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imaginespazzi · 2 months

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Part 2: If Only You'd Been Here

Masterlist - Part 1 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5

Ain't nobody hurt you like I hurt you (but ain't nobody love you like I do)

(In which a sadistic writer tortures her beloved ship a fair amount and maybe her readers too)

Pairing: Paige Bueckers X Azzi Fudd

Themes: Angst, Pining, Hurt/Comfort and maybe Fluff if you squint

Words: 6.5K (someone please be proud that it is in fact shorter 🙈)

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

A/N: Good morning my lovelies <3 Just a couple of things I changed that you should know before you read. If you follow WCBB, you know UCLA didn't win the Pac-12 tournament in 2023 but in this universe they did. You also probably know they lost in the NCAA tournament last year to SC in the Greenville region but in this universe, for plot purposes, they're gonna be in the Seattle region. I kept their seeding and who they were playing vague because it was gonna get too complicated to figure out. Also if you saw my list of part titles a while ago, no you didn't lol. As always, feel free to know what you liked, what you didn't, and anything you'd like to see in future parts. And as you're reading, let's just remember y'all love me and everything I do is for the plot. Happy reading and have a wonderful week lovelies!

December 2022

The distinctly “car” smell of her car is starting to make Paige more than a little nauseous. Going by the way Drew is pouting in the passenger seat, he’s also clearly over it. They’ve been driving in circles for what feels like hours. At first, still enamoured with being allowed to sit in the front, her little brother had gone along with her ridiculousness. Now, as they approach maybe the 12th or so lap around the neighbourhood, he seems less than thrilled.

“Alright let me out and you keep driving,” Drew says, fiddling agitatedly with his seatbelt, “I think I’m gonna puke.”

“Well hold it in,” Paige retorts unhelpfully as they re-round the block. She keeps her eyes focused on the road, ignoring the glare her brother sends her away. He takes in a dramatic breath and leans back onto his seat. She grips the steering wheel tighter as they pass the house again, still not brave enough to pull into the driveaway of a place she’d once considered just as much a home as her own.

Drew lets out another groan, “I shoulda just stayed home.”

“Well you didn’t-” Paige’s reply is cut off by the sound of a phone call reverberating around the car. The CallerID reads “Azzi (DON’T YOU DARE IGNORE)”, a name the younger girl had plugged in herself with a warning look the day Paige had left LA. Chewing whatever dry skin is still left on her bitten-to-death lips, Paige clicks accept on the call.

“What number lap is this?” comes Azzi’s exasperated voice and Paige can’t help the smile that creeps onto her face.

“Oh you know my car’s feeling the need to exercise today,” Paige hums back, suddenly feeling a lot lighter than she had just a couple of seconds ago. Sometimes, she’s not sure how she managed to go a year with this constant heavy weight pressing down on her ribs, and no Azzi to slowly ease her out from under it.

“Azziiiiii,” Drew whines dramatically, “please come save me. I’m gonna die in this car.”

Affronted, Paige splutters, “nobody forced you to come.”

“You begged me to come,” her young brother quips back and it elicits a laugh from the girl on the other end of the line.

“I did-”

“Paige,” Azzi cuts her off, “just come inside okay? You’re wasting gas for nothing.”

“I- it’s just-,” Paige’s hands tighten even more around the wheel, as she stops on the sidewalk, switching on her turn signal, but still not entering the driveway. She leans her head against the wheel, overwhelmed by emotions she can’t quite name. Drew places a comforting hand on her back and she sends him a reassuring smile, trying to shield her younger brother from the havoc in her brain.

“Hey,” Azzi’s voice floats through the fog, “it’s just me okay? Me and you and us. It’ll be okay. I promise.”

It’s like a child being soothed with their favourite binkie, that’s what Azzi’s promise feels like to Paige. She finally turns into the driveaway, and both Drew and Azzi cheer in tandem. The knot in her chest loosens just a little bit at that because the large crowds that scream for her make her feel adored, but this, her own personal cheer squad for her littlest of achievements, well it makes her feel loved.

“Freedom,” Drew yells as he practically flings himself out of Paige’s barely parked car. She rolls her eyes fondly at her mini me as he dramatically pretends to kiss the ground. It’s a small distraction from the memories that are swirling like a tornado in her mind. Minnesota is home, it’ll always be home but this place, this had been her safe haven, something she could hold onto at a time where everything else was slipping out of her hands. And then, like a fool, she’d let go of it.

The door opens even before they’ve made it halfway to the door and Azzi’s brothers run out into the front yard. Jon pretends to take pictures and José practically falls to his knees as they swarm around the blonde.

“Paige, Paige, can we get a picture or an autograph please,” they yell teasingly, “please Miss Bueckers we’re your biggest fans.”

“Move over boys,” Tim Fudd’s booming voice hollers, as he swats his children away, “her biggest fan is actually me eh Paige?”

The girl in question nods solemnly, her smile stretching the full length of her face, and both Jon and José let out a groan as their father beams at Paige. And then Katie’s there, not a hint of anything but pure happiness on her face as she wraps the younger girl into a hug. Paige melts into the embrace, trying her hardest not to burst into tears. Because all she can think about is the hundreds of calls and texts from Azzi that she’d left unanswered, all she can think of is Azzi's devastated face as she’d told Paige about just how hard she’d tried and that wretched ache of i don’t deserve this i broke your daughters heart wraps itself around Paige’s heart.

Over Katie’s shoulder, Paige watches as Azzi finally walks out into the law, her cheeks immediately turning red from the cold. The younger girl winks at Paige with a radiant smile, before giving all her attention to Drew who almost trips as he excitedly launches himself into Azzi, tiny hands wrapping around her waist. Paige watches, still buried in the warmth of Katie’s arms, as Drew animatedly tells Azzi all the stories he possibly can and Azzi nods along emphatically as if she’s being told the most important facts of her life. And Paige takes a snapshot of it to add to her ever growing collection of moments i just knew.

***

January 2023

“Call her.”

Paige doesn’t bother replying, burying her face further into her tear-soaked pillow. Maybe if she ignores her teammate, Caroline will get the message and go away. The earth-shattering pain that she’d subdued for the last couple of months had finally reared its ugly head. And that too at the worst time possible, when her team needed to be a source of strength and with cameras catching the teardrops falling as she mourned the loss of not being able to play in the epic UConn-Tennessee rivalry. She’d done so well at holding it in, breaking apart only a couple of times, sometimes alone and sometimes with Azzi on the other end of the line. Until tonight, when the bright lights and roaring crowd had reignited the itch to just fucking play ball.

“Paige,” Caroline says again, “stop being stubborn and call her.”

“She has a game tomorrow, she doesn’t need my dramatic ass worrying her right now,” Paige replies, getting into a sitting position when she realises the other girl isn’t about to just let this go.

“You’re eventually going to call her. The two of you haven’t gone one day without talking to each other since this summer,” Caroline gives her a look, a hint of a smirk play on her face when it tints Paige’s cheeks pink, “seriously, just call her.”

It’s not that Paige doesn’t want to. She’d scrolled through her contacts and stopped at Azzi’s one too many time’s tonight. And each time, just as her fingers had hovered over the green call button, she’d felt guilt claw at her neck. Since she’d shown up in LA, Azzi had shown up for Paige every step of the way, checking in regularly, listening to Paige vent her anger at the world and whispering words of comfort that only sounded true when they came from Azzi’s mouth. Sometimes, if she tries really hard, Paige can feel the ghost of Azzi’s arms wrapping themselves around her shoulders, just as they had that one night in LA when Azzi had held her, so delicately as if she was made of porcelain, through the worst of her breakdowns.

“She needs to focus on her game,” Paige says after a moment.

Caroline sighs, mind wandering to the countless texts on her phone from Azzi begging her to take care of Paige and to let her know when the blonde wasn’t doing okay, “I know but she’d want you to call her if she knew. You need her.”

“And where was I when she needed me?” it’s the word need that triggers it, the quick snap because it’s all Paige has been able to think about lately.

Without basketball, she’d had far too much time on her hands and she’d ended up going down a spiral of watching Azzi’s games from her freshman year, something she’d religiously avoided doing when they had happened live. At first, it had just been this immense feeling of pride, seeing her best friend be the college basketball phenomenon Paige had always known she would be. She’d shoved away the envy of it was supposed to be us that immersed her seeing the way the Bruins celebrated their new star player, and just let herself be happy in her best friend’s happiness.

And then something changed around at the beginning of January 2022. It had only lasted a couple of games, but Azzi had hit a wall. Threes were short, cuts were made at the wrong time and she kept on getting lost on defence in a way that was very unlike her. And all Paige could focus on, eyes glued to the screen, was how completely and utterly exhausted Azzi looked during that stretch, despite the fact that she’d just come back from winter break. The smile had vanished off her face, replaced by stress lines Paige wished she could go back in time and erase.

It wasn’t until she’d binged through all the games, cheering silently as Azzi slowly returned to form, that the realisation had hit Paige. She’d been slapped with the memory of a store decorated brightly for Christmas and a familiar voice calling her name, as she’d purposely walked the other way, pretending she hadn’t heard and the more than deserved i’m done trying text that had followed right after. For a year, perhaps longer, Paige had convinced herself that she was the only one who had lost something, she was the only one who had a right to hurt, to break. And still, she thinks she’d take all of that pain again a thousand times, if it means she could erase the fact that in all of her self-pity, she’d broken Azzi too.

“Where was I when she needed me?” she repeats again to Caroline, as the brunette stares at her in confusion, “the answer to that Carol, is that I was anywhere but with her.”

Caroline’s eyes soften in realisation as she takes a cautious step towards Paige, “oh P don’t do this to yourself.”

“I want to call her,” Paige confesses in a whisper, tears brimming in her eyes, “it’s the only thing I’ve wanted to do all day and maybe- maybe I should have but I’m just- I’ve been so unfair to her.”

“You were hurt Paige.”

“I know- I know that. But so was she. You don’t- god Carol- you don’t even know the things I said to her before she left for LA. And she’s still here,” the first tears fall from her blue eyes, and then the next and the next until there’s a steady waterfall streaming down her face, “you know I almost didn’t let her in when she first came over this summer?”

Caroline doesn’t say anything, choosing instead to come sit next to Paige and wrap her arms around the point guard.

“I didn’t answer her calls or her texts for a year and still, still she’s picked up every call, replied to every text I’ve sent her since summer. I know- I know I need her and she’s going to be there of course she is. But when she needed me, where was I?” Paige drops her face into her hands, “I just- I don’t deserve her.”

There’s a moment of silence as Caroline rubs Paige’s back and lets the older girl wallow in her guilt. And then she reaches for Paige’s phone on the nightstand, ignoring the little grunt of protest. When the screen lights up, there’s already a notification of new messages from Azzi and Caroline can’t help but smile.

“I think,” she begins softly, “Azzi’s a smart girl so maybe give that tiny little brain of yours a little bit of rest and let her decide who deserves her,” she hands Paige her phone “let her be there for you. I think maybe she needs that too.”

Caroline gives Paige’s shoulders a little squeeze before heading out the doors, giving the older girl a moment of privacy. Paige sighs, getting herself comfortable against her pillows, and rubbing away her tears, before finally giving in and pressing the facetime call button.

“Do you want a distraction or do you want to talk about it?” Azzi says as soon as she picks up and Paige can see the concern etched all over her face.

“Or maybe I’m perfectly fine?”

“Ah we’re playing the pretend game tonight. Should have cleared your throat for a second longer maybe Miss Perfectly Fine, your eyes are red as fuck and you sound like a dying cat.”

“Wow, that was rude. Maybe I’m sick?”

“With what? The “lies to her best friend” flu?”

“That UCLA education has you making up illnesses now? Damn Az, you’re supposed to get smarter in college.”

“You’re so funny, like so funny,” Azzi huffs sarcastically before they both dissolve into giggles. It’s always just been so easy with them. And Paige’s isn’t a poet, but if she was, she’d write sonnets about the sound of Azzi’s laughter, and the way it makes the corner of her eyes crinkle.

“I watched the game,” Azzi says after a second, “and I saw you.”

Paige smirks, “so you didn’t actually watch the game, just stared at my gorgeous face the whole time?”

“There’s that comedian streak of yours again.”

“Hey you’re the one who said you were watching me instead of the game. But who could blame you really?”

“I didn’t-” Azzi rolls her eyes, as Paige’s cocky smirk deepens, “stop it.”

“You can admit I’m a pretty girl Az,” she teases, delighted when it makes the younger girl blush.

“Fuck off, you have enough people telling you you’re a pretty girl.”

“Yeah but it means more coming from you,” she says quietly, biting her lip. It’s not the kind of thing you’re supposed to say to your best friend, at least not in the soft, wanting way that Paige says it. Except they both know that the lines in their friendship are far more blurred than they should be, even if they've both done a pretty fantastic job at ignoring that kiss. Paige had learned over Christmas that Azzi was exceptionally good at the pretending part, moving away the moment Paige’s hands lingered a little longer than they should, changing topics if they even got anywhere near addressing the something between them. It shouldn’t have hurt but it did and Paige doesn’t understand how she can so desperately miss something that she never even had in the first place.

“So distraction then?” Azzi says after a second, changing the subject back to her initial question.

Paige closes her eyes, taking in a deep breath, “it was just- it was a lot tonight. I didn’t realise I was being that obvious.”

“You weren’t. I just know you a little too well.”

“These are my favourite types of games, you know. The rivalry, the crowd booing my name and getting the chance to quiet them, that’s- that’s the type of game players live for and I just- I miss it Azzi. I miss shooting, I miss defending, I miss just standing on the fucking court sometimes. I miss playing basketball. So. Fucking. Much,” a fresh set of tears leak out of Paige's eyes, as her free hand fists at her bedsheets.

There’s silence as Paige’s words linger in the air. In a way it’s freeing to be able to say it out loud, to just let herself feel how she feels instead of fighting them.

“You’re gonna miss it every day until you play again,” Azzi says quietly, her own voice thick with emotions, “and it’s not really gonna get easier until you get it back. But when you finally do, just- just imagine it okay, your first game back. The feeling of the crowd. Dribbling up the court. Making that first shot as everybody loses their minds. Finally just playing the game you love. That’s when that feeling of loss will finally go away.”

Using Azzi’s steady breathing as an anchor to still her erratic heartbeat, Paige lets herself get lost in the picture the younger girl has just painted for her. She lets her mind run to the future that lies ahead of her and if she focuses hard enough she can almost hear the Gampel crowds roaring as she finally returns to the court.

“It’s kinda really fucking annoying how you always know what to say,” no it isn’t, it’s the only thing that’s keeping Paige going these days.

“Surviving an ACL injury will do that to a girl,” Azzi says with a pained smile.

That’s not it Paige thinks, it’s not experience, it’s you and I really wish you were here. But she can’t say that, so she changes the subject instead.

“Tell me about your game tomorrow.”

They both settle back into their pillows, getting into more comfortable positions. Azzi tells Paige all about her upcoming game and then moves onto another topic, then another and another and another. They’ll wake up tomorrow morning to phones that died and no memory of when they’d fallen asleep. And then they’ll remember who was on the other end of the line, and if that makes them smile a little too hard, well that’s just another thing they’ll pretend didn’t happen.

***

March 2023

It’s only natural that when Paige finally feels like she can learn to live with just having a little bit of Azzi, that the world would show her just how wrong she could be. She’s been in a much better headspace these days, her knee finally starting to feel like itself again, bit by bit. The guilt of not being able to help her team is still settled into the pits of her stomach but even with that, she’s reached a sort of acceptance. And while she’s still struggling to fight the part of her heart that wants so much more, she’s learning to be content with just having her best friend back.

It’s that little bit of time in between conference tournaments and the NCAA tournament when it feels like the calm before the storm and it’s the first weekend since before the season that the UConn team finally gets to go out and let loose for a bit. They’re riding the height of winning another Big East title and even if it’s a little bittersweet that they did it without her, Paige is beyond the moon happy for her team.

She turns up the music in her room and changes the lights for the sake of a little ambience, before sitting down at her desk, to call Azzi and do what little of her makeup she knows how to do. Normally she’d get one of the other girls or Kayla to do it, but she’d rather sacrifice a flawless makeup look then miss out on having Azzi tease her about how she still didn’t quite know how to do her eyeliner properly yet.

The fact that it takes Azzi longer than the third ring to pick up should be Paige’s first warning sign but instead she’s sucking in a deep breath at the sight of her best friend who looks breathtakingly beautiful tonight. Paige’s heart stutters as she takes in Azzi’s face, the light layer of red lipstick (that Paige wants to kiss off), the blush-tinged cheeks (that Paige wants to caress delicately) and the perfectly done mascara on her eyelashes (that Paige wants to feel flutter against her own skin).

She lets out a low appreciative whistle, “celebrating that Pac-12 championship in style huh?”

“Something like that,” Azzi bites her lip and really that should have been warning sign number two, “was there- was there something you needed?’

“I can’t just call you?” Paige asks, noticing the tension on Azzi’s face, “are you busy?”

“No it’s not-”

“She is actually,” a different voice cuts in aggressively and Azzi immediately gives whoever it is an exasperated look. Paige doesn’t know who it is, but she guesses it’s one of the UCLA players. It’s no secret they aren’t huge fans of her. They’d made that much clear the few times they’d met Paige during September, always regarding her with a wary eyes. It wasn’t their fault really, Paige understood their protectiveness, in fact she appreciated it more than they would ever understand.

“Chill Angela.”

“Are you not busy then?” the other voice who Paige assumes is Angela Dugalic says, clearly a little annoyed. And then Azzi’s phone is being shifted away from her and instead it’s Angela’s face that covers Paige’s screen.

“Oh,” the blonde manages to get out, taken aback by the sudden change, “hi Angela.”

“Hi Paige,” the other girl says, her voice dripping with saccharine sweetness.

“Angela,” there’s a clear warning in Azzi’s voice and Paige already knows, even before the words are let out into the open, that whatever Dugalic is about to say is going to tear her apart.

“Azzi has a date tonight,” Angela pronounces the last words with a gleeful lilt.

The world spins and Paige’s head spins with it, as she grips onto her desk for some semblance of stability. She can hear Azzi spluttering in the background as she tries to get her phone back but it’s of no use as the UCLA forward powers on.

“With a really pretty girl,” Angela smirks at the camera, clearly trying to prove something, “Zoe’s really wonderful. You’d like her, Paige.”

Zoe. Recognition registers in Paige’s brain. She remembers seeing the name flashing on Azzi’s phone a couple of times, accompanied by a photo she never quite caught a glimpse of. But as she tended to do with most phone calls that came during her time with Paige, Azzi had simply just declined the call and texted whoever that she’d call her back later. And so Paige hadn’t really bothered caring about Zoe, chalking her up to being some random friend Azzi had made. But fuck, maybe she should have cared.

“And Azzi really likes her I think. They’ve been tiptoeing around it for ages you know? But we all knew it was only a matter of time.”

A strangled noise escapes Paige’s throat and she tries her best to disguise it as anything but the cry of despair it is. It feels like there’s a thousand knives digging into her skin, pressing harder and harder until she has no blood left to bleed.

“They’re gonna make the cu-”

“Give me my phone back Angela,” Azzi’s voice cuts in harshly and Paige hurriedly rushes to contort her features into a smile right before the camera’s back to facing her best friend.

“So you’re all dressed up for a date then?” Paige manages to get out and the word date sounds like bile on her tongue.

“Doesn’t she look lovely?” comes Angela’s voice again; the girl seemingly on a mission to break Paige as much as possible, “give her a proper look Az.”

“Angela,” Azzi hisses through gritted teeth.

“N-no show me the fit,” Paige counters, because that’s what a best friend’s supposed to say right? Show me how fucking perfect you look for a girl that’s not me

Azzi hesitates, swallowing nervously, before she takes a couple of steps back so the camera captures all of her. And Paige wishes she’d never asked to be shown in the first place, hell she wishes she’d never bothered to call tonight. Because she thinks the image of Azzi’s casual light blue jeans and simple green off-the shoulder top will be etched in her mind forever, captioned with the words not for you.

