#really thank you. in those rare moments during my months of absence asks like this always made me smile a little when i saw them

[detectiveforfree]

Hi! Your art is so incredible! Especially the way you draw Talon Dick! His design is so good!

Anyway, just wanted to say that! Have a lovely day :)

ah thank you! <3

i do love this angsty bird, any excuse to draw him lol

[etherrreal]

“resentment”

Pairing: oikawa x fem!reader Genre: angst Summary: you used to love oikawa’s determination, his drive, his willingness to give his all and sacrifice everything to get the things he wants. now those are the same things that make you resent him. WC: 6,700 Warnings: lots of angst, explicit language, reader’s kinda petty but so is oikawa, relationship isn’t toxic or anything but it could def be better A/N: shoutout to @shadowkunoichi​ for this request! your ask gave me enough serotonin to last for the rest of the week <3 it’s also important to note that the moment i saw oikawa’s smug ass face on screen my brain and heart immediately went “this the one” so here’s some pain ft. my favorite setter -Dawn

The first few times Oikawa cancels your dates for extended volleyball practice, you tell yourself it doesn’t bother you. You’re disappointed, of course –you barely see him enough as it is, despite living together for three months, despite dating for a total of eight– but it’s not the end of the world. It’s just another compromise you have to make, and it probably won’t be the last.

That’s what relationships are about, anyway, you remind yourself firmly, whenever the silence of your too-big for one person apartment starts to get to you. Compromise.

You’re no stranger to compromise, either. You can’t be, not when you’re dating a pro-athlete. You know better than anyone how talented Oikawa is, how admired. He’s worked so hard, and you’re so proud of him. You may not know much about sports, but you do know that your boyfriend has an amazing career ahead of him.

And while the selfish part of you would like to keep him all to yourself, you also know it won’t always be possible, and you tell yourself you’re okay with that. You love Oikawa, and you support every single one of his dreams, even if doing so means you have to eat dinner on your own sometimes.

It won’t always be this way, you tell yourself. It’s just for now. And it definitely doesn’t mean he loves you any less.

That’s what you tell yourself.

It helps that he’s always sorry about it. You hear it in his voice whenever he calls you to tell you he won’t be home until late, see it in the guilty way his eyes search for yours through the screen when he FaceTimes you to let you know you shouldn’t wait up for him. He’s even more torn up about it than you are most of the time, blowing your phone up with apologetic voice notes and text messages with too many emojis.

[pretty (annoying) boy 💙 ]:: babe 😔😔

[you]:: yes baby?

[pretty (annoying) boy 💙 ]:: 😔😔😔😔

[pretty (annoying) boy 💙 ]:: 😩😩😭😭

[you]:: oh boy

[you]:: you’re not gonna be home in time for dinner, are you?

[pretty (annoying) boy 💙 ]:: i don’t think so 😩😔 we have that game coming up so we’ll be practicing all night

[pretty (annoying) boy 💙 ]:: i’m so sorry baby ☹️☹️ but i’ll have to miss dinner again 😭😭

[you]:: it’s fine, i’ll just find someone else to share my chicken with

[you]:: speaking of, u have ushiwaka’s #? i wanna see something

[pretty (annoying) boy 💙 ]:: STOPPPP 😭😭 i’m sorry!!!

[you]:: allegedly

[pretty (annoying) boy 💙 ]:: stop 😭😭 i mean it!! i love you pls don’t hate me 😩☹️

[pretty (annoying) boy 💙 ]:: i’m really sorry babe ☹️☹️

[you]:: if ur apology doesn’t include dollar signs then i don’t wanna hear it

[pretty (annoying) boy 💙 ]:: check ur email

[you]:: ??

[pretty (annoying) boy 💙 ]:: 👀😇

You check your email, and sure enough, there’s a gift card there to your favorite clothing store, along with a note that reads “financial compensation for putting up with me <3 also if u ever share chicken with ushiwaka i’ll cry and then die so pls don’t.” It makes you laugh so hard you forget about being upset with him in the first place.

[you]:: i was joking!! u didn’t actually have to send me anything u weirdo

[pretty (annoying) boy 💙 ]:: i know 😇😏😘

And when he does make it home that night with an apology on his lips, a bouquet of flowers, and a promise that he’ll make it up to you, it’s hard to do anything else besides forgive him. Because you know that no matter how crazy both of your schedules are, no matter how lonely you might feel without him at your side, he loves you more than anything, and you love him as much in return. And for a while, that’s enough.

Until it isn’t.

You’re thankful to have successfully made it through your first year of grad school with just a caffeine addiction and minor bags under your eyes, but not having to attend your classes or meet with your professors over the break means you’re at the apartment a lot more. You still have your job, but it’s becoming harder and harder to ignore Oikawa’s absence.

It’s not just dates he’s missing anymore. It’s family events, outings with your friends, getaway trips the two of you planned weeks in advance.

You know it’s not his fault. He has things he wants to accomplish, goals he set for himself long before he met you. The Olympics are coming up, and he needs to be ready. You can’t blame him for staying late to get in some extra practice, or for having to attend events with his teammates and his fans instead of you.

You can’t blame him for any of it, at least not without feeling selfish and unsupportive, and somehow that just makes it worse.

It takes you longer than you’d like to admit to build up the courage to talk to him about it. You almost don’t want to bring it up at all, but after weeks of missed dates and apology bouquets, of waking up without him and going to sleep before he gets home, you crumble. You don’t think you can keep grinning and bearing it anymore, not without starting to resent him.

You confront him while he’s sitting at the kitchen island in the middle of your shared apartment. It’s rare he doesn’t have a game on the weekend, even rarer he gets to spend the afternoon with you. It almost makes you reconsider –will this ruin your time together?– but you hold fast. You know that if you don’t bring it up now, then you probably never will, and you’re not sure you can take that much more silent heartache.

Oikawa, for his part, does well to listen as you speak. He watches you intently, pretty brown eyes soft and searching, as you tell him about how neglected you’re feeling, how lonely.

You know he’s not doing it on purpose. You know he’s meant every single one of his apologies, and that this is what you signed up for when you agreed to be in a relationship with him. And you love how driven he is, how determined he is to succeed.

You just...you miss him. That’s what it boils down to in the end: how much you miss him. You miss him now more than that time he left to spend a month back home in Japan while you stayed in Argentina, despite the fact that you’re in the same country this time, despite the fact that you share the same apartment. It shouldn’t be possible, but it’s true.

“I know your career is important, and I would never try to get in the way of that,” you tell him, quietly, tiredly. There’s an exhausted air around you he’s never seen before, the kind of whispered sadness that breaks his heart. “But sometimes, Tooru...sometimes it feels like I’m dating a ghost. And I’m not mad at you, or angry, I’m just...lonely.”

You finally look at him, and the emotion in his eyes startles you. He’s actually tearing up –“you’re such a crybaby,” you like to tease him when his eyes water during sad movies, but you always comfort him anyway– and it’s enough to make your eyes fill with tears, too. He looks so sad, so broken, like knowing he’s hurt you –even if it’s been completely unintentional– hurts him too.

He’s quick to stand and walk over to you, wrapping his arms around you tightly. You return the embrace, resting your head against his chest while one of his hands moves to cradle the back of your head.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispers into your hair, and you can tell by the way his voice shakes that he means it. “I know things have been crazy lately, but that’s no excuse for leaving you here alone. I never want you to feel like you’re anything besides the most important person in my life. I love you so much, and I promise I’m going to fix this. Things will get better, I swear.”

And in that moment, you believe him. You trust him, after all, and you know he doesn’t make promises he can’t keep. So you let him mumble reassurances into your hair, let him kiss your breath away and shower you in the affection you’ve been missing for far too long.

It’s so easy to get lost in it, lost in him. Too easy.

He’s always been like that; charismatic and witty, magnetic and charming. It doesn’t help that he’s totally gorgeous, too. You knew, from the moment you met him, that if you ever let yourself fall in love with him, you’d be in trouble. It’s why you never took any of his advances seriously, at least not in the beginning.

But he was able to chip at your resolve with every teasing smile and playful wink, every reverent touch and whispered words meant just for you. He let you get to know him; the real him, not that flippant and perfect pretty boy facade he presents to the rest of the world, and so of course you fell for him, because how could you not?

Oikawa is stubborn and prideful, exhausting and even sometimes petty, but he makes you feel like you’re the strongest person he knows. He looks at you like you’re the only one he’ll ever want to see. He makes you laugh and keeps you on your toes, and you know right away –before you moved in together, before you told him you loved him– that you will never love anyone the way you love him, because no one else will ever be able to compare.

That’s why it’s so easy for you to believe him now. Because you know he loves you and that you love him, and the two of you are determined to make this relationship work. So when he promises that things will change, that he’ll be more present from here on out, you believe him.

It’s the first promise he’s ever made to you that he doesn’t keep.

For every event Oikawa does bother to make it to, he misses two more. Your parents, who adore him, wonder why they never see him anymore. Your friends start to ask if you even still have a boyfriend. You find yourself asking the very same thing.

You stop inviting him to events at your university and lunches with your friends. You don’t want to set yourself up for disappointment anymore, and you figure it’s easier to just save yourself from the inevitable. The apology gifts he gives you start to feel hollow, empty, just like your apartment. You stop opening them, letting them pile up in the corner of your living room. Eventually, he stops giving them to you.

You’re not sure if you’re thankful for that, or if it upsets you even more.

The Olympics get closer each day. Oikawa’s practices become more intense and even longer than they already were. There are so many things he needs to do now: games to play, meet and greets to attend. Sometimes if he’s out too late he just doesn’t come home at all. The team sets him up at a hotel, and he stays there for the night instead.

It gets harder to catch his scent on his pillow where it lays beside you in bed, untouched and forgotten. It should hurt you more, but it doesn’t.

There’s an event being held back in Japan, promising a night of drinking and dancing and schmoozing. All the investors and international players and coaches will be there, and you promised a while back to be Oikawa’s plus one.

The vindictive part of you wants to cancel on him, just so he knows how it feels, but you decide you can put your pettiness aside for a few nights if it means free booze and food and a comfortable stay at some ridiculously fancy hotel. You wonder if that’ll be enough to fill the hole he’s made in your heart.

Besides, you want to remind him that you’re the kind of person who keeps your word, even if he’s not.

The flight is long and exhausting. So is finding your hotel and forcing yourself to get dressed, but you get through it. Oikawa looks unfairly stunning in his suit, but you try not to notice. He arrives at the party with you on his arm, wearing a silky gown that matches his tie and jewelry that glitters whenever it catches the light.

You’ve barely talked to each other the whole way here, but at the party, amongst his teammates, old rivals, and friends, you’re the perfect couple. You smile, laugh, and dance exactly when you’re supposed to. You play your role so well that no one notices how numb you are, not even Oikawa, even though he’s supposed to know you better than anyone else.

Maybe that’s why you find yourself at the open bar. Oikawa’s off mingling with god knows who, swamped by dozens of people who are always seeking his favor, trapped in his orbit. They praise his hard work, his tenacity, his determination. Once upon a time, you would’ve done the same.

But things are different between you now. What used to be Oikawa’s endearing stubbornness is now an outright refusal to meet you halfway. His determination to be the best has become an inability to compromise; his passion has become obsession. It’s strange to think how all the things that used to make you love him now just make you resent him.

But the liquor here is free and flowing so you knock it back like water, and it’s almost enough to make you forget your heartbreak, your anger. Almost.

All the drinking eventually sends you to the bathroom. You touch up your makeup as best as you can and wash your hands with one of the several different soap options, exiting the bathroom noticeably drunker than you were when you went in.

You’re off-balance enough that when you run into what feels like a brick wall but is actually just a tall, broad-shouldered man, you stumble and nearly fall over. He reacts quicker than you do, catching your elbow and steadying you back on your feet.

He asks you if you’re all right and you reassure him that you are. You swear you’ve seen his face before, but you’re too tipsy right now to bother to remember where.

“I appreciate the help,” you say sincerely, patting his shoulder. “But I promise I’m okay. Thank you again, really.”

He gives you a look like he doesn’t believe you, and he’s proven right approximately five seconds later, when you turn on your heel to leave and nearly fall over again. Once more, he’s there to catch you.

You try to convince him that you’re okay; you’re just a little bit tipsy from all the champagne earlier, but he guides you to one of the stupid velvet couches in the hallway and makes you sit down. He tells you to stay there and wait for him, and you want to protest but he’s already gone before you can make any real sort of argument.

When he returns, it’s with a bottle of water, which you sheepishly accept. He stays with you as you drink it, and your vision and stomach start to settle. You thank him again for all his help. He tells you it’s no big deal, and when he introduces himself as Ushijima Wakatoshi, you laugh so hard you almost spit water all over yourself.

Ushijima raises an eyebrow at you. “Is there something about my name that amuses you?”

“No, no, nothing like that.” It takes more effort than it should, but you’re thankfully able to force yourself to stop laughing. Talk about ironic encounters. “It’s just– I’ve heard of you before.”

“Are you a fan of volleyball?”

You resist the urge to snort, sending him an amused smile instead. “Something like that.”

The two of you chat for a little while, and it’s a surprisingly pleasant conversation. You quite like his company, and you appreciate how he’s willing to keep an eye on you solely out of the kindness of his heart, just to make sure you’re really okay. It’s hardly necessary anymore –the water’s doing a great job at sobering you up– but it’s a nice distraction from the reason you started drinking in the first place.

Or it was, until you start to hear that very same reason calling your name from somewhere down the hall. His voice gets closer and closer, and you shut your eyes, bracing yourself.

“What the hell?”

You open your eyes and suddenly Oikawa is in front of you, eyebrows drawn together and lips pulled into a deep frown. You can only imagine what you look like to him right now, low-eyed and tipsy and sitting on a couch next to his oldest rival.

You can already see the anger in his eyes, the suspicion. He’s jealous, and it’s absolutely ridiculous because he has no right to be. Not after ignoring you for so long. Not after reminding you over and over again that when it comes down to it, you’ll always be second place to his career.

You haven’t been flirting with Ushijima, but now you wonder if maybe you should have. There’s a bitter part of you that wants to hurt Oikawa as much as he’s hurt you, even if it’s only for a moment.

Ushijima seems completely oblivious to the situation, which you’re sure just infuriates your boyfriend even more. He’s described to you in great detail how one of the things he finds most frustrating about Ushijima is how completely and utterly unbothered he is by everything.

“Oikawa,” the man closest to you greets, standing up. “It’s good to see you.”

“Ushiwaka.” The smile your boyfriend directs to his old rival is tight-lipped and void of any of its usual warmth. Oikawa’s gaze settles on you next, eyes narrowing even further. “I’ve been looking for you everywhere. Come on, let’s go.”

“I’m sorry.” Your voice is plain, dull, as you tilt your head at him mockingly. “Do I know you?”

“Stop being cute.” The way he practically snaps it makes it clear he doesn’t think you’re being cute at all. In fact, he actually looks pretty pissed, and you almost smile at the realization. As petty as he can be, it’s clear you’re better at this than he is. “It’s getting late. It’s time for us to leave.”

Ushijima’s gaze slides over to you. “Do you know him?”

But you’re not looking at him. You’re looking straight at Oikawa, at the tenseness of his shoulders, the way he’s on the verge of fuming. Apparently, just the idea of you being alone with his oldest rival is more concerning to him than the fact that you’ve barely spent any time with each other in the past two months. It leaves a bitter taste in your mouth.

“Of course.” You stand, closing the short distance between yourself and Oikawa. “He’s my boyfriend. My loving, devoted, perfect boyfriend.”

You place the hand that’s not holding your water bottle against his chest, perching on your toes to deliver a sweet kiss to his cheek. When you pull away, the stain of your lipstick remains, and you wonder if he can feel the resentment in it.

“I just forget sometimes, is all. You know, since we never see each other.”

You don’t bother to examine the look on his face. You can’t find it in yourself to care anymore. You turn to Ushijima instead, offering a tired but genuine smile.

“Thank you again for your help, Ushijima. It was a pleasure to officially meet you. Have a good night.”

You turn on your heel and walk away, down the hall and past several magnificent paintings, past any apology you would normally be ready to offer. It’s petty and deliberate, the kind of reaction you didn’t think you were capable of before this, but it’s all you have left. Oikawa doesn’t care, hasn’t cared for a while actually, so neither will you.

You don’t know what he says to Ushijima or if he even says anything at all, but you do hear his footsteps when he runs after you. They slow as he gets closer, but you don’t stop walking, don’t turn back to look.

“Are you fucking kidding me? What– what the fuck was all that back there, huh?”

You stop. Slowly, you turn to look at him, but you don’t say anything. You just stand there, watching, waiting, feeling absolutely nothing as you do.

