His death wasn’t one you wanted to accept so easily.

Not as you helped pull the leaf you placed him on, out into the water with his family. You were taken back by how calm the water swayed. That in itself was surprising because the ocean always seems to have a mind of its own. You're reminded of the Eywa instantly. How the inner workings of life flow within her. How her network makes it possible for all living things, plants, and animals to connect as one. The way the ocean remains tranquil makes you assume that this is all Eywa’s doing. Could she feel the shift in the atmosphere through the way of the water? The gathering of the Metikayina clan and the Sullys came together as one to mourn the loss of casualties. Was Eywa allowing a moment's worth of peace? Providing security and a safe passage to lay the dead to rest. 

You weren’t sure.  

Your mind continuously wanders. Distracted from the way the water welcomes you all in a gentle embrace. Kind enough to hopefully welcome you back for a night swim with Neteyam. Various nightly escapades forefront, reminding you of you and Netyeam sneaking out to a secret beach you discovered. It was your most favorable time spent together. Venturing around the island, risking the chances of getting into trouble, but it never worried you, nor him. His rebellious side was one you didn’t know you wanted to see more of till he grabbed your hand one night and told you to be quiet, he didn’t want his siblings to wake up. Your eyes fleet, taking in your surroundings. An unsettling earl sets off your senses. Your ears flatten, attention engaged, eyes falling onto his family swimming forward with you. The lost look on your face didn’t fall past Lo’ak watching with worry as you whipped your head around. You were unfamiliar with your surroundings all of a sudden. 

Weren’t I just at the docks? How did I manage to get this far out?

Your attention falls onto him then. Your freak-out incident, coming to a stop. The breath you inhaled blocked your airway. You hold on tightly, your fingers curl into the leaf. Your eyes drifted onto his motionless body, sparing seconds of what was left of your sanity. His soft features were relaxed. Victim to a deep slumber.

He was only resting, you thought. Just resting.

You tilt your head. A smile dances its way onto your lips. The band holding his hair in one nicely kept ponytail stirs a flutter within your stomach. You can’t help but laugh. Finding his neatly kept hair hilarious, whereas you preferred the vicious swinging braids more than anything. You like to remind Neteyam that his hair seems to have a mind of its own. You're oblivious to the narrowed pinched glares cast at you. You press your fingertips over your mouth in hopes of making yourself stop.

“Why’s his hair pulled back? Neteyam never pulls his hair back.” Another rumble of giggles emits past your lips as you reach forward to free the braids of their confinement. The only thing coursing through your mind is that Neteyam would be grateful. Knowing that his long braids could never be tamed and forced into a ponytail. Your laughter comes to an abrupt stop. A firm grip on your wrist brings you back to reality for just a second– a second of truth, one you didn’t want to submit to.

“No Y/n.” Lo’ak shakes his head. He reached over Neteyam’s body to stop you. His hand was still wrapped around your wrist as he pushed your hand back towards your chest. 

“He likes to wear his hair loose.” You tug at his constricting grasp on your arm. His restless eyes meet your twisted frown. 

“Y/n-” He says your name with a break, almost in a warning-like. Holding himself back from causing a scene, but you already caused one first. “Just leave it.” He pressed your wrist to your chest. Pushing harshly in hopes you’d get the message. Hoping you wouldn’t push. You can only bring yourself to cast your eyes down. The tension in your shoulders disappears and your shoulders slump. The ache in your chest worsened, and the dissatisfaction of seeing his hair brought together by a band continues to bother you.  

“He likes it loose…just let him wear it loose.” Lo’ak glances at you before he turns to face forward again. 

Your mind continuously wandered. Hypnotized from the way your body feels weightless. Like the feather behind Neteyam’s ear. You're fully immersed but the journey to the sea anemone is lost on you. You don’t comprehend what’s happening as you all slowly bring him out of the leaf. Turning his body so his face met the night sky. You don’t hesitate to lay your hand over his bound ones. You lean in, eyes wide, your heart begging for a sign. Pain paints your eyes, a tear falling into the water causing a ripple. 