“You look lovely Azzi,” she whispers quietly, trying to keep her voice steady.

“Zoe won’t be able to keep her fucking hands off of you,” Angela supplies and this time the glare Azzi shoots her is murderous.

“I think I hear Emily calling your name Angela.”

“I don’t-”

“Yes,” Azzi says pointedly, “yes you do.”

Angela rolls her eyes but doesn’t protest this time. She turns to the phone with a devilish grin, clearly feeling accomplished in being a menace, “nice talking to you Paige.”

She waltzes out, leaving Paige, Azzi and a silence that feels like it could drown them.

“You could have told me,” the blond says after a second, averting her eyes from the screen, “aren’t dates the kind of thing best friends are supposed to tell each other?”

“Paige-”

“It’s good though- you-uh- you deserve a night out.”

“P-”

“Listen, I uh- I’m going out too so- I- umm- I better get going but-,” Paige takes in a deep breath, “have a- have wonderful time on your date Az.”

She hangs up before Azzi can reply, the concern in the younger girl's eyes becoming too much to bear. For a moment, she stares straight ahead at the wall, just processing. And then she lets herself fall apart.

***

It’s 1 a.m., Paige is drunk and miserable and so fucking tired; it’s an extremely dangerous combination. Aaliyah and Amari had practically had to carry her to her dorm because she’d been stumbling far too much and everyone was worried she’d eventually fall flat on her face. Personally, Paige thought they just didn’t have enough faith in her. She wasn’t even that drunk, she couldn’t be. After all she could still feel that stupid Azzi-sized scar on heart and wasn’t the whole point of being drunk supposed to be not being able to feel? But she has to be drunk because sober her would know better than to do what she does next, would know better than to call Azzi when she has no control over herself.

“Paige? Is everything okay? Are you okay,” Azzi’s voice is filled with concern when she answers.

“Azziiiii,” Paige slurs, “areyoustillwithyourdate?”

“What?”

“Are. you. still. with. your. date?” Paige pronounces each word slowly.

“I- yeah. She’s in a different room. Paige, are you okay?”

“Interesting,” the blonde remarks quietly, “you never picked up her calls when you were with me. And we weren’t even dating.”

She hears Azzi’s breath hitch on the other end, can almost picture her doing that nervous swallow of hers, “ I just want to make sure you’re okay.”

“You didn’t care if she was okay then? Those times she called you?”

“That’s not- she didn’t call me at 1 a.m.” the younger girl justifies hollowly.

“Bullshit,” Paige scoffs, “1 a.m. isn’t even that fucking late. Why is it so hard for you to admit you care about me waaaayyyyy more than you care about Zara or whatever?”

“Zoe. You’re drunk Paige, go to bed,” and Paige really should listen to the edge in Azzi’s voice.

“Where did y’all go?” she asks lightly, changing the subject, “c’mon Az, best friends share their date stories right?”

“Baltaire,” Azzi relents, choosing to let this battle go.

“Oooh that restaurant we passed that one time wow,” Paige coos, “too fucking bad you hate fine dining huh? But she wouldn’t know that now would she? Because she doesn’t fucking know you.”

“Paige please,” Azzi breathes out quietly in a pained voice.

“But you know who does know you? Me. And I would have never taken you to some boring old fancy ass piece of shit restaurant like that.”

“Don’t-”

“I would have taken you on a picnic. Do you remember that park you loved, the one by my air bnb? There, that’s where I would have taken you. And I’d have gotten you supermarket sushi even though I fucking hate that shit but I know, I know, you like it. And flowers. Did she get you flowers? Because I- I would have. Roses and peonies and lilies, a whole fucking bouquet.”

And Paige is crying again, for the second time tonight, one hand gripping at her phone as the other one tries to wipe away the frantically falling teardrops.

“And we’d stay at that park til the sun goes out and I’d take a polaroid of you in the sunset and I’d keep it forever. I swear Azzi, I’d keep it forever and I’d put it on my wall.”

“Paige,” Azzi whispers, as if it’s the only word she knows, as if it’s the only word that matters.

“I’d bring my laptop so that when it finally gets dark, we can watch a movie. You choose Az, whatever you want. And I’d get distracted and start playing with your hair or something and you’ll pretend it’s annoying you but you’d be smiling. Fuck I love your smile.”

“You can’t- you can’t just say these things Paige.”

“Why not? It’s the truth right- why can’t I say the truth?,” Paige says petulantly, “but hush okay I’m not- I’m not finished yet. And then, then we’d just lie under the stars and it'd just be you, me and the sky. Perfect.”

Azzi lets out a broken sob and Paige hates it, she hates it but she keeps on talking.

“And then I’d take you home and I’d kiss you,” she whispers the last bit like a confession, “everywhere. Fuck, I’d make it so good for you Az. So good. Everything you wanted, everything you needed, I’d give you all of it. I’d make you come apart on my fingers and then my tongue-”

“Shut up,” Azzi’s voice is suddenly cold and frosty and it feels like all the heat has been sucked out of Paige’s room as well, “shut up, shut up, shut up.”

“Azzi-”

“No,” Azzi all but yells, “you don’t get to say all of that to me.”

“Then who does? Her? Zia or whatever? Who the fuck even is she?” Paige spits out venomously.

“Zoe. Her name is Zoe and you wanna know she is Paige?”

She should say no. She should apologise for interrupting Azzi’s date and hang up the phone, but no, Paige doesn’t do any of that, “enlighten me why don’t you.”

“She’s the girl who was there,” Azzi says, her voice cracking, “she’s the girl who held me last year when I was going through the worst time of my life. She was there when I couldn’t make a fucking shot and I thought maybe I’d never be good enough. She was there when I let the pressure and the media and all of it get to my head. She was there when I was crying my eyes out over losing the one person I was sure would always stay. She- she’s who you were supposed to be because she was there, and you weren’t.”

Paige isn’t sure if it’s the bitterness behind Azzi’s words or the brokenness of her sobs that is the reason for the ache in her own chest. All she knows is that she still remembers tearing her ACL, and she doesn’t think it hurt as much as this.

“It was supposed to be you,” Azzi sniffles, “I wanted it to be you. Because I’d have let you- fuck- Paige- I’d have let you take me on a picninc and if you brought me sushi I’d have brought you your favorite mac and cheese. I- I know you don’t really care about flowers so I’d get you chocolate, the rum-filled ones that you love. And that sunset polaroid would have been a selfie of us, where you’re kissing my cheek and I’d have it framed. I’d pick out a movie but first- first you could watch whatever basketball game was on and you’d get exasperated when I don’t know the team because I’m literally a basketball player,” she lets out a wet laugh, “but I know you secretly like explaining the NBA to me. And then- then I’d have let you take me home and I’d let you take everything. Whatever you wanted, it’d be yours.”

The vivid image of a date that never happened fills every inch of Paige’s brain. She feels like she’s in a bad dream, trying so hard to reach for a happiness that keeps on evading her grasp.

“But you weren’t there then Paige, and you aren’t here now.”

“Azzi-” Paige chokes out.

“Go to bed Paige,” the younger girl says, her voice shaky but adamant, ‘Get some sleep. Maybe you’re drunk enough that you won’t remember this when I call you tomorrow.”

“Right. So we’re gonna pretend this never happened. Again. We’ll just keep on pretending forever I guess,” Paige retorts bitterly.

“Yes, we will. Because if I stop pretending, I don’t think I’ll be able to survive.”

***

The buzzer rings around Climate Pledge Arena as the UCLA women’s basketball team loses in the Elite 8 on a last second buzzer beater. Azzi’s face contorts into one of sheer disappointment, and in the stands, Paige feels her own heart drop. She’s not one to root for a team outside of her own and god knows what would happen if Nika found out that she’d been screaming her head off each time the Bruins, or at least one specific Bruin, scored, but for Azzi, well, there’s not many of her own rules that Paige follows when it comes to her best friend.

It had taken a fair amount of convincing on Paige’s part to even be able to come to this game. Everyone had wanted to leave immediately after the Sweet 16 loss but Paige had insisted they needed to stay in Seattle, do something to get the team’s mind off of the terrible end to their season. And that wasn’t a complete lie because even if she hadn’t been able to help when they needed it on the court, she could try and help boost morale. But she knew her teammates weren’t fooled. They knew the schedule just as well as she did and they knew exactly what or better yet, who she wanted to stay for.

On the court, Paige can tell Azzi’s fighting back tears. The brunette had given it her all, scoring an efficient 34 points and really the game could have gone any way. That last minute heave from the opposing team really probably shouldn’t have gone in, but at the end of the day the NCAA tournament was a lot about skill but also a little about luck. But Paige knows, Azzi isn’t thinking about any of that, too busy finding a way to blame herself even though she’d had a near perfect night. They were just too similar sometimes.

Azzi’s eyes flicker through the stands, clearly looking for a familiar face. Paige resists the urge to run on to the court and pull the younger girl into her arms and soothe away the defeated look in her eyes, if only for the fact that Azzi doesn’t actually even know she’d figured out a way to stay back for this game. Despite being in the same city, they hadn’t been able to spend nearly as much time together and while Paige’s teammates had tried to be of some help, Azzi’s teammates had seemed determined to pull her away as much as possible. All of that on top of the fact that they’re still playing that stupid game of pretend had left Paige wanting for just one moment alone for the two of them.

As soon as the UCLA team starts heading back to their locker room, and the crowd starts leaving, Paige scurries towards where she knows Azzi will be. Their assigned locker room isn’t that far from where UConn’s had been and Paige gets there in almost record time, her mind firmly planted on being there for Azzi. She’d missed so many opportunities, but this time, this time she’d be there.

Azzi’s leaning against the wall, her eyes closed and Paige has to take in a breath at the sight of her. Sweat sheens against her tan skin and her gameday braids are falling apart just a little but still, she’s perfect. Before Paige can take a step towards her, there’s another girl, all dark hair and long legs, brushing past her, rushing to get to Azzi’s side. It’s like the world has stopped and yet is spinning too fast all at the same time, as Paige watches this girl, Zoe, pull Azzi, Paige’s Azzi, into her arms.

After the night of the date (and everything else they’re ignoring), Paige hadn’t bothered to bring it up and Azzi had never said anything about it again. Naively, the blonde had thought that maybe that meant nothing much had transpired after the date, silently patting herself on the back for possibly even having had a hand in that. Except, the way Zoe holds Azzi isn’t fucking platonic and the way Azzi relaxes in Zoe’s arms, isn’t fucking friendly.

“I”ve got you Az,” Zoe whispers into Azzi’s hair and Paige wants to die. She should look away, she should walk away but her feet seem to be glued to the ground. And she remembers the way Azzi’s eyes were searching the crowd and oh- she’d been looking for- Paige can’t even let herself complete the thought because she’s sure she’ll burst into flames the second she does.

“I’m really glad you’re here,” Azzi says quietly to Zoe. To Zoe, and not Paige. If she could feel anything beyond the dagger twisting in her heart, maybe Paige would hear the way there’s still a tinge of disappointment in Azzi’s voice, as if she’s wishing it was someone else.

It takes Zoe pressing a kiss into Azzi’s forehead, eliciting a sigh from the brunette for Paige to finally tear her eyes away. Her feet finally move and then she’s running faster than she has in a long time, ignoring the way it causes her muscle to ache. She can’t tell if her rapid blinking is to usher away the tears or to try and prevent the memory of Azzi with some other girl from welding itself into her eyelids. It blurs her vision and in the speed of things, she can barely tell where she’s going. Paige runs chest-first into a wall, bruising her elbow. Her phone slips out of her hands, falling to the ground with a loud thud, the screen protector cracking into pieces.

And when Paige looks at the mess of her phone on the floor, she thinks it couldn’t possibly have cracked harder than this silly little stupid heart of hers.

#pazzi #paige bueckers #azzi fudd #wcbb

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autumnshighlady · 9 months

Text

I’ve Always Liked to Play With Fire (part 16)

NESTA ARCHERON X ERIS VANSERRA X FEMALE!READER

summary: the moment you’ve all been waiting for, that’s all i can say

warnings: Night Court slander, pro-Tamlin,

word count: 7.7k (y’all better appreciate how long this is)

DO NOT REPOST ANYWHERE

a/n: THIS IS THE BIGGEST CHAPTER YET GUYS!! so much is revealed that i’ve been planning for MONTHS, i’m so excited to share it with you. please send me all your reactions!

feedback is appreciated, just no hate pls! these are just my opinions, i’m more curious to see how you all like the writing and characterization and storylines!

part 1 // part 2 / part 3 / part 4 / part 5 / part 6 / part 7 / part 8 / part 9 / part 10 / part 11 / part 12 / part 13 / part 14 / part 15 /

read on ao3

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The stench of blood and shredded flesh was choking your senses, clogging your throat like the thickest oil. Everything was happening in slow motion through the stained glass as Hybern’s soldiers retreated, crowing their victory as if it took a great deal of skill to slaughter a defenceless village. Their cries were muffled, as if you were underwater. Every limb ached, too stiff and heavy to move even an inch. No amount of effort could get you to lift your head up.

You were going to die here. That much you had accepted.

What would be the point in living anyway? With your entire village dead, you closed your eyes, waiting for the embrace of death to whisk you away. Each breath was like shredding a knife through your chest, what was taking so long? Everyone else was gone, yet you were cursed with the ability to still draw breath.

A strange, white flicker drew your eyelids open. Everything was blurry, but even in your dazed state you could tell that something was happening. Groaning, you stretched out your fingers. If you had a voice, you knew you’d be screaming at the pain from such a simple movement. As your palm outstretched, something warm and gentle closed around it, as if the sweet spring breeze itself had formed a hand of its own to clasp yours. The touch was gentle, reassuring even. It flooded you with a sense of calm. Was this what death was like?

The white flickering from the bodies in the village erupted in a shower of starlight and sunshine, glowing tendrils rising from the mangled fae in your line of vision. They descended upon you like smoke, and the warm touch around your hand squeezed once before agony overtook your body.

You didn’t know if you were screaming or not. Your throat burned as if a dagger had slashed it open. Your abdomen ached, as if it was being hacked apart by a longsword. It felt like Hybern’s soldiers had descended upon you with their weapons, striking and cutting a thousand times. You heard nothing but the ringing in your ears as your body shook with spasms.

Please just let me die faster, You pleaded to the Mother. I can’t take this. Just end it already.

Even throughout the unbearable pain that wracked your body, you could still feel the warm sensation like someone was squeezing your palm. You wondered if it was your mother, preparing to guide you into whatever afterlife lay ahead. But the pain didn’t stop, didn’t end. It just kept going for what felt like eons. And then, like a weighted blanket was being laid over you, it stopped.

*********************

“Wake up.”

You opened your eyes and groaned, Rhysand’s voice making your already pounding head worse. You had endured hours of hearing it scraping against your mental shields, pressing to try and find a way in. You had felt his anger, his frustration and disbelief at not being able to get through. Every ounce of his hatred had been flung at you like a thousand arrows, making you see right through the High Lord.

You felt his self righteousness, his true feelings about how he didn’t give a shit about anything but his precious circle. Even them, he looked down upon – including his own mate and High Lady. As Rhysand flung his thoughts at you, you read them like paper on parchment. He may love Feyre and his family, but at the end of the day he needed control. And there you were, a stain on his image, a brick out of place at the foundation of his empire, threatening to bring the whole thing down.

Rhysand, the High Lord of the Night Court, feared you.

He was afraid of your influence, how openly rebelling on him and calling out his lies might spread ideas to others. Especially with Nesta, Cauldron-made, on your side. The thought of Rhys being afraid of you would have made you laugh, if you weren’t tied up in a cell for days on end. You weren’t even sure how you were still alive

You never figured out what happened that day your village was attacked, after the slaughter ceased and you were left alone. Every time you closed your eyes, that glowing light from the bodies around you haunted your dreams. You weren’t sure if it was even real, if any of it actually happened or if your mind had made it up. But you had felt different since that day in a way that couldn’t be explained. It was as if something coursed through your bones, waiting to answer a call.

You were changed that day, and for months you had chalked it up to your state of mind being altered by something so traumatic. But you had been in this cell without food for longer than your body, even as a faerie, should have been able to survive. Something that clearly also perplexed your captor as he stared at you.

“I don’t understand you, (Y/N).” Rhysand said with lethal calm. “Nothing about you makes sense. You happen to survive a slaughter at the hands of Hybern, you infiltrate my court and make a magical bond with Nesta Archeron that nobody has ever seen before, and you somehow resist my magic. I want to know how you’re able to do that.”

You spat up the blood that had been pooling in your mouth. “Go fuck yourself. Prick.”

The High Lord chuckled, but continued as if you hadn’t spoken. “And to top it off, you’ve been scheming with Eris Vanserra this whole time. Plotting to overthrow me, perhaps? To rip my court out from under me like Feyre did to your beloved Tamlin? If it is revenge you are after, I suggest you rethink your plan.”

You said nothing. It would be pointless to argue with him. Anything you say would be twisted and used against you, so you held your tongue.

“It matters not,” Rhys continued, pacing back and forth with his hands in his pockets. “Because you failed in whatever it is you wanted to accomplish. You are here, locked in this dungeon where nobody can find you. And whether I grant you a merciful death or not depends on you answering this one simple question.”

Rhys stopped pacing, and leaned towards you. His face was inches away from yours, violet eyes boring into you like lasers. You could feel his breath on your face as he spoke. “What spell did you use to cast the bond? Gwyn’s story only tells us so much, if any of it is even related to this, but I know there’s more to it”

You huffed, cracked lips stinging with the effort of speaking. “You seemed to have a list of other questions, what happened to those?”

“Oh, I have other ways of finding out the answers to almost everything else. But with Nesta Archeron tucked away somewhere in Autumn, you are the only other person who can speak to the magic of the spell.” Rhys’ slender finger caressed your cheek, making you squirm with discomfort. “And if you cooperate like a good girl, how about I make you a deal? I will let Nesta live out whatever shit life she wants in Autumn in peace, provided you give me what I need.”

Your breath lurched, the horror of his insinuation dawning on you. Rhys never intended to let Nesta live peacefully in Autumn, not because he cared for her safety in the clutches of Beron, but because losing her made him look weak. Even if Nesta was married to Eris and protected by the whole of Autumn, Rhysand would take every opportunity he could to hunt her like a dog and bring her back.

No doubt he’d paint himself as the hero of the situation. Poor Nesta Archeron, stolen away by the evil Autumn prince and made a bride against her will. Rhysand would save her from her terrible fate, dragging her back to the Night Court to be hailed a saviour. And that would be the last time Nesta ever stepped out of Night, he would make sure of it. Under the illusion of caring for his beloved sister in law, of course.

You glared at him, but he only chuckled again. Rhys leaned away from you and stood back upright, picking at the sleeve of his shirt casually. “It matters not,” He said. “Azriel is on his way right now. He’ll tell me what he’s discovered, and when the sun rises over the mountains, he will kill you.”

It felt like a bucket of ice had been dumped on your body as you remembered the fading voices of Rhys’ command to his spymaster before you had passed out. You didn’t know what Azriel would do. On the one hand, he had stood up for you in a way that Rhys clearly hadn’t expected. But on the other, he has been loyal to the prick for five centuries – holding out hope that would change now was foolish. All you could truly hope for was that he granted you a quick death.

“What if he didn’t find anything?” You croaked. “Still gonna kill me then? I thought you were desperate to find answers.”

“If Azriel cannot find them, then there is nobody that can,” The High Lord countered simply, as if he were making idle chit chat. “And then whatever secrets you’re so determined to keep die with you, the magic along with it. That’s something I can live with if not knowing at the end of the day means protecting my court.”

You laughed bitterly. “As if you care about that?”

Rhys’ eyes narrowed, his body stilling like a predator frozen before the kill. “Excuse me?”

“You sure don’t give a shit about most of it.” You challenged brazenly. “The women in Illyria who still get their wings clipped, anyone who has the misfortune of living outside Velaris, you don’t care about anyone but yourself and your little family. You rule because you like the power, not because you care about the people your power is supposed to protect.”