“‘It’s a pleasure to meet you.’” It’s a poor imitation of your voice, but the intention is there. “So what, I don’t spend enough time with you and suddenly it’s okay for you to flirt with someone else?”

You laugh without humor. “That’s what you’re stuck on? The fact that I had a conversation with him and not the part where I said we never see each other? You truly have a gift, Tooru.”

The frown on his face deepens, but the anger in his eyes softens a little, replaced by a hint of guilt. There’s regret there, too, over not keeping the promise he made to you. You would be more moved by it if you weren’t so completely infuriated right now.

He closes his eyes, letting out a sigh. “I’m not going to have this argument with you. Not here.”

“Where should we have it then, hm? In the lobby? At the hotel? We’re damn sure not having it when we get home, because you’re never fucking there!”

You don’t mean to scream at him, but that’s what comes out. You’re not sure which one of you is more surprised by it. Oikawa stares at you, wide-eyed and stunned, as if you’ve just slapped him, and you stare back, breathing hard. You’re so focused on each other you don’t even notice you have an audience until you hear a new, familiar voice speak.

“Hey.” Iwaizumi steps between you, concerned and cautious.

He’s the only one here, thank god, but his appearance reminds you that this is definitely not the time or the place for any of this. You shouldn’t care who overhears you, but as angry as you are, you’re not selfish enough to air out your relationship’s problems in front of all of Oikawa’s friends and colleagues. You still love him, after all, even if it’s hurting you to do so.

Iwaizumi casts a wary glance between you and his best friend, almost like he’s preparing himself to play the unwilling referee in what seems to be an inevitable fight. Any other time, you might’ve laughed at the look on his face, but not now. “Everything okay, you two?”

It’s not. It hasn’t been for a while, and right now Oikawa’s looking at you like he’s finally realizing that too.

The car ride back to the hotel is eerily silent. You and Oikawa share no words, no fleeting glances; you don’t even sit close enough to touch each other, not even accidentally. The ride up to your floor is spent in a similar fashion, a cold distance settling between you that’s never been there before.

Or maybe it’s been there for a while, and it took you screaming at him in the middle of a party for the two of you to notice it.

Miraculously, you make it into your room in one piece. The two of you remove your coats and shoes in that same suffocating silence. You make it to the bedroom without exchanging a single word, and he takes a seat on the bed while you sit in front of the vanity and begin removing your jewelry.

Another long stretch of silence later, and then he’s meeting your eyes in the mirror to ask, “Can we talk?”

You consider telling him to go fuck himself instead, but somehow you bite down the urge.

“About what?” You take off your necklace, a pretty golden chain with your birthstone on it that he got you for your birthday. “About how I wasn’t flirting with Ushijima? Because I wasn’t, if that’s what you’re still so torn up about.”

“I know you weren’t,” he mutters, running a hand through his hair. It’s a bit longer than you remember; that’s how long it’s been since you’ve really gotten the chance to look at him. “I don’t know why I said that.”

“I do. You were jealous.” Your earrings are the next to go, another gift from him. He’s scattered himself into so many pieces across your life; you’re not sure how you’ll ever be free of him, or if you’ll ever want to be. “But you had no reason to be. I would never do that to you.”

“I know.” He looks down, fidgets with his fingers, meets your gaze again through the mirror. His tie is loosened around his neck, making him look disheveled in just the way you like. “I’m sorry.”

“Great.” Your tone is short, clipped, as you finally remove the last of your jewelry. “Is that all?”

“Please don’t do that. I’m trying to have a conversation with you here, so that we can fix this. I mean, don’t you want to talk about everything, especially after tonight?”

“I’ve already said everything I needed to say, Tooru.” You break your gaze from the mirror, turning to glance over your shoulder at him instead. “You know exactly what the problem is, just like I know you won’t do a single thing to change it. You can’t, because my feelings –our entire relationship– all of that stuff’s always going to come second to the things you want.”

The frown from earlier is back now, this time paired with a hard look, like he can’t believe you’re questioning his commitment, even though he’s given you dozens of reasons to do so. “That’s not true.”

“Isn’t it?” You rise to your feet, a dry, humorless laugh escaping your throat as you do. “Tell that to the countless dates you’ve missed. Tell that to the bed you hardly sleep in anymore, to all the times I’ve fallen asleep without you and then woken up only to realize you still weren’t there.”

The words feel heavy and bitter on your tongue, your anger growing the more you think about everything you’ve endured over the past few months, all the different ways he’s managed to disappoint you.

“There’s nothing untrue about it, Tooru. You just don’t care about me the way I care about you.”

“Are you seriously going to stand there and tell me I don’t care about you?” he demands. “Of course I care. I love you, dammit. How could you ever think I don’t?”

“How couldn’t I? God, have you seriously not heard a single thing I’ve said this entire time? I’m practically in this relationship by myself, and you’re doing absolutely nothing to change that!”

“You think I like having to leave you on your own so much? You think it doesn’t break my heart seeing the look on your face every time I have to tell you I can’t make it to all the things I want to be there for?” He’s on his feet now, hand jabbing at his chest, like if he could rip out his heart and show you the scars there, he would. “Because it does, okay? It makes me fucking miserable, but what else am I supposed to do?”

“You’re supposed to be there, Tooru!” You don’t know when you started crying, but you are. You’re yelling too, hands shaking, voice raw. “You’re supposed to be there when I need you, not make stupid promises you can’t keep! And even if you can’t be there all the time, you’re at least supposed to try!”

“I am trying! I’ve been trying this whole time, and you know that!” He sounds as exasperated and raw as you do, waving his arms around, red-faced and distressed. “You knew what my goals were before we started dating. I never hid them from you. You knew exactly what I wanted, you knew how hard I would have to work, how hard it would be for us, and you agreed to be with me anyway! You promised me you wouldn’t let it come between us!”

“Well, that was before I knew how fucking impossible it would be!”

There’s nothing productive being exchanged between the two of you anymore. You’re just screaming at each other. You call him obsessed and self-absorbed; he calls you needy and demanding. He tells you to grow up and stop asking for so much, and you tell him he’s chasing a pointless dream.

You’re not trying to compromise with each other, or trying to make the other see your point of view. You both just want to hurt each other, and you do.

You’re crying by the end of it; so is he, but you both refuse to admit defeat. It’s one of the many things you have in common: your stubbornness. You’re out of breath and hurting and there’s a small part of you that just wants him to hold you, but at the same time, you can’t stand the sight of him anymore.

You storm out of the room before he gets the chance to, looking back to catch him throwing his hands in the air in exasperation. You throw yourself onto the couch and opt to sleep there for the night, because you know that if you don’t, you’ll probably end up strangling each other.

Oikawa, for once, is wise enough not to follow you, but there’s a quiet voice inside your heart that wishes he did.

You wake up the next morning with a stuffy nose and a migraine. The price of crying yourself to sleep, you suppose. Your appetite is gone but you know that if you don’t eat anything soon the pain behind your skull will only get worse, so you force yourself to stand from the couch.

You step on something hard, eyes widening at the indignant noise of protest it lets out in response. You lose your footing almost immediately, toppling over onto the carpet. It’s everything you can do to throw out your hands and avoid smacking your forehead against the coffee table.

“What the fuck, Tooru?” You scowl when you realize it’s not a random object you’ve tripped over, but rather your own boyfriend, who for some inconceivable reason is laying on the floor beside the couch. “It’s bad enough we spent last night fighting– now you’re trying to kill me, too?”

“I could say the same thing to you!” Oikawa exclaims, returning your scowl with equal exasperation. He’s rubbing at his chest, a pout tugging at his lips as he groans. “You just stepped on my chest. I could have died.”

“Oh, bite me, drama queen.” You roll your eyes, preparing to stand up again, but then you notice the dark circles on his usually flawless skin, the messiness of his hair, and the fact that he’s still wearing his suit from last night, though the tie is gone and the first few buttons of his shirt are loosened. “...did you actually sleep out here? On the floor? Why didn’t you just sleep on the bed like a normal person?”

“I couldn’t.” He pouts even more, and when you nudge his leg with your foot, he sighs and runs a hand through his hair. “It didn’t feel right without you. It never does. But it felt even worse after last night.”

It melts your heart, you admit. Just a little. But it’s not enough to make you forgive him or to forget your argument, and right now he’s looking at you like he knows that too.

Still, you feel the urge to remind him, “I’m still pissed at you.”

“I know. I’m really sorry. Not just for what I said last night, but for everything I’ve done before that. I never should’ve made you feel like you’re asking for too much, because you’re not, it’s just…” He takes a shaky breath, leans his head back against the couch from where he sits beside you on the floor. “...it’s hard.”

He turns his body slightly so he’s facing you fully. He starts to reach out a hand towards you, almost like he wants to cup your cheek, but he seems to think better of it and lets his hand drop down between you. You almost smile.

His eyes are hesitant as they meet yours, apologetic. “I shouldn’t have yelled at you.”

“I shouldn’t have yelled at you, either.” You fiddle with the straps of your gown where they’ve slid down your arm. You were so exhausted and upset after your fight with him that you didn’t bother to change out of it. “...do you really think I’m needy and demanding?”

“Of course not,” he answers easily. “Do you really think I’m chasing a pointless dream?”

“Definitely not. Your dream isn't pointless, Tooru, it’s amazing, and it’s one I know you can reach.” Your hands brush where they rest between you. He tenses slightly, like he’s not sure you’ll want to touch him after everything, but you slide your fingers through his and watch as he lets out a quiet sigh of relief. “I was just angry.”

“Me too.” He squeezes your hand, and you let him pull you a bit closer to him, let him press a kiss to the back of your palm. “I don’t want to fight with you. And I definitely don’t want to disappoint you anymore.”

“I don’t want to blame you or resent you anymore, either.” You inch closer and he lets you rest your head against his shoulder, resting his own against yours in return. A clock ticks on the wall behind you. For the first time in a while, it feels like the two of you are back in sync. “So what are we gonna do about it?”

It’s the million-dollar question, it seems. And it’s the one that, after weeks of heartache, of missing each other and blaming each other at the same time, he finally has the answer to.

When you return to Argentina together, everything changes. Oikawa’s determination goes back to being something you love, now that he’s putting it towards making sure the two of you get to spend time together. He’s at the apartment more; does his best to get to dinner on time, to attend outings with your family and friends, and to meet you halfway at fancy restaurants and magnificent museums and shower you with his undivided attention.

It’s not perfect. He’s still busy, so he can’t be with you all the time, but the effort is there. You see it now more than ever, and it’s all you’ve wanted.

It doesn’t last.

You spend three blissful months together, both of you putting in an equal amount of effort to make it work, to understand each other and support each other, even when it seems impossible. But Oikawa’s schedule becomes more and more unyielding as time goes on, and it’s not long before the cycle of absence starts all over again.

If you had to really pinpoint the beginning of the end, you’d say it’s the night of your presentation. The research project you’ve spent countless hours working on has finally been completed, and tonight you’re going to share it with the public; this thing you’ve struggled with since you entered grad school, this thing you’ve put your blood, sweat, and tears into, both metaphorically and literally.

It goes incredibly well, as your professors and mentors reassured you it would. Your classmates, friends, and parents are all there, and they get to watch and glow with pride as the room erupts into applause once you finish your presentation, knocking the whole thing out of the park just like they knew you would.

The only one who isn’t there is Oikawa, despite you telling him about this ages ago, despite it being written on the calendar hanging on your fridge. You know he texted you with some excuse, but you don’t bother to check which one it was this time.

It should hurt more. It should make you want to shout and scream, to sob and cry, but it doesn’t. The anger you felt before, the fury and heartbreak; it’s not there anymore. It’s gone. You’re not sad or upset or disappointed. You just don’t feel anything at all.

Your friends offer to take you out for the night to celebrate, but you politely decline. Instead, you make your way to the apartment you share with Oikawa, finding it emptier than it’s ever been before.

Months ago, you might’ve cried. Now you do nothing, say nothing, feel nothing. It’s just numb.

By the time Oikawa does make it home, you’re already packed. You’re sitting at the table, waiting, still as a statue. He greets you in a flurry of brown hair and frantic movement, an apology you don’t care to listen to fast on his lips. He whirls by you so quickly he doesn’t even notice your bags stacked next to you.

“Shit, baby, I’m so sorry! I know I’m late, but I’m here now and I promise I won’t be going anywhere for the next few–…”

It takes him a few moments, a couple of double-takes, but finally, he registers the silence around him, the sight of you at the table, surrounded by your things. For once, he has no idea what to say; you see it in the way he looks at you, the way he freezes, wide-eyed and almost afraid.

“My research presentation was today,” you start. “It went great. They’re going to publish it in a journal.”

You watch his face crumple right before your eyes, watch the way his shoulders slump. He looks more defeated now than during any of his previous losses, and so, so incredibly guilty.

“But I thought it wasn’t until–...but it was, wasn’t it? Oh, god. I– I’m so sorry. I’m so, so sorry.”

“I know you are.”

You stand up. The smile you send him is tired and a little sad, but it’s not bitter, at least not anymore. You’re past that now. You’d like to think you both are.

“I’m so proud of you, Tooru. You work harder than anybody I’ve ever known. I just know you’re going to reach every single one of your dreams.”

You mean it, too. Oikawa has an incredible future ahead of him. You’ve always known that. Once upon a time, you believed you might be a part of it, but not anymore.

“...but I also know that I can’t be with you when you do. I can’t– I won’t be second place for the rest of my life.”

He’s incredibly stubborn, and this time is no different. He tries to change your mind, tries to convince you to stay, but it’s far too little and far too late. Too much has happened between you two, and you just don’t have it in you to be disappointed anymore.

You love him. You do. You always will, and you tell him so, too. But just because you love someone, you remind him softly, doesn’t mean you’re meant to be with them. You love him enough to let him go, and you’re hoping he loves you the same.

“But you promised you’d stay,” he whispers, more heartbroken than you’ve ever seen him over all of this, over you. “You promised we’d figure it out. And now...now you’re just giving up on us?”

You place your keys on the table. The clock in your– no, his kitchen ticks along. It matches the slow, broken beating of your heart. He’s run out of time, and you’ve run out of chances.

“That’s just it, Tooru. I have nothing left to give you.”

This time when you leave, you don’t look back.

Written by: Dawn

[dinosaurtsukki]

-birthdays and matching glasses

pairing: chuuya nakahara x f!reader

word count: 1.8k words

contains: friends to lovers dynamic, soft!chuuya, idk literally just soft fluffy brainrot

a/n: it’s chuuya brainrot hours. that’s all.

chuuya never really had a birthday, or at least, he didn’t exactly knew when it was with him being the arahabaki and all. at first, he didn’t really care about not having one and neither did his fellow Sheep members until you came along.

“what? no birthday? that can’t be.”

“it’s no big deal,” chuuya shrugged but he knew then and there that you wouldn’t be able to let that go. 

“hmm, how about this? what’s the earliest date you remember?” 

chuuya didn’t even need to try hard to remember. they were his first real memories, after all. “it was april, the twenty-nineth. i saw it on a newspaper.”

“alright! from then on, we’ll be celebrating your birthday on april twenty-nine!” you declared. even then, chuuya couldn’t help but feel that your smile and energy was infectious.

his first birthday, his fourteenth one, wasn’t as eventful as chuuya knew birthdays were. everyone in the Sheep, or at least, those who were slightly older, drank booze after dinner, which they always did when chuuya was able to steal some. the only one who gave him a gift was shirase, it was a pack of cigarettes, which wasn’t much either since he always did that.

after the rest of the Sheep was asleep, chuuya climbed to sit on the roof of their abandoned hideout to enjoy his birthday gift by himself. he sat there by himself for a good few minutes, smoking his cigarette, when you popped up over the roof’s edge.

“i keep telling you to quit that,” you pouted.

“can’t a guy enjoy a smoke on his birthday?” he smirked. “where were you by the way?”

“getting a surprise ready! now close your eyes!’“ 

“surprise?”

“close it!”

“fine,” chuuya rolled his eyes, giving into your request. he heard a slight rustle and the sound of your footsteps approach, and then the strike of a match.

“okay, open!”

chuuya opened his eyes to find you crouched in front of him with a cupcake in your hand. on top of the cupcake was a single candle. “happy birthday chuuya!” you sang softly.

‘now, this is a birthday gift,’ chuuya smiled softly, eyes trailing over to the proud look on your face to the cupcake in your hand before blowing out the candle. 

chuuya had always thought that birthdays were childish and that included birthday wishes. but, for just one moment, he let himself be a kid and made a wish for more birthdays like this.