“You gotta let him go kiddo.” Jake’s strained voice startles you. Your eyes remain on Neteyam. Your body was present but your mind was still back on the ship. Back on the rock where you watched life leave his eyes. “Y/n?”

“Y/n, they have to take him, okay?” Lo’ak voices echo in your ears. His own hands wrap around your own. Slowly prying your grip away from his brother's hands. You don’t react to this. Lo’ak drags you back away from his body. Keeping his arms wrapped around your frozen frame. Neytiri feigns a frown watching you lose yourself there all at once and all together. She turns to meet her husband's gaze and then takes a deep breath along with him. Both dive opposite of each other to help their momentum to lower their son's body into the water. Pushing with their hands and legs. Kiri, Tuk, and Spider, then join, lowering themselves into the water to watch. Lo’ak eyes fix themselves on you. Your eyes stared out into the open water, not meeting his own. 

“Take a deep breath, okay.” Lo’ak executed the action, reminding you how to do so. Your eyes flicker up to him for a moment before intaking a good amount of air. He offered a nod then your bodies sunk past the surface layer. You didn’t know what to expect but watching as Neteyam’s body was slowly lowered, the first yellow tendril making contact with his arms and legs, it made you want to scream, swallow the water that would fill your lungs. Sink down to the bottom with him. The thought grew very tempting. Even as Lo’ak removed his arms around you. So you went along with the idea. Impulse taking over rationality. You opened your mouth, watching air bubbles rumble in front of your face. Your lungs burn as the saltwater makes your body convulse. The surface not being more than an arm's length away, but you were stupid enough to widen the distance. Allow yourself to sink. To drown in your own sorrow

You didn’t watch as his body descended to the bottom of the sea anemone.

As far as you were concerned, his death never happened. The situation left you in a state of hysteria. Even after Lo’ak and Kiri’s failed attempts. You would still not believe them when they told you that Neteyam was gone. That he was dead. You refused to believe such an absurd thing. 

That was the first change they noticed in your state of denial. Not wanting to take the necessary steps to mentally prepare for his death. The second change made Lo’ak and Kiri’s hearts settle with uneasiness. After Neteyam's passing, you were unable to function as effectively as the others. When Lo'ak observed you occasionally, you would stare at the water, oblivious to the world around you, and solely focus on the ripples the water created. You did this so often that you made it a habit to tune out the living and wait on the dead. Counting on Neteyam to resurface, and come help you understand why your whole world suddenly turned upside down. He always had the answers to your questions. Always had the ability to ease your troubles and doubts. 

There was never any cause for concern. The way they would find you sitting alone. There wasn’t anything to worry about. Until you made it a habit of not coming up for air. Lo’ak and Kiri had decided to voice their concerns towards their parents when you hadn’t resurfaced for over a few minutes one night. You were pushing yourself to hold your breath for longer periods. A dangerous habit. One they didn’t want to see the end results of when you eventually didn’t break through the top layer of water. The conversation they had with their father playing like a broken record in the back of their heads. A constant reminder not to let you out of their sights. 

-

“I want you to follow her, see where she goes, okay.”

“What?” Lo’ak met his father’s eyes with disbelief. “Why us? Dad, you need to tell her something. Ground her. Keep her home. Y/n’s not okay. She won’t listen to Kiri and me, but maybe if you talk to her, she will!” 

“Dad, she keeps wandering off during the night. Dad, I’ve found her gasping for air other times because she’s tried to stay underwater. She needs help!” Kiri pleaded. “You have to help her!”

“If what you two are telling me is true, then you need to keep a close eye on her. Someone in her state cannot be trusted to be left alone right now, okay? Why do you think I’m keeping an eye on your mother?”

“I-I thought you said mom was fine?” Lo’ak furrowed his brows. 