“I have outlawed wing clipping in Illyria–” Rhys growled, but you interrupted him.

“And without enforcing it harshly you have only ensured that the practice of wing clipping becomes more underground, leaving females to die from mangled procedures.”

If looks could kill, Rhysand’s would have obliterated you. But you couldn’t help but smirk to yourself at the anger you elicited from the High Lord. Judging by his reaction you knew that he knew you were right. He just hated hearing it.

“I see Azriel taught you too much.” Rhys hissed.

“What did I teach her too much of?”

You flinched as Azriel’s voice echoed in the chamber. Out of the shadows he appeared, melting into the space of the dark cell like wax. His expression was unreadable, and he did not look at you. He faced his brother, not sparing you a single glance.

“Azriel, I am very glad you’re here.” Rhys’ voice singsonged, an obnoxiously chipper tone to it. The smug look on his face made you tense up preparing for the worst.

Gwyn was the only other person who knew about what magic was used to cast the bond between you and Nesta. Your gut twisted at the thought of Azriel going to her for answers. The priestess had sworn she would never breathe a word, but in more ways than one Azriel could be… persuasive. Rhys had already figured out the story the spell was based on by going into her mind, if he knew what else she had found….

You were certain of one thing though: if Azriel had harmed Gwyn in any way, you’d tear him limb from limb.

“I assume you’re going to be more helpful than this one here regarding information on the bond?” Rhys continued, crossing his arms proudly.

Silence that was almost too loud took over the cell for a few moments, until Azriel uttered one word from his lips. “No.”

Rhys blinked in surprise. “No?” He said. “You mean you honestly found nothing?”

A tentative flicker of hope ignited in your chest. Azriel was stone faced as he answered to his High Lord. “Correct. The library was of no use, even the restricted section. I found nothing resembling the bond (Y/N) and Nesta used.”

The High Lord’s eyes narrowed, and he cocked his head. “Interesting. You are usually more useful than this, Az.”

“I explored all of my available resources and found nothing.” Azriel’s voice was monotone, no emotion or life to it. It was the voice of a spy, unreadable and impossible to decipher. It made you nervous, unsure of what angle he was playing at. Azriel was not stupid, he had to know Gwyn would have been the one to give you and Nesta access to the information.

Which means whatever his reasoning was, he chose to keep Rhysand in the dark.

“Pity.” Rhys clucked his tongue in disappointment. “I know dear Amren was dying to find out what spell it was. But it doesn't matter anymore. I guess we’ll all have to live with the disappointment, won’t we?”

Azriel remained motionless as he spoke. “I am sorry I failed you.”

Another minute of silence overcame the cell. You barely even breathed, heart racing with every passing second. Until Rhys spoke the words you had been anticipating for days. “Kill her.”

The shadowsinger shifted, standing more upright. As your heart dropped into your stomach, you anticipated him reaching for truth-teller. If he had kept the information about the spell out of Rhysand’s hands, you took it as a sign he would make your death quick and clean at least. And so you closed your eyes, finding yourself for the second time in one year waiting for death to come and claim you.

“No.”

Azriel’s firm words made your eyes snap open in confusion. Rhysand was taking a deep breath, as if trying to keep himself calm and collected before he spoke. “And why not?” The High Lord said icily.

“Because this is wrong.” Azriel said, shifting his weight as if the mere act of disobeying his High Lord caused him discomfort. He glanced at you, eyes softening for a second as he spoke. “And she is my friend.”

“Please,” Rhys scoffed angrily. “No she is not. She was manipulating you, you fool. Maybe her pretty face kept your shadows distracted enough from figuring that out, but she is not your friend. She is your prisoner, whom your High Lord is ordering you to kill.”

“I said no.”

You glanced uneasily between them, not expecting Azriel to openly defend you like this. Rhys, apparently, felt the same thing. His breath was uneven, and his voice laced with rage as he spoke. “What has gotten into you, Azriel? Are you really going to disobey me like this?”

Azriel argued back, trying to reason with his brother. “Rhys, what we are doing to this female is wrong. All signs point to her wanting just to be free, not to bring harm to your court. She has no desire to overthrow you, or whatever bizarre shit your brain has come up with. Killing her would be wrong.”

“SHE IS A FUCKING THREAT TO MY COURT!” Rhys suddenly bellowed, his loud yell hurting your ears as it echoed throughout the chamber. Without warning, Rhysand shoved Azriel against the wall, a loud crack sounding as the spymaster’s wings collided with solid rock. He groaned in pain, but did not fight back.

. “And I am ORDERING you to do your job and eliminate her.” Rhys growled at him, pressing his neck into the wall. “If you do not, then I–”

“Do it yourself, coward.” You spat with as much defiance as you could. You hated seeing Azriel let his brother overpower him, watching him give up because he thought he deserved punishment for disobedience. You did not necessarily see eye to eye with the shadowsinger on everything – hell, there were times where his bystanderism made him just as bad as the rest of his circle.

But you could not let this happen to you, because it was all your fault. It was because of you he was in this position – his job, his family, his life on the line because he was trying to help you.

Rhys froze, pausing whatever blow he was about to land on his spymaster before he slowly turned to gaze at you. “What did you just say?”

“I said…” Every word was an effort, but a surge of determination flooded through you. “Kill me yourself, you fucking coward. Do your own dirty work for once.”

Rhysand snarled, letting go of Azriel with a shove. He stormed over towards you and grabbed your throat, hand gripping it like talons. His face was pure rage, the ugly face behind the charming mask, the illusion finally shattered. “I’m going to enjoy this,” He spat in your face. “And when I’m done, I’m going to drag Nesta back here kicking and screaming if I have to. And she will meet this very same fate once I make her scream.”

Something deep inside of you snapped. A strange sensation coursed through your bones, filling your broken body with life once again. Your wrists no longer ached, your back was no longer stiff. You could barely hear over the roaring in your head as you pictured Nesta’s beautiful face in your mind. The ringing in your ears became so loud, and before the High Lord of the Night Court unleashed his dark mist upon you, the world went white.

*********************

Wake up.

It was not the snarling, arrogant voice of Rhysand that greeted you, but a soft female one. It was familiar yet foreign all at once, the sound of both one voice and a thousand altogether, blended like a strange melody. Your eyes fluttered open, and you were met with a familiar scene.

Your village.

The bodies had gone, only ash and dirt remaining where they once were. The buildings remained in ruins, like the memorial of an ancient city. Vines had begun to curl over the rooftops, circling down the sides of what remained of the houses that Hybern did not burn down. Flowers had blossomed across the earth, a stark contrast to the death and destruction that had occurred on the very same soil all those months ago. You glanced at your arms, which were free from the cuts and bruises inflicted upon you in the dungeon. You felt no pain.

“Do you remember what happened that day?”

You jumped as the female voice sounded behind you. Whirling around, you were met with a tall female. She had olive skin and warm brown eyes, with long brown hair that shone like the rays of the sun itself. Her face was kind but strong, and she wore sparling robes that almost blended in with her skin. She emitted an otherworldly glow, a kind of radiance that shook you to your very core.

“Who… who are you?” You stuttered.

The female smiled softly, her elegant hands clasped together. “I am Estelle.”

Your mind raced, putting together the pieces from Gwyn’s information. “Like… the mother goddess from the story? Jayana’s lover?”

She nodded. “A millenia later, and I find myself missing her every day. Much like you miss your Nesta.”

You took a steady breath, shaking your head. “Am I dead? Is this the afterlife?”

The goddess chuckled softly. “No, my child, you are not dead. You are here for a reason, one which requires an answer to my question. Do you remember this day?”

You paused, taking a few steps back and scanning the clearing. Your heart ached at the sight of it so empty, so quiet and lifeless. It held so many good memories, ones that were now tainted with bloodshed and violence. “Not all of it…”

“Do you ever have dreams, my child? Dreams where you’re back in this clearing, body seized with pain so violent it felt like you were dying a thousand times?”

You felt her presence follow you as you wandered aimlessly. “Yes…” You muttered. “Are you going to tell me that really happened?”

“Is that what you want me to tell you?”

You whirled around, facing the female once again. “Look, I don’t know what the hell is happening right now. Or at all, frankly. I’ve had enough riddles, can you please just tell me why I’m here?”

Despite your anger, Estelle showed no sign of hurt at your sharp words. There was sorrow behind her eyes, an understanding, one that you felt could see into every inch of your soul.

“You know my story, correct?” She said softly. You nodded.

“Good,” She continued. “When I absorbed the life forces of my fallen comrades, I felt each and every one of their deaths. It tore through my body like a riptide, and I was sure it was going to break me. I felt their rage, their fear, their anguish as they were slaughtered much like your village was. And after that day, I held a new power, one that allowed me to escape Hel and break the realms of the world apart.”

Your throat was dry, a dizziness overcoming you as the weight of her words dawned on you. Every dream you had about that day, every nightmare that ended in blinding light and pain was the exact experience that the goddess in the story had felt. “What are you saying?” Your voice was quiet as you asked a question you were pretty sure you knew the answer to.

“My child,” Estelle said. “The same thing happened to you. What you felt that day was the life force of everyone in your village flooding into your body. You felt each and every one of their deaths, and I am sorry you had to experience that. But it happened for a reason.” You weren’t sure you were breathing at this point. You rested your hands on your knees, trying to stabilise yourself. “Do you mean….” Your voice stuttered as you spoke. “Do you mean that… what I felt that day… what I felt afterwards…”

Your voice trailed off, but a warm hand on your shoulder reassured you.

“Yes. Your body now possesses the life force of hundreds of deaths, a power you can shape and wield however you choose.”

The feeling of the goddess’s hand on your shoulder struck something in you. All those times you felt that invisible touch, that reassuring presence that you thought you had imagined… You had thought it was maybe the Mother, but it dawned over you that it had been Estelle this whole time. Hers was the hand that held yours as you felt the deaths of your friends and family rip through you. Hers was the voice that helped you stay strong as Rhysand tortured you.

“This whole time…” You said breathlessly, her presence behind you like a warm light on your back. “I thought it was the Mother guiding me. But it was you.”

“My dear, we are one and the same.”

You whipped around to face the goddess. “You’re the Mother?”

Estelle simply smiled. “The war that took Jayana from me was centuries before Prythian was formed. After I escaped Hel, I wandered about the universe, utterly lost. Until I found this untamed world, unguided by any spirit. I did not ask to be named the Mother, but my true name had been lost in my years alone. So I became her, but I never forgot who I was. And I never will.”

You ran a hand through your hair, mind spinning with the overload of information. The story of Jayana and Estelle was not only true, but Estelle was the Mother herself, the being that watched over Prythian and was worshipped all over the land. Not only that, but you were living what Estelle had experienced hundreds and thousands of years ago.

“Why?” Was all you could ask, not knowing what to say.

“Not everything has to have an answer,” Estelle said, taking your hand in her own. “And I urge you not to expect to know the explanation for everything after this. But as for why you are here, I needed you to know the truth. You refused to believe your dreams, and chose to try and forget about them instead of asking yourself if they were really just imaginary. You possess the power of life now, just as I do. And you are in a terrible situation, my child. I ask that you recall my story, and use this power to find your way back to your mate.”

Even in this strange dreamy reality, time seemed to stop. Mate. The world itself seemed to spiral down upon you as the word replayed in your head over and over again.

Nesta was your mate.

“But… but Cassian is Nesta’s mate.” Was all you could sputter out. Something stirred in you, as if awoken by the realisation. It was like the bond, but stronger. Its presence in your chest was undeniable, reaching out as if it were searching for its other half.

“Fae folk can have more than one mate in some instances. Nesta Archeron has more than one, but Cassian is not one of them.”

“How–”

Estelle cut you off, more urgency in her voice than before. “I have already told you not to expect the answers to every question you have just yet. All will reveal itself in time. But Jayana and I were mates before I created the spell that allowed us to communicate. Therefore, in order for the magic to work, the spell had to be done between two mates. The daemati-like powers is the only thing that spell gives. Everything else you feel? That deeper connection to Nesta? It was already there in the mating bond. The spell had nothing to do with it.”

“Holy shit.” You gasped, blood racing. “So you’re saying… Nesta and I are mates, and that’s why the spell worked?”

She nodded. “And why Rhysand was not able to activate it. It can only be done so between two mates, no matter how powerful an outsider’s magic is. And your magic is also the reason he cannot get into your head. You are protected from all other daemati magic.”

“I’m going to pass out…” You muttered, taking a seat on the log a few feet away. Within seconds, Estelle’s, or the Mother’s, appeared beside you.

“Everything happens for a reason, my child. You received those powers for a reason. You came across my story for a reason. I didn’t have a chance to use the spell to find my way back to my mate, but you do. Seize it.”

That strange presence in your bones you had felt after you woke up from the massacre, it wasn’t imagined after all. Deep down, you had always known something otherworldly happened. But you had spent months pushing it aside, trying to ignore it out of fear of what it was. “This is all just happening inside my head, isn’t it?”

Estelle’s long robes rustled in the breeze. “Of course it is,” She said. “But that does not mean it’s not real. Across the universe, there are multiple realities. Multiple versions of oneself that may seem like different people, but are all variants of one another. With beings like me, that does not happen unless we make it so. You, (Y/N), are an incarnate version of me. It’s why this is happening in your head. I am not some external being that is inside your mind right now. I am you, and you are me.”

You were the Mother incarnate. Holy shit. It felt like a dream, but the presence beside you was too strong to be anything but real. “If people have variants of each other,” You asked, trying to keep your voice steady. “Does that mean….Nesta is Jayana?”

“In a sense,” Estelle responded. “The connection is not direct like with you and I. I saw your situation when Hybern attacked your village, and I kept you alive by having your body absorb the life force of the dead just like I had. And thus, you became a version of me. Nesta Archeron is her own person, but fate seems to like its parallels. I see much of Jayana in her. They both have the same temper, both represent a death goddess feared across all the lands.”

You frowned. “You mean you aren’t the decider of fate? I thought everything that happened was with your guidance?”

She laughed melodically, the sound like the song of birds on a spring morning. “No, my child. I decide many things, yes. But not all. None of us do, and we do not know what does.”

Estelle’s words echoed in your mind like a hurricane, threatening to overwhelm you. But it didn’t, because in a way, everything made sense. She had no reason to lie, even if this was just some bizarre dream or afterlife sentence. The way you felt that connection to Nesta, that force in your body that threatened to explode when you were angry, it all aligned with what the goddess beside you was saying.

“I cannot linger any longer,” Estelle murmured, covering your shaking hands with her own. “But remember how I got out of Hel. Find that power buried within you and rattle the stars with it. I will always be there alongside you, my child. You are never alone.”

You turned to say something, another hundred questions racing through your mind, but the world around you glowed as the Mother faded into the light. Within a few seconds, she had gone.

Once again, you looked at the clearing around you. The marks on the earth where the bodies had lain seemed to glow, calling out to you. A force deep within you sung in response, begging you to release it. As you poured over Estelle’s words, you recalled how the magic she absorbed allowed her to burst out of Hel and free herself.

Rattle the stars.

Her wording was deliberate. The Night Court was represented by the stars. You knew not the extent of your powers, but if your theory was right, you could make the entire Night Court feel your fury.

And so you closed your eyes, and let the clearing slip away as you let that power you’d been pushing down surge through you. It felt like you were falling, the clearing swallowing up as you descended into a void of light.

*********************

It could have been a millenia you were falling, or perhaps a second. As you let yourself go down into the base of whatever power lay within you, you felt memories crash into you all at once. Your mother’s smile as she presented you with her freshly baked scones. The feeling of Nesta’s lips as she kissed you for the first time. Lucien pressing a cold cloth to your head when you were sick. Eris holding you as you danced in the Hewn City. Rhysand’s smirk as he carved into you like a piece of meat.

The rage that boiled up as Rhysand’s face flashed through your mind quickened your plummet, your power bubbling up and ready to overflow. And so you opened your eyes.

A look of horror crossed Rhysand’s features as your eyes glowed with a bright white half a second before his magic went to strike you down. Dark mist collided with pure light as you exploded with a war cry of ancient times.

*********************

White hot rage was all you could feel as you unleashed yourself. Rage of the Spring Court souls whose life forces you had absorbed crying out with you for vengeance against the Night Court. Rhysand was thrown back, Azriel too as your light exploded. The walls around you crumbled, your chains shattering as everything around you came crashing down. The earth beneath your feet shook, the rock from the prison walls flying a hundred feet out to either side.

Wind ripped against your face as the mountain your cell had been inside crumbled away before you, creating avalanches of stone whose impact upon the ground sounded like thunder. Your blood sang, as if the life force within you was happy to be used. Surprisingly, Velaris was visible in the distance – you had thought your prison would be some remote mountain in Illyria. But perhaps Rhys knew that’s what everyone would assume, and keeping you closer to his home would keep you from being discovered.

Out of the shadows, Rhysand and Azriel appeared from the smoke, coughing violently. As they finally opened their eyes to look at you, pure wonder crossed their faces. You didn’t have to look down at yourself to know you were glowing with that same light Estelle had. Your gaze landed upon Azriel, who froze like a statue as it landed on him.

He didn’t cower, or scurry away. He simply gazed at you in awe for a few more moments before dipping his head, bowing before your presence. Rhys, on the other hand, got to his feet and snarled.

“What are you?” The High Lord hissed, gathering dark mist between his fingertips.

“I am Life,” The voice you responded with was not entirely your own – it was ancient and prophetic, with the authority of a god. “And your court has taken everything from me. You will pay for your crimes, High Lord Rhysand.”

Rhys made a vicious noise, talons of mist forming at his fingertips. You quickly realised that despite what you had just done, you had no clue how to defend yourself with your power. But before he could make the first blow, a ring of silver fire burst through the air and surrounded him, accompanied by a fierce roar from the sky. As you looked up, letting your eyes adjust to the bright daylight, you gasped at the sight before you.

Three dragons were flying towards the ruined mountain. One black, one silver, and one gold. The golden one was without a rider, circling the ruins around you and crying out. A familiar redhead was perched atop the black one, golden armour shining in the midday sun.

Eris, a golden flame atop a black fire breathing mount, had come to your rescue. But it was the silver dragon your eyes were drawn to, and that piece in your chest that had spent the last few weeks reaching out to Nesta crackled with excitement as you gazed upon the silver dragon’s mount.

Dressed in red, scaling armour was Nesta. Even from the ground, you could see her silver eyes glow in the same shade as the flames surrounding Rhysand. She had the wrathful look of a death goddess as she descended with her dragon, its silver wings creating hurricane like gusts of wind as it hovered before you and Rhys.

Nesta and Eris had come to save you.

You couldn’t help but glance at Azriel, who seemed sagged with relief. Your throat closed up with emotion – the spymaster knew Eris and Nesta would show up, and likely told them exactly where.

“Nesta.” Rhys growled, staring up at his sister-in-law with anger. “Leave.”

“Not without (Y/N).” Nesta’s voice was clear and strong, commanding Rhys like a queen commanding her subjects. Her dragon roared furiously at Rhysand, causing the High Lord to flinch.

“Dragons?” He sputtered, coughing as the smoke from the silver flames blew in his face. “What… how?”

“You have your surprises, Rhysand, and I have mine.” Eris piped up, landing his black dragon on the ground. The earth shook with its impact, sending more rocks crashing down the remains of the mountain.

Weariness took over your body, and you felt the light begin to fade as your magic retreated.

No no no, You cursed to yourself, trying to summon it again. But every muscle in your body ached from the sudden surge, unable to bear any more magic. You felt helpless again, trapped. Rhysand tried to take a step towards you, but scurried back as the ground once again shook, this time behind you.

The golden dragon had landed right behind you and let out a vicious roar towards Rhysand, its eyes glowing with fury. It stood protectively over your shoulder, towering over you menacingly in a way that promised certain death to anyone who made a move.

“Dragons are protective creatures,” Eris said. “I wouldn’t get any closer.”

“You’ve invaded my court,” Rhysand hissed. “This is an act of war.”