...

the meeting you were in was taking forever to finish and yet, it felt as if the wall clock was quicker than usual. ‘shit, one a.m.,’ you cursed, glancing at the clock for what was probably the fortieth time that night. you prayed that the party wasn’t done yet and that the presenter was going to wrap up his lecture quickly. of course, since you were their boss, the head of yokohama’s main shipping company and part-time mafia executive to be precise, you couldn’t exactly just leave. 

suddenly, the sound of people clapping jolted you out of your thoughts and you looked up to find that the presentation had finally ended. “excellent work,” you cleared your throat. “now, i guess that wraps things up for the day.”

“oh, what about questions?” the presenter asked. 

“if anyone has questions, please forward them to kouhiro-san himself,” you quickly answered before standing up and gathering your things as a signal for everyone in the meeting room to do the same.

after a quick stop to the office to get chuuya’s birthday present and reapply your lipgloss, you briskly headed downstairs to where your car was already parked in front of the building. 

“nakahara’s place, right?” your driver clarified before pulling out of the building. you felt your cheeks burn slightly at the fact that he quickly took the hint but nodded nonetheless.

...

“thanks for coming guys. get home safe, alright?” chuuya grinned, waving a hand at his subordinates and acquaintances as they left the building to go home. “we still have work tomorrow, don’t forget!” he yelled after them. despite his reputation of being a powerful mafia executive, chuuya wasn’t a terrible boss towards his subordinates. in fact, he prided himself in being one of the good ones. so what if it was weird for him to invite them to his birthday party? they could always use a drink and a good time.

with a sigh, he gazed at the dishes in the sink and empty glasses around his apartment. as much as it irked him to leave it in such a state, chuuya was quite tired from the party and wanted nothing more than to go to bed. except, he found himself getting started on the dishes anyway. 

after all, there was one invited guest who had yet to come by.

at the sound of the doorbell, chuuya practically flew to answer the door. he opened it to find you, wearing your usual office attire that was nonetheless quite fashionable, with a sheepish smile on your face.

“did i miss the party?”

chuuya knew that there were a lot of things he could say, like ‘thanks for coming by’ or ‘i’m glad you came by anyway. instead, he ended up saying “shouldn’t you be in bed by now?”

“i’m not five, chuuya,” you rolled your eyes, walking past him into the now-empty apartment. 

“the meeting took that long, huh?” chuuya said, walking past you towards the bar. “i’m not sure i have any clean glasses left so...” he paused when you placed a giftwrapped box on the table.

“maybe you won’t need to wash some yet,” you smiled. 

“oh yeah?” chuuya smirked, trying to hide the soft expression on his face at the fact that you gave him a birthday gift. actually, you never missed giving him a birthday gift. not since he was fourteen. he unwrapped the gift slowly and carefully and found a wooden box. chuuya opened it to find that the interior was lined with velvet and two, matching glasses were inside.

“figured that everyone was going to gift you alcohol so i thought, maybe something to put the alcohol in?” you said. “do you... like it?”

“they look amazing, y/n. thank you,” chuuya smiled at you, carefully taking them out and placing them on the counter. he found that the very bottom of the glasses had a lotus flower carved into them. they must have been custom-made.

“i’m assuming that you got me two of these for us to drink from when you come over,” he smirked at you before placing a ball of ice in each glass and topping them off with his favorite whiskey.

“that is, when we have time to get together for a drink,” you sighed, picking your glass up and raising it for a toast. “to hopefully having more time to hang out?”

“to hopefully having more time to hang out,” chuuya echoed, clinking his glass against yours. 

after he was betrayed by the Sheep, you and chuuya joined the port mafia together but ended up going slightly different ways. while chuuya decided to work full-time as an executive, you volunteered to take over managing the trade deals that the port mafia had with other organizations by taking over yokohoma’s main shipping company. you still held a good position in the mafia as a part-time executive but other than the occasional meeting, you rarely ever saw your old friend.

not that you still saw him as just a friend. 

it was quite odd, the fact that your feelings for him grew even more now that you rarely saw each other. absence makes the heart grow fonder or something like that. as much as you found it hard to grapple with your own feelings, you still accepted him wholeheartedly. it made sense. you couldn’t imagine a time in your life when chuuya wasn’t there and seeing him now, the best fighter in the port mafia, an executive to top that, and, someone who was strong in his ideas, you would be lying if you said you hadn’t fallen in love with him already.

...

chuuya wanted nothing more than for you to stay longer. ever since he figured out that his feelings for you were more than just affection for the longest friend he’s had, chuuya had begun to make a mental count of how long it had been since he last saw you. the longest was probably a month and he clearly remembered that he was more prone to bursts of anger during that period.

and now, you were sharing a drink with him on his birthday. chuuya had drunk a lot throughout the night but his senses were sharper than ever. he could see your cheeks developing a warmer tint, the marks on the side of your glass from your lip gloss, and how you were leaning more and more against the counter. how you looked now was so far from the young, Sheep girl dressed in an oversized coat. but some things didn’t change. like the fact that you still made time to see him on his birthday.

“i’ll walk you downstairs,” chuuya offered his arm for you to lean on after you two had your last drink.

“good, cause i am not seeing straight,” you chuckled, looping your arm around his as you made your way out of the penthouse, into the elevator, and down to the lowest floor. 

“well, happy birthday, chuuya,” you smiled as you two entered the downstairs lobby. chuuya slowed his pace, not wanting the night to end yet.

“you’re forgetting something,” he said, stopping in the hallway.

“huh? what?” you looked at him puzzled before realization dawned. “aww, you love it when i do that, don’t you?”

“n-no! just, thought, consistency, you know?” chuuya stammered. 

“okay, okay you big softie,” you laughed before closing your eyes. “happy birthday chuuya,” you sang. 

chuuya smiled softly, watching you sing to him. this was undoubtedly his favorite part about his birthday. ‘it’s now or never,’ he thought, inhaling sharply and leaning forward to kiss you on the forehead while your eyes were still closed.

your eyes flew open as you looked up at chuuya in surprise who was now glancing at the side and looking very much flustered. “i... that was... part of my wish,” he stammered.

‘oh,’ you thought, realization dawning on you before you broke out into a smile. chuuya liked you back.

“is that your only wish?” you asked. chuuya looked at you, eyes wide as he mentally connected the dots behind what you were implying.

“well, there is one more thing.”

“i can’t deny the birthday boy his wish now, can i?” you giggled. leaning close, you kissed him gently on the lips. once, twice, then on the third, you felt chuuya wrap his arms around you and pull you even closer to deepen the kiss. his eyes fluttered shut, relishing the feeling of your lips against his, and he knew that no birthday present could ever top this. 

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

taglist (check out my post for details on being part of my taglist): @waitforitillwritemywayout @tpwkatsumu @laure-chan​

[reinerispretty]

rotations. (zuko x f!reader) pt23

thank you so much for your support last chapter!! i super duper appreciate each and every one of you :) if you can, pls share!! but u don’t have to i will love u just the same WARNING THOUGH MINOR SPOILERS FOR THE COMICS IN HERE READ AT UR OWN RISK

pt1

pt22

pt24

“It’s my fault mostly, I think. I pushed him away when I shouldn’t have and I didn’t tell him why. Then today, everything seemed normal again.” (Y/N) laughed. “I guess I don’t really know what normal is for Zuko and I anymore.” 

Zuko had been gone for a few months. He had missed his own eighteenth birthday, as well as (Y/N’s) seventeenth. Sometimes he sent messenger hawks back home, indicating that all was well and he would return shortly, but that was the extent of his messages. Every time she saw a hawk fly into the palace, (Y/N) felt her chest tighten in anticipation of what Zuko would say. Did he find his mother? Would she be returning home with him? What had she been doing all of this time? (Y/N) didn’t like having more questions than answers. 

During Zuko’s absence, she and Ren became a lot closer. She had fun on the few dates they had gone on and enjoyed his company, but she wasn’t quite sure if she was ready to call him her boyfriend. After all, the first boyfriend she had broke up with her because of the boy she had loved her entire life who now had a girlfriend, so she didn’t have the best of luck in the boyfriend department. 

But there was also part of her that urged her to take a chance on Ren. He was kind and smart and loved to hear about her adventures, and he was the first person she had ever befriended that wasn’t in her immediate group. He was different than anything she had experienced before. He had never fought anyone if it wasn’t for practicing earthbending and he certainly had never feared for his life. He liked to drink tea and create tiny creatures for her using his bending. He was normal. (Y/N) liked normal. 

She had been walking the halls of the palace with Ren when she noticed the servants all begin running around. Confused, she stopped one to ask what was going on. Her reflexes immediately prepared for a fight, but calmed once she saw the excited smile on the servant girl’s face. “The Fire Lord and his mother are arriving!” 

(Y/N) would feel a little bit bad later, for leaving Ren behind, but in that moment she darted out of the palace and into the courtyard, where a large carriage was pulling up. She walked down the steps with her robes billowing behind her and ignored the servants hushed whispers about what a proper royal greeting was. She ran up to the carriage and flung the door open before the servants could. Zuko’s face appeared first, only inches from hers, and a smile slowly crept onto his features. She let him crawl out of the carriage before wrapping him in a hug. 

“Don’t ever leave for that long again!” She exclaimed, punching him lightly in the shoulder. 

“Ow!” He feigned hurt, rubbing his arm. “You could’ve come with me, you know.” 

“Someone had to keep this place running.” She rolled her eyes playfully before diverting them back to the carriage. Another man stepped out with a little girl who could be no older than five. (Y/N) looked at Zuko quizzically before the final passenger exited. 

When she was younger, (Y/N) thought that Ursa was the prettiest woman in the Fire Nation. She had been so different from the rest of the royal family. Her kindness exuded from her. Ursa had always been able to tell when (Y/N) was upset and talked her through some of the more difficult issues she had experienced with her parents. Despite being royalty, she had never treated (Y/N) any differently than her other children. She had been the mother that (Y/N) always wanted. 

So for those very reasons, (Y/N) could not help her eyes from welling with tears when she stared at Ursa’s face. She tried her best to hold back her tears so that she could speak. “I don’t know if you remember me, but--” 

“(Y/N),” Ursa said. “Of course I remember you.” And (Y/N) couldn’t help but throw herself at Ursa and wrap her arms around her. Ursa held her tight and stroked her hair like she used to when she was a child. 

She pulled away, wiping violently at the tears that streamed down her face. She gave the group a small smile. “Sorry, I really thought I’d be able to control myself better.” 

“(Y/N), this is my husband, Noren,” Ursa gestured to the man standing beside her. (Y/N) gave him a curt smile and a bow.

“Zuko has told us a lot about you,” Noren said. She looked back to see Zuko’s face turn a shade of bright red. 

“Good things, I hope.” 

Ursa gestured down to the little girl at Noren’s side. “And this is Kiyi, our daughter.” (Y/N) bent down to Kiyi’s level and stuck out her hand for her to shake. 

“Hi, Kiyi,” She said softly. “I’m (Y/N), Zuko’s friend.” 

“Zuzu,” Kiyi said quietly, before hiding behind her father’s leg. The statement surprised (Y/N), because there was only one other person in the world who called him that. And she just so happened to be missing from this happy reunion. She looked at Zuko again and he gave her a slight shake of his head, indicating that they would discuss Azula later. 

“Who is that?” Noren asked, nodding his head toward Ren. (Y/N’s) eyes opened wide as she realized she had completely forgotten about him in the excitement. 

“Oh!” She exclaimed, running back to Ren to pull him toward the group. “I’m so sorry, we were walking around the palace before you guys got here. This is Ren! My--” 

“Her boyfriend,” Ren said with a smile, giving a bow to Zuko and his family. “It’s truly an honor to meet all of you. Especially you, Fire Lord, I’ve heard so much about you.” 

(Y/N) watched as Zuko’s pleasant smile turned into a deep frown. She took a step away to distance herself from Ren before putting a smile on her own face. “You all have been traveling for so long, why don’t I ask the kitchens to put a nice dinner together?”

“We’d love that!” Ursa said cheerfully. If she had caught on to the awkward moment, she gave no indication. “Will you be joining us, Ren?” 

“I’d rather this just be a family affair,” Zuko said. (Y/N) knew that tone. He was angry, but she didn’t know why. 

“No problem!” Ren said with a smile. He grabbed (Y/N’s) hand. “You can have dinner at my house, if you’d like.” 

“(Y/N) is family,” Zuko stared down at Ren disapprovingly. 

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” (Y/N) said, desperate to get everyone out of the tense situation. He turned to her and smiled once more before kissing her on the cheek and walking away. (Y/N) felt her face heat up, but she wasn’t sure if it was from flattery or embarrassment. 

At dinner, Zuko and (Y/N) walked Ursa and Noren through their past few years together, starting at Zuko’s banishment and finishing right before he left to find his mother. Kiyi sat quietly at the dinner table, playing with her noodles. 

“Does the palace still make fruit tarts?” Ursa questioned. Both (Y/N) and Zuko nodded. 

“They can make whatever you’d like,” Zuko said, but Ursa shook her head. 

“I’d like a fruit tart. If there’s one thing I’ve missed besides the two of you, it’s those tarts.” The servants left the dining room immediately to prepare the treat. “Fruit tarts are the reason (Y/N) and Zuko are such close friends.” 

“Oh?” Noren raised an eyebrow. “I’m sure that’s an interesting story.” 

“Not as interesting as you might think,” (Y/N) admitted. “I came to Zuko’s tenth birthday party and all the fruit tarts were gone, so he snuck me down to the kitchens to get some more.” 

“I still remember the look on Little (Y/N’s) face when she saw me catch them,” Ursa laughed. 

“As a nine year old, I found the royal family to be very intimidating!” 

“You don’t now?” Zuko asked, a hint of a playful smile at his lips. (Y/N) scoffed. 

“You’re about as intimidating as a turtle duck.” They all erupted into laughter. (Y/N) couldn’t help but think that this is what home felt like. 

---

On the rare occasion that (Y/N) couldn’t sleep, she liked walking out to the pond and sitting in the moonlight. It was one of the few moments when her life was actually peaceful and while she usually sat alone, she liked to pretend that Yue was sitting right beside her. 

That night, (Y/N) tried her hardest to get to sleep, but she couldn’t. Her mind raced with the days’ events. She was so excited to reunite with Ursa and meet her family, but she was also confused as to why Ren would so boldly put a label on their relationship when it wasn’t something they had discussed. She also couldn’t figure out why Zuko was upset. (Y/N) hated not knowing things, so she chose to walk down to the pond to hopefully clear her head. 

When she arrived, Ursa was already sitting by the edge of the pond. She noticed (Y/N’s) presence almost immediately and pat the grass beside her. “A lot on your mind?” 

(Y/N) sighed. “You have no idea.” 

“I used to come here whenever I had something to think about, too. I’m here to listen, if you need it.” 

“I don’t know how much Zuko has told you about me, but before he left, our relationship was sort of...bad. We had become very distant from each other.” 

“Why is that?” 

“It’s my fault mostly, I think. I pushed him away when I shouldn’t have and I didn’t tell him why. Then today, everything seemed normal again.” (Y/N) laughed. “I guess I don’t really know what normal is for Zuko and I anymore.” 

“I think, for you two, normal is being together. Whatever that might entail.” (Y/N) stared at Ursa for a moment before turning to the pond to mull over what she meant. After a brief lull in conversation, Ursa spoke again. “How long have you and Ren been together?” 

(Y/N) shrugged. “A few months? We’ve gone on a few dates and I liked spending time with him, but today was the first day he had ever called himself my boyfriend.” 

“That’s good news, isn’t it?” The truth was, (Y/N) wasn’t so sure. She knew he meant well, but she couldn’t shake the feeling that today hadn’t been the best day to say something like that. 

“Maybe,” was all (Y/N) could say. She hated being like this. She thought she had grown into someone who was sure of herself. Now, her emotions were one scrambled mess. She couldn’t quite tell how she felt about anyone. “Why are you sitting out here?” 

“Being here brings back many memories. Some happy, others not so much.” Ursa smiled at her. “I’m sure you’ve come to realize the intricacies of palace life.” (Y/N) nodded. 

“Zuko and I have spent a long time trying to figure out who to trust.” 

“At least you know you can trust each other.” Ursa paused for a moment, as if she wasn’t sure if she should say what she was about to say. “I was very happy when Zuko told me you were still in his life. You were set on such different paths after his banishment. I’m glad he had someone like you to come back to.” 

“It took a while,” (Y/N) admitted. “A long while. But we got there eventually.” 

“I believe that the strongest relationships are held together by unbreakable strings. No matter where you go, you will always have Zuko.” Ursa punctuated her sentence with a yawn. “We should get to bed. I heard some servants whispering about a celebratory breakfast. And lunch.” 