“She’s not.” Jake shook his head. “I’m lucky enough if I can get her to eat something every day, let alone get her out of bed…Look that girl’s not thinking straight. She’s mourning your brother. We all are. And right now, trying to grasp the difference between right and wrong is not something she can do.”

“Not grasping? Neteyam’s dead! What is there not to grasp? He’s gone, Dad, and she doesn’t want to believe that…” Lo’ak voice broke. Turning his head so that his father couldn’t see him cry. Though when he lifted his head to meet his dad’s eyes again, he found him in the exact same state. Jake reached forward and pulled Lo’ak into his chest. Holding him close, providing comfort.

“Y/n can’t mentally grasp anything right, right now Dad. She’s barely taking care of herself as it is.” Kiri’s lips formed into a thin line. “I don’t want to watch her meet the same fate as Neteyam. I can’t go through that again.”

“I know. I know. He’s gone and it’s hard to come to terms with that sometimes. Especially for your mom, and for Y/n. Just– Y/n’s in denial right now which is making it very hard for her to even want to deal with the idea of Neteyam being gone. We know he’s gone, your mother and tuk, they know he’s gone, but Y/n doesn’t, okay? You can’t make someone process a loss if they’re not willing to, and she’s not willing to. I just need you two to make sure she doesn’t give in to her impulsive thoughts, okay? Keep her from doing anything stupid. At least until she’s ready to try and move forward.”

“What do you want us to do until then?” Lo’ak pulled back. Annoyance struck Jake’s features, ready to scold the boy.

“Did you not just– Just make sure her heart’s still beating by the end of each night, yeah? That’s all I ask. Keep her alive.”

“You mean to keep her from killing herself.” Lo’ak scowled. 

“Lo’ak-” Kiri nudged him. 

“Just do me that favor.” Jake closed his eyes, not wanting to dispute with his children. Not having the energy to do so anymore. “Please, that's all I ask. All I ask.”

“Yes sir.” Lo’ak nodded. Bowing his head. 

-

You slowed your breathing as Neytiri and Jake settled down into a deep slumber.

A broken laugh would leave your lips anytime Lo’ak or Kiri, even Tuk, would try and convince you to eat. Poor Tuk. She couldn’t convince you to play with her anymore either. Her favorite pastime moments were no more. She missed having you braid her hair. It felt like something that was lost now. Neteyam’s death took a toll on trying to be happy. You knew it was something that you could be, but sadly it was something you were not. 

Neteyam was a memory. A dream really. An endless thought that enlightened your spirit. He made things better, but you were no better. The light within you dimmed when he took his last breath. All the oxygen left your body that day too. You were still clawing for air, trying to reach for it, to give oxygen to your lungs. You couldn’t breathe. Not without him.

Tsireya and Aonung were made aware of this as well. Both offered to secretly take care of you each time you dived.

“She’s hurting. We all are. You just need to make sure she doesn’t give in to her impulsive thoughts okay? Y/n grieves him differently...”

Lo’ak replayed his fathers' words as he, Kiri, Tsireya, and Aonung, followed from a discreet distance. You snuck out of the Marui pod and called upon your Ilu. One of several times you’ve done so. It was muscle memory to you by now. The act of going off on your own.

You never went anywhere far. Just to the Cove of the Ancestors. Lo’ak picked up on where you’d go after the third time he and Kiri followed you. You always rode out to the spirit tree. It was your most frequented place after the funeral.

You dismounted your Ilu. Removing your queue before taking a deep breath. The others had arrived just as you dove in head first. Your Ilu swimming off.

Lo’ak had turned onto his back, relaxing on his Ilu. Hands behind his head as he watched the night sky. The others were staring, but this was what it was like waiting for you. It was routine, and Lo’ak wanted to lay down till your return.

“How long till she resurfaces?” Aonung followed Lo’ak and relaxed on his Ilu. Tsireya and Kiri remained seated but Tsireya’s shoulders were slumped. The composure of the chief's daughter faded amongst her friends. On the occasion of your nightly visits to the Cove, it’d mostly be Lo’ak and Kiri attending. Tsireya and Aonung would come along, but it was never frequent for them. Yet tonight the whole gang was here.