Eris chuckled. “Technically, you declared war first. We’re just finishing what you started.”

Before anyone could speak up, a horn sounded from the ridge in the distance. You whirled around, the motion making you slightly dizzy. But your eyes were clear as ever as the banners of the Spring Court appeared over the hill.

Armoured bodies marched in synch as soldiers approached on horseback, led by none other than Lucien. His cloak streamed behind him in the wind as he loped towards the scene of the wreckage. You nearly wept, not having seen him since he rescued you. From the look on his face, Lucien felt the same way.

A different type of roar was carried fast in the wind, and a mighty beast winnowed in front of the army and led the march. Its elk-like antlers and massive body sped ahead of his troops with his great stride, bounding towards you.

“What is going on here?” Rhysand demanded, unable to hide the slight panic from his voice.

“You started this war when you stole (Y/N) from Spring,” Eris said coolly, patting his dragon. “We’ve found it in our best interests to align with Tamlin over the matter, not you.”

The dragons did not react as Tamlin’s beast form landed right beside them, growling. Tears streamed down your face in relief – the High Lord you had looked up to, the male you had helped get back on his feet, had joined in on the effort to save you.

“Rhysand.” Tamlin growled in greeting.

“If this is some sort of revenge plan on Feyre–” Rhysand began, but was quickly interrupted.

“This is not about her,” The High Lord of Spring snapped. “This is about (Y/N). You have kidnapped and imprisoned an esteemed member of my court, which is considered an act of war. I do not want to shed blood, but we will if you refuse to let her return to me.”

“(Y/N) is a member of my court now.” Rhys responded, evening out his voice. You knew he was trying to put on his collected mask, but it was cracked and slipping. You snorted at the weakness of his voice, and the dragon behind you made a similar noise, as if it was mirroring you.

“Is she?” Lucien said, halting his horse next to Tamlin and looking at Rhysand with a hatred you didn’t know he had. “Because she is still registered as a member of Spring. You never opened any accounts or filed any legal documents with her name, so according to the law there is no proof that you have taken her in as an official member. Which means you have wrongfully imprisoned a member of another court.”

“This is absurd.” Rhys scoffed. “Get out of my court. Now. This is my business.”

“Hand (Y/N) over and we will.” Lucien responded. The armies of the Spring Court halted a few metres behind the dragons, hands clasping their weapons, ready for the order to jump into action.

Malice glittered in Rhys’ eyes. You knew he wouldn’t give up easily, not when you had already made him look weak once. “No.” He said firmly.

No sooner had the syllable left his lips did a band of silver fire wrap around his throat. He cried out in pain as the flame danced, licking at his skin but not quite burning. The silver dragon’s roar turned all eyes to Nesta, and your heart jumped at the sight.

Nesta had stood up on her dragon’s back, silver flames wrapped around her fingertips and arms. The clouds darkened above everyone, thunder rumbling in the distance as her eyes glowed brighter.

“You locked me up.” Nesta’s voice was cold as ice and sharp as steel. Nobody moved a muscle as it echoed alongside the eerie cries of the wind. “I helped you, dozens of times. And you locked me up because I didn’t cope with the war YOU dragged me into in the way you deemed acceptable. I was an object to you, one to use and exploit when it suited you only to lock me away again when you were done. None of your circle has had any respect for me, Rhysand. From the beginning, you have pitted yourselves against me because it’s easier to make me the bad guy than take a look at your own flaws and mistakes. You took my human life, my money, my house, and everything I had. I was never a person to you, just a problem.”

Even Tamlin had gone completely still as Nesta twisted her hand, causing another band of fire to appear. This time, it bound Rhys’ hands and ankles, forcing him to his knees. Black mist attempted to make its way through the fire, but was rapidly quenched. Rhysand’s magic was no match for Nesta’s fury.

“I am taking my life back, Rhysand.” Nesta said. “And you and my sister will have no say or part in it. Do not come after me, do not try and bring me back here. If you try, I will burn you to nothing but ash.”

Rhysand growled, thrashing against Nesta’s fire. “Azriel!” He barked. “Do something!”

The shadowsinger was pale faced, surveying the scene before him. “Let her go,” He said sternly. “This is a fight we cannot win.”

You found your feet again, standing up on shaky legs. You summoned more magic – your body protested, but you ignored it as a shimmering white gag wrapped around Rhysand’s mouth, joining his silver flames.

“This isn’t a debate.” You panted, the weight of your tattered, shredded dress making you want to collapse. But you relented. “I am leaving with them, and you will let me.”

Tamlin’s beast form crawled towards Rhysand, growling. “I was wrong to lock Feyre up, I know that.” He spat. “But don’t pretend like you didn’t do the exact same thing to Nesta and (Y/N).”

Rhys mumbled something through the gag, but was ignored. You felt a nudge, and the golden dragon was gently pushing its snout into you. You placed your hand on its nose, letting the beast inhale your scent.

“Zorzimril says it’s time to go.” Eris quipped, smirking down at you. “Let’s get you out of here.”

You nodded, glancing up at Nesta. Your mate.

Her eyes were locked on you, and a faint tear ran down her cheek. Tentatively, you reached towards the spell-made bond. Nesta?

I…. I can’t believe I’m hearing your voice. Nesta’s response came, and so did your tears. Your lungs shook as you inhaled deeply between sobs.

Me too.

There will be time to catch up later. Come, let’s leave.

The golden dragon had lowered its shoulder to the ground and looked at you expectantly. Tentatively, you climbed onto its back, grasping the horns down its spine as you settled yourself. From the view on dragonback, you surveyed the site you had been standing on. Rubble from the mountain was everywhere, the great peak crumbled into a small hill. The gags on Rhys had disappeared, but he remained kneeling, face twisted with anger. Azriel stood beside him, a hand on his shoulder and giving Eris a slight nod. Tamlin and Lucien stood side by side once again, united with a common cause. Your heart swelled as you recognized the faces of the soldiers they brought – many of them fae that you had taken into the manor after losing their homes to Hybern. You could see it in their eyes that they had come not just because they were ordered to, but because they wanted to help you like you had helped them.

“Let’s get out of this wretched court.” Eris sighed, winking at you.

“Wait.” You said as an idea popped into your head. “I have something I want to do first.”

Nesta smirked at you, knowing exactly what you meant.

*********************

You, Nesta, and Eris soared on dragonback through the Night Court, approaching the Inner Circle’s mountainside cabin. You relished in the cold air whipped across your face, having not felt fresh air in weeks. Zorzimril happily flew you alongside Nesta, making happy growling noises as the excitement of what you were about to do made you jittery.

As your dragons approached the cabin, they stopped, hovering in the air above it. You looked towards Nesta and Eris, and they gave you a nod. You shouted the command Nesta had taught you, and Zorzimril unleashed a torrent of flames upon the cabin. The scent of burnt wood filled the air as the structure was quickly engulfed. Within ten seconds, it was reduced to ash.

And so the three of you flew to each remote residence of the inner circle, making sure it was away from the city before burning it to the ground. With every palace set aflame you whopped with delight, causing Eris to chuckle. It was satisfying, watching their luxuries burn down while half of Illyria was starving and poor. The Inner Circle had fled to the River House, the one shared residence of theirs that remained intact due to it being in the city centre. You did not want to punish innocent people for the crimes of their leader, like Feyre had done to your court. No, this was proper vengeance. And you relished in it.

Despite your exhaustion and pain from the last few weeks, you let yourself cheer and cry out on the back of Zorzimril as you soared through the air between Nesta and Eris, headed for the thicket of the autumn trees in the distance, leaving the Night Court behind you.

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sunny-desk · 5 months

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Journal (Troy Otto x Reader)

Next Part

Summary: Set during Season 3. Troy's late night notebook scribbling often wakes the reader up.

Author’s Note: This is the second thing I've ever written, I don't really know what I'm doing. I think the tenses might be a mess. Part 2 may happen but it also may not. This has been in my drafts since July.

You wake to the sound of pencil hastily scratching on paper and Troy quietly mumbling to himself. This happened often. You knew there was a lot going on in his head, some of which you’d managed to get him to open up to you about, mainly the simpler stuff, but most of which ended up scribbled in his journal. (He didn’t like it when you called it that but if writing down your theories, thoughts and feelings isn’t journaling, then what is?) You’d been staying in his room, or “our room” as he’d often correct you, most nights for the last few weeks and in that time you’d become mostly accustomed to his ever changing, sometimes unpredictable to the people who didn't know him well, mood. He was quick to anger or annoy but he was also quick to make happy or smile, you just had to be the right person for the job, and the more you learnt about him, the more the right person was you. Being woken in the night had almost become a routine. It wasn’t too hard to predict when it would happen, any significant goings on around the ranch, good or bad, pretty much guaranteed Troy would be up in the early hours scribbling away, noting down any thoughts or ideas he had. Slow days made it less likely but slow days were rare and you’d started realising that sometimes just because the day was slow that didn’t mean Troy’s mind wasn’t racing.

The most useful thing you’d come to learn was when it was worth trying to talk to him during these night-time writing sessions. When the previous day had been a good one, when you woke up, you’d often roll over and ask him about what he was writing down. You’d have to sit for a minute to get a response but he’d always give you one. And when the answer came it was a rush of thoughts and theories and ideas about the dead (Can they survive underwater? How long would it take them to starve? Could they be useful, maybe as camouflage?) or the militia (“We need to change strategies, there’s too much land to cover. Here, look, I drew this diagram of the routes around the ranch. We should do more training in the camp too, I’ve planned this schedule, see?” “They’ll hate you for that wake up time.” “They’ll hate me more if their families die because I didn’t train them well enough to protect this place.”) or sometimes the garden (“We need more people out there working. Maybe we should expand it too.”) He would listen to any thoughts you had on the subjects once he was done rambling and if you said something useful (which, to your credit, you sometimes did), he’d start writing that down too and another five minutes of silence would commence. When the previous day had been a bad one, you had learned to not roll over at all. You’d tried it a few times, the first because you didn’t realise it was a bad idea, the second because you hadn’t yet noticed the pattern and the two times after that because you thought maybe he’d finally want to start opening up to you about the bigger things you knew plagued his mind. He never did.

Usually the small amount he would say on these nights was just short sentences (“I’m fine.” “Go back to sleep.” “Nothings going on.”) or grunts or, one time, a shout (“Why do you want to know my business all the time?!”). You understood it was hard for him to open up, a journal had been his go-to for most of his life when it came to big thoughts and feelings. He couldn’t rely on his father for emotional support and his brother tried but he wasn’t always there and when he was Troy didn’t get the sense that Jake really understood him or would know what to do with all the thoughts sloshing around in his head anyways so it was best not to bother burdening him. After the shouting incident you explained (the next morning, when he was more calm) that you were just trying to be there for him when he needed it. He apologised and made it up to you but talking to him on those nights wasn’t something you’d tried since. Until now. Because his dad was dead.

#fear the walking dead #troy otto x reader #troy otto #mine #ftwd fanfic #troy otto fanfic

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leighsartworks216 · 1 year

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Biological Malfunctions

Data x AFAB!reader

I rewrote this and then did not proofread it so have fun!!

Warnings: THIS IS A PERIOD FIC. THERE IS TALK ABOUT MENSTRUATION. PLEASE DON'T READ IF THAT MAKES YOU UNCOMFORTABLE. Reader is described as having a uterus, but no other explicit descriptions of their gender is made. Can be read as platonic or romantic (like, the beginnings of a crush)

Word Count: 2003

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Data entered his room as he had over a thousand times before. He stepped in, making sure Spot was not by the door waiting to rush out and scamper down the hallways, and- He stopped in the middle of the room, hardly two steps in the door. Something was different. The lights were dimmed.

Data only changed the light setting in his room during Alpha shift, a ship-wide nighttime when he was usually put in charge of the Bridge, as he did not require sleep like the others. By doing so, he simulated a day/night cycle for his beloved feline friend. However, Alpha shift would not start until approximately 2 hours, 37 minutes, and 15 seconds. Also unusual, the lights were dimmed to 20%, a setting he himself never used.

Now the question was why?

Truth be told, he was momentarily titillated by this mystery. He considered, briefly, donning his Sherlock Holmes outfit to investigate. Alas, the mystery did not last long enough for a costume change.

“Data?” a voice called from the bed-area of his quarters. “Are you back?”

The android followed the voice, as did Spot, to a figure curled under his Starfleet regulation blankets. The fabric shifted, and a face peeked out from the edge, squinting up at him. He recognized the voice, but seeing the face it belonged to absolutely confirmed it.

“Lieutenant Y/N, I did not expect to find you in my quarters.”

“Sorry,” you yawned. The blankets were warm, and clean from lack of use. They drew you in deeper, coaxing you into curling further within the cascades of fabric, warm and safe. Spot climbed on top of you and began lovingly making biscuits into your side. Data was briefly fascinated by the strange exhibition of behavior. “I needed to see Spot,” you admitted. “I hope you don’t mind.”

“Not at all. Your presence was unexpected, but you are always welcome here.” He met your tired little smile with a sort of grin of his own. “May I ask why you needed to see Spot? Has she done something wrong?”

You chuckled airily at the question. “No, she’s a good kitty.”

Data nodded, agreeing without hesitation, as the cat in question snuggled into a ball atop you and began purring contently.

In a softer, less comfortable tone than before, you murmured, “I needed the comfort.”

“Comfort?”

“Mhm. I’m…” A deep-rooted tree of shame ached in your chest at the thought of confessing your problems. You couldn’t help it, really. All your life since middle school, the biological issues - whether physical, mental, or emotional - you faced were heavily enforced as your problems. Even further, the most enforced rule of all was to never disclose them to men.

You would think, in the 24th century, these silly little laws of society would die.

When you did not respond after a moment (approximately 37 seconds), he understood that you may not wish to tell him. A prolonged silence in humans often reflected a sense of unease or discomfort, especially relating to conversation topics they were uncomfortable with. Your voice stopped him before he could retreat back to his computer.

The branch squeezing around your heart, pumping guilt through every channel of your body, won out over all.

“I’m going through some, uh, biological malfunctions.”

Data’s eyebrows raised, surprised by this new information. He kneeled down, positioning himself in a better position to speak with you face-to-face. “If you are feeling unwell, I suggest going to sickbay for an examination. Doctor Crusher is well-suited to a wide variety of biological issues. If you would prefer, I could ask her to visit you here.”

You nearly startled at the suggestion, speaking in a rush. “No, no, no, no. Really, Data, I’m okay. I just have to wait it out. I’ll be fine by the time you go back on shift, and then I’ll be out of your hair, promise.”

Confusion replaced his surprise. You seemed to panic at the subject of Doctor Crusher, yet you have shown no previous signs of anxiety relating to anything medical. Not to mention your strange phrase. “Lieutenant, you are not in my hair.” You found yourself relaxing once again as he rambled on about the logistics of being in his hair, a small smile finding your face once more. “A single hair is roughly 80,000 to 100,000 nanometers wide, while the average adult male is approximately 2 billion nanometers tall. To fit in my hair, you would need to shrink down to 25 times the size you are now. Alternatively, you would need to increase the size of a hair by 25 times in order to fit inside it at the height you currently stand.”

His sweet naivety reminded you of how you so easily fell into a friendship with the android. You could discuss niche topics in varying detail for hours on end and never get tired. He helped you feel like you belonged when you were just an ensign, fresh from the Academy and unsure in every step. Even now, without even trying, he grounded you and gently pushed away all of your anxieties.

Only once he was finished did you speak. “It’s an expression, Data. It just means that I won’t be in your space, or causing you any problems.”

His head tilted, cataloging the new phrase within an ever-growing list of human figures of speech. “Ah, I see. You are not ‘in my hair’, Lieutenant. If you would like, you are welcome to stay once I leave for Alpha shift. I do not mind.”

“I appreciate it.” You breathed in deeply, closing your eyes to revel in the dim light, surrounded by your best friend and his cat. The quiet sound of machinery beeping and Spot purring made it feel like home. This was not your room. “But I really should get back.”

“Would you like me to escort you to your quarters?”

You hummed, considering. “Maybe.” Data’s bed was unused, soft, and clean. It was much nicer than yours, which had a pronounced divot in the mattress after sleeping in it so long. But, you reminded yourself, you had barged into his room and made yourself comfortable in his bed, without any form of permission to be had. You were trespassing, despite Data’s all-too-welcoming attitude. Still… He was giving you a chance to stay for a bit longer. “I don’t want to take advantage of your hospitality,” you opened your eyes to study his pale face, “but I don’t really want to leave right now.”

“No advantage taken. I even find your presence quite…” he paused to ensure he had the right word, “enjoyable.”

You smiled gratefully at the android. Now, more at ease than ever, your eyes slid shut and you welcomed the exhaustion that tickled the back of your mind. You pulled the blankets slightly to tuck them snugly under your chin, and even curled the blanket around your feet, effectively trapping in the warm air and sealing out the colder air beyond your cocoon.

Data watched your actions with interest. He wasn’t exactly privy to how humans slept, nor did he find the topic as fascinating as sneezing or hiccuping. The act of sleeping itself, that it. Dreams were another topic entirely. Now, though, as he watched you curl into a fetal ball, nuzzling your nose into his pillow, he wondered why he had not been interested before. For a brief moment, you curled in tighter, holding your breath. A grimace twisted your features. And then you breathed out slowly, uncurling a little.

“Lieutenant,” he pried, continuing even when you did not look at him, “your actions suggest you are in some form of discomfort. If you tell me what your symptoms are, I can look up methods to ease them.”

The branch of guilt and shame coiled like a snack around your heart once more. It was illogical to be ashamed, especially when you were talking to Data who would never be offended by anything as natural as bodily functions. The years and years of having your femininity shamed only brought you anxiety and a vague feeling of nausea. He wouldn’t care. He wouldn’t be disgusted.

“I’m menstruating.” For such a small admission, you wanted to crawl within yourself and die surrounded by your shame. You kept your eyes firmly shut, pressing your face into the pillow, in hopes that, perhaps, this was all just a dream. “I’m just having really bad cramps right now.”

His head tilted, though you refused to open your eyes and see it. “Am I correct in thinking that you are uncomfortable with this topic?”

You huffed a strained laugh. “Yeah, you’re right.”

“Menstruation is a natural occurrence among biologically female humans. I do not understand your discomfort.”

“It’s just… not really something humans are comfortable talking about, especially in mixed company.” Before he could ask your meaning, you added, “With males. Biological functions make people uncomfortable.”

His eyes lit up. “Fascinating.” He opened his mouth, ready to ask more questions about why, but stopped himself as you curled up tight once more. Right, he said he would help with your symptoms.

“There are a wide variety of methods said to reduce menstrual cramping. Methods include holding a heat compress to your lower abdomen, taking a hot bath, eating anti-inflammatory foods such as berries, tomatoes, pineapple, almonds, walnuts and salmon, or holistic treatments such as acupuncture or acupressure. Other methods such as exercise or abdominal massages are also said to relieve discomfort.”

You huffed out a frustrated breath, body curling in on itself as a second wave of pain ripped through your body. You curled in as tight as you possibly could, and yet the pain stayed. Your constant movement disturbed Spot, who finally had enough of laying on top of you, and jumped down. Data followed her movements as she found another, solitary, surface to sleep on.

As the wave ebbed away, it left behind aggravation and irritated tears that pricked at the corners of your eyes. You didn’t want food, you didn’t want to move, and you definitely didn’t want to get poked or prodded. You just wanted the pain to end. Spot had been acting as a sort of heated compress before, one that purred and had soft fur. Now, though, you had nothing to help.

Unless…

“Are you doing anything important right now?”

Data was confused by the odd question. It was entirely subjective. “I am kneeling here, talking to you. Is that not important?”

You may have been touched by the simple sweetness of his words, in the naivety he carried to find something as simple as talking to you important in the over-simplified, highly-literal way he saw the world, if you weren’t busy scrubbing the wetness from your eyes and gathering every ounce of dignity you had left. “Will you cuddle with me?”

“Inquiry: ‘cuddle’?”

“Just… lay with me and hold me?”