---

Weeks passed and Zuko became increasingly happier in his position as Fire Lord. Having his mother around stepfather around was a nice treat and he was thoroughly enjoying getting closer with his half-sister, Kiyi. Even his relationship with (Y/N) felt like it was starting to improve again. The only downside to everything was Ren. 

Zuko didn’t like Ren from the moment (Y/N) brought him over, but he had tried to hide that from her. When Ren introduced himself as her boyfriend, Zuko felt an anger rise in him that he had never experienced before. Sure, he had been a little jealous when (Y/N) was with Sokka, but he knew Sokka was a good person at heart and would treat her kindly no matter what. He could trust Sokka with (Y/N). Every fiber of his being told him not to trust Ren. He wasn’t sure why, but his own instincts hadn’t failed him recently. So whenever he could, he would insert himself into their walks or conversations. He tried to play it off as friendliness, but he could tell that (Y/N) knew something was off. 

Zuko had been walking down one of the less-traveled corridors of the palace since his meeting had ended early. When he had a foggy mind, he liked to clear his head by walking around the expansive halls. He usually ended his walks feeling refreshed. 

Zuko was surprised when he heard voices coming from one of the rooms in the hall. He followed the voices to the very end of the hall, where the door had been left slightly ajar. Zuko peered through the crack in the door and saw Ren talking to his father, a very wealthy Earth Kingdom aristocrat. 

“How are things with the girl?” His father asked. 

“Very well! She and I spend all of our free time together when the Fire Lord isn’t around.” Zuko frowned. 

“And she’s falling for you?” 

“Definitely. She’s a giggly mess whenever I’m around. I plan on proposing by the end of the year.” 

This nearly sent Zuko to the ground. He hadn’t realized that (Y/N) and Ren were far enough along in their relationship to consider marriage. (Y/N) hadn’t even mentioned it to Zuko. 

“She has no clue what you’re doing, correct?” 

“Not one. When she’s not with me, she’s busy running around for the Fire Lord.” 

“Excellent,” Ren’s father drawled. “With her as an addition to our family, we’ll be able to get the Fire Lord to do anything we want.” 

“He’s practically in love with her. He’ll do anything she says, I guarantee it.” 

Zuko realized that that was the real reason why Ren wanted to be with (Y/N). He didn’t care for her at all, he simply wanted to use her connection to him to further his family’s political advances. The anger inside of him burned hot and bright, and it took everything in him to not send a fireball at them right then. Instead, he walked away. 

When Zuko found Ren and his father again, they were on their way out of the palace. “Wait!” Zuko called out, running down the steps to catch up to them. His guards followed him like shadows. Ren and his father turned around and bowed at him. 

“Fire Lord Zuko,” Ren’s father said. “To what do we owe this pleasure?” 

“I would like to inform the two of you that you are no longer welcome in the Fire Nation. From this moment on, you are banished from our land.” 

“What?” Ren asked, his jaw dropping in disbelief. Zuko turned to face him. 

“I heard all about your little plan to marry (Y/N) to get me to do your bidding. I knew I didn’t like you from the first day that I met you. I didn’t know until today that there was an actual reason.” 

“You’re insane,” Ren spat, just as his father said, “This is all a misunderstanding.” 

Zuko set his jaw and raised his chin high. “I know what I heard. I am Fire Lord Zuko and I will not tolerate conspiracy, regardless of who perpetrates it. For this reason, you are banished from the Fire Nation.” The guards seized the two men and dragged them off of the palace grounds as they shouted curses at Zuko. 

---

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[capcarolsdanver]

A Christmas Carol

Summary: You’re left with the disappointing fact that you will likely be spending yet another Christmas without your girlfriend, Carol Danvers. Your friends offer you support, but all you really need right now is your girlfriend to return from space to be with you for your favourite holiday. Can you count on a Christmas miracle? Pairing: Carol Danvers x Reader A/N: Well... it’s not quite Christmas still, but I severely underestimated how busy I would be over the holidays, so please enjoy this late Christmas fic! Feedback is always appreciated so please let me know what you think! Please do not repost any of my writing anywhere else without my permission.

The annual Avengers Christmas get together is in full swing, and your eyes sweep out across the room to all of your closest friends around you. Of course, everyone’s having a great time, and the open space of the large party hall at Avenger HQ is full of laughter and joyous chatter amongst the guests.

Thor, who still doesn’t exactly understand Christmas, just seems happy to get to spend time with his favourite people. He brought along a generous supply of Asgardian alcohol for those who have what would be classified as a very high tolerance to alcohol, so as expected everyone is in a very joyous mood.

You yourself had found a spot on one of the couches surrounding a small table and had barely moved the whole night, feeling more in the mood to spectate in the festivities rather than participate this year.

Not to say that you’re sitting on your own in some miserable slump, because you are genuinely trying to enjoy everybody’s company, but you can’t deny the Carol-sized void that is particularly evident anywhere you go. Especially during the holidays.

As if to emphasise it, Steve, who’s sitting opposite you from across the small table, catches your eye.

“So, Y/N. When’s your lady coming home?”

He asks you kindly, with a warm smile, as Steve always does. Despite this, you can’t help it when your own smile falters and everyone sitting in your immediate proximity grows quiet, regarding you with sympathy.

“Shit, I’m sorry,” Steve rushes to say when he seems to realise his mistake.

“No, don’t be,” you’re quick to reassure. “I knew what I was getting into when I started dating Carol. I can’t exactly expect space crime to conveniently stop in time for the holidays, can I?”

You choose not to bring up that this will be the third Christmas in a row that you have to spend without Carol, but you still feel the pity practically radiating from every person in the group.

“Okay, who else thinks it’s time for shots?” Sam yells loud enough to be heard over the music by everyone, and the group seems to loudly agree. You remind yourself to thank Sam later for successfully shifting everyone’s attention from you.

Everyone scrambles to each grab a shot. You remain seated on the couch, and moments later Nat takes her own spot on the couch next to you and presses a shot glass into your hands just in time for everybody to simultaneously start counting down from 3.

Somewhere between shouting and cheering, everyone downs their shots, and you all seem to collectively wince. You and Nat both grimace at the burn of the alcohol and it manages to get a chuckle from you.

Nat drops her shot glass on the table before she turns to face you again.

“So. Real talk,” she raises an eyebrow as if warning you not to try to back away from the conversation. “When did you last speak to Carol?”

“A couple weeks ago,” you admit, sighing. “She left on some mission about a month ago. But you know how it is when she’s working up there. It’s so hard for either of us to contact the other.”

Nat smiles sadly. “I’m sorry.” She pats your knee and you shrug at her, though you feel like you’re able to let your guard down a bit now that everyone else in preoccupied.

“Yeah, it sucks,” you let out, feeling Carol’s absence hit you all over again. Your eyes fill with tears that threaten to spill over.

Unexpectedly, and uncharacteristically, Nat pulls you into a hug. You give yourself little time to think about her rare show of affection before you gratefully wrap your arms around her and rest your chin on her shoulder.

“Did she tell you how long the mission might last?”

You shake her head. “No, she just said she might not be able to contact me until she was done.”

“Okay, I think you need another drink,” Nat says, releasing you from her arms. “I’ll be back.”

You quickly wipe at your eyes at the chance of any rogue tears that managed to fall and smile at her before she stands up and heads towards the bar.

————————

On the morning of Christmas Eve, you wake up with a start to some kind of commotion going from somewhere outside the room. You quickly survey your surroundings, remembering that you had decided the previous night to just stay at Avengers HQ after the party, like almost everyone else had. You’re in your old room that you used to live in before you and Carol had moved out together.

The commotion that had woken you up appears to still be going on if the shouting from somewhere outside your closed door is any indiction, so you begrudgingly get up to go investigate.

You follow the loud intrusion of sound into the kitchen, where you aren’t all that surprised to find Bucky and Sam shouting and gesturing wildly at one another.

“Dude, don’t lie. You literally stole my pop tart straight from my plate!” Bucky looks livid. Opposite him, Sam throws his arms out away from his body, matching Bucky’s outrage.

“You have no proof, you moron.”

“Why do I need proof when there was no one else around? It couldn’t have been anyone else.”

You continue watching their exchange, entirely unsurprised that they are blowing up over something as small as a pop tart. You’re half considering just heating another pop tart to shut them up when Nat leans on the wall next to you, taking a sip from her steaming mug of coffee while her eyes also land on the boys.

“Bet you’re glad you don’t wake up to this kind of thing everyday in that fancy apartment of yours, huh?”

“You can say that again,” you laugh. Though, of course, you probably do prefer waking up to these regular early morning antics from the boys than to the empty silence of your apartment whenever Carol isn’t there with you.

“You’re still coming with us to look at Christmas lights tonight, right?”

To be honest, you’d completely forgotten about Steve’s plan for you all to go on some Christmas light trail that night, and although Christmas is generally your favourite holiday, you find yourself not really in the mood to celebrate it this year.

But then again, anything to take your mind off of Carol’s absence sounds appealing to you right now.

“You bet.”

————————

You trail the group, looking around you at all the incredible Christmas displays people have decorated their homes with. There was absolutely no denying how beautiful the entire street is, but as much as you try you just can’t seem to get out of your own head.

Steve’s leading the group and you can hear them all excitedly chatting, pointing out particularly well decorated houses, but you’re content to linger towards the back of the group and take everything in on your own. You know you’re lacking the Christmas spirit needed to participate with them right now, anyway.

A solid hand is suddenly falling around your shoulders, successfully shaking you from whatever broody train of thought you were on as you almost jump out of your skin. Your head snaps to the person you were now attached to, seeing Thor’s wide smile. He tugs you closer to him in an almost brotherly fashion.

“Lovely night, isn’t it?”

“I suppose it is,” you manage, after your heart beat finally slows back down to a normal rate again.

“Ah, you’re yet to hear from Carol, I presume?” Thor asks. You’ve gotta give him credit. As much as he’s completely enthralled by the Christmas lights surrounding you, Thor can still pick up on your solemn mood with remarkable ease.

“You presume correctly.”

You see Thor hesitate for only a moment before he speaks. “Might I offer a few words, Y/N?”

“Sure,” you say, sighing. What could you lose from hearing what he has to say? Plus, the Asgardian usually provided you with some pretty solid advice.

“Please give Carol a little patience. I know firsthand how difficult it can be to communicate with you all while I’m not here.” You soften at Thor’s words, not even aware of how tense your body was. “You all are my family. And it hurts when I’m unable to talk to any of you whenever I’d like,” he explains. “So, please just remember that Carol is likely just as anxious to speak with you as well.”

“Right,” you say more to yourself. Thor’s words somehow do make you feel some kind of comfort in the fact that Carol wasn’t choosing to go so long without talking to you. Not that you thought she was, but the reassurance helps.

Thor squeezes your shoulder in comfort and loosens his grip from around your shoulders, but before he can leave your side again you grab his arm.

“Thank you, Thor,” you say sincerely, and he gives you an understanding smile before leaving you to your own thoughts again.

At some point a little later, Steve seems to notice from his spot at the front of the pack that you’re still lagging behind, because he drops his pace to fall into step with you.

“Are you having a good night, Y/N?”

“Yeah, it’s nice,” you smile. As distracted as you’ve been, it’s hard to miss how much fun the others in your group are having. “Thanks for organising this, Steve.”

He returns your smile and nods. “Well, for most of us, we’re all we’ve got. I figured it was time to start making some traditions of our own.”

“Well I like that sound of that,” you say. You really do appreciate everything Steve does for every single one of you, and he was right. You are family. Personally, if it weren’t for the Avengers, you would have no one else. You know the same applies for many of you, the man you were currently talking to included.

“Hey, listen,” Steve says in a considerably more careful tone. “I wanted to apologise again for bringing up Carol last night.”

“You have nothing to apologise for,” you reassure him, shaking your head.

“I know, but-” He shrugs. “I just feel bad about bringing her up when we were supposed to be getting into the Christmas spirit last night. I mean, what is this, your second Christmas without Carol?”

“My third, actually,” you mutter, clearing your throat and dropping your eyes to the pavement in front of you.

“Shit, here I go again,” he curses, watching you. “I’m sorry.”

“Steve, stop apologising,” you say firmly. “Seriously, you’ve done nothing wrong.”

You take a scan of your surroundings. The street sign catches your eye and you realise you’re only a few blocks away from your apartment, which sounds like an awfully appealing place to be right now. You were exhausted from your previous late night, plus, what little Christmas spirit you did have has been all but spent this far into the Christmas light trail.

“Oh, you know what? We’re pretty close to my apartment. I think I might call it a night.”

Steve’s eyes widen and his features settle into a look of guilt. “You aren’t going to come back to HQ with the rest of us?”

“Nah, I think I just want to head home. I’m pretty tired.”

“Oh man, I totally ruined your night, didn’t I?” Steve shakes his head at himself, his look of guilt deepening even further. “I can’t believe I brought Carol up again.”

You interrupt Steve’s inevitable continued apologies before he can even start.

“Steve, no. My brain was never going to turn off tonight, anyway. It wouldn’t matter if none of you mentioned Carol the entire day, I still would have thought of her.”

Steve looks fairly unconvinced, still clearly internally scolding himself. Though you notice his features soften and eventually he nods.

“Do you need someone to walk with you?”

“I’ll be fine. It’s really not far at all.”

“Alright,” he hesitantly agrees. “But we’ll see you in the morning to exchange gifts and everything, right?”

“Right,” you laugh. “Hey, do me a favour and let everyone else know I left early. Nat would never let me leave a group activity early if I told her I wanted to.”

“No problem,” Steve laughs.

You give his forearm a quick squeeze in thanks, waving to him before you make your way towards your apartment.

————————

You’ve barely even made it a block before your phone starts ringing. You fish it out from your pocket, assuming that it’s Nat, calling to berate you for leaving the group early. Without even checking the caller ID, you answer.

“I don’t want to hear it, I’m not coming back,” you say, not leaving opportunity for the person on the other line to get a word in first.

“Coming back to where?”

The voice on the other line is not Nat. In fact, it’s the last voice you were expecting to hear tonight.

“Carol?!” You practically squeal into the phone, stopping dead in your tracks.

“Hey, baby,” she says and you instantly melt, having gone weeks without hearing her voice.

“Oh my god. Hi,” you greet back, feeling like you could burst into tears at any given minute.

“You okay there?” You can practically hear her smirk and the image of it in your mind makes you smile.

“Yeah, I just can’t believe I’m hearing your voice right now.”

“Well you better believe it, babe, because it’s definitely happening.”

Your brain finally recovers from the shock enough to ask a vital question. “Wait, does this mean your mission is over?”

“Mmhm,” she confirms. “Finished a couple days ago, actually, but this is the first chance I’ve had to be able to call you.”

You can’t help the sudden hopefulness that you feel. If the mission ended a couple of days ago and she was already on her way back to Earth, then it was entirely possible that she could be back within the next day.

You let out a deep breath, your emotions almost getting the best of you. With your mind racing a million miles a minute, you subconsciously start taking some more steps forward. The snow beneath your feet crunches slightly with every step you take.

“Where are you?” She asks curiously, and you assume she’s heard the sounds of your footsteps.

“Uh, I’m on my way to the apartment.”

“Wait, you’re walking to the apartment? Alone?!”

“Hey, I can handle myself,” you chuckle. “I am an Avenger, remember? Besides, I’m only a couple of blocks away.”

“Oh yeah?” Her voices lilts slightly. “Why are you even walking the streets at night, anyway?”

“How do you know it’s nighttime? Doesn’t everywhere look like night in space?” You can’t help but tease and Carol laughs.

“Well, is it nighttime?”

“…Yes,” you admit. “But that’s nothing more than a lucky guess.”

“Uh huh,” Carol replies, and you can hear her smirk through the phone again. The things you would do to see that smirk in person at this moment…

“Anyway,” you interrupt your own train of thought. “I was with everyone up until a few minutes ago. We were out looking at lights.”

“Lights? What kind of lights are so special that you’ve gotta go out in a group to go look at them?”

You’re left dumbstruck for a moment. She surely hasn’t forgotten what time of year it is, has she? You’d only reminded her about a month ago, and she knows how much you love the holiday. You assumed she would have remembered.

“We were looking at Christmas lights,” you clarify.

“Oh. Well now it makes sense,” you laughs. “Isn’t it a little too soon to be looking at Christmas lights, though?”

You’re hit with the fact that she’s actually forgotten what time of year it is. You try to shake off the sudden disappointment, though you’re a little too aware that if she has forgotten the date then she likely hasn’t begun her journey back to Earth just yet either. Which means another Carol-less Christmas for you once more.

“It’s Christmas Eve,” you eventually mutter into the phone.

“It is?” She sounds vaguely surprised at your clarification. “Huh. I guess it’s pretty easy to lose track of time up here.”

“Yeah, I bet.”