“She’s been getting better at breathing. She was down there for almost an hour the day before.” Lo’ak removed his hands and dipped them into the water creating ripples. “I’m betting thirty minutes, maybe less.” His ear twitched as he heard a scoff to his right. Kiri rolled her eyes. 

“The spirit tree allows you to breathe once you make the bond, Lo’ak.” Tsireya reminded him. “Like the Txampaysye (Gill Mantle). Y/n is able to spend a longer time in the water.”

“Skxawng. We are not here to bet on anything. Mind him Tsireya, he doesn’t understand what these visits mean to Y/n.” Kiri sighed as she spoke to Tsireya. “It’s however much time she needs, not how long she takes. Besides, she’s always resurfaced!” Kiri splashed Lo’ak.

Lo’ak’s mood now peeved, he shot her a narrowed glare. “What about last time, huh?”

“We don’t talk about it, Lo’ak!” Kiri’s eyes grew. She shook her head, warning him. If he so much as peeped. “You promised Dad!”

“What happened last time?” Aonung eyes flickered back and forth between the siblings.

“Kiri thinks Y/n was drowning last time.” Lo’ak lifted his chin staring right through her. Waiting to see a falter in her poised composure.

“You do not believe so?” Tsireya’s eyes narrowed, shifting onto Lo’ak in question.

“She couldn’t hold her breath anymore–'' Kiri tries but Lo’ak cuts her off again.

“No, she wanted to drown!” Lo’ak couldn’t hold back any longer. He was tired of sugarcoating that horrid night. Tired of keeping it a secret. “It’s why she won’t talk to her.” He looked at the two siblings and then at Kiri. “She’s mad at you because you saved her. Then you told Dad, and now we come out here and bring her home every night. That's the truth, Kiri!”

“She was hurting that day-“ Kiri closes her eyes.

“Y/n knew what she was doing Kiri.” Lo’ak neared his Ilu closer to her. Placing a hand on her shoulder. “It was not an accident.” Kiri gave in, nodding. Agreeing. Coming to terms with the fact she stopped you from trying to drown yourself. “If she doesn’t come up when the fish swim by, we go down for her. Yes?” He suggested. “Until then we take turns checking up on her.”

“Okay.” Kiri sighed.

“Okay.” Tsireya nodded.

“What do we do until then?” Everyone looked over to Aonung. “Wanna play a game?” They were not amused in the slightest. “What?” Aonung raised his arms.

“You can swim down first to check on her.” Lo’ak declared, pushing Aonung off his own Ilu.

-

Your eyes reopened after attaching your queue to the tree. You sat at the edge of a grass bed, feet dipped in the water. Neteyam disapproved of you doing so. You had the tendency to swish your feet back and forth, creating bubbles and ripples. Just like you were doing now. You smirked, eyeing a fish that swam away. You tilted your head, catching sight of its gray fin from behind. The poor thing had hidden from you behind a big rock.

“You’re scaring the fish.” A gasp escaped past your lips. You had lost count of how many times hearing his voice still surprised you. You wanted to tear up hearing him speak because it shouldn’t have felt real, but it was. He was. You knew it was because your hand would connect against the side of his face, every time. You could touch him, hear him, and cherish the mere sight of him alone. He was gone physically, but here. Here Neteyam was real. 

The visits grow more difficult as time passes. You are able to stay for longer periods. The tree provides you with the possibility. Though, every time he appears, and you see his face, you fall into the false reality of his presence. Though you have to wake up from this at some point. Arriving to the tree is easy, it is the leaving that pains you. Your light would flicker as you’d go to close your eyes again, and the harsh reality would punch you right in the face, and you’d be met with the luminescent glow of the tree. The pink hue mocking you. You were always on the verge of a breakdown. During your first visit, you were sure you had filled the pond more with how much you cried. Neteyam was scared, thinking you were injured, but you had made the excuse that the Paysyul (Water Lily) he picked out for you was causing your eyes to water. That it was due to allergies, but Na’vi hardly got sick, yet he bought it. He stopped giving them to you afterward. Practically rid the pond of their existence. It made you cry even harder. That’s why your visits never lasted long enough. You could never hold yourself together in front of him.