Data, confused but willing, nodded. As he got up from the floor, you scooted to make more room for him on the bed, while at the same time opening up your cocoon for him. In smooth, albeit unsure, motions, he joined you in the bed. Laying on his back, you threw the covers over him and helped to guide him in a rough lesson to cuddling. With no resistance, you were able to pick up his arm and wrap it around you as you settled down into the nook it created. He watched as you pressed yourself against his side and rested your cheek on his chest. You were close enough to hear the soft whirring of his inner mechanisms.

“Is this cuddling?”

Your cheek shifted against his uniform as you nodded. You appeared more at ease now. He… enjoyed seeing you like this.

“Yes, Data, this is cuddling.” After a brief moment of hesitation, you found his hand resting loosely behind you and guided it to rest over your waist. And as everything stilled, you were finally at peace.

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jaimebrienneonline · 7 months

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Fun with Fics

Rules: Pick any ten of your fics, scroll roughly to the midpoint, pick a line (or three) and share it. Then tag ten people.

(I got this twice in my inbox, so here goes.)

1. The Wine Is Not Enough

Sam leaned forward and offered Dany some unsolicited wisdom, “Never, ever wear open-toed sandals in a Port-o-Walder.”

2. The Seduction

Jaime lunged forward and pressed his mouth to hers in a sloppy, wet kiss. He pulled back and began kicking off his shoes. "Fine. See. You've won. I yield. You can have your way with me."

3. Vows

He shifted on the bed to lean back against the pillows, angling himself to her. “I left you unprotected in the North. Did that Wildling try to steal you? Did you let him?” His eyes glittered with something she didn’t understand. “Is that why you’re trying to refuse me?”

“No one stole me. Why would anyone even try? I’m not a possession to be stolen,” she huffed.

4. Age Gap

“Seriously though, Tyrion, what’s the point in having a sexy young girlfriend if I can’t have her hold up restaurant menus to prove I can read them from a distance?”

5. The Right Time

He rose from his seat and turned around, facing the bear-like man. With a deliberate swipe of his stump, he knocked the unopened cup to the floor before leaning his perfect muscular backside against the edge of her desk. His voice was like shards of ice as he spoke to the investigator. “Brienne already has plans for lunch. With me.” He then stood straight and took a step closer to the other man. “She has plans today. Tomorrow. Every lunch. Every day. Every dinner, too.”

6. Life's Sweetest Reward

Brienne shoveled a bite of eggs in her mouth and swallowed before answering. “Shuffleboard tournament.” After watching the other couples at parasailing yesterday, she thought she and Jaime were probably the most athletic ‘couple’ on board. “If Jaime manages to get up in time, we’ll likely win.”

Howland drew back from her and his previous affable expression turned into something much harder. Jyana touched his hand, a look of alarm on her face.

“Jya and I have been on ninety-seven cruises. We compete in the shuffleboard tournament every single time.” He leaned in then, his voice dark and low, “And we always win.”

7. The Kingslayer's Speech

No matter how she argued that the first kiss had been an accident, (did you trip and fall into my lips, wench?), he had insisted that he was entitled to a kiss with every goodbye now. It was his due, he said. Just to shut him up, she’d smacked her lips against his and sent him on his way.

8. The Singular Discomfort of Jaime Lannister

He hadn’t thought it possible to be this hard and not explode. “Are you,” he paused, needing to catch his breath, “are you asking me to tell you about the hot, dirty things I want to do to you?”

9. Everyone Has a Price

Aunt Myranda (wife of Stafford, mother of Daven, Cerenna and Myrielle), passed around tequila shots while discussing the benefits of erectile dysfunction medication, but the drawbacks of four-hour erections.

10. Words in the Dark Night

“Or I could warm it on your teats, what little you have, wench. Or perhaps under the sweet curve of your ass.”

Sam watched as the Maid’s gloved hand gripped the hilt of Oathkeeper. He wondered if Ser Jaime planned to die tonight.

----

Okay..this was a lot of fun. Thank you. I haven't double checked all the links, but you can find all my fics by just clicking one and then my user name. I can't always connect writers to tumblrs, so I'm going with the first few I remember. @ddagent @writergirl2011 @seaspiritwrites @glamaphonic @isolacaramella @quizzicalquinnia @ladym-rules @wackygoofball @wildlingoftarth @bussdowntarthiana

#jaime x brienne #jaime lannister #brienne of tarth

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gurugirl · 1 year

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Forgive Me, Father | Part 3 Sneak Peek

Coming Wednesday, December 14 @ 5pm CST

Part 3 is another long one you guys (longer than part 2). God I love this story and I'm happy that you guys seem to enjoy it as well. Sneak peek is 1k words Xoxo

Priest!Harry x y/n, dom/sub dynamics

Part 1 & Part 2

And the more time Y/n spent with him and got to know him outside of sex, she found that she wanted more. So much more. She recognized when he began to open up and tell her stories of his past and the things he looked forward to in the future. She wanted to be part of that future with him. She wanted to be part of his present. She hated leaving him at a reasonable hour and going back to the Sotheby’s after they’d spent time together. Y/n didn’t want to leave Harry when they were done with their “meetings”, which had turned into a bit of a different kind of meeting once they’d begun their little affair. She got more attached after each and every one. She was responding just as a good submissive should. One that was obsessed and needy and clingy.

So, after their most recent meeting Y/n crawled and begged on her hands and knees for him to keep her. Her tears fell to his bare feet and covered the rug below her. She refused to get dressed when he told her it was time to leave. Harry sighed as he looked down at Y/n on the floor crying and holding his ankles. She dotted small kisses to the tops his feet and looked up at him, “Please. Please? Father, please. I need you. I don’t want to go anymore. I want to stay. You can’t make me leave. Punish me if you need to. I refuse to leave. Just please keep me. Keep me, Father,” her words came out in little bursts of breaths between her tears.

She had never defied him before or refused him in their nearly 2 months of being together. This was new. She would need to learn to listen to him at all times and do what he asked, but her display was more of an act that secretly pleased Harry than anything else. He wouldn’t let her know it but his heart squeezed in his chest when he met her eyes full of tears. Her little quivering pink lips and the marks all over her backside from the belt he’d just used on her.

“Pet. Get up. You cannot stay. You know the rules,” Harry needed to figure something out soon. Perhaps it was a good time to enact his plan after all. He wanted to wait a bit longer for it to begin but he was growing very attached to her as well. In fact, just seeing her in the state she was in nearly drew tears from his own eyes. He much preferred to see her happy and smiling. Her happiness was very important to him.

When Y/n refused to stand, shaking her head with a big pout to her lips Harry grasped underneath her arm and pulled her up. She clung to his arms and tried to pull them around her body, taking them in her hands and pulling at them, “Please don’t make me leave you. I’m begging you. I feel like I could die when I’m not in your care. I can’t live without it.” Her little sobs were pitiful and Harry shook his head, allowing one of his arms to be placed around her body. He brought a hand up to her bottom lip and pinched the meat of it between his fingers and pulled it down, “I don’t like to see a pout on these lips. Only bad girls pout, Y/n. Show me your smile,” he let go of her lip and it smacked back into place and she shook her head before burying her face into his bare chest (he’d only had time to pull his trousers on before she began groveling at his feet).

Harry closed his eyes and put his other arm behind her back to hold her with a deep sigh, “Look at me.”

She tilted her head back quickly and looked up at him when he asked. She was still obedient, just stubborn at the moment.

“Good girl. Let’s sit down together, c’mon…” he helped her move toward the couch and pulled a blanket from the back cushion to drape over her back. It was freezing outside and she was totally naked with goosebumps all over her skin.

Harry sat beside her and tucked the blanket around her body, which she groaned at because it meant she didn’t have use of her arms to touch him like she wanted.

Thoughts?

Tags: @victoria-styles @curlyladylazarus111 @gills-lounge @love-all-things-writing @michellekstyles @ssaama @sombrioinvernoemveneza @golden-hoax @a-strange-familiar @reveriehs @yousunshineyoutempter @the-gardener-31 @tenaciousperfectionunknown @swiftmendeshoran @luvonstyles @dancinsunflowerkiwi @tiaamberxx @lukesaprince @harrys-foxy @dirtytissuebox @closureesny @lhharrylilpumpkin @evelynlarue @chaptersleftunwritten @justlemmeadoreyou @harrysmimi @itsgigikay @angelbabyyy99 @lllukulele @anothermannharry

#harry styles #forgive me father part 3 #priest!harry #sneak peek #coming soon #firstpost

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oubliette-odette · 4 months

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The Reluctance of Love Pt. 18

Orc Male x Half-Elf Male, Fated Mates, Forbidden Love, Slow Burn Part 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17 Word Count: 2257 (average 17 min read) Content Warnings: mention of mating, homophobia, fantasy racisms. All orcish is from orcishdictionary.com, created by Matt Vancil.

It had only been a few hours when night let itself drift into the soft pale light of the morning. Altan was still snuggled into me. Tightly. My arms were stiff from holding him, but I refused to let go. My body felt the strain from being awake through the night and holding such a tense position for so long, but I was wide awake and I roved across the now gray horizon to catch sight of anyone looking for us. I had not yet seen anyone return back to Berdusk. Even if I had been tired, the fact that Altan had been touching me for this long was reason enough to keep me up all night. I was frozen in place, completely stock still and waiting for the dream to shatter, for something to break the moment.

Yet, Altan slept. Soundly. Peacefully. Right next to me.

I was dumbfounded. I was also incredibly nervous.

What was I supposed to do?

I knew that we should be moving soon, but every time I looked down at him, all I could see was his small frame, fitting perfectly within my hold and the peaceful rise and fall of his long, slow sleeping breaths. If I leaned over, I could see his gentle expression and the way his hand had bunched the front of my vest into his hands and clung to it. Anytime I shifted, his hands would tighten around the fabric and he would pull himself closer to me.

I might have moved many times on purpose just to watch again how he reacted to me.

As soon as the grass took on a pale hue and the sky turned a misty gray, I didn’t want to risk waiting any longer to move. I gently laid a hand on Altan’s shoulder and gave one small shake. “Altan.” I said, softly.

A moan escaped his lips and he once again drew himself to me. He buried his head into the center of my chest.

“Altan, nod merad.” My heart. The words felt unfamiliar and strange in my mouth. But I liked it the more I said it. “We must be going.”

He started to squirm, his head burrowing into me like he wanted to bury himself into my chest. He opened his mouth wide into a yawn and suddenly he was completely stretched out and his limbs were everywhere. I had to lean back to let him extend his arms out.

He sat up and I noticed how his hair was flat on the side of his face and the center of his forehead was red where he had been resting it on me. His eyes and cheeks were soft and reminded me of the dough Doxxah made. I wanted to squeeze him. I moved my hands to sit on them as I waited patiently for him to awaken. Everything about this was new to me, and I loved discovering this about him.

“How are you feeling?” I asked.

He blinked and opened and closed his mouth a few times. I was getting the sense that Altan was not a morning person. He ruffled his hand through his hair, somehow making his appearance even messier and also more adorable. I bit my bottom lip and held back the urge to reach out and touch him.

He finally seemed able to focus and his attention fell on me, and then like the morning sun, his shoulders lifted and his lips parted into an open mouthed smile.

“It really wasn’t a dream.” He proclaimed.

I shook my head and managed to smile. “Still here.”

We seemed to have developed an odd habit where we let conversation die before it even started, replacing it with long stares. I knew for me, it was because I was terrified to say something stupid in front of him. And he was also very beautiful to look at. Words tended to disappear from my brain the moment I saw him and it would take me a few minutes to recover my speech. I had no idea why Altan froze into a mute daze, but I could only hope it was good.

He finally broke the silence with a small laugh, “I’m..I just…I can’t believe that you’re here. We’re together.”

“Not completely.” I said. “We need to be moving soon.”

He became sober and grabbed his knees and hoisted himself to his feet. “Then let us be off.”

I pulled my pack off and pulled a small paper package, I unwrapped it and revealed a small cluster of tarts, each filled with a bright red raspberry filling. “Eat. We’ll need it to make it today.” And from another pocket I pulled out a waterskin.

His eyes softened and he leaned down, reaching for a tart. “You take such good care of me.”

I felt my face go hot and I looked at the ground, reaching for a tart of my own. I downed it in one bite and then handed the paper sack to him. “I’ll go take a look around.”

I rose to my feet and looked around us. The land surrounding Berdusk was mainly plainlands with the occasional copse of trees and clusters of large boulders. We would need to rely on every available tree, rock, or shadow we could find to keep ourselves concealed from plain sight. The later the day would climb, the more difficult it would be to hide.

“I’m ready.” He said beside me. He had his pack on his back and his hair was pulled back from his face, looking a little more put together.

I nodded and with my pack over my shoulder I led the way onward.

We walked instead of ran and my head was constantly looking over our shoulder, ahead of and around us. I saw the way Altan watched me and would sometimes look out.

“How far is your home from here?” He asked.

“Couple days. I’ve never come from this way before.”

“Do we have a map?” He asked.

“Don’t need one.” I said. “I can always find home.”

“Is that an orc thing? Or a Drun thing?”

I hummed, “Most orcs stay in their tribe their whole life, we aren’t meant to be solitary. Our instinct is always to return home.”

“What made you become solitary?” He asked, then hurriedly followed up, “I don’t think it’s bad at all that you’re that way. I only meant to ask because I’m curious. Everyone is different, and I think that’s good.”

I smiled down at him, “I don’t really know. Perhaps my head got hit too many times when I was young and addled my brain. Perhaps there really is something wrong with me.”

“I don’t see anything wrong with you.” He had to pick up the pace to stay abreast with me, and I guiltily fell back, slowing my pace. “I know your family has called you broken for a long time, but I don’t think so.”

“Because everything that you admire is what my family sees as weak.”

He shook his head, “But that doesn’t make you broken. Perhaps you’re something greater than them. You could be bringing in a new era to your people.”

I shook my head, “An admirable thought, but not likely.”

“Then perhaps you were made that way for something greater for yourself.”

“Like you, maybe?”

He blushed at my answer, “I don’t know about that. I’ve only made things harder for you. I worry that you’ll regret choosing me.”

“Why?” I asked.

“I know how much it matters to you that you have your freedom to choose. During lordhovid I think it really scared you because you didn’t want to be forced to do something you didn’t want, nor did you want to force me into it either. Forcing yourself or anyone else to lose their autonomy was too much for you. I just hope that I haven’t pushed you to do something that you aren’t ready for by making us run. You’ve given up your home, your forge and your ability to earn money to support yourself.”

“Altan.” I said softly.

He doesn’t hear me and continues. “We’re on the run and I’m barely even able to keep up. You’re such a man and can do anything. I’ve spent most of my life in one place and learned how to do artistic things. I know nothing about hiking, or hunting or surviving out in the wild. I barely made it to the Sword Coast with my wit, but the wilderness scares me. I’m about to be the greatest burden on your life ever. “

“Altan” I repeated.

“And I’m not even sure I’m prepared for what your family will think of me. I’m not an orc, nor am I a woman. Though I’m sure I’ll pale in comparison to the women in your tribe too. I’m not even sure if you’re even attracted to men like me. And I can’t give you children- though I’m not sure I would want to do that even if I could give you one. The idea of it sounds truly awful and my father has practically cured me of ever wanting to be a parent. But what if you want babies and I’m suddenly the person you’re stuck with? Will your family resent me for that? Will you resent me for that? I’m sure your family is lovely but I'm just nervous about what they’ll do to me when they realize that I’m it. I’m the one you’re stuck with because of something that you didn’t want in the first place.”

“Altan!” I snapped. My voice came out like a low rumbling bark and I noticed how Altan jumped as soon as I said it.

He bit his bottom lip and looked up at me. “I’m sorry, I sometimes get caught in a spiral of thoughts.”

I stopped and grabbed his shoulder. “Altan, I am not good with words, so please listen closely. Lordhovid may have brought us together by mistake, but we are both standing here. I do not make decisions without thinking. We chose this. I chose you without my body’s influence. I am scared to be yours - I do not know how to act or feel - but I would not choose anyone to be with now…now that I know you. Should that make me a broken orc, I will bear it proudly. I have my own fears that I am not adequate enough for you and that being with me will ruin your reputation…but I will fight for you no matter what.”

“Drunrag…” He began. “You…Do you mean it?”

I nodded. “Orcs do not lie, nor do they exaggerate.”

“But…what if I can’t give you what you want?” He asked.

I shook my head. “I do not want children. Nor do I want a woman. I want you.” I pointed to the vial around his neck, “I trust you with the one thing I fear more than anything. I trust you. And I choose you. There is no one else I can be with now.”

He let out a long, loud breath and his hand was suddenly on his heart. “Oh my, I’m not sure why it took this to convince me. Drun, I’ve been so scared and angry and frightened by everything my father has been threatening, it’s made me so emotional and irrational. Can you forgive me?”

“There’s nothing to forgive, nod merad.” I resumed our walking and I made a quick glance around to make sure we were safe.

“You’ve said those words before. What do they mean?”

I bit my lip, hesitant to say it. “It means my heart.”

I couldn’t look at him as I felt my face begin to burn with embarrassment. I could feel his eyes on me, and I felt my body tense up at the pressure building between us. It felt like a bridge, an invisible bridge that tied our feelings close together. If I looked at him, I would likely begin to drown in the emotions he returned back to me.

“You…” He began, his lips teasing into a smile. “You’re quite the romantic.”

“Please don’t mention it.” I said. “My family calls me soft enough as it is.” I stopped and pointed ahead of us. “There looks to be a forest a few miles ahead. If my memories serve, the river that leads to the Plains of the Dead follows through that forest. We’d be wise to travel under its shade.”

“Right. Only a few miles to get there.” He said, then took a deep breath. “We can do this.” It sounded like he was saying it to motivate himself more than anything else.

“Shall we rest?” I asked, struggling to hide the amusement in my voice.

He shook his head. “We must not misuse the time we have.”

I nodded, “Very well.”

“You're mine as well, just so you know.” He said, his voice light.

“What?”

“My heart.”

Want to be updated on new chapters? DM me to be added to the tag list!

@eltrolodecadadia

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meraki24601 · 9 months

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*bangs aggresivly on door*

FBI open up! Drop all your weapons and put yours hands up . we brought reinforcements. Now follow us and leave all your belongings where they are except for your laptop. We need a part 3 to muted.

I surrender! It took me longer than I had hoped, but to everyone asking for part 3 to Muted, here it is!

Part 1, Part 2

-----------*-***-*-----------

Muted Part 3

Hero slept nearly 4 hours without any nightmares. Something they hadn’t done, by their estimate, for around 10 years. They hadn’t even screamed or flinched when they woke up.

Villain rested peacefully next to them. They were lying with a respectful distance between them, but their fingers were tightly woven with Hero’s. Villain twitched slightly as Hero shifted but didn’t wake. With care they haven’t been allowed to use for a while, Hero released Villain’s hand and slipped out of the bed.

This was it. The moment Villain woke and had some breakfast, they were running away. Away from Superhero. Away from Supervillain. As far away as they could go. Hero only had one suitcase, but it would have to be enough. Clothes, food, and first aid. Hero’s medical backpack wasn’t super flashy, so they could probably take that instead of taking up room in the suitcase.

Having already barely escaped with their life once, Villain didn’t have any clothes they could bring with them. Some of Hero’s smaller shirts might fit well enough, and they can bring several belts to hold the pants on until they have the opportunity to buy some that actually fit. If they’re quick, they might even be able to get Ally to make some false paperwork for them to leave the country.

As Hero zipped up their suitcase to take it downstairs to gather food, they heard a small noise behind them. Villain was awake and watching them with tears in their eyes. Shifting back so they could rest against the headboard, Villain signed, “We’re leaving? You weren’t lying?”

Sighing deeply, Hero signed back, “As long as you’re willing to try. I swear, I don’t know how much I can do, but I will do everything I can to keep you safe.”

“I’ve always liked road trips.” Villain laughed softly. “What can I do to help?”