“So you’re heading back to the apartment?” She continues on as if you hadn’t just revealed to her that your favourite holiday is mere hours away. You can’t exactly be mad at her, though. As she said, it’s easy to lose track of time while she’s doing important work up in space. “Why not HQ with everyone else?”

“I just felt like being home, I guess,” you explain. “I wasn’t in the Christmas spirit and we were pretty close to the apartment, so I decided to head home early.”

You hear Carol hum in acknowledgement as you use your keycard to get into your apartment building. You start up the flight of stairs leading to your apartment.

“So, when do you think you’ll be back?” You can’t help but ask. Realistically, you have known for weeks that Carol likely wouldn’t make it back in time for Christmas. Though, with Christmas Day only a few hours away, and your short-lived hopes of her returning any day now, the disappointment of her not being here is fresh once again.

“Soon,” Carol says vaguely and you frown.

“Soon? That could mean anything,” you complain. “Don’t you have at least some idea of when you’ll be back?” You can’t help the slight bite to your tone, the frustration of everything seemingly growing by the minute.

You fumble with your keys, your current conversation leaving you preoccupied enough to struggle with the basic task of locating the correct key on your keychain to grant you entrance into your apartment.

“I don’t know, babe,” you hear Carol say and you finally unlock the door, pushing it open and walking into your apartment, slamming the door shut behind you. “Why don’t you tell me?”

Her voice sounds suddenly different, louder, and you twist around on the spot until you’re facing your living room.

You gasp when you see her. Carol is standing beside your Christmas tree. Her eyes are on you and she still has her phone pressed to her ear. The only thing that rivals the bright lights of the tree is her wide grin, bright enough to light up the room all on its own.

Your wide eyes refuse to blink as you look back at her. You’re suddenly all out of words.

You watch as Carol takes one step closer, and then another, until she’s closing the distance between the two of you. The closer she gets to you, the softer her smile grows.

“You’re here,” you whisper into your phone. Carol lowers her own phone, coming to a stop directly in front of you.

“I’m here,” she returns, her own voice barely above a whisper too.

“Hi,” you say dumbly and Carol smiles adoringly at you. She gently takes your phone from your hand and drops it down onto your couch along with her own.

“Hi.”

Before you know what you’re doing, you abruptly tackle her in a tight hug. If she weren’t Captain Marvel you might have been worried about her balance, but she remains steady, wrapping you up in her strong arms.

Without even realising it, tears are spilling out of your eyes and running down your cheeks, and you let out a deep breath you weren’t even aware you were holding, pressing your face into Carol’s neck and breathing in her scent. You feel the lightest you’ve felt in months.

Carol hears your sniffling and takes a step back to look at you. She keeps ahold of your sides.

“You okay?”

“Are you kidding?” You choke out a laugh amidst your tears. “I’m more than okay, Carol. What are you even doing here?”

You still can’t believe your eyes. You can’t believe that the love of your life is standing right in front of you when only moments ago you still believed that she was in outer space.

“What, you really thought I’d let you spend another Christmas without me? It’s your favourite holiday, you know?” She lets go of her hold on your left side to tuck an errant strand of hair behind your ear. “You know how much it killed me having to miss the last two Christmases with you.”

You shake your head in disbelief, completely in awe of the woman in front of you.

“I love you so much, Carol.”

“I love you too.” She barely has time to get the words out before your mouth is pressed against hers in a kiss that’s long overdue. You only pull back for a moment when your smile literally grows too big to continue kissing Carol. You both break into laughter, giddy at the joy of finally being together again.

“I can’t believe you’re here.” You say the words that repeat over and over in your mind. Carol’s intense gaze regards you and she smiles at you sweetly.

“Merry Christmas, Y/N.”

“Merry Christmas, Carol,” you reply before your lips are meeting hers again.

————————

The next morning, you wake up to the sound of Christmas carols playing from the living room and the smell of fresh coffee drifting in through your open bedroom door. You can hear Carol softly singing along to the music, and you smile sleepily.

Nat was right. You’ve never been more glad to wake up to the sounds of your apartment than you are right now.

[gruviafan-forever]

A/N: Hello everyone, Happy Gruvia Week to you. I didn't expect that I would be writing contents for this year's event too. But I'm really happy to be writing stories about my favourite anime couples.

   Hopefully, everyone likes it. This year the prompts were very similar to previous years. It had me in fix how to write content without making it a repetitive fashion.

   Finally got an idea and tried to merge all those 7 prompts into a storyline. Hopefully, it convinces you all.

   Thank you for reading and spending your time here.

----------------------------------------------

Main Pairing: GRUVIA

Summary:- Celebrity Gray x General Public Juvia, Modern AU

Words:- 2K

Currently, Fairy Tail Agency has arranged for a press meet to officially declare the facts of the new movie in which two of their most famous actors are going to be a part.

Gray Fullbuster, 25 years, tv artist turned actor and Lucy Heartfilia, 24 years, model turned actress, has signed up for this movie which is under the production of Straussl Inc.

As the reporters who out various questions regarding the details of this upcoming venture and some related to their personal life.

"So, Mr Fullbuster, tell us about how you feel knowing that you have been nominated for 3 categories of awards this year?" 

One of the reporters asked and was ready to note Gray's response.

"I'm sure that I will receive the awards for best actor and handsome face. Also, my last movie 'Icy Days' has been nominated for the best movie of the year. But not sure about the 'Gem of the decade' award." 

Gray confidently answered and smiled which made the female reporters squeal.

Lucy interrupted, "Not to ruin Gray's fantasy but my movie 'Starry Night At Stella' was a blockbuster hit. Myself and my co-actor Natsu Dragneel were praised by critics for our performance. So, Gray, don't forget that even we are on the race too." Lucy smiled which made everyone chuckle after hearing her opinions.

"Sure Lucy... All the best to you and Natsu" Gray told and looked at his manager, Erza Scarlet, who also happens to be Natsu's manager, to know when this press meet is going to end.

"Another 10 minutes" Erza gestured by hand signals. 

Suddenly, one of the reporters from Magnolia Times shot down a question that took Gray off guard.

"Recently, there was a photo of Mr Fullbuster with a child in his arms. Who does that child happen to be? And is it true that you are having an illicit affair with someone, Mr Fullbuster?" That reporter smirked. 

Gray remained indifferent and calmly answered him while his team members and staff panicked.

"Everyone in Fiore knows that it was a piece of fake news. In today's era of modern technology, it is easy to photoshop one's picture with anything and anyone, Mr Invel.

    Even my agency owner, Mr Makarov Dreyer and my manager, Ms Scarlet have clarified about it. So, don't go digging the old hoax rumours." 

Gray stood up and thanked everyone for their time and presence before dashing off to the exit where Lucy followed him back.

It was Erza and the production team who bid a farewell to the reporters before joining the actors in their cabin.

Once Erza reached Gray's cabin, she saw him tossing his coat and tie around the room while Lucy stood silently.

"Gray, I think you should disclose your relationship before it gets exposed in a bad way," Erza said calmly and patted his back.

"That's what I was thinking, Erza. I can't continue to hide this big news about my life for a long time from my fans. I will reveal this during the awards function." Gray looked determined and hoped that his fans would take it on a positive note.

"They will surely accept your relationship status just like how they received mine and Natsu's." Lucy encouraged him and patted his arms which seemed to make him calm down.

"Gray, tomorrow you have your day off then, on Wednesday, we will be going to Phoenix Mall for a fan meet up event where other actors of our agency will join us." Erza informed him and handed the invitation.

From the invitation, it was clear that this mall was quite near to his apartment complex. Moreover, it was arranged by Mr Makarov himself so there was no way of turning it down.

"Fine, I will get ready for this. Just send the car near the children's park no need to come in front of the complex." He informed Erza and thanked them both for their words of motive before he left them.

After half an hour, Gray reached the children's park and put on his disguise, cooling glass, mask and a cap to conceal his identity while he was dressed up in a simple t-shirt and jeans.

"Max, tomorrow's your day off. Pick me up here at 9 am on Wednesday. Bye."

"Yes, Mr Fullbuster. Bye, and Good night" The driver left him while Gray made his way towards his home.

The apartment complex in which he lived was one of the expensive housing in Magnolia. The higher the floor level, the higher is the cost and the higher is the security.

Till the 11th floor, the general public who did high order jobs lived while the next 10 floors were occupied by celebrities of various fields.

One of the perks of this housing agency was that their identity remains secret, not even their neighbours know about them until and unless the involved party discloses it.

Once Gray reached the 17th floor, which had two apartments where one was still vacant.

As he hit the doorbell of his apartment, Gray could hear voices coming from inside which brought a smile on his face.

The door opened and his eyes met the gorgeous lady who welcomed him with a beautiful smile that captivated him.

"Welcome home, Gray-sama"

"I'm home, Juvia," Gray said and got inside.

Soon, he removed the disguise and leaned forward to kiss her lips which she reciprocated back.

Once they broke off the kiss, Juvia hugged him and whispered, "I missed you, Gray-sama."

"Even, I missed you, Juvia. It's been a week since I last saw you and…." Before he could finish, both of them felt someone hugging their legs.

And it was none their 3-year-old daughter, Yuki Fullbuster, who resembled her mother but had father's hair and eye colour and his sharp nose.

"Papa"

Seeing his daughter's smile was enough for him to get distracted from his wife, then, have his undivided attention on his little munchkin.

Gray raised Yuki in his arms and kissed her cheeks and forehead who did the same to her papa.

"Yuki missed you, papa."

"Even, papa missed you, darling. Were you a good girl during papa's absence?" Gray asked her as they moved towards the living room.

Gray let her down who ran up to a table and tried to fetch her drawing notebook.

Juvia made her husband sit down and inquired him about his work as he looked tired and kinda depressed.

Gray convinced her everything was fine and told her about the press meet excluding the details of the rumours.

#

It had been 4 years since Gray started his acting career starting as an ad shoot model to tv artists then to movie star.

Gray, Natsu and Erza were childhood friends who did their schooling from the same institution till college.

It was during the 3rd year, Gray and Natsu got scouted to act as models for a tv commercial which they accepted readily as of then they needed some kind of part-time jobs to meet their ends.

Even, Erza thought that it was a good opportunity for them to succeed as the agency, Fairy Tail, was well known throughout Fiore and persuaded them to take up the offer.

Once, their commercials began to reach people mainly because of their handsome features and physique especially Gray got popular among the female fans.

It was during this time that Gray and Natsu had to move out of the college dorm so that they could work freely without time restrictions.

That's when Gray meets Juvia for the first time in his life. She was his neighbour whom he thought lived her boyfriend but it turned out to be her best friend, Gajeel Redfox, vocalist of Phantom Bands, an upcoming band.

Gray rarely started any kind of conversation with anyone. It was with the help of Natsu that they befriended Juvia and to date, Gray was thankful to his friend.

Until the moment he met Juvia, Gray was never keen on love or relationships. 

But to him, Juvia was way different from the girls he had met in his college. She was modest and shy but a kind person with a large helping tendency.

Gray knew her personality and beauty had beguiled his attention and wanting to know more about her made him fall for her head over heels.

Of course, they would exchange greetings whenever they met while leaving the house together. Slowly they deepened their connection and exchanged numbers.

Due to her friendly nature, Juvia would invite Gray and Natsu over to her place for small weekend parties which she would arrange for Gajeel to relieve his stress.

At first, he was reluctant to invade a party meant for Gajeel but the latter happily welcomed them.

That way, they got acquainted exchanged their work details and stress with each other.

It was after a few months of that weekend party that Gray had offered Juvia a dinner date which she accepted after a week of thinking.

By this time, Gray gained quite a lot of recognition. The reason he called her out on a dinner date was to reveal that he has signed up as the main lead for a tv drama which was produced by a well-known production house.

Juvia was elated and congratulated and wished him luck. It was during that time Gray confessed his love for her and waited for her answer.

To his surprise, Juvia readily accepted him. He still remembers her words from that time,

"Gray-sama, even I feel the same for you. I was afraid to convey my feelings to you as each day our world was getting apart. I was determined to tell you today after dinner.

     But to my surprise, I never expected even you would feel the same. I love you, Gray-sama."

After hearing her say those golden words, Gray got hold of her hand and kissed it lightly and asked Juvia to be his girlfriend which she agreed.

Once they reached their respective place, Gray kissed her lips and shared a hug before calling off that night.

The next day, both of them informed their friends about their relationship. Erza and Natsu were supportive.

But Gajeel was reluctant he wanted to tell Juvia how difficult it would be for her to date a celebrity.

She has to remain under the shadows. Moreover, if words go out then obsessive fans might harm her and she would be constantly under paparazzi's scrutiny if Gray's facing bad times.

But Juvia was ready to face any difficulties and wanted to support her boyfriend in his career.

#

Once the family had their dinner together, Gray tugged his daughter in her bed before planting a kiss on her forehead and wished her good night.

Juvia was washing the dishes when Gray snaked his arms around her waist and kissed her neck which made Juvia squeak.

Gray turned off the tap and turned his wife so that she could face him.

"Juvia, tomorrow's my day off. Even the night is still young. Moreover, I missed my wife…" He leaned forward and kissed her lips which made her moan against his lips.

"Gray-sama…."

"Juvia…." Both of their eyes were clouded with lust and decided to continue their passionate night inside their bedroom.

After an hour, both was them were under the blankets, Gray had his arm around his wife and hummed in her ears as she talked about her day with Yuki.

Juvia could sense her husband's hold around her waist getting tight. He did only when he felt insecure or paranoid.

Juvia turned around to face him who kept looking at her. She cupped his face with both of her hands which startled him.

"Gray-sama, what's on your mind? Spill it out. Don't go huddling up those stressful thoughts within you. Share it with your wife. I will help you lessen those burdens." Juvia conveyed her thoughts and smiled at him.

"This is what I'm beguiled about you, Juvia. You can easily find out my conflicting thoughts just by sensing my actions. I'm really lucky to have you as my soulmate, dear." Gray said earnestly and kissed her forehead which made Juvia feel special.

Then slowly Gray disclosed his fears about how the world will perceive his relationship and worried that this shouldn't cause any harm to either Juvia and Yuki especially.

After hearing his fears, Juvia cradled her husband and patted his back just like how she does it for her daughter whenever she has nightmares.

Gray seemed to relax from this action. Juvia assured him that nothing terrible is going to happen and just hope everything turns out well.

Suddenly Gray raised his head and questioned her, "What if things repeat? And this time to our Yuki."

Juvia's eyes grew wide, but she can't show her fear, at least, not in front of her husband for now, who himself was feeling paranoid.

"I'm sure nothing will happen. Let's have faith in ourselves and your fans, Gray-sama.

       I'm just worried that your fan number might get reduced once you reveal your married status." Juvia voiced her concern.

This time it was Gray's turn to convince her, "Nah! Just like you said let's hope for the best. I love you and Yuki. Remember that, okay"

Gray smiled and kissed her lips, "Juvia, you are still warm. Wanna continue from where we left?" He teased her.

It seemed her Gray-sama was back to normal for now.

A/N: Sorry for posting it bit late. Hope I will be able to update for the rest of the event.

[grilledcheeseandguavajelly]

“If You Fall, I Will Catch You, I’ll Be Waiting” -- Billie Dean Howard x Reader

This one is LONG. Like. Really long. But it’s Billie Dean, so can you blame me? 

Special thanks to @shineestark​ for proofing this for me and dealing with my constant worrying, and to @thatgirlintheleatherjacket​ for proofing also, but most importantly for being so encouraging and convincing me to post this after having it locked away and deeply protected. 

Words: ~20,000

Warnings: ANGST. A lot of it. You’ve been warned. Also, a teeny tiny mention of blood. 

~Enjoy, little peaches~ 

(And please go easy, because this one is literally my heart smeared down on paper)

Being with Billie Dean was a whirlwind of a life, constantly running and spinning and dancing across not only your relationship but her career, new shows getting picked up, old shows getting cancelled— the rollercoaster of emotions that came with press and premieres and red carpets and ever-changing schedules. 

It had been brilliant. She was the brightest light in the universe, and you felt lucky to be included. But the fact that she loved you? Couldn’t keep her hands off of you and was so supportive of you and absolutely worshipped you, inside and outside the bedroom? It was more than you ever thought possible. More than you ever thought you deserved. 

You took every second of it as a blessing, but about eight months in you started getting reckless with your time. Started taking it for granted and really just losing yourself in every moment. You were no longer hyper-present, taking in every minute detail of every second of your day with her, but rather you sank into the comfort of her constant presence beside you. The normalcy of her hand on your waist, the warmth of her quick kisses behind your ear every time she leaned down to whisper something to you. At first, they had all been a shock, setting you on edge and fueling your pounding heart. But now they were a comfort— a part of who you were and who the two of you were together that you could no longer comprehend your life without. 