“The fish are fine.” You smirked, glancing over your shoulder. You were met with a wide tooth grin and fangs. 

He’s real here, you keep telling yourself as he grows near. 

Your mouth opened as your eyes met. He was a vision. Beautiful. Transitioned from his baby face phase into the man you love. You didn’t dare speak in past tense. Your love for him was infinite. You’d love him forever until your dying breath. Your heart grew fonder as you both grew older. Playdates turned into hangouts, turned into meetings at this very pond. He and his father founded it first, the start-up of their father-son pastime, but Neteyam eventually granted you admission, having shared his safe place with you. Showing you where he collected his game, and where he ran off too to let off steam. It was where you two could get away. Be two skxawngs in love. Away from curious on-lookers. Where you weren’t trying to exceed as the next Tsahik and he wasn’t training to follow in his father's footsteps as Olo'eyktan. You were simply Y/n and Neteyam. Two peas in a pod. Fishes in a pond, really. 

Neteyam, not in the slightest bit amused, saw you eyeing the fruit in his hand. He bit into one of them before making his way over to your side. He set his bow down to his side and took his seat. Soaking his feet in the pond too. He chewed on a piece as he offered the other four in his palm. You bit your lip, looking amongst them to grab the ripest one. You took one and bit into it. Your eyes nearly crossed in pleasure due to the sweetness it gave off. The delightful snack almost makes you forget about the boy of the hour. You press your fingertips to your lips as you swallow the bite. You turn your head not expecting his eyes already on you. One look from him was all it took to make your ears dip. You felt a whirlpool in your stomach before you turned away. You cleared your throat and tucked a loose braid behind your ear. “See, they are perfectly happy.” You gestured with your finger to the fish swimming near your feet. 

Neteyam playfully narrowed his eyes at you as he took another bite out of his Yovo. He offered another fruit to you but sucked his teeth when you shook your head no. You weren’t here to eat. He rolled his eyes and let them drop beside him. Coming to his feet again. He collected his bow and an arrow. Eyes scanning the pond, following the movement of the fishes. He dared a glance down at you. His smile grew as you tried shying away again, but your eyes never swayed from him. You could see the shift in his demeanor turn into a cocky one. Always wanting to impress you, even in the afterlife. He gave you a smirk, then focused on his breathing and his stance. It was enough to make you turn into a puddle. A whirlpool of a hurricane in spin mode. Neteyam knew how flustered you got around him, he practically grew another ego from it, but you continued to encourage it even now. 

He exclaimed, raising his hands in the air as the arrow hit its target. You laughed as he jumped into the pool picking up the wriggling fish. The creature twitched in his grasp. You squinted, covering your face, as water droplets hit you. He looked down at it, inspecting its size and width, before yanking the arrow out of it. You grimaced watching it grow still. They were yummy, but that didn’t mean you didn’t still think they were gross. Your nose scrunched as he came closer. 

Fish, you hated them. It’s why you stopped eating them back at the Marui pod. You had enough of them. You were convinced that Eywa had turned one of them yellow during one of your last visits to keep it spontaneous. To keep the peace and to keep away any annoyance you had of them. Yet, Neteyam was the happiest when shooting for fish. You’d watch him shoot that same damn fish over and over again because he loved it, and you. You loved Neteyam. Seeing him at ease with himself passing the time at the pond. It brought you comfort. You wouldn’t trade it for a thing.