“There’s a change of clothes and bandages in the bathroom. Wash up. If you can rewrap your wounds, I’ll make breakfast and pack food and toiletries. We can be out of here before my next check-in at 10.” Hero helps Villain rise from the bed, “I… I’m still so sorry for what I did to you.”

“Nevermind that, Moonlight. What’s done is done.”

“Moonlight?”

“I’ve always loved the Moon. The whole world is dark, but despite it all, there’s a small ray of light. No one has ever tried to help me before. No one but you has shone any light in my life.” Villain scratches the back of their head, “Is… is that alright?”

Hero’s grin could have rivaled the Cheshire Cat’s. “Only if I can call you Honeybee.”

Villain giggled, “Why Honeybee?”

“I’ll save my reasoning for later if you don’t mind. Now, get ready. We don’t have much time.” Hero pushes Villain toward the connected bathroom before slipping quickly out the bedroom door. They took a moment, joy filling their heart, then ran down the stairs to the kitchen.

There, leaning casually against the kitchen counter with two of Hero’s favorite mugs were Superhero and Supervillain.

Hero didn’t hesitate. Immediately, they drew on their power and prepared to shout for Villain to run. Hero wasn’t strong enough to take on Superhero, much less Superhero and Supervillain. They were going to die, but maybe Villain could make it out if they jumped out the window. All they had to do was warn them.

Too late. Before Hero had taken a full breath, Supervillain was behind them. Supervillain’s hand wrapped firmly around Hero’s throat, cutting off their cry. “Ah ah ah. None of that now, little traitor. Villain will be joining us soon enough. Let them finish their shower. Your friend Sidekick was all too eager to help them finish quickly.”

A small gasp of “why” is all Hero can squeeze past Supervillain’s hand. Superhero laughs as Hero struggles slightly, quickly growing desperate for air. “You gave us something we could fight against. Something we both hate more than each other.” Superhero growls as they slam Hero’s cup on the counter.

“Sweet little traitors like you and my darling Villain.” Supervillain shoved Hero to their knees. “Superhero and I, well, we came to a little agreement. A little party game of sorts. We work together to find the biggest, most violent ways to kill you two, then blame the fallout on you. No one will know the truth of us working together since, well, you’ll be dead.”

Hero hears a crash in their bedroom and can’t hold back a flinch. Seeing Hero’s reaction, Supervillain giggles, stomping their feet with glee. “Oh, Superhero. I know we agreed to punish our own as we see fit, but can’t I have this one, just for a moment? I won’t kill them yet, I promise.”

“I guess.” Superhero sighs, “But only for a moment. We don’t want to get carried away too quickly. We need a crowd outside.”

Sidekick crashed down the stairs, almost falling on the last step. Hero wasn’t sure, they couldn’t turn to get a good look, but they thought they caught a glimpse of a new bruise around Sidekick’s eye. “Superhero! S-Supervillain. It’s Villain. I looked everywhere, but they’re not here. I. I swear I looked everywhere. The window was open before I made it upstairs.”

Superhero’s laughter sent shivers down Hero’s spine. Supervillain released Hero’s throat to grab their arm and twist it behind them, lifting Hero from their spot on the ground. As Superhero moved past them toward Sidekick, Supervillain’s free hand grabbed Hero’s side, fingers cutting into Hero’s now bleeding wound, and turned them to watch.

At that moment, Hero saw something they had never seen before. Superhero hurt Sidekick. They shoved Sidekick to the ground into a position Hero knew all too well. “Wait. Stop.” Hero whispered as they watched Superhero release their power into a whip. When the first stroke fell, Hero turned their head aside and threw up. That first stroke opened up Sidekick’s shirt, revealing dozens of old scars.

How did they never know?

With a loud crash, the outside wall of Hero’s apartment burst in. There, in the rubble, stood Villain. Hand clutching their side, Villain stood tall. Their smile was weak. Their whole frame shook from the effort, but their eyes were unwavering in their determination. Even as Supervillain dragged Hero out of the kitchen, they didn’t waver.

“Run, Villain.” Hero gasped, “Please, run. They’ll kill us both.” Hero’s throat burned from the sudden use after Supervillain’s abuse. A small sound, however, drew Hero’s attention away from their new friend and to the three teenagers standing as far from Villain as they could get in the damaged room.

Supervillain twisted Hero’s arm and squeezed their arm tighter, causing them to cry out. “Well. Isn’t this interesting? Oh, Superhero! It seems my little pet brought us some new friends. Where do they fall in our little alliance?”

Superhero slipped into view with that inhuman grace Hero learned to fear long ago. Their whip was wrapped tightly around Sidekick’s throat, dragging them, kicking, and trying to scream through the rubble. “I see. Did you think bringing in witnesses would be enough to stop us? They’re irrelevant. Unfortunate victims caught up in Hero and Villain’s fight.”

“Oh, I do love it when you talk like that. Maybe we ought to kill our underlings together more often. Make it a monthly event?” Supervillain released Hero to fall to the floor at their feet. Their power stretched between their fingers, growing with each step they took toward Villain.

The weak smile Villain wore gained strength. Their hands didn’t shake as they signed one simple little word. “Livestream.” Each of the teens was holding up a phone, livestreaming Superhero and Supervillain’s words to the world. “Let us go. All we want is to be free from the two of you and your hatred. We don’t want to fight anymore.”

“Go, then.” Superhero sighed, they started to walk away but turned quickly. “Was that good? We did what you asked. We performed in your play. Please, release your magic and let Sidekick go. Give Supervillain the antidote.”

The building rumbled beneath Hero and started to collapse inward. Hero’s heart clenched as the two floors below theirs were crushed under the weight of the now unstable top floor. Screams surrounded Hero. Superhero found an out. They turned themselves into the victims. The cameras were off and the battle had begun. If only Hero could still fight.

A piece of the building had fallen on top of them, crushing them from where it rested on their lower back.

Still in character, Superhero stood above Hero. “Please, let them go. I, I can’t save you from those wounds. Release my Sidekick. Please.” Even as they spoke, Hero could feel Superhero’s power shifting some of the rubble beneath them so sharp metal pressed against their chest. Not far away, they could hear Supervillain giving Villain a similar speech, though Villain seemed largely uninjured in the fall.

“Enough.” Sidekick’s voice was just barely louder than the growing fires around them. “Enough of your lies.”

The rubble holding Hero down is lifted and slammed into Supervillain, sending them flying. Hero can breathe again. Though, not for long. The metal beneath them pierces their skin, drawing out a long groan.

“Enough, Superhero! I refuse to let you have your way.” Sidekick leaned over Hero, dragging their helpless body from the ground and tossing them into Villain. Instead of piercing Hero’s heart, the metal meant to kill them cuts a long gash across their chest before lurching up and impaling Sidekick.

Villain’s arms wrapped around Hero, pulling them away from the remains of their home. Hero’s voice rips from their chest as they use what little strength they have left to fight to reach Sidekick. They watched as yet another victim fell to their knees. The last thing Hero saw before the world went dark was a tear in Sidekick’s eyes as they mouthed “I’m sorry.”

#whump #whump fic #whump scenario #rescue #whump tropes #whump writing #hero #whump ideas #villain #superhero #supervillain #sidekick #past injury #injury whump #building collapse #unconscious #injuries #hurt/comfort #superpowers

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arialysse · 2 years

Text

Benevolent Martinet.

A Sugar Daddy!Albert Wesker x Reader AU Fic.

In collaboration with: @atquos

Summary:

After catching your ex-boyfriend cheating on you, your life changed drastically. From deadlines to overpriced rent, your friend has suggested to you to try for a sugar daddy, something that has never crossed your mind before. But what’s the worst that can happen, right? You tell yourself. What you didn’t expect however, was the multi-billionaire CEO of Umbrella Corp to be on the list.

Warnings: Destructive thoughts

This chapter is quite the fat one, buckle up.

Chapter 5: The Unveil.

Chapters: [1], [2], [3], [4], [6]

When you opened your eyes, you were met with a headache so excruciating you wanted to die. With a groan of discomfort, you shifted restlessly on the mattress, trying to go back to sleep. So comfy… Just 5 more minutes brain, please… The ache only worsened with each passing moment, causing you to sit up with a frown and a huff of exasperation. You brought a hand up to massage your temple, trying to remember what happened.

Then… Oh…

Last night, the dinner with Stephen, after taking a few more sips of wine you couldn’t remember much. You must’ve gotten drunk and passed out! Oh god this is so embarrassing! I don’t even remember ever getting to bed, Stephen must’ve carried me again! You covered your face in embarrassment, you sure as hell hoped you hadn’t done or said anything shameful. For some reason, no matter how hard you’ve tried to dig into your memories of last night, everything drew to a close.

Your eyebrows creased as you rubbed circles on the sides of your forehead, trying to soothe the throbbing pain. Wait… What time was it? You winced when you turned your head quickly to the side, the clock read 6:34am. You panicked, shoving the covers off to dress into your school outfit. You bolted across the room, digging through your bag for clothes that you remembered packing the day before.

Soft knocks from the door made you pause. You turned your head around only to see Tove entering your room holding a tray of something and it felt as if you were a kid getting caught trying to steal some cookies. She gave you a confused smile, “Good morning, Miss (Y/N)! Umm… What are you doing?”

“I- Uh… I need to change….? Classes start in like 2 hours and I’ll be late if I don’t catch the earliest train by 7.” You stuttered, staring at her with an awkward look. “Ah, no need to worry about transportation. I was told by Master Arthur that you would insist on attending your classes, so we have prepared a transport and breakfast for you.” Trove shot you a kind smile.

“B-but I can’t.” You start, trying to ignore the pain from your head. “Why ever not?” The short-haired lady tilted her head in bewilderment. “I-I’ve already owed a lot to you and Stephen, I’m afraid that if I owe him anymore, I’d be living on the streets.” You laugh pathetically, avoiding her gaze. “I’m not quite sure I understand, are you telling me that you are indebted to us financially?”

You nod slowly and she hums, still puzzled, “Did Master Arthur request that you return this ‘debt’ financially?”

You shake your head, “No, but I believe that nothing in life ever comes for free and I doubt everything I’ve received so far, both services and food, is free.”

She giggles, a sound that surprises you. “Unless Master Arthur specifically demands repayment, then I assure that there is no need to worry about that.”

You were about to protest again when your head pounds, causing you to hiss and wince. “Ah, yes, I believe that you are suffering from a hangover. Master Arthur has prepared necessary medication for you, please ingest it.” She steps toward you, holding out the tray for you to take the contents. Anything for this stupid pain to go away, you thank her, quickly shoving the pills down your throat and taking a large swig of water.

“I will be back shortly with a proper set of clothes. In the meantime, you may wash up.” She exits the room, leaving you alone before you could even protest. With a sigh, you head inside the bathroom, washing your face and brushing your teeth to get ready for the day.

When you exit the bathroom, Tove enters the room yet again, with a dress and a cardigan on her arm. She sets the article of clothing on the bed neatly, picking up any lingering fuzzes on the clothes. “Once you are done with getting changed, we will be heading downstairs as breakfast is ready.”

You nod, thanking her as she leaves with a bow. You eyed the garments laying on your bed. The dress was milky white, it was also a minidress but this time, it was off-shoulder and had net fabric embroidered with flower and lace covering the outer part of the dress. You blush when you see a pair of black stockings lying beneath the dress. The cardigan was knitted in beige, looking slightly oversized on you.

Without trying to delay any longer, you put on the dress, noting how it was silk on the inside, making the dress extremely comfortable as it hugs your curves exquisitely. You fiddled with the ribbons at the ends of the dress on your thighs as well as the one in the chest area. You put on the knitted cardigan and relished the warmth the snuggly fabric provided.

At first, you were a little hesitant putting on the stockings, but after convincing that you shouldn’t waste Stephen’s money, you slipped it on.

You thank Tove silently for providing house slippers as you were sure that you would’ve fallen from the silkyness of the stockings. You went over to the desk and slung your bag over your shoulder, double-checking that you had everything.

While walking toward the door, you pause abruptly to check yourself over on the full-length mirror that stood beside the dresser. Stephen really had taste making you wear these, you hoped you won’t disappoint him. You bit your lip nervously, fiddling with your hair and trying to silence your self-consciousness.

With a deep breath, you walked away from the mirror, stepping out of the room. Tove complimented your look, causing you to laugh nervously. She took the bag from your shoulders, informing you that she will be placing it in the car as you eat. Originally, you told her that you could carry it downstairs yourself but she insisted and you easily caved in on her offer.

She escorts you down to the same dining table. As you stepped down the black, marble stairs, you took in the view of the buildings from the massive windows. The sky was a brilliant mix of orange-blue, a breath-taking view from where you stood. You noted that you must be somewhere at the top of the building if the structures below you looked small.

You feel your stomach curl anxiously upon reaching the wide dining table, afraid of what Stephen’s reaction was going to be. Oh and you hoped he wouldn’t comment anything about last night, even if you couldn’t remember most of it.

Laying your eyes on Stephen, you observed that he had his right elbow on the table as he leaned against his thumb, his index finger covering his lips while his other hand held up a newspaper, engrossed on the words from behind his shades.

“Master Arthur, Miss (Y/N) has arrived.” Tove announced as she walked toward him. His head shot up and when his eyes landed on you, you noticed that his jaw tightened. His gaze never left your form as he folded the newspaper absentmindedly, handing it to Tove shortly after.

You shrink under his gaze, feeling as if you did something wrong. A familiar feeling of deja vu came into your mind, as this was exactly how you felt yesterday. He stands up and you gulp meekly.

“Come here, sweetheart.” You hear him command lowly, his voice touching something foreign within you, sending pleasurable tingles shivering down your spine. As you stood before him, his familiar, muscular cologne invaded your nostrils. You felt slightly warmer as you waited for what he was about to say, examining the black fabric of his vest. It was only now that you finally began studying his outfit.

He wore his usual white button-up, his sleeves folded to reveal his watch. His black necktie was tied to perfection, resting below the collar. Above everything, he wore a black vest, you could see that there was a pocket on the left side of his chest. His recognized dress pants were bound onto his hips by a leather belt and everything about him screamed “professional” and “classy”.

“Are you done checking me out?” You snapped out of your thoughts, gawking up at him with a fierce blush coating your cheeks. He chortled, the sound pleasant in your ears as usual. “I merely jest, sweetheart. You look quite… ravishing yourself, I must say...”

His last words sounded slightly breathier, which made your stomach twist pleasantly. You could only stare at him with slightly parted lips, a beet-red face and pounding heart. A moment later he clears his throat, bringing up a fist to cover his mouth, “Let’s get you seated first, beautiful.” With a hand on your back, he gently guided you to the other end of the table, withdrawing the chair from beneath the table like a real gentleman.

You thanked him sheepishly and sat, adjusting the edges of the skirt a little. You feel his predatorial gaze on you as he settles down himself and you gulp. Fortunately, Tove comes out with the cart of food.

She sets the 2 plates of breakfast down, followed by a refill of coffee for Stephen and a glass of apple juice for you. Tove then leaves not a moment after, the silence between you and Stephen thick as you both ate.

“U-umm… is- what’s on your mind?” You ask, in hopes of breaking the awkwardness. “Oh, nothing, nothing at all, sweetheart. I apologize for my silence, my mind is just… occupied with somethings.” He shoots you a devious smile. “O-oh? Like what?” You blurt out before you could stop yourself.

“Oh, sweetheart… You wouldn’t want to know.” A smirk plastered his features as he took a bite of the egg, causing the yolk to break, the viscous liquid slipping from the corner of his mouth. You watch as he brings his tongue out to lick the runny fluid, bringing up a finger to wipe the rest off. Instead of cleaning it on a paper towel, he cleaned the residue with his flexible appendage.

You slowly shifted your gaze upwards, only to be met with his.

Shit. You had been caught staring.

Your face bloomed a brilliant red and you quickly ducked to look down at your half-eaten food, biting your lip. What was that?! That was sexy as hell- What?! No! Brain shut up! That is highly inappropriate! You tried focusing on trying to eat -and not choke-, dismissing the weird feelings that were sprouting from inside you.

As you downed your apple juice in one swig, you hear him stifle a chuckle, bringing up his steaming cup of coffee to mask his laughter. “Now that I think about it. You are quite horrendous at handling your liquor, aren’t you?” He took another sip.

“I’ve been told that too many times… Which is why I don’t really go drinking with my friends as much because they take vid-...” You paused, looking at him hesitantly, “Did- Was I-...”

He sets the now empty cup down, bringing his elbows onto the table, leaning against his intertwined fingers. “Oh, yes… The night before… You were…” He trails off, remembering the events of last night. Annoying? Shameful? Hideous? You thought as you waited for him to continue.

“Remarkably outspoken.” He finished and you died a little on the inside. You covered your face with your face and groaned in embarrassment. “I-I’m so sorry! If I had said anything awful to you!”

“Not at all,” He stands up and steps toward you, holding his hand out for you to take. You quickly placed your hand in his larger ones and stood up.

Suddenly, he tugs you roughly toward him and you stagger, losing your balance. With another hand on your shoulder to steady you, he leans down next to your ear, his rich, breathy voice whispering, “But I’ll let you in on one thing. It has been a while since a lady was able to fluster me as you did.”

He stands back up with a sincere smile, as if he hadn’t pulled whatever he did on you. “Shall we depart then, sweetheart?”

The car ride was relatively silent as you were still stunned from the words that left Stephen’s lips just earlier. What did you say? What did you do? What did he do? What did the both of you do? What happened after that last sip? Your mind was racing with thoughts, as you scramble to try and recall what happened after you started feeling dizzy. Stephen remained quietly seated beside you with folded legs, tapping away on his tablet.

You fiddled with your hands nervously. Wait, now that I think about it, my headache is gone and my injuries from 2 days ago have almost already healed. What exactly were those pills? or in those pills? Maybe I should splurge on some. They seem to work like magic. Maybe I can ask Stephen where I can get it from. Hopefully it’s available at the nearby pharmacy.

“Sweetheart?”

“Y-yes?” You utter pathetically.

“I said we were reaching soon and if you needed anything else?” He covers his tablet and sets it down beside him, focusing on you.

“I- uh… Where can I get those bottles of medicine that you gave me?”

He tilted his head, “Oh? You’re interested in that? I apologize for disappointing you but, those are only sold to corporate partners. They are not available out in the open.”

You dropped your gaze, “Ah, I see, it’s alright then.” There goes your plan of overworking yourself to pay him back.

He places a hand over yours, causing you to look back up at him. “I can arrange an offer with them to supply more of it for you, if it is your wish.”

You shake your head vehemently, “No, no! It’s fine really! It’s just… It works amazing.” You touch the fading bruise on your cheek, “Usually I take a week or 2 to heal from bruises but after ingesting the medicine you provided, it’s already almost gone.”

He smiles, placing his hand over yours on your cheek, “I’m glad to hear that. I will inform them of their success.”

You feel your face heat up as his gesture and remain speechless as the car comes to a steady halt. He pulls away, “Have a great day at classes, sweetheart. Notify me when you are ready to leave. I will return to pick you up.”

“It-It’s fine, I can take the public transport that reaches the nearest-” Wait… why does it sound like you’re living with him or something? Besides, you were supposed to call Olyvia and leave after the dinner yesterday.

You yelp when he moves toward you, his face inches away from yours, as he leaned into your ear. “Be a good girl this once and just listen to me, won’t you?”

Your jaw dropped at his words and you gasped audibly with a crimson face. You were astounded by your ability to not pass out from the blood that was rushing to your face whenever you spoke to this man. Before you could retort, the chauffeur opens the door.

He chuckles, “I shall not keep you any longer. Take care and goodluck with your classes, sweetheart.” You could only nod and step out stiffly while clutching onto your bag.

As you left the car, you were met with several looks of astonishment, murmurs and whispers directed to you. The heaviest stares though, were from your red-headed and white-headed friends. You hear the chauffeur shut the door, going back into the driver’s seat and then taking off.