She was always with you. Always right there when you needed her, even if she was halfway across the country or halfway across the world. Because sometimes it worked out like that. She had to leave for a week or two at a time. And you would never ask her to sacrifice her career for you. At first it had been agonizing, every minute away from her like needles in your heart. But she was always right there, calling you and Skyping you and letting you snuggle into the familiarity of her voice until the tears subsided and she was finally home. 

Things had progressed from there, as your relationship had progressed. You started getting more comfortable with those small stretches when she was away, and she started growing more comfortable with fucking you over the phone. Because sadness at her absence had turned to a desperation of want. And instead of crying during your chats, you found yourself breathlessly whispering her name, and she would always be right there, ready to give you whatever you needed, ready to catch you as you lost control and tumbled head over heels in love with her. 

It got to the point where most of your friends didn’t know you without her. Even if they were old friends, Billie had become such a constant in your life that it was expected the two of you were together. You rarely went anywhere without her, she rarely went anywhere without you. You partied together, you went home together. You started living together, so you started shopping together and walking together, and about a year in you started looking for houses together. 

A year and a half in, you found one. Bought it right there on the spot, and christened every room by the end of the night. 

You spent the next two weeks unpacking boxes, moving your lives into this new space and decorating it together. As a team. As partners. Equal thoughts and equal compromises. A life together, forever. 

The night you finished unpacking, Billie got a phone call. Billie got a job. Billie had to move to London for a year if she signed the contract. 

You told her you would go with her. She hadn’t asked. You told her you could find a new job. She hadn’t asked. You told her you could sell the house. She hadn’t asked. 

She told you to go to sleep, pressing kisses to your hair and pulling you in so close you almost couldn’t breathe. And by the time you woke up the next morning, she had made up her mind. 

You thought for sure she would turn it down. That’s just the kind of person she was. You thought for sure she would tell you that you were too important and that she didn’t want to cut a slice out of this life you were building together. You were prepared to tell her that she should go, that you wouldn’t dare get in the way of her following her dreams. But she had decided. You knew her well enough to know that she had decided the moment she hung up the phone. And there was nothing you could do. 

You could never fathom asking her to sacrifice her career for you, and yet she had sacrificed you for her career in the blink of an eye. 

A quick procedure and you were surgically removed from her life. You couldn’t go with her. She was leaving you behind. 

You didn’t comprehend it. Not really. But she had decided and it had happened. 

And then it had ended, and you were alone.

You were left with this aching, gnawing need chewing at your heart. It ate at every fiber of your sanity, picking at the strings of your being and unraveling them, one by one. 

Your life came and went in flashes, none of them linear. Tiny glimpses of moments completely overpowered and drowned by this heavy emotion that you had no name for. 

It wasn’t sadness, hurt, or grief. It wasn’t depression or pain or numbness. It was all of it and exponentially more, bound together so that you couldn’t feel one without the other, and you couldn’t feel any of it at all. 

Days went by like that, scenes cut from a movie that you didn’t recognize. Because life didn’t look like life without her. 

Without her. 

You didn’t know how to carry on without her. And that’s what hurt the most. 

You were hurting alone. 

She was the only person you wanted. Really, truly, deeply. Your friends came over and brought you food and cleaned your kitchen and sat with you while you cried. But you honestly couldn’t be sure who they were. All of them blended together, just like the days did, and with the color taken out of your world, everything sat in different levels of shadow and you honestly couldn’t even make out their faces. 

Some tried to talk to you, others let you be. But they were all pieces of a puzzle that you couldn’t connect. A glimpse of someone sitting across from you and handing you a tissue. A flash of someone in your kitchen, working at the sink. And the front door closing, over and over, one by one as they all left. The pieces didn’t fit together, but you didn’t want them to. You didn’t want to form a full picture of a life without her.

But you knew you could, if you tried. And that’s what scared you the most. Because what would that picture even look like? What would you see there besides empty space and emotion dark as tar. Sticky, thick, dragging you down and suffocating you and blinding you until you couldn’t find your way back to the surface. 

They asked if you wanted to see her. 

You said no.

Time ticked by slowly, and they kept coming over, and they kept asking. 

And you kept saying no. 

She wasn’t here. She was gone. She had left and picked up her life and kicked you out of it. Turned around and walked away and left you bleeding out onto the floor. 

Around the fortieth time they asked, you snapped, rage taking over at the semblance of thought that they would dare assume you would be fine Skyping with her when they knew, they knew you needed all of her. That you didn’t want to hear her voice, not pixelated and distorted and morphed. You didn’t want to see her. You didn’t want to talk. And they should have known better than to keep pushing you like this. 

Eventually your screaming dissolved into sobs, all of your emotions hitting tenfold as they pinched at your vulnerability like a nerve. 

You had mumbled something along the lines of “I couldn’t Skype her, I couldn’t bear it”, and that’s when you heard your friend speak. Actually heard someone speak for the first time in who knows how long. 

“No, Y/N. Not Skype. She’s back. She came back.”

You blinked at your friend for what felt like years, letting her words sink into your mind. Carefully, delicately. 

“She’s... back?” 

How much time had gone by? How long had you been sitting on your couch? How long had it been since you had showered? It couldn’t have possibly been a year already. You had lost all sense of time, but there was just... there was just no way. Impossible. 

And you were right. It hadn’t been. According to everyone else, it had only been three weeks. 

Billie had been back for two. 

Billie had been asking to see you for two and a half. 

According to everyone else, she had called them all and asked to see you. Multiple times. Every day. They had taken your phone from you at your request pretty early on, your fear of spamming her with messages greater than your need for her to call you. Somewhere in the back of your bleary, broken mind, you had realized that you needed a clean break. That realization had dissolved as want nestled it’s way into your soul, but by that point your phone was gone. Hidden. Taken. And you were utterly alone, whether you liked it or not. 

But now, with the realization dawning and your friends asking you again if you wanted to see her, you still said no. 

You had detoxed in this house the two of you were supposed to share. It was full of negative energy and hurt and loss, everything inside of you expelled in each room, the toxicity of it filling the air and seeping into the walls. You had curled into the furniture you had picked out together, clung to any remnant of her smell, of her memory. 

But you didn’t want her back in the house. You didn’t want her back in your life. 

You needed her back in your life more than you needed to breathe. 

There were a few hours spent hyperventilating, your friends stroking your back and pushing the hair from your face and getting you water. But none of it helped like Billie would. They didn’t know you like Billie had. 

They dropped it after that. They didn’t ask you again. And you settled back into your shadowed world with the realization that you had lost your chance. They had tried, she had tried, and in your attempt to salvage what was left of your heart, you had pushed them all away. 

Your friends still came over, still brought you food and inevitably threw it away, untouched, the next morning. 

Nothing really changed. Nothing really could. 

The hurt doubled, knowing that she had been back and you had said no. But according to one of your friends, she had left again. And you were right back where you had started. In this big empty house that didn’t really belong to you, with nothing but your loneliness to burrow into at the end of the night. 

You didn’t know how much time had passed. You couldn’t have known. Three weeks had felt like two lifetimes, and a day felt like an hour. The clarity that had come with your rage had dissolved back into fragments, your days pieced together in small glimpses of television and whoever was coming or going this time. 

Doors opening, doors closing. Shifting on the couch, more tears. Change the channel. Fall into a restless sleep. 

Over and over again. 

Until one day you were woken by a voice. A low, raspy voice etched with concern. 

“How long has she been like this?”

You thought it was your mother for a moment, with the way the voice broke at the end of the question. Thought they had finally had enough of you and gotten her a flight over. But no. It couldn’t have been. It didn’t sound like your mother. It didn’t sound like anything.

She was the sound of your entire universe. 

You squeezed your eyes shut, bracing yourself for some sort of doctor. Understanding that you hadn’t eaten in ages and you were probably hallucinating. 

But it didn’t feel like a hallucination when the couch dipped by your ankles. It didn’t feel like a hallucination when fingers brushed the stray hairs from your face. 

You knew it wasn’t a hallucination when tears immediately fell at the familiarity of her touch. The warmth that always followed in her presence. The soft sound of her breathing. 

“Y/N...?” she tried softly, and you almost flinched at the way she said it. You had forgotten how special your name sounded when it came out of her mouth. 

You were buried under three different blankets, pushed down into the couch because you hadn’t been able to get warm without her. And now it was to your benefit, because all you had to do was tuck your face down, just a bit, and no one would be able to see you crying. 

Except your shoulders were shaking, just enough, and your friend, whichever one it was, noticed. 

“I think this was a mistake. I shouldn’t have asked you to— I think you should go.”

But she didn’t move. Her fingers did, tracing your hairline and moving down your shoulder, still covered with the blanket. But she didn’t move. 

“Just let me stay a bit longer,” she whispered. “Just let me... I just want to look at her a bit longer.”

And suddenly you felt like you were dead. Like you had died and stepped outside of your body and were watching your own funeral. Everyone you had loved watching your lifeless form and grieving some kind of irrevocable loss. 

Except you weren’t dead. You could still feel. You could feel the warmth of her fingers, despite how hesitantly she touched you. You could feel the way she shifted on the couch, so subtle you shouldn’t have been able to. 

And you felt her breath catch when you opened your eyes, staring at her through tear-starred lashes. 

It was blurry, the world around you, and you didn’t know if it was from tears or lack of food or the fact that she was really there. Right there. An arms length from you. 

Billie Dean Howard. 

Your head started spinning and every emotion you had felt since she left coated the next, wrapping you in a never-ending, expanding bubble of pain and sadness just waiting to be punctured and popped. 

All you could think to do was turn, eyes finding your friend, still blurry and still shadowed, despite how bright Billie had been just seconds before. 

“What is she doing here?” you managed, finding your voice through the mess in your mind. “I told you I didn’t want to see her.”

You felt Billie stiffen on the couch, and she spoke at the same time as your friend. 

“She knew I was back...?”

“We were so worried about you, Y/N. We didn’t know what to do. You weren’t eating, you were barely talking to us, you—“

And then the humiliation came, embarrassment that you had been this distraught by Billie’s leaving and she was finding out about it. She would know how broken you had been. So you lost your temper. It was the only way you could fathom protecting what was left of your heart. 

“I told you I didn’t want to see her. What part of that do you not understand? I don’t want her here. I don’t want her on my couch, I don’t want her in my house, I don’t want her in my life! You had no right to bring her here, to just show up without—“ 

A hand on your ankle startled you from finishing your sentence, and you looked down to find tears in Billie’s eyes, her perfect acrylics scratching lightly against the blanket. 

You jerked your foot back on instinct, tucking your knees to your chin as you pushed yourself up against the arm of the couch. 

You wanted to scream at her for touching you. You wanted to growl and narrow your eyes and talk to her through gritted teeth. But you couldn’t bring yourself to direct any words at her at all. Not with the way your brain flipped itself inside out and warred with you heart at the very sight of her. 

“Could you give us a minute?” Billie asked, eyes never leaving yours, and after a brief moment of your friend opening and closing her mouth, after she looked at you with an expression that you couldn’t read and you shook your head as you pleaded with her silently not to go, not to leave you, she nodded at Billie and left the room. 

A moment later you heard the front door close, and then she was gone. 

A long silence stretched, and for the first time in what felt like a long time, you could actually hear the grandfather clock ticking in the foyer. 

Time passing. A cruel joke. 

Every second with her sitting across from you felt longer than the days, weeks she was gone. And you had forgotten that time was like this with Billie. It stretched. The universe never let you miss a moment, absorbing everything, breath by breath, blink by blink. 

You stared at her from behind the safety of your knees. Watched her nails pick absently at the edge of the blanket beside her. Watched her mind turn and her nostrils flare as she swallowed down sentence after sentence. 

There was nothing to say. There was nothing to be said. 

She had said enough when she had left, telling you that you were important to her, but not important enough. Not as important as her career. Not a big enough part of her life. 

Well, big enough for her. Just not as big as you had imagined you were. Hoped you were. Assumed you were. 

Assumed. And look where it had gotten you. Abandoned in a house that was too big for your life alone. Too big for your life with her. But your relationship had always been just a little bit larger than average life. 

Another beat, and then Billie got up off the couch. Just like that her warmth was gone. Again. And you thought for sure she had given up and would leave. Just like she had done before. 

But instead she walked behind the sofa, crossing the room and opening the curtains. It wasn’t until she pulled the first set open that you realized the sun was still up. 

You had watched the light filter in through the foyer windows and then filter back out again as night fell. You could see the hallway by the front staircase from your place on the couch. 

But you had never actively kept track of the time or the days, the soft light from afar fading into the background just like everything else. 

“You really shouldn’t sit in the dark like this,” she started, pulling the rest of the curtains open. “It’s not good for you.”

A dry laugh fell out of you. “You don’t get to decide what’s good for me anymore.”

And just as you looked over at her she froze, hands hovering over the last set of curtains as her brow popped up. 

“Well well, she speaks.”

“Well well,” you spat back, eyes narrowing. “She’s not in London.”

A sigh, and then she was crossing back to the couch and kneeling next to you. Her hand came up only to fall away again, acrylics digging into the seam of the sofa. Tears welled in her eyes as they searched your face. And when she spoke, it came out strangled and broken. 

“How could I be, when you’re here?” 

You could feel her breath on your face, but she didn’t feel that close. Maybe she was panting, maybe you needed her closer. Maybe both. But she smelled crisp and dirty, like smoke and sage and something so uniquely her. And you didn’t understand how something so soft could feel so much like coming home.

That’s when the tears started. That’s when you lost hold of your composure. Because you weren’t home. She was back, she was here. The two of you were sitting alone, together, in this house you had built. Together. 

But it wasn’t a home. It was a magnet for everything that had gone wrong in your relationship, from the argument to the loss to the memories of her packing her bags and walking out the front door to the taxi, leaving you standing in the foyer in one of her shirts and a pair of your favorite socks, the world ripped from underneath you like a magic trick gone wrong. Because you didn’t stay standing. The trunk closed and the taxi drove off and you crumpled to the floor, only dragging yourself to the couch after your knees went red from the tile. 

Her hands on your face brought you back to the present, and you almost jerked away. But as soon as they had come they were gone. Your cheeks were suddenly dry and she was wiping her now wet fingers down her shirt.  

Billie stared at you, her expression so open and vulnerable and questioning, but there was a hesitance laced under it all. You had let her touch you now, but you hadn’t before. You wanted her to touch you again, but you weren’t sure how you would respond. So she watched you. And you watched her. And there was a moment where you almost reached for her hands. Almost.

But then her eyes flicked down to your lips and you shifted, swallowing as you turned your head away from her. 

“You shouldn’t have left.” 

Fingers on your knee, stroking softly. “I know.”

You pulled your leg from her grip, glancing over at her. 

“You should have let me go with you.” A pause. “I wanted to go with you.” 

And then she sighed, sitting back on her heels. Her fingers twitched over the blanket. 

“I don’t...” she tried, fingers twitching again as her brows pushed up. “I thought I was doing the right thing.”

At that you turned to face her fully, looking at her incredulously. “How was this ‘doing the right thing’? You left me here, Billie—“

“I know.”

“—all alone, in this big, stupid, empty house that we picked out together. This was supposed to be our place. Our life. And we hadn’t been unpacked for five minutes before you up and left! And all for what, a job?!”

Your voice had risen and you were sitting up on the couch now, teeth bared as all of your pent up anger, all of the hurt that had melded to your bones, came boiling back up to the surface. 

Billie flinched at your words, and as her brows furrowed she stood, flicking her nails and smoothing out her pants as she walked to the other end of the couch. Distance between you. Again. Comfortable. Heartbreaking. 

“You were the one who always said you wouldn’t interfere with my career,” she started, voice hardening. “You were the one who told me to ‘do what I wanted’ and ‘follow my dreams’. So I did. And now suddenly it’s a problem.”

“Because you just left.” 

She whirled on you. “You think I don’t know that?! You think this wasn’t hard for me? For Christ’s sake, Y/N, I only lasted eight days!” 

“And then you came home.” 

“Yes.”

You swallowed, fighting the tears pricking at your nose. “And then you went back again.”

She paused, fingers flicking absently as she processed what you had said. 

“What? No— I didn’t... Y/N, I didn’t go back.”

Her head tilted and her brow furrowed, arms crossing protectively in front of her. 

“They told me—“ you started, but then she was right there, cutting you off. 

“I didn’t go back. I couldn’t go back. Not without you.”

Your heart stuttered and you forced yourself not to notice, tucking your knees to your chest again. Putting something solid between her and you and the feelings that were starting to seep into the soft places of your heart. You hadn’t known there were any soft places left. 

“I came back for you...” she tried again, her voice breaking. 