Neteyam held the fish up like a trophy. Amazed by the big game he was going to bring home. The proud smile of his father is what he was hoping to see. He looked at the fish like it was the coolest thing in the world. Though upon knowing, he has done much more exciting endeavors. But catching big game trumped undergoing his Iknimaya for sure. You were slightly guilty for his great catch. You would make one fish slightly more significant, larger than the rest during each visit. The bigger the fish, the more his smile grew. It was the only thing you wanted to see.

“Do you see this?” He beamed with delight. “Oh thank you Great Mother for this gift!” 

The only thing.

You hadn’t realized you had been crying until Neteyam voiced his concerns. Until his thumb caressed over the fallen tears on your cheek.

“You okay, syulang (flower)?”

“Mmm?” You sniffled, looking up at him with a half-hearted laugh.

“You’re crying. Are you unwell? Was it the Yovo?” He reached across you, going for the dropped purple fruit next to you. He wanted to see if they were bad, but you stopped him.

“No, no, I’m okay.” 

Neteyam frowned as he reached up again. His thumb wiped another fallen tear. His touch lingered on your skin. “Something is wrong.” He huffed with a smile. He brought both hands up to cup your face.

“Nothing is wrong, ‘teyam.” You denied it.

“Yes, because I got rid of all the Paysyuls (Water Lilies). Your eyes should be dry.” Neteyam looked around the pond and then back to you. “Is it your allergies?”

“No, not that.” You shook your head. You turned his chin to face you. Hands cupping his face gently. You just held him there. So grateful to be able to feel him. See him.

“What is it then?”

“I’m just happy to see you.” Your eyes grew watery again. Neteyam leaned into your touch. “Spend time with you.”

His brows furrowed, a hint of a smile making its way onto his face. He grew amused but felt fond of your confession. Pressing the space between your eyes in a teasing manner.

“I’m happy to see you too.” His shoulders relaxed. You groaned as you shook out your hands. You were really bad at staying composed. You tried but failed to wipe away your tears, Neteyam reached forward again to wipe under one of your eyes. “But no more crying, you’ll scare the fish away.” He tried to remain serious but you saw him falter. His ears twitched. You gasped, hitting his shoulder.

“I will not!” You laughed. “The fish are fine.” He joined in on the laughter, happy to have brought back your smile. 

-

Lo’ak had sent Tsireya down after a while. He, Aonung, and Kiri watched as the bioluminescent fish swam underneath them. Mostly swirling around Kiri. He met her gaze before he went to inhale a big chunk of air. He released it though when Tsireya resurfaced.

“What happened? Is she okay?” Lo’ak asked. She gave a nod.

“She is fine. She’s coming up.”

They brought their heads out of the water. Waiting as you took your time resurfacing. The faint outline of your body could be seen as you grew closer. Once your head passed above the layer of water, you exhaled softly. You tread the water in silence. The others had formed a circle around you. You were staring off into space. Letting your thoughts cloud your mind. You had almost missed Lo’ak’s question.

“You okay? Did you see him?”

You only nodded. A tear trailing down your cheek and into the water like a dew drop. “He’s okay.” You sniffled. “He remains at the pond.” You let out a broken laugh. The group started to enclose the circle, each slowly resting a hand on you before engulfing you in their embrace. They hold you as you continue to tear up after your latest encounter with Neteyam. “I miss him.”

“We miss him too.” Kiri offered a faint smile. You glanced at her. Smiling faintly as you acknowledged her being here for you, even after you declared you hated her. Her teary eyes met yours in agreement. It was time to disperse and move past the fight you had with her.

“He’s at peace.” You sniffled. “That at least brings me some.”

“That’s good, no?” Lo’ak dipped his head to catch your eyes.

“It is, but it gets harder to visit. I don’t want to stop though.”

“Then don’t.” Lo’ak shrugged. The others nodded in agreement.

“Really?” You peered up through your eyelashes. “But don’t you hate coming with me? Waiting for so long?” You frowned.

“If this is helping you. We’ll be here every night, waiting for you. However long it takes.”

“Maybe not that long– Ow!” Aonung cried out in pain. Tsireya had swatted him over the head. “We’ll wait.” Aonung cleared his throat.