You watch as the car disappears into the distance, then turned around to face the two. Mei had a hand over her mouth in surprise, while Ruby smirked, waggling her eyebrows. “Someone’s been naughty.” You quickly denied, “H-He insisted, okay? I can’t really say no…”

“Well, at least someone’s able to overpower your stubbornness. Kudos to that man.” Ruby grinned, and you feel your blush darken. “Hold on for a moment, Ruby. (Y/N), weren’t you supposed to be at Olyvia’s? What happened?” Mei asked worryingly.

“I- Uh-” You looked away from them, “I-it’s a little complicated…” You stammered, fiddling with the straps of your bag. “Tell us.” Mei insisted, placing a firm hand on your shoulder. “W-well… Uh, he and I had a kind of fancy dinner last night at his place and… he may have gotten me drunk…?”

Mei’s gaze hardened instantly, “Are you okay? Did he do anything to you?” You shake your head fervidly, “No, no! He just carried me to bed I think, and then I passed out.”

Ruby, who still wore a grin, tapped lightly at the worried female’s back, “Chillax, Mei! If he did anything to her, don’t you think she’d have marks or felt it by now?” Mei seems to think about it for a moment, “I… You are right. I apologize for going off on you.”

You shook your head, smiling at her, “Not at all. I appreciate your concern, really. Thanks, Mei.” She nods, shooting you a smile of hers. “Well, well, well. What do we have this morning?” You hear someone tease from behind. Suddenly, an arm over your shoulder made you stumble, you turned your head to frown at Niall, who wore a shit-eating grin on his face. “Good morning to you too, Niall.” You grumble.

“Already leeching off of Mr. Sugar Daddy I see. Gotta say, he has an impressive sense of style dressing you up like this. You look way more magnetic compared to whatever rubbish you always wear.” You sneer at him, “Am not! And I’d very much prefer whatever ‘rubbish’ I always wear than this… It’s too… attention-snatching for me…”

Niall lifted his arm away from your shoulder, “Isn’t that the point of clothes? Other than to cover up your private parts. You might as well look fabulous while doing it, you know what I mean.” The male wiggled his eyebrows and pointed at himself. You sigh with a shake of your head.

“Ooo~” You hear another familiar voice sing from behind. Olyvia hopped right beside you, eyeing you from head to toe. “Miss Universe has returned~” You bush and cover your face.

“Olyvia, I believe you were supposed to pick (Y/N) up from that man’s place. What happened?” Mei questioned the silverette with a frown. “Huh, oh… right, that. I did call her, but that dude picked up instead and said something about drinking wine and that she’s in safe hands.” She shrugged, earning a sigh from the short-haired female.

“Well I mean, she relatively seems to be unharmed. Other than the injuries her shitty ex gave her. Speaking of which, what magic did he perform on you? Your bruises are like, almost gone.” Ruby reached a hand out to touch your cheek gently. “I have no idea what he gave me to be honest. He just told me that it was safe and that it will help with the healing process.” The red-head retracts her hand, “Damn. Can I get some too?”

You huffed and rolled your eyes, “He says that it’s not out in the open and is strictly for his business partners.” Ruby let out a defeated ‘damn’.

Soon, the four of you decide to hurry to class, before being penalized for being late.

Needless to say, you were severely distracted by trying not to check your phone for any messages from Stephen. It was extremely difficult to focus, as whenever your hand was free, your thoughts began drifting to what he said or had said.

“Oh, sweetheart… You wouldn’t want to know.”

“It has been a while since a lady was able to fluster me as you did.”

“Be a good girl this once and just listen to me, won’t you?”

Be a good girl…

Good girl…

You drop your pen and bring your hands up to cover your face, whining silently. For some reason, the way he praised sounded different. It sounded… sexy. Your stomach coiled pleasantly at the thought of his words. Then you felt a nudge.

You peeked through your hands, seeing Olyvia leaning against her knuckle with a smirk. “Busy thinking about Mr. “Stephen”, are we?” You groaned and pushed her arm away. “I heard him yesterday, you know? I tried calling you but you fell asleep.” She shifted her gaze to the screen, pretending to take notes as your professor babbled on and on. “W-what did he say…” You query meekly, glancing at her.

“In short, he said ‘Sorry for making your friend wasted. But don’t worry, she’ll be safe with me.’ He sounded hot by the way, so congrats to you for scoring that man.” You see her wink at you slyly, then go back to reading her written notes.

You sigh, trying to control your emotions. You can’t afford to get caught with a red-

“Miss (Y/N), could you answer this question?” God dang it.

You stood up and stuttered the answer, your classmates giggling at your bashfulness. “Are you sick, Miss (Y/N)? Your face is a little red. Would you like to visit the infirmary?” You hear your professor ask in concern. You shake your head, “N-no sir, just a little headache, I’ll be fine, t-thank you.” He nods and you sit back down as he resumes explaining.

You turn to see Olyvia stifling her laughter behind her hand. You pout and glared at her with a red-face.

When lunch came around, you and Olyvia packed up and headed out of the lecture hall. “Niall asked if the cafe was cool.” You told her that you were fine with it and you both made your way to meet the others at the location.

It wasn’t a long walk, thankfully. Your college provided all sorts of dining options because it was a large establishment. You both stop in front of the cafe that was aptly named “Chill Beans”. “They told us to sit somewhere first. Do you feel like taking seats inside or outside?” You shrug, “Anything is fine with me.”

You both walked over to a table outside, ducked under a patio umbrella that shielded the area from the afternoon sun. While waiting on your friends, Olyvia headed in to take your orders.

You checked your phone for any important mail or messages. A smile greeted your face when you saw a message from the app you’ve come to know and love.

Stephen Arthur:

Good afternoon, sweetheart. How was your morning? I do hope you’re eating a proper lunch. You will make me terribly worried if you do not do so.

Me:

Hey Stephen! Morning classes were a bit boring but I'm used to it. My friend is ordering a lunch set for me as we speak, so don’t worry :) what about you?

Stephen Arthur:

I am having lunch with a few of my business partners myself. Would you like me to share what I am currently having?

Me:

Sure!

Stephen Arthur:

1 photo attachment

It tastes mediocre. But everything does, without you near.

You covered your mouth, cheeks instantly heating up at his text. You examine the photo he sent. He was having a plate of squid ink pasta, the silvery utensils neatly placed beside the glass plate. Beneath it all, a mahogany cloth covered the table.

Me:

That looks good! Eat well, Stephen :)

Stephen Arthur:

I do believe a fair exchange is in order. Since I have shared with you what I’ll be having, it is your turn to share yours, sweetheart.

Me:

Reasonable. I’ll be sure to send it to you when my food arrives.

Oops, gotta go, my friends are here. They’ve been teasing me the whole morning and I refuse to be a victim of their mockery anymore, take care Stephen! :)

You shut your phone and greeted your incoming friends. You see Mei entering the cafe, helping Olyvia with the trays of food. Ruby and Niall were as usual, complaining about the classes, asking for your opinion once in a while.

Soon enough, Mei and Olyvia came out with the orders of food. You angled your phone where it looks best and snapped a shot, sending it to Stephen right after.

Me:

1 photo attachment

My lunchies :)

When you looked back up, you were met with several grins. “Updating Mr. Perfect?” Ruby sassed, poking at her salad. Oh boy, here we go. They spent the next few minutes mimicking and mocking what they thought was happening between you and Stephen. You rolled your eyes and shook your head, sighing at their stupidity.

“Miss (Y/N) (L/N)?” You hear someone call from behind. You turned around and felt your jaw drop. It was the headmistress herself! You stood up quickly, bowing at her. “G-good afternoon Headmistress! Y-yes I’m (Y/N).”

The old lady examined you from head to toe pretentiously behind her glasses. “Follow me, I need to have a word with you in my office, young lady.” You glance back at your friends in confusion. They only stared right back at you with the same expression. You slung your bag over your shoulder and excused yourself, trailed the headmistress to her office.

The walk was silent and tense, as your head swirled with nervous thoughts. What happened? You only took a day off from classes, maybe you didn’t have any referral letter? Or were you doing badly for your classes? Did your professor earlier inform the headmistress that you looked off? Was it the way you were dressed?

She opened the large, wooden door, tilting her head to tell you to get inside. You stepped into the massive room, silently waiting for her to give you permission to do anything else. She walks by you, strutting over to her desk, the clicking of her heels accentuated her every step. “Take a seat, Miss (Y/N).” She pointed to the chair before her desk. You gulp, walking over and taking a seat quietly. “Do you know why you are here today?” She asks, turning on her desktop.

“Um… Is it because I’ve been doing badly in classes?” You fiddle with your bag nervously. “No… Not quite. You see, we’ve received a very troubling complaint in regards to you.” She tilts her head back, trying to see what was on the screen.

“What?... From who?” You murmur anxiously, clenching your fists.

“Miss (Y/N), tell me, did you or did you not assault your superior in your workplace?”

You shake your head, so this was what it’s all about. “What? No!”

She sighs in disappointment, “I have received video evidence of it. You do not have to deny your actions. I am severely displeased with your actions and your lies.”

You feel yourself start to choke, it feels harder and harder to breathe. You wanted to tell your headmistress that it was a misunderstanding and you were trying to protect yourself, but no words could come out. You stared at her with a lump on your throat and your mouth agape.

“I do believe that there is more to uncover and from the complaint, you will be going to court next week, yes? Until then, you are forbidden to step foot into this premise. I hope you learn and understand that your actions will have consequences and that you have brought shame upon the name of this college. Go now.” She berated sternly, causing you to scramble out of your seat with tears in your eyes and unspoken words lodged in your throat.

You avoided the weird looks the people around were shooting you as you dashed into the nearest washroom. You locked yourself inside a stall and sobbed, covering your mouth to stifle the whimpers. You needed to tell your friends what happened, right now. When you brought out your phone, about to text them, you saw the one person that you actually needed the most right now.

The one person who you’ve only just met, yet brought so much warmth and comfort in your life.

You tapped on the phone icon and sobbed quietly, waiting for him to pick up.

At first, you were beginning to give up hope, scolding yourself as he was busy and deserved to spend every last minute of his lunch break resting. You should just hang up, he’s a busy man, you don’t deserve a second of his time talking to him about your problems. You’re not worth it. You’re shameful. You bit your lip, trying to suppress the negative thoughts spiraling in your head.

You feel a wave of relief wash over you temporarily when you hear his familiar voice greet.

“Hello. Do you need something?”

“S-stephen…”

At your whimper, you hear him excuse himself from his friends, making you feel guilty for interrupting his conversation.

“What’s the matter, sweetheart?”

“I- She- Told me- Go-” You blabber incoherently, your mind running faster than your lips could catch up.

“Calm down, darling. Listen to me, can you take a deep breath, for me?”

You took a shaky breath in.

“There we go, that’s my girl. Now hold it and count to eight then release, can you do that?”

You held your breath, counting to eight inside your head, then exhaling.

“You’re doing so good for me, let’s repeat this a few more times. I’ll be here with you every step of the way, I promise.”

After a few more breathing exercises, you finally found your composure.

“Do you need more time? Or are you feeling better?”

“I-I’m okay now,” You sniffle, “S-sorry…”

“None of that. Tell me what has gotten you so upset.”

You told him about what happened in the principal’s office. As you blabber on and on, you were only met with silence on his end as he listened intently.

“I-I shouldn’t have tried defending myself- This- All this wouldn’t have happened if I just shut my mouth-”

“Sweetheart.” He growled, making you flinch.

“I-I’m sorry… I’ll just go now… I can go back alone, I just-”

“No.”

You feel your heartbreak, great, not even Stephen wants you now. You sob pathetically, feeling the familiar start of a spiral.

“Stay put, sweetheart. I will be there as soon as I can.”

“Y-you don’t…!” You hear the call end just as you were about to retort. You sat on the cover of the toilet, stunned into silence. You swallowed all other thoughts for now and texted your friends whom were already asking about your whereabouts. After explaining the situation, they told you that they’ll head to where you are right now.

You brought your knees up to your chest, the whole situation making you nauseous. You were causing so much trouble for the people around you. You’re always such a trouble-maker. You’re worthless, nobody should care about you. You deserve to rot, you deserve to die.

You should have never been born.

You feel blood trickle down your lips from how hard you bit, trying to hold in your cries and hushing those thoughts. You tried recalling what your therapist told you before, “It’s all over. And you are in the present, so focus on what you can do about that instead.”

You thought you were getting better, you thought you were finally able to escape the ghosts from your past, but they seem to come back every single time. You needed to head back to the mental institute to get more of those pills, the very pills that can help shut those thoughts up. You hated it, the same sound that traumatized you over and over, you wished that it’d just disappear.

A knock on the toilet stall brought you out of your thoughts. “(Y/N), it’s Mei.” You stood up from the seat shakily and unlocked the door and you were immediately greeted with concerning looks from Mei and Ruby. They gave you a tight hug and comforted you as you wailed onto their shoulders.

They took a few more minutes to properly calm you down, soothingly running hands behind your bag and whispering words of assurances.

When you were feeling better, they guided you out of the bathroom, where Niall and Olyvia stood waiting. You told them in detail of what happened and they all frowned, upset at the headmistress.

“How could she do this? She doesn’t even have the full video and she’s already making such a choice? We need to get in there to talk to her now. You need to explain your side of the story, get her to see that it wasn’t your fault at all!” Ruby exclaimed angrily, waving her hands around in frustration. “Ruby’s right. She doesn’t know that some parts of the story are missing, you need to go back in there to tell her that.” Olyvia agrees with folded arms.

“B-but she seemed so dead set on her decision! I can’t afford to get expelled now! I can’t-” You were cut off when your phone began ringing. You picked up already knowing who it was.

“Sweetheart. I am at the entrance, do you want me to wait here for you, or would you like me to come find you.”

“I-I’ll just go to you. I’ll be right there.” You say and then hang up. You marched out of the building with your friends following in tow, making sure you were safe. You saw the familiar figure of Stephen, leaning against the door of the car with folded arms and an indecipherable expression.

That’s when you suddenly hear a sharp gasp from behind you. You turn around to see Niall with his jaw wide open, as if he just got the biggest shock of his life.

Then realization slapped you harshly. It never occurred to you that your friends were going to meet Stephen.

“A-are you Albert Wesker? THE Albert Wesker?” Niall croaked, breaking the tension hanging thickly in the air. Your brows furrowed in confusion, “Who’s Albert Wesker? That’s Stephen, the man I was talking to you guys about.”

You hear Stephen sigh, his fingers curling around the bridge of his nose. “U-Um…” You piped meekly, “You know what let’s just go, Stephen. I-I’ll see you guys later…” You grab Stephen’s hand, your other one reaching out for the door handle.

“Wait.” He says, making you pause.

You turned to look at him, “What is it?”

“There seems to be a slight misunderstanding. I am here not only to pick you up, but also to have a word with the head of this college.”

“Huh…?” You could only utter pathetically.

“I was hoping you’d guide me over to the office.”

“I’ll do it!” You hear Niall exclaim with a raised hand. Stephen turns to look at him, “Then, shall we?”

The walk to the principal’s office was silent, save for the whispers from your friends who were walking ahead of you and Stephen. Who was Albert Wesker? Niall called him that. Strange… What is he hiding from me? What else could he hide from me? Why is he hiding it from me? Am I not trustworthy enough? You bit your lip, wracking your brain for an answer.

A firm arm wrapped itself behind you. You looked up from the carpeted floor, then to the man walking beside you. He remained tight-lipped as he observed you from behind his shades. You then shifted your gaze away, bringing up your hand to play with the edges of your tote bag. He retracts his hand and the silence remains until you stand before the same door you came crying out a while ago.

“Alright, y’all ready? I’m going to knock now.” Olyvia nears her hand on the door.

“Leave it. I shall enter the office just with Miss (Y/N).” Stephen demanded, eyeing you to follow him. Your friends didn’t dare to protest as he knocked and entered the room with you in tow.

You stood beside him as he shut the door, placing a hovering hand behind your back.

“Who is i- Oh my!” You hear the headmistress jump from her seat, “I-if it isn’t Mr Wesker! Please, take a seat!” He glances at you briefly, you follow him without question, taking a seat beside him on the leather couch.

“To what do I owe the pleasure of, Mr Wesker?” She took a seat on the couch at the other end, preparing a cup of tea for him.

“I believe there was a complaint regarding her.” Stephen points to you, you nervously looked at the headmistress. “Ah… I see what it’s about. I will show you of her bad deeds but before that, what is your relationship with her?”

“Does it matter? I expect an answer.” He demands strictly. “W-well if you are here to speak on her behalf, I can only allow pare-”

“I am her guardian. Her parents do not have any relations with her.”

“I see.” She walks over and grabs her laptop, displaying the video. You cringed and looked away, closing your eyes at the horrid memory and his disgusting words. A warm hand pressed against your back, “That is enough.”

The headmistress pauses the video, “Do you see now? As much as I’d like to help, there is not much I can do because of the video proof I got from the company. I hope you understand that it would cause a lot of outrage and a dent on the reputation of this school if this goes out of hand.”

“Therefore your solution is to send her away and possibly dismiss her from her classes? With all due respect madam, that is possibly the foolish conclusion I have ever heard of.” Stephen leans his elbows against his knees, lacing his fingers, his lips stretched to a thin line. The headmistress was taken aback, “What do you suggest then?”

“Firstly, which company sent you the video.”

“It’s from Tricell. There is no way I can close an eye on that corporation.”

You hear Stephen scoff, “No matter. Second of all, you do realize that the video was cut, do you not?”

The old lady tilts her head, “Yes I am aware of it. They informed me that their camera had stopped working afterwards and that was all the footage they got.”

Bingo. Now you know why you were painted as the villain.

“What else did they write?” He asks.

“They had told me that after she had slapped him, she continued to assault him then fled right after.” She shot you a frown. You looked away and chewed on the inside of your cheek.

No! That’s not what happened! You wanted to scream, but you stayed silent, as your vision turned cloudy.

“Have you gotten the chance to listen to her side of the story?” He leans back, sitting up straight.

The headmistress points a finger at you, “There is nothing to listen about. The video has said enough and even she is guilty of her actions. Mr Wesker I-”

“Silence.” He warned. There was without a doubt that he was fuming.

The headmistress remained silent, you feel goosebumps rising on your arm at his displeasure. Note to self, never make “Mr Wesker” angry.

“Go on, tell her what really happened.” He remained still as he prompted you to explain. With a shaky breath, you tell the events of that night, of what really happened and the fading injury for proof. After you were done, you see the headmistress take a seat on the cushion, conflicted.

“I-I’m sorry Miss (Y/N)- I hadn’t realize-” She cleared her throat, “Even so, this is a large corporation that I cannot ignore. I wish that there is more I can do but-”

You flinch when you hear Stephen click his tongue. “That was all I am here for. I do not need to hear another word coming from your mouth. Farewell.” He grabs your arm and you stagger out of the office with him. Your friends didn’t have a chance to ask you how it went as you were dragged all the way out of the building.

He releases his hold on you and opens the car door, gesturing you to go in. You slipped inside the car hesitantly and he joined you, shutting the door.

“Where to, sir?” The chauffeur asks through the speaker.

“Umbrella.” Was Stephen’s only reply as he pulled out his phone.

Umbrella? Where have you heard of that name before? You furrow your brows, trying to remember where you’ve seen or heard of that name.

“Hello? Albert! I knew you would call back! Did you miss me?”

“You will meet me in my office at present. I have no care if you had plans.”

“Oh~ someone is a little angry today~ Of course my love, I will be there-” He dropped the call before the lady on the other end could finish.

She had called him my love. What was the relationship he had with the lady? Where was he bringing you to? Why are people calling him ‘Wesker’? Were you in trouble? What is going to happen now?

What is going to happen to you?

You clench your fists and bite your lip nervously. You feel the telltale signs of another breakdown. You closed your eyes trying to focus on your breathing.

Don’t think, don’t think, don’t think, don’t-

You feel a larger body envelop yours tenderly. A soothing hand running circles along your back, effectively snapping you out of whatever trance you were in.

“It will be alright, sweetheart. I am here with you.”