But you didn’t react. Didn’t respond. You couldn’t. What were you supposed to do? Dive back into her arms and tell her you would cross the world with her and give up everything for her? You had tried that once, and look where it had gotten you. You wouldn’t do it again. You couldn’t bring yourself to. 

So you watched her. Watched her watch you, watched her fidget. Watched that swagger that was so much a part of who she was crack and falter as her fingers twitched yet again. 

“Say something,” she whispered, her brows pushing up. And when her teeth dug into her perfectly painted lip, you found your voice again. 

“You should go get a cigarette,” you started, swallowing as you shifted further up the couch. 

She shook her head. “No. No, I’m not smoking in our— in your— in this new house. It’s fine. I’m fine.”

You ignored the way your heart fractured at her corrections, shaking your head slowly. 

“I know you want one, Billie. I can see your fingers twitching. Go get a cigarette, you’re fine. The air in here is already so fucking filthy.” 

She paused, hesitated, looked at you like she used to. You had never liked her smoking habit, but you never really said anything. Especially if she was at a friend’s house or at a party. But if you were out to dinner or over at your family’s, she always used to look to you for permission. She never asked, she simply looked at you. Always the same way. Brows up, eyes wide, tongue pushing against her cheek.

You nodded, warmth shocking your system at the familiarity of it all. 

And then she was walking away. But this time, just as the memories and the hurt and the ache returned, she paused. Stood in the doorway. And tried for a smile as she said, “I’ll be right back, okay? I promise.”

She was gone before your tears fell, sobs shaking you as you doubled over your knees. Those were the words you had been longing to hear for so long. For so long. And now she was back, and she was saying them. And she was saying all of the things you had wished she would have said in the first place. 

But dents had been made, scars had formed. And your mind had placed a nice, hard, steel cage around your heart to keep anything from hurting it, ever again. So you couldn’t feel the kindness, couldn’t feel the warmth. You were protected from her. From now to forever. And nothing would ever be the same again. 

It took her longer to come back than you thought, giving you time to get your emotions back under you and steady your breathing. You swiped at your eyes, taking long, deep breaths to clear your lungs. Ever since she had left, it felt like there was something squeezing your chest, keeping you from breathing in all the way and forcing the air out of you faster than you could get it in. It all added up to a constant feeling of suffocation, like you were dying slowly. Breaths getting slower and shorter little by little until maybe one day they just stopped. 

Except now you could catch your breath. You told yourself it was the setting sun through the window. Not Billie. Because it couldn’t be. You refused to let her have that kind of control over you anymore. You at least got to dictate your own breathing. 

Except you didn’t. 

You heard the front door open and then heels clicking against tile, and you braced yourself for her presence again. But no matter how hard you tried, nothing could have prepared you to see her face again, walking through this house again. It was almost worse than the first time, because this time you knew it wasn’t a dream. 

This time she was here, and you knew she was coming around the corner, and she looked even more beautiful than before with her signature cigarette between her fingers and the sunlight streaming against her hair from the window. 

You blinked at her as she stood against the other end of the couch again, pulling her lighter out of her pocket. You watched as she flicked it open, held her cigarette between her perfect fingers. And that’s when you noticed her nails were powder blue.  

Billie always stuck to peaches or corals. She rarely went for cool colors. And when she had left, they had been blush pink. Which meant that she had gotten them done at some point. She had changed, evolved while she was gone. Kept moving. And when her eyes flicked down your form and a sadness clouded her features, you realized that you were still in the same shirt and socks you had worn when she walked out the door. Her shirt. 

Hers.

She tapped the tip of her cigarette into the tray on the side table, and you realized again that you hadn’t moved that either. You had never had that moment where your feelings turned to anger at her, where you ran around your house and smashed everything that she had left. You never felt the need to. 

And it struck you, as you watched her take the first drag and sigh out the smoke, that you didn’t know why. Because you had been angry at her. You were still angry at her. Weren’t you...?

“I thought you were smoking outside,” you said, scrunching your toes into the couch to ground yourself. 

Billie paused mid drag, fingers stuttering on the couch. “Oh, I— I thought you said I could smoke in here, I didn’t mean to—“

“No no,” you cut her off, shaking your head and hugging your thighs. “You’re fine. You were just out there for a while so I assumed...” 

And there was that word again. Getting you into just as much trouble as before. 

A hum, and then Billie spoke. “I was telling Michelle to go home.” 

You startled, realization settling in for what felt like the hundredth time in moments. Everything was clearer now, the world dropped back down around in you in full color, and all of the pieces were starting to come together, whether you liked it or not. 

“That was Michelle?”

Billie’s brow creased. “You didn’t recognize her?”

“No I did, I just— I don’t know, wasn’t thinking.”  

Another hum. You swallowed, the sound warming you in a way that made you feel overly-exposed.

“Why did you tell her to go home?”

The corner of her mouth twitched then, but it almost seemed sad. It wasn’t in that familiar, knowing way that she always covered her smirks. It was cautious, like she was afraid to be happy. Afraid for things to go back to normal. Afraid to tell you the truth. 

The silence stretched and she sat down on the edge of the couch, careful not to displace your blanket. But your legs were still safely tucked against you as you watched her, so she crossed her legs and leaned against the arm of the couch, cigarette still smoking in her hand. 

She answered you with a soft, “I don’t think we need her between us anymore,” but you barely heard her. You were too taken with the way she was sitting on the couch. Just like she always used to sit on your couch, the way she used to smoke against the side of it as you curled in next to her. And yet still stiff. Still waiting for something to open up all the way. You didn’t know what. 

She watched you, eyes narrowing. 

“What?” you spat, automatically on the defensive. She flinched, lowering her gaze. 

“Nothing, it’s just... Are you okay?”

You scoffed, brow furrowing. “Are you kidding?”

She waved you off. “No, never mind. It was a stupid question.” Another drag. “I’m just worried about you.”

A long pause. You didn’t know what to say. What were you supposed to say? That you didn’t want her to worry about you? That you didn’t need her pity? That you were fine? All lies. So you settled on the only point in your emotional road map that you could adequately comprehend. 

“You shouldn’t have sent Michelle home.”

“Why not?”

You looked to the curtains like you would be able to see the street. Like maybe Michelle would still be out there and would intervene. Like maybe she would grab Billie and leave and you could shut the curtains and shut out the world again and go back to your sunken limbo of not feeling anything at all. It was better than the hurt and the warmth that came with Billie’s presence in front of you. 

It was easier. 

“Y/N?” Billie prompted, and you looked back to her. “Why not?”

And then something splintered inside of you, because she was prodding at you like you were a child. Like she used to when she had owned every part of you and had ultimate responsibility of your heart. But she didn’t anymore. You had grown exponentially in these last three weeks, and you didn’t need her treating you with such care. You wanted to argue. You wanted to fight. You wanted to get the last of your hateful energy out so that you could feel some semblance of peace again. So that you could quiet its incessant buzzing and bumping in your chest. 

“I don’t want you here, Billie. She was just trying to protect me. You shouldn’t have come.” 

“She was the one who told me to come over.” 

“Bullshit.”

“She did. And so did Angelica.” 

Your fingers twisted in the blanket. “Angelica knows you’re here?”

Billie nodded slowly, tapping her cigarette in the tray again. “I’m staying with her.”

Dread dropped into your stomach like lead. Angelica was your best friend. You were sure she had been over here almost every day, if your memories were aligning correctly. And the entire time, Billie had been staying at her house? Impossible.

You cleared your throat, trying to keep your expression nonchalant. “For how long?”

But you couldn’t meet Billie’s eyes, so you traded that for picking at a loose string on one of the throws you were buried under.

“Y/N,” Billie started, but you didn’t look up at her. Not until you felt her hand on your ankle again. Keeping you pinned, pulling you down into the couch. “I had nowhere else to go.”

And that’s when you lost it. The last shred of patience disintegrated and you pulled your foot away, shoving the blankets off of you so that you could really, properly get in her face. 

“Nowhere else to go?! Billie, you should have come back. I was right here. Waiting for you. ‘Nowhere else to go’ my fucking ass. You were scared. You were being a coward. You really feel so bad? Really?”

“Yes, of course, I—“

“Because you couldn’t even find the courage to drive five minutes down the road and face me yourself! You say you’re sorry, yet you’ve been hiding behind Angelica this entire time, and I’ve been here, alone—“

Your voice broke over the last word and you sniffed against your tears. You hadn’t noticed them falling, but suddenly everything was blurry again and you were so, incredibly hot.

“I wasn’t hiding, they told me not to come over here!” Billie countered, cigarette forgotten as she leaned forward on the couch. “You really think I wanted to spend two and a half weeks in her spare room?”

“Well, you said you wanted to live with me, and then you changed your mind in the blink of an eye because of a fucking job. So I don’t know what to think right now.”

“Don’t start with that again,” Billie screamed, vaulting off the couch. And before you knew what you were doing, you were right there with her, pushing yourself up and gesticulating wildly.

“I’m not starting with anything, Billie! That’s what happened. That’s why I’m upset.” 

“But I came back, Y/N. I fucking came back!”

“So what?” you growled, teeth bared. 

Billie snarled right back, stepping forward and waving her cigarette. “So what? I lost my fucking job! I gave up everything to come back here, and you’re acting like you don’t even care—“

“I don’t care!”

“Yes, you do!” Billie’s free hand caught at your wrist as you threw your hands up, and you stuttered, her perfect nails digging into the soft skin there and holding you in place. 

Time froze. You couldn’t hear the clock. All you could hear was Billie’s breathing and the pounding of your own heart. Maybe the pounding of her heart, too. She had gotten impossibly close to you in the span of your short argument, and when you looked from her to your wrist and back, you saw her eyes flick down to your lips again. 

This time, you licked them. Just because. Just in case. But she didn’t move. 

“I don’t care,” you panted, nostrils flaring as you met her hot stare. 

She shook her head lightly, curls bouncing. “I don’t believe you.”

And you were sure she could feel your pulse racing against her palm where she held your wrist. Your fingers twitched. 

“Why not?” It came out as more of a whisper than anything. You didn’t know why, but you felt the need to be quiet. Not to speak over the way your heart was thundering in your chest. It was trying to tell you something, and you wanted to listen. But you weren’t finished with your conversation. You weren’t finished with her. 

“Because,” Billie started slowly, loosening her grip on your wrist and hesitantly threading your fingers together. “You used to say that you loved me. And if you ever truly meant it, then I know that you care.” A soft squeeze. “And that you never stopped caring.”

You swallowed, staring down at your hand in hers between you. How many times had you done this? How many times had she taken your hand, or you hers? And how many times had it made you feel like you could do absolutely anything? 

“Of course I care,” you breathed. And when you looked up at her, there were tears welling in her eyes. 

One fell, and you swiped it away with your thumb before you knew what you were doing. Cupped her cheek before you knew what you were doing. Leaned into her, impossibly close, before you could think. Before you could stop yourself. 

Your eyes fluttered closed at the warmth radiating off of her and you paused just centimeters away from her mouth, noses nudging together. A beat, an instant, and then she was there, hand on your jaw as her lips met yours. 

You gasped at the sensation, so familiar and yet so, so new. She tasted different, sharper, like the first time you had ever kissed her. The quick, unthinking kisses had all melted away and you had forgotten what she felt like, what her breath felt like filling your lungs, how plush her lips were. 

Velvet, sliding and working and nipping and sucking. 

Home.

And that’s when the reality of what you were doing crashed back down around you. Just as her fingers hooked behind your ear and you felt the sticky end of her cigarette brush your cheek. Just as her other hand squeezed yours and she pulled you in closer. You broke the kiss, practically shoving her off of you. 

Her eyes were dark as she blinked at you, desperation sliced with hurt. Disappointment. Realization. 

“We can’t,” you panted, shaking your head and pressing your fingers to your temples. “We just... We can’t.”

“Yes, we can,” Billie tried, reaching for your wrist again and smoothing her thumb over your pulse point. “Please...”

“No, Billie,” you practically screamed as you yanked your hand from her grip. She startled, stepping back. “We can’t just— You can’t just come in here and act like nothing has changed!” 

She sniffed, and this time as a tear fell she caught it herself, swiping it away and shaking her head out softly before nodding. 

“Right, no. Of course.” A broken smile. “I don’t know what I was thinking.” 

You sighed, crossing your arms in front of you again and building that barrier back up. “You weren’t thinking.”

She shook her head, a sad smile making her lip tremble. “Right.”

“Just like when you left,” you added for good measure, knowing the sting would come, but that hard part of you feeling like she partly deserved it.

“Alright, I heard you,” she said again, sniffing against tears. Another fell and she swiped it away almost before you could notice. “Do you... Would it be alright if I used your restroom?”

Your restroom. Not the. Not our. Your.

You nodded, gesturing to the hallway. “Of course, it’s just down—“

She held her hand up, forcing a smile as another tear fell. “I remember, thank you.”

And then her heels were clicking and the door shut and she was gone. 

You stood frozen to the spot for a moment, ears ringing as you fought a shiver from the memory of her touch. And oh, how you missed the way her thumb always ghosted over your pulse point. The way she always pressed kisses to those sister points on your neck after whispering in your ear. The way her hand would hover over your heart for just a second too long when her fingers danced and teased and kneaded over your breasts. Always your pulse points. The most delicate part of you. The most intimate, because they led straight to your heart. It was as close to your heart as she could physically get, and her touch always got exponentially more possessive there, even in the tiniest brushes against them. As if to say, “this is mine.” As if to say, “your heart belongs to me, and I am keeping it irrevocably safe.” As if to say, “I love you.” 

And that’s when you moved. 

Your feet were dragging you to the kitchen before you knew what you were doing, throwing open cabinets and wrecking through drawers to find your phone. 

Because you wanted to know. You needed to know. 

It hadn’t been that well-hidden. Or maybe you just knew this house better than you thought you had, even after pretending for three weeks that you were somewhere else entirely. A stranger in a strange place, to protect your heart in whatever manner you still could. 

You stood on your tip-toes, reaching into a bowl on the top shelf. But when your fingers wrapped around your phone and you pulled it down in victory, you paused. One little tap to the screen. That was all it would take. And you would know in an instant if she had been telling the truth. 

A deep breath to center yourself, to re-solidify the mantra that it didn’t matter. That you didn’t really care. You had already lost her once, so you couldn’t really lose her again. 

You couldn’t lose her again. 

You tapped the screen, squinting as it lit up. And then your eyes went wide. 

Your phone was full of so many notifications that they had stacked up on each other. You didn’t even have to count. Your phone had kept track of them all, displaying the numbers proudly. Almost impatiently. 

252 missed calls. 189 voicemails. 378 texts. 

All from her. 

You did the math as quickly as you could with the way your head was spinning and your heart was hammering in your chest. 

Three weeks. Twenty-one days. Which meant... roughly twelve calls a day. Right? And texts— twenty? Eighteen? 

You made the mistake of swiping at your lock screen and opening your messages. And the last one, the last one... 

If you could only know how much I regret leaving you. I can’t live with the thought of losing you. I love you. I’m coming over. Please don’t say no.

Oh my god... 

Your head spun as her words swirled around you, and suddenly the weeks of not eating and not drinking enough and crying out every ounce of energy inside of you caught up with you. 

Black spots coated your vision, tinged and closing at the edges, and then your head grew too heavy to hold up and you were falling, falling straight onto the tile floor. 

You thought you heard someone call your name, but it was too far away and all you could think of was Billie. 

Billie, Billie, Billie.

Arms around you caught you tight, holding you up and keeping you steady. And as the world righted around you, you heard her. 

“Hey, shh. I’ve got you. You’re okay. Deep breaths. I’ve got you.”

You wanted to shrug her off of you. You wanted to turn around and yell at her that she didn’t have you. Not when you had needed her. That she had left, and it was too late. And that you could never forgive her. 

But you knew it was a lie, and your body knew it was a lie. And so the words stayed locked in your throat, melting away with every soft stroke of Billie’s hands on your arms, with every kiss she pressed to your hairline. 

“I’ve got you,” she sighed out, and you thought she almost sounded relieved. Relieved at catching you in time, relieved to have you in her arms again. Relieved to finally be able to take care of you, to help in some way after causing so much searing pain. 

Her name left your mouth in a breathy whimper, and you felt her mouth press against your ear. 

“I’m right here. It’s okay. I’m not going anywhere.” 

A kiss, right below your ear. Soft, delicate, directly on your pulse point. Just like she used to. Nothing had changed. 

Everything had changed.

“I’m never leaving you again,” she finished, her voice thick with tears. “I—“ 

But she cut off, her fingers tightening around you as she physically stopped her heart from speaking. You knew what she was about to say. Her “I” always pitched just a bit higher on that phrase, threading with the other words to make them sound like a symphony. 

Maybe it was because she was holding you so tight. Maybe it was because your back was to her, held against her chest as she supported you. Maybe it was because you didn’t have to look her in the eye, and you could pretend, like you had so many nights, that she was just a figment of your imagination, born to help you fall asleep. 

Or maybe it was because you had wanted to scream it at her since the second you heard her voice, and every minute of every hour that had passed since she arrived. 

The words tasted sweet as they bubbled up your throat, out of control and so, so different from all of the bitter hate you had been spewing at her. 

And then they fell out of you, squeezed out by her arms hugging you tightly to her, welcoming you home. 

“I love you, too...”

She froze behind you, and you felt her heart stop. Actually stop it’s steady beating against your back for the longest of seconds. 

Her breath hitched and the tiniest sound came out of her, and then her face was buried in your neck and she shook with sobs, hot tears falling against your skin and soaking through your shirt. 

You let her stay like that for a moment, her sobs doubling in volume as your hand came up behind you and found her hair. 

She was squeezing you so tightly, her fingers digging in as she held you to her, like you were a figment. Like you were a dream. 

And that’s when you realized that she must have conjured you up in her bed when she was away, just like you had, to help her fall asleep. That’s when you realized that you had been haunting her, just as she had been haunting you. Maybe not as much, because she was in a new place with a new home and a new job. Or maybe more, because the memory of you would have faded over time, whether she liked it or not. Smoke in a glass, tipping and spilling and dissolving into thin air. 

You didn’t realize that your heart could still break. You had thought it was already shattered and stepped on and crushed to dust. But it broke again in that moment, in a different way. 

You had assumed this whole time that she had abandoned you. That she had picked up her life and left you behind and moved on. But you hadn’t considered that maybe, just maybe, she had been hurting in the exact same way you were. And while you had to cope with being abandoned, she had to live with the knowledge that she was the one who had left. It was her decision. It was her fault. 

This time, when your heart broke, it broke for both of you. For the pain she had caused you, sure. But also for the thought of her, in a strange city, all alone and longing for everything she had lost. 

Over two hundred missed calls. She knew what she had done, and you hadn’t even been willing to try to hear her out. 

Billie was still crying behind you, holding onto you for dear life. You turned in her arms, shushing her, and she desperately cried out “no” at the movement before her fingers tightened on your waist in realization that you weren’t going anywhere. You weren’t shoving her away. 

You just wanted to look at her. 

In another life, in another world, you didn’t think you would have ever wanted to look at her again. But that world was shrouded in darkness and hurt and loss. And this world, set right, was starting to weave itself back together around you. A world of light and growth and love. 

A world of forgiveness. 

You wiped at her cheeks, ducking to catch her gaze. 

“Billie,” you tried softly, brows pushing up. 

Her eyes were rimmed red when she raised them to yours, teeth digging into her bottom lip. 

She sniffed, forcing up her wall of composure and setting her posture straight as she hummed questioningly. 

Your fingers shook as you swiped at her cheeks, trying your best to preserve her dignity. Because you knew what you were about to ask, and you knew it would change everything. 

“Would you like to stay here tonight?”

Her nose twitched and tears welled again, and before words could form she was pulling you to her, shaking her head urgently against yours and pulling her fingers through your hair. 

“Yes,” she croaked before clearing her throat. “Yes. Of course. Always.” 

You hugged her then, really properly hugged her until her breathing evened out and her grip on you loosened, just so. But when her hand came up hesitantly and ghosted over your spine you pulled away, clearing your throat and looking anywhere but her. 

“I should, um...” you tried, glancing up at her before walking back to the couch. You grabbed at the heap of blankets, piling them into your arms and moving past her once more, through the kitchen to the laundry room. “I should probably shower. Do you want to order dinner?” 

You heard her answer “sure” as you threw them in a basket, too exhausted to comprehend doing laundry. But too self-conscious to fathom leaving a mess on the couch. On all of the new furniture that the two of you hadn’t even broken in yet. 

“What do you want?” she called, and when you made it back to the kitchen, she was already typing on her phone. 

She glanced up at the sound of your footsteps, and you couldn’t help but smile at the way her lips pulled into a smirk. 

“Thai,” you both said in unison, and she nodded, popping a soft “yep” before pulling out a barstool and sitting as she continued to type. Too casual. Too normal. 

“I-I’m going to go shower,” you tried, ignoring the way her brow creased in concentration as she scrolled through her phone. Ignoring the way she flicked her bangs back into place as she pulled her phone to her ear. 

She nodded. “I’ll let you know when the food gets here,” she murmured, smiling as you passed by her. 

And then you were up the stairs and peeling her shirt over your head as the water heated up. 

You tested it as you slipped out of your socks, turning it just a bit cooler so you wouldn’t overheat. 

It had been three weeks since you had showered. Three weeks. Why your friends hadn’t dragged you off the couch and locked you in the bathroom, you had no idea. But you must have looked awful. You must have smelled awful. And Billie was still right there, eager as ever to hold you and kiss you and press herself right up against you. 

If that isn’t love. 

You brushed the thought away, relishing the warm water washing you clean. Washing all of those toxic emotions off of you, purifying your life from the outside in. A fresh start. Clean. New. Try again. 

You washed out your hair as quickly as possible, desperate to shave and unwillingly giddy at the thought of Billie waiting for you downstairs. You didn’t want to be, but you couldn’t help it. Not to mention that you were starving. 

Your stomach growled as you shaved under your arms, grimacing at how out of hand you had let yourself get when you were normally so keen on being silky smooth. It was when you felt your most confident. Your most beautiful. 

Memories of Billie’s fingers tracing up your legs danced across your mind as you shaved, the way her nails used to scratch and leave those little pink lines. Just a bit too rough, especially if she caught someone eyeing you when you were out, or after a premiere when she had to keep her hands off of you for hours. 

And then a specific memory, unbidden. The time at the Emmy’s when she had pulled you into the bathroom and fucked you senseless because you were wearing a dress that was cut too low and hugged your hips too tight, and she’d had to keep her hands to herself since morning. The feel of her mouth on you that night had been different, just like it had been different tonight. 

Her mouth. 

You cried out as the razor skipped over your skin, digging into your thigh and leaving a nice trail of red in its wake. 

“Ow, fuck, shit.” 

The water stung, but you let it run over the cut, wincing and digging your fingers into the wall. 

“Y/N?” 

You jumped at Billie’s voice inside the bathroom, scrambling to cover yourself. Made sure the curtain was fully closed. 

“Y-Yeah? What’s wrong?” 

You heard her murmur “just one sec” before she raised her voice over the sound of the shower. 

“They’re out of bean sprouts. Do you still want pad thai or do you want curry instead?” 

Your thigh stung against the cold air as you backed yourself into the corner of the shower, so you didn’t even have time to register that she remembered your order. That you hadn’t told her what you wanted. It had only been three weeks, but she still remembered. 

“The pad thai is fine,” you called out, watching the blood drip down your leg. “Just—“

“No tofu, I know,” she finished for you, and you heard her repeat your order over the phone. 

You bit down into your lip as you wiped down your cut, muffling a whimper. 

But you must not have been as quiet as you thought, because just as Billie finished with a “that will be all, yes. Thank you,” and made to leave, her heels stuttered on the tile, the clacking amplified now that you weren’t lost in your own thoughts. Now that you were focused intently on her. 

“Y/N?” She tried again, her voice infinitely softer now. “Are you alright?”

You dropped your head back onto the tile, fighting tears at the throbbing from your leg. 

“Yeah— yes, I— I just cut myself. I’m fine, it’s not that bad.” 

She didn’t say anything, but she didn’t move, either. And you could feel the tension growing between you. 

The last time you had cut yourself this badly, you had called out for her and she had been in the shower with you in a second, pressing her palm against the gash and peppering soft kisses across your face to keep you from crying. Cooing sweet nothings in your ear as she bandaged it up and got you tucked safely into bed. That had been at her old house, in her old bathroom. A lifetime ago. 

And now, she was so close. Right there. You didn’t have to call for her, she had heard you. But everything had changed. 

“Do you need help?” she asked softly, and you squeezed your eyes shut to keep your heart from cracking. 

“No, it’s fine. I just- would you mind leaving so I can hop out and get a bandaid?” 

Her heel tapped. Once. 

“No.”

Your eyes flew open. “No?”

And you could practically see her shaking her head, her shadow blurred by the thick shower curtain. 

“No,” she said again, and this time she sounded closer. “I told you I’m not leaving you again, and I meant it.” A beat. “Here.”

And then her arm poked through the curtain, towel clutched between those perfect acrylics. 

You backed away from her on instinct before forcing yourself to take a breath. She was just trying to be kind. She was just trying to help. 

So you pulled the towel from her fingers, shutting off the the water, and although her hand disappeared, her shadow remained. Just across from you. 

You patted yourself dry the best you could as you avoided the trail of blood, and wrapped the towel tightly around yourself. Made sure you were decent. Pulled back the curtain. 

Billie’s eyes went wide and you immediately checked yourself over to make sure you hadn’t left a piece of you exposed. But no, you were completely covered. 

“What?” you tried, voice wavering as her eyes pulled down your form. 

She glanced back up at you before shaking her head and averting her gaze. 

“Nothing, it’s just— Nothing.”

“No, Billie. What is it?” You prodded as you stepped carefully from the shower. Grabbed a tissue and dabbed at your cut. 

“It’s just,” she started, eyes tracking your every movement. Blurred, hazy. “I forgot how beautiful you look freshly showered.”

You felt your cheeks burn, and you were grateful that your face was ducked as you focused on cleaning up your cut. You cleared your throat against the lump forming there and threw a sarcastic, “was I really that disgusting before?” to deflect the compliment. 

She smirked, fingers twitching, and then her hands were on your arms and she was pushing you down onto the closed toilet seat with a soft “here, let me help.” 

It had been easy enough. You had directed her to the bandages, and she found them quicker than you anticipated, kneeling in front of you and pressing her hand over yours on the tissue. 

You watched her work, hand frozen under hers as she pulled at the tape with her teeth. Ignoring the fact that she was situated right between your thighs. Ignoring the fact that you were completely naked under your towel, pressed down between your thighs to keep yourself covered. Keep yourself protected. 

Billie tugged at your fingers and you lifted them before you could think. And then the tissue fell away and your breath caught because god it looked so much worse now that you were out of the shower. Puckered, angry. Blood still pooling. 

You watched Billie, her fingers hovering over the wound. Watched her mask a grimace. Watched her lick her lips. Watched her eyes track from the gash up your thigh, before she cleared her throat and reached for the gauze. You knew what she wanted. You could see it in her face. She always kissed you when you were hurt, emotionally or physically. Always brushed her lips over some piece of you to let you know that everything would be okay. 

Like she had by the couch. When she hadn’t wanted to let go. 

You didn’t realize she had already cleaned up the gash until you heard her rustling as she put the antibiotic away. Her fingers worked over your legs gently. Always so careful and delicate with you. 

Until her hands found your knees, falling there thoughtlessly, and pushed them apart. 

It wasn’t much. It should have been nothing. But you were so acutely on edge, exacerbated by the fact that you were naked beneath the thin fabric wrapped around your body. How many times had she done this before? The sensation sent a shock of heat through you and straight down to your core, memories of that hungry expression she constantly wore when she was right here, under completely different circumstances, with a completely different agenda, flooding your mind. You couldn’t think about it now. Not when she was so close. Not when you were completely exposed and she would be able to smell what she still did to you— 

Her fingers trailing up your inner thigh brought your attention back and your hand locked around her wrist before you could think. Holding it in place as you stared at her incredulously. 

She shushed you, glancing up as she gently guided your knees back apart. “I just need to tape the top, okay? Almost done.” 

And that’s when you looked down at your thigh, perfectly bandaged and nowhere near as high up your leg as you thought it had been. You were hypersensitive to her touch, too on guard. You needed to take a deep breath. 

Before you knew it you were dressed in clean clothes and sitting opposite Billie on the floor around the coffee table. Something about sitting at the dining table felt too formal, and something about sitting at the breakfast nook too casual. So when she had dropped the bags of food on the coffee table, you had simply sat down. Right there. 

It was silent, with the occasional polite “how is your food?” breaking the stillness that had settled. You were so consumed with your food that it wasn’t until about halfway through the meal that awkwardness settled in. 

You hadn’t realized you were staring at Billie’s plate until she quietly asked if you wanted a bite. And the question went right through you. Whenever the two of you ate, especially Thai food, it was more of a share and care kind of deal. Usually the plates would sit somewhere between you, you picking off of hers, her picking off of yours. Both of you too consumed in the company to care about portions and manners. And sometimes, depending on how long it had been and what kind of a mood Billie was in, her fork would twirl in your noodles and she would feed you bites herself, smirking as your lips closed around the fork and kissing you nice and slow after you’d finished. 

You swallowed down the memories with a sip of water, shaking your head. 

And Billie nodded for what felt like the hundredth time since she came back, that sad smile morphing her face and clouding her eyes. 

You ate the rest of your dinner in intentional silence, unable to meet her eyes. There were a few times, just a few, where she would reach for a spring roll, and on the way there or on the way back, her hand would hover over yours. Almost. Just barely. 

But it was always gone as soon as it came. 

Part of you wished that she would just do it. Break the wall and hold your hand so that you could know if you were comfortable with it or not. Because you didn’t know. And you couldn’t be the one to start it if you were only going to pull away a moment later. 

You watched her hands, one tapping against her glass as the other methodically brought her fork to her mouth. Her mouth. Her perfect mouth. 

You lost yourself in the rhythm of it, her nails, the way she stirred and scooped her curry. And her lips, plump and plush and swollen slightly from the spice. The dip of her jaw as she swallowed. 

Her eyes stayed pinned to her plate, and every once in a while she would shuffle herself and readjust her legs underneath her. Perfect posture, perfectly proper. Perfectly Billie. 

As much as you could’ve watched her eat for days, as much as you were grateful for the stolen glances and the long moments where you got to just look at her, reacquaint yourself with the way she moved and breathed and lived, dinner had to come to an end. And by that point, you were so tired from the day that you were almost glad to go to sleep. 

You pulled fresh sheets from the linen closet, making your way to the couch as Billie cleaned up the dishes. 

“I’ll sleep down here, and you can sleep in the bed,” you tried, fluffing the pillows and folding out the sheets. 

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Billie scoffed, and you almost cut in. Almost let frustration pin to your heart as you told her off about how there was no way in hell you were sleeping in the same bed as her. As you reminded her that she had gone and left you and now you could handle yourself. But she simply continued with, “you’ve been sleeping on this couch for weeks. You deserve a good night’s rest. I’ll take the sofa, you take the bed.”

You wanted to say no. You wanted to tell her the truth. That you didn’t want to sleep in that huge, king sized bed. That you hadn’t ever slept in it without her. That you couldn’t sleep in it without her. But she was smiling so softly and already pulling the sheets from your hands, tucking them into the couch and making a tiny little home for herself. 

So you left, only pausing as you hovered in the doorway, turning and watching her settle down into the couch — the same couch you had mourned the loss of her in — so delicately and uniquely her. 

“Goodnight,” you murmured, trying for the best smile you could muster. Because there was so much left unsaid and undone and it was the end of the night already. Tomorrow was a new day, and it would no longer be the day she came back. It would be the first day of sorting out your feelings and putting your life back together. 

The first day of deciding whether or not she would be included in that. 

Three hours of tossing and turning, and you still couldn’t sleep. The sun was gone and the stars were up, and you watched them through the window as you tried to get comfortable. As you sorted through your thoughts. 

But the sheets were too cold, and you were frozen to the bone, despite getting up multiple times to add more layers. 

And all you could think of was Billie. On a loop. Coming back. Kissing you. Bandaging you up. Downstairs. Right downstairs. Right there. So close. So far. 

Billie. Your Billie. 

Over and over and over. 

Eventually the thoughts grew too heavy and there was no space for anything else, not in that bloody, empty, frozen bed. 

Frozen in time. Frozen in isolation. 

Somehow, even though you hadn’t touched it since she had left, any semblance of her was gone. It didn’t smell like her. The sheets weren’t worn in yet. There wasn’t even— 

You paused, eyes tracking over her pillow again and again as they caught on something glistening there. 

And without thinking you reached up, pulling a stray hair from the fabric. 

The gold glinted in the moonlight and you ran your fingers over it absently, relishing how smooth it was. Remembering how good it felt to have fistfuls of it against your tender palms as her mouth left hot, sticky marks anywhere she could reach. 

How it had felt brushing against your neck just hours ago as she cried into your shoulder. 

It had been three weeks. Three weeks of crying yourself into some semblance of sleep. Three weeks of deep aching for Billie by your side. Three weeks of begging the universe to be back in this bed, with your