The corner of your lip lifts in amusement. You always assumed you weren’t worth someone going out of their way for you. This proved you wrong.

“Let’s go home yeah?” Lo’ak gestured over his shoulder. You nodded. He got on his Ilu first then offered his hand to you. You climb on the back and hold on for the ride home. Then you all took off. You glanced back at the spirit tree below the water knowing tomorrow would await another night visiting Neteyam. For the first time, you felt like you could breathe. There’d be no hurry to meet him now. He’d still be there welcoming your arrival with corny jokes and removing another found Paysyul (Water Lilies) from the pond. There was no rush to this, not when you were grieving him.

-

Lo’ak had imagined you being gone the next night. Your time spent at the Cove once more, but he was rather surprised seeing you sat near the Marui pod. Feet in the water. Hands gripping the woven edge. You were just mindlessly being. Existing and letting your thoughts run rampage through your head. He couldn’t help wanting to join you.

He came forward and sat next to you. Letting his feet get soaked. His hands were now gripping the edge too. He broke the deafening silence amongst you eventually. Though nothing was ever really quiet around here. The clicks of the sea life creatures and the motions of the tide entering the reef, provided enough sound. He was oddly curious about something though, so he asked you.

“Why do you do that?”

“Do what?” You lifted your head. Eyes shifting onto him.

“Try to hold your breath for so long. You know there are Txampaysye (Gill Mantle) for that?” He teased you.

“It’s silly.” You bit your lip.

“Tell me.” He urged you.

“Neteyam and I, we used to compete to see who could hold their breath the longest.” You closed your eyes, imagining yourself coming up for air before him. “He’d always win.” Neteyam’s head would pop up in a shit-eating grin. One you’d splash him for. He was never boastful though. Never one to make you feel like a sore loser. “I just wanted to see if I could finally beat him for once.” You laughed. It was indeed silly, but it was silly to you in a sentimental way. Lo’ak being Lo’ak had decided to break your heartwarming memory.

“He definitely cheated.”

“What?” You gasped. “No, he didn’t.” You shoved him. “Neteyam was very just in his actions.”

“He cheated!” Lo’ak couldn’t contain his laughter. Swatting or holding your wrist to prevent you from pushing him into the water.

“He did not. Don’t say that. He let me win once.”

“He did?” Lo’ak stifles his laughter. His eyes and ears relaxing. He offered you a lopsided grin before growing serious again. Not wanting to dampen your memory of his brother.

“No.” You shook your head, feeling deflated. Lo’ak’s laughter picked right back up. Everything you thought you had ever known was ruined. “No, I think– I think he cheated.” You purse your lips. Staring straight into the water. You slacked your jaw, scoffing. “This is your fault!” You smacked his shoulder.

“My fault? This is Neteyam we are talking about.” Lo’ak continued to laugh. “He wasn’t always so serious Y/n, but he always liked to win.”

“It’s not funny!” You whined.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” Lo’ak reached for your hands and gripped them tightly. “But no seriously, stop it, even if it brings back the memories of him. You can drown, and I really don’t want to give you CPR.” You gasped this time, playfully hitting him.

“You skxawng...” You smiled nonetheless. Lo’ak reciprocated. You were the only other person who liked to call him that. He wasn’t going to admit it, but he was missing Neteyam and being called that. The thought plunged deep into his heart, but it left a fond feeling. He had you now to help fill in the space where a gap was. “He loved you very much, Lo’ak. Never forget that.” You pressed your palm to his cheek. He nodded in response. Leaning into your palm. 

“He loved you too.” Lo’ak extended his arm out, bringing you to his side for a hug. You rested your head on his shoulder, watching the waves softly sway. 

“He caught a fish today.” 

“Is that all you two do in there, catch fish?” Lo’ak pulled back with a smirk.

“This big…” You smiled, extending your arms the length it was. “Lit up like the Spirit Tree.”