You refused to cry, you couldn’t, not here and not now. Until you finally get the answers you were looking for, you need to stay strong. You hold back your tears, bringing your hands up to return him the hug.

After a short silence you heard him murmur softly next to your ear, “Are you feeling better?” You nod wordlessly, hiding your face on his shoulder.

Soon, the car halts, you apologize and shift to pull away. His only response was to clutch you closer. You yelp when you feel the car wobble then get elevated by something.

You were on an elevator… For cars… You stared out the tinted windows in awe. You have never been on one before or much less seen one. The elevator stops, and the large doors of the lift open. The chauffeur opens the door and you are carried out of the car by Stephen.

He walks with you in his arms into a massive room with an impressive view. You watch as the chauffeur bows and presses a button, shutting the doors and disappearing out of view. Stephen sets you down on a plush, velvet couch. Then walked over to his office desk, pressed a button on his phone and requested something from the person on the other end.

He marches back toward where you were seated, as you twiddled with the ends of your dress in silence. He quietly sits down next to you, the atmosphere between you two tight. You had so many questions that you needed answers for, but you didn’t know how or even where to begin. So while you collect your thoughts, you remain noiseless.

“I apologize.”

He broke the silence, “I am sure you have a good deal of unanswered questions about me, so I will give you what you need. What would you like to know about first?”

You turn to face him, refusing to look into his eyes. “Who are you, really?”

He sighs, “My real name is Albert Wesker.”

“Why… Why did you lie to me about it? This whole time? I trusted you…I thought-” The slight sting of tears caused you to pause and take a deep breath. “I-I never once lied to you about me, I told you everything about me, so, why?” You whimper.

You saw his jaw tighten as he tried to find the right words to say. “Sweetheart, I…” He pauses pensively, “I am afraid.” He confessed dejectedly, avoiding your gaze.

“Afraid of what? What could I ever hope to do to you?” You exasperate in frustration.

“Leave and break my heart…?”

You stared at him, frozen in shock. Your heart shattered at the tone of his words. His gaze remained on the ebony marble tiles, “I am terrified of the thought that once you know who I truly am, that you’d walk out the door and never come back, or treat me with indifference.” He clenches his fist, “Forget it. This is not about me. It is about you. Is there anything else you would like me to answer?”

You open your lips, when suddenly the door opens and a woman comes barging in uninvited.

“Albert~! I’m here!” She announces as she struts hurriedly to him, throwing her arms around him. You flinch and yelp, standing up and moving away. He, however, rejects her advances and pushes her away. She pouts, “Come on, Albert~ Don’t be such a spoiled sport now~” She turns her head and it was only then she finally noticed that you were present.

“Oh. And who is this? New assistant?” She scrutinizes you head to toe with a grimace, “Oh, Albert, you could do so much better. Piss off now ugly, it’s Albert and I’s private time.”

Albert grabs her wrist and twists it, not so hard that it would break, but strong enough to get her attention, causing her to whine in protest.

“Excella Gionne, let this be my first and last warning to you. Should you insult my girlfriend again, everything we have ever had a contract for, will be terminated.” He warns with a growl, standing up and leaving her to fall onto the couch. Girlfriend?! You scream internally, since when?!

She yields and he releases her. Excella adjusted herself on the sofa with a roll of her eyes, “So? What did you call me here for? I’m sure it’s other than telling me you have a new girlfriend.”

A servant enters the room then, arm holding 3 glasses of something. He walks over to where you all were, just as he was about to set the last glass down, Excella roughly yanks it away from his grasp, nearly spilling the contents. He frowned but bit his tongue and left with a bow.

“One of your employees is up to no good, Excella. I expected you to have better reigns on your minions.” Albert says, placing a hand behind you, ushering you to the sofa opposite of where the fancy lady sat. “Oh? Which numbnut is it this time?” He shoots you a look, and you utter the name of your ex-manager.

“Ah, that ugly pig.” She sips on the liquid, “I heard that he’s going to court next week against a girl who assaulted him. It wouldn’t happen to be…” Her brown eyes trail over to you. You swallowed nervously, biting the inside of your lip. “Hmm… Well, I say you deserve what’s coming for you, girl. After all, you started it, yes? You slapped him first.”

“B-but he-”

“Ah, ah, ah. I won’t hear a word from you. That pig may be an imbecile, but he is still my brother’s son nonetheless. Besides, I’ve watched him grow up and he is never the type to lay a hand on a woman. So, I say you deserved to get sued.” She smirks and sips on the remainder of the liquid.

“I believe we are done, then.” Albert announces, standing up and walking over to his desk. “Ah, yes we are! Go on now ugly duckling and cry somewhere else, no one wants you-”

“Take her away.”

Suddenly you hear the room door slam open, 2 towering men in suits march over to where Excella sat and grab her arm.

“What?! Why are you doing this, Albert?! All over a peasant girl? This does not have to be such a major issue if you dump her and go with me! Let go of me you big idiots!” She struggled as she was dragged out of the room, “This is not the last you’ll see of me Wesker! I will be back for you and that hideous bitch of yours!”

The door shut and you heard muffled threats coming from outside, slowly disappearing.

You kept your eyes on the doors. Because of you, Albert lost a business partner. His business might’ve depended on her and you ruined their relationship, all because of your petty business. You clench your jaw. If I hadn’t spoken to him, if I hadn’t told him about the incident last night. If I hadn’t replied to him.

If only I was never born.

You shut your eyes as the familiar, appalling phrase resurfaces in your head. You tried to control your breathing, you couldn’t cry again. You don’t deserve to. You just potentially ruined someone’s life and you’re crying? You’re so selfish.

“Sweetheart…?” You hear his voice call.

“I-I’m-” You whimper, “I’m so s-sorry… I-” Another choked sob, “I-I shouldn't have- I…” You look up at him pleadingly with tears flooding in your eyes, “I shouldn’t have dragged you into this mess…” You buried your face in the sleeves of the cardigan in mortification. “B-because of me, you just lost a business partner. If only I hadn’t spoken to you. I-If only I was-”

You feel him tower over you, bringing you closer to him, until your forehead rested against his chest. He embraces you, tightly, softly, firmly. Your limbs trembled as you reached up to clutch the back of his vest.

“No more. Please.” He pleaded, his tone making you cry harder. “Sweetheart. Please do not ever think that you are alone in this. I would be happy if you shared your burdens with me, I would want nothing else than to carry the weight of your difficulties with you, and I will say this over and over again, until you see it.”

You both remained held to each other as you sobbed into his shoulder. Like earlier, he was patient, gentle and you find yourself calmed by how he caressed your hair. You took a moment to inhale his scent. His strong, comforting scent that made you feel at ease whenever he was around.

When you both finally pulled away, you apologized for making a mess on his shirt. He placed a hand on your head, “Anything to see that beautiful smile of yours.” You feel your cheeks redden, the burning question at the tip of your tongue.

“D-did you really mean it?” You finally ask, after gathering enough courage.

“About you being my girlfriend?” He looks at you intently, “Only if you want to.”

Your heart jumped at his words. B-but I can’t- Not yet, as much as I love to. I just got cheated on and broke up recently. I don’t want him to be a rebound. I don’t want us to burn out. He’s too perfect to lose. I want to be with him for as long as I breathe. In order for that, I need to focus on healing and being the best version of myself, first.

“Steph- A-Albert…?” You test the foreign name.

He smiles, “You may call me whatever you wish, sweetheart.”

“U-um… I… I just recently broke up and I don’t want us to be a one-time thing. If I want to be with you, I want both of us to be fully committed and emotionally available. B-but… I need more time… I need more time to heal and learn from my mistakes so that I don’t make the same ones when I’m ready to be with you.” Your blush deepens as you avoid his gaze.

He brings you into an embrace yet again. “Of course. Take all the time you need. I will be here, waiting for you always, my darling.” He kisses the crown of your head tenderly.

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Currently screaming crying, throwing up.

When is it my turn.

#albert wesker x reader #albert wesker #reader insert #resident evil #resident evil wesker #resident evil 5

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pagiecakewritesstuff · 2 years

Text

2. MORPHEUS|DREAM OF THE ENDLESS X READER/OC

Assorodus meaning "silvery water".

Purpose may or may not exist, depending on our personal ideologies. The Endless know better though, they saw the entity prowling the lands before the beginning of history, and it was older than them. Not by much, a few eons maybe, arriving after the birth of the universe we know. For this being was strong and withered the coldness of the void until everything was created. First of Writers, the name it was given, for the inherent purpose of every breathing thing had to be formed in words. Whether we believe in it or not.

SERIES MASTERLIST

It must have been the silvery water that drew him back from time to time. The gentle waves licked at his feet as he cautiously kneeled on the silky sand of the shore. The first time he saw his reflection. I wonder if he knew how beautiful he was, even among his siblings. He used to smile a lot more back then, when he did imaginations would spring into reality and dreams were born. I used to think that the things he created were impossibly, but then he did them so effortlessly with such elegance and grace. Passion radiated off of him in waves, his purpose fulfilled tenfold as he handed out stories after storied for the world. For he was the maker of stories that later inspired people, not I. Yet again a slight difference between me and the Endless, that many like to forget.

I happened to spend days observing him playing in the sand. The individual grains obeyed him, cradling his naked body, sheltering him from cold or heat. The lake, the shore and the sand were as part of him as he was part of them. With every passing hour, the words that I gifted him bloomed inside his soul, conjuring endless fields of flowers. I was once invited to these fields before they withered and we laid side by side under the brilliant blue sky.

"Do you know if existence will always be this beautiful?" He asked me then. He was soo young, barely two centuries old, overflowing with hope and most of all, love.

"It's not my place to know such things." I turned to him, the first being to gift me with a smile after all those years in solitude, lost in the void. "Ask Destiny and he will tell you nothing."

"Is he really the only one in the universe who can perceive the future without crumbling under the weight of it?"

"I wrote him so."

He laughed, another thing that was among his customs before the beginning of history.

"I'm unsure what would have happened if you weren't here for us when we came to be."

"Nothing," I told him simply. "That would have meant that you have no need for me, for I only exist as long as I have a purpose."

Concern floods his features, pushing himself up he leans on his elbows, hovering over me. Searching my eyes for what I was about to say, his irises turned stormy and dark, filling with blinking stars. It reminded me of my first star that I wrote to.

"Am I to witness your death in the future First of Writers? Or you speak in riddles again?" He shuddered. "Tell me you speak in riddles and what you say is not set in stone."

"Dear Prince of Dreams, you shouldn't worry about such matters, not for a long while at least. This universe will proceed to exist for eons to come, I'm sure of it. However, everything will cease to exist one day, as this is how things go, as nothing is forever. Except for maybe you. Dreams don't die so easily."

He pressed his forehead against mine, sideways so his nose brushed my cheek. I could feel his breathing on my lips, his wild hair falling over my brow, tremors shaking his bones, signalling his desire to get as close as he could, but he held back. I told him to do so.

"You wrote it so?" He breathed into my mouth.

"I did."

In his containment, he is immensely mortal, to my eyes at least. I see the young entity back at the shore of the silvery lake, in a reversed, twisted state. I'm sitting aside, my skin soaking up the cold of the stone wall after the heat outside. The ward hasn't ceased burning me either, nor his gaze, intent, just shy of pouching a hole in my chest. Old passion long gone, he is on the brink of giving up so he uses me as an anchor in any way he can. I let him, I hold him without hands. He never refuses my presence, he yearns for it, even though we can't speak to each other. He doesn't smile as much anymore and I can barely remember the last time I hear him laugh. When I search for the fields of flowers in him the grass is dry and yellow, no floral wonders to be seen underneath the grey sky. As he notices me looking into his soul, reading my own prose in it, he shuts himself off and I find myself in front of two tall ivory gates. I wish to tell him that he doesn’t need to protect himself from me, but I recognise his scars, some still open and bleeding, so I leave him. He will come to me when I’m needed, as he did before. I will be there.

I only let him sense my invisible form, causing confusion amongst the guards about what their prisoner is watching so closely. When they investigate, they can't find anything. To this his eyes smile for a few passing moments, celebrating a small triumph that on paper belongs to my skills, but I lend it over to him. Everything for his short brakes of happiness. When Roderic Burgess descends into the depth of his basement he pointedly ignores the fact that he can't lock eyes with his guest. He likes to call him a guest instead of a prisoner. It probably eases his consciousness about keeping a feeling being locked up. What his usage of words makes me feel is yet another question.

Between shift changes, we have a chance to talk briefly. His mouth hangs slightly agape when he tells me that there is no air left behind the glass and breathing makes him think of a walled-up door, not giving. As his chest rises he bares his teeth, lungs straining against his ribcage. Yet again it reminds me of his mortal aspect in the waking world and of mine too. There is a certain comfort in this for me, showing that I am not all that different from actual living beings, meaning I’m still capable of writing prose that they will subconsciously listen to. For Morpheus, this is nothing but a curse as he endures the pain of suffocation and starvation with every passing second. Every time his dry tongue darts across his lips he wishes for nourishment.

Outside the world continues, trying to correct the loss of Dream, searching for an able substitute. Surely he knows this, such power shifts are to be sensed even from behind wards and glass cages. His powers wither inside him, unable to break free.

The basement is a good place for writing, I'm down there with him as often as I can afford. My words however won't distribute themselves, so on occasion, I leave. We don't say goodbye, as I disappear at the turn of the stairway. Though I can envisage his eyes following my every step as if pulling me back with carefully veiled desperation. Without uttering a sound every joint in his body tells me that my leaving is like a slap across the face for him, and I ponder if me coming down to the basement is doing any good at all.

On my way out I slow down, choosing to observe the household. It's depressing to see how much sorrow stuck under the roof of Fawney Rig, Magus' ongoing abuse of his son can't be prevented. At least not by me and I doubt any godly entity would care about these tiny mortals in this vast universe. Alex's pain troubles me, but my hands are bound. He is serving his purpose. My words written across his being tell me, it's not to free Morpheus.

An example of unwavering loyalty and patience after all these years, Jessamy waits for me by her tree. I reveal myself to her and we whisper to each other in the shade of green. The gentle afternoon breeze ruffles her feathers as her body is erect, as she balances on a thin branch. She wants to help. I can't convince her to go back to the Dreaming, instead, I warn her to give a wide berth to the manor, should the inhabitants know to whom she belongs. Her black beady eyes look towards the main door, she is disgruntled but doesn't object. She promises to stay away. I disappear from the mortal plane a bit less worried than I arrived. I’m doing what I can.

I have to be away for months due to neglecting my work, I leap between realms and realities, and I travel far and back. I pass other Endless, our exchanged glances signalling me that they know what's happening. Unable to act, all of them. I guide my diverted attention back to my task, my sentences swirl around the universe, it's remunerative to see them, young and old alike. They make me feel at home wherever I set foot.

At the same time, they are fast carriers of news. A lifeline between me and souls in need of me.

A cry for help hits me like a beam of ethereal light, tainted with such anguish that clenches my heart, forcing it to skip beats. I know who it is. His unmistakable voice calls my name in its thousands of iterations all at once and a roar escapes his mind. A roar that can tear down mountains, and split dreams in half. In me a thread among infinite snaps, an unfulfilled purpose floats back to me, but fear makes me blind to see who's it is.

Frozen, I fall into the depths of space until catching myself. The wails come in continuous waves, searching for me. What happened? What have they done to him? Shaken I gather myself and race the stars back to earth, a few left behind letters scatter then form into a draft in my wake. My spirit flies through doors uninvited until I stop myself at the top of the stairs. Behind my back there is commotion, shouting, and something heavy thrown onto the ground, it sounds like metal and wood. It clicks lightly, only I can hear it, it’s a gun. Before me, the tangible smell of blood forms a thick wall, red and swirling. Death was here, she already left. I secretly proceed down and arrive at the iron gate. It's open, with no guards in sight.

The trail of blood drips down from the sphere, smeared across the glass, mixed with feathers, black and white. A rat sips on it, delighted in its feast, pawing after remains of tissue. I tug on the severed thread in me, bringing it forward. With tenderly curling letters it writes Jessamy. Now the gun makes sense, and I’m angry at first, I told her not to get close, they did know who she was. For a moment I think of running after Death, showing her the thread of purpose unfulfilled, explaining to her that this is a mere mistake. Then I hear him calling out, louder than before.

In his cage, Morpheus tries to sob, but he can’t really. The air ran out long ago. His exterior emotions are obscured by his palms fisting his hair. His maintained, defiant posture is no more, lost in his grief and he folds over himself crumpled and broken. He is facing away from what’s left of his raven. He had to see all of it, didn’t he? How could they be so cruel to shoot her in front of his eyes? I rein in my rage over what I can’t mend, this is not why I’m here.

As I approach the rat runs to hide, stealing a feather between its teeth. The edge of the circle is like a tightrope, I balance on it, uncertain if I should step down and reach out for the creature in the depths. The last thing I want to do is hurt him more, he requested my support and he shall receive it, I’m not to overstep his boundaries. I attempt to say his name, but it’s hard to find my voice. He doesn’t seem like himself anymore, does he still have a name at all? Is he defeated now, shivering and alone?

Not if I have a say in it.

“Lord Morpheus.” The whine escaping his lips is the only sign that he acknowledges my presence. I sink to my knees, leaning into the barrier. “Hear me Morpheus, open the gates, let me into your fields.”

His head raises, a teardrop clings to the tip of his nose, then falls onto the glass.

“I have my fields no more.” He mutters. “All of it… It’s rotten.”

“I like it all the same.” I place my hand on the sphere, ignoring the burn. “I have just enough power, please, let me in. Let me ease your sorrow.”

Desperation exploding in his soul like an unstable bomb, suddenly he lugs me in without a warning. My bare feet hit ashy, dark ground, he dressed me in my old robes. So he still remembers. Ahead he stands, his back towards me, naked, this time not by choice, robbed of his dignity. Without facing me, he speaks.

“You were never supposed to see this.”

“You think I didn’t know?” I get in front of him while he looks over my shoulders. “I’m not angry for it.”

“I have spoiled your gift.”

“You never did such a thing.”

He sobs, ugly and heaving, free of the boundaries torturing him on the mortal plane. I cup his cheeks, turning his eyes on me. The stars are blinking in them, weakened.

“There you are, love. What happened?”

It takes a few moments until he calms down. He savours my touch, his fingers holding onto mine. I offer more contact and our foreheads find each other, his lashes brush my eyelids, and we breathe in and out together.

“In front of me. They killed her in front of me.”

“I hear you. Come, join me in the grass.”

Following my invitation his body mirrors mine. I guide his head over my stomach and I begin to undo the knots in his hair, his locks lost their shine. Like a heavy blanket, partial unconsciousness settles over him, he stops shivering, still reaching for me, locking my arm into his hold.

“Do you still remember?”

“I couldn’t forget.” I can see his beautiful flowers dancing in front of my eyes, branded into my memory. “Existence is not what we hoped for.”

“It never is.”

He travels up my body settling in the crook of my neck, his lips rubbing against my skin as he parts them when he asks;

“Do you yearn for me as much as I do?” He hopes. I hate to kill it.

“I yearn for your freedom. For the balance regained by it.”

“Nothing more?” I wish I could make him feel better by saying what he longs for, but I can’t. I forbade myself a long time ago.

“No.”

He grips me tighter even though he knew the answer ahead.

“Even after these years?”

“It would only bring us pain.” The celestial sphere cracks above us, voices and footsteps are coming through. “Jessamy will be in good hands, trust your sister in this, she loves you very much. To me, you have to promise that you won't give up, Morpheus. Can you do that? Just a little while longer?”

His nose shifts across my collarbone, and he nods.

“Just a little while longer.” I kiss his hairline, pouring all the strength into him that I can give. I peel away his fingers. “I love you too.”

I leave, he stays on the ground enduring the piercing of the thorns of grass. Reluctantly he lets me go and remains silent as his tremors start again.

“Come back for me.”

“I will.”

When the guards return the splash of blood is removed, nowhere to be seen.

#morpheus x reader #dream fanfiction #the sandman netflix #morpheus imagine #jessamy the raven #fic:assorodus #dream x reader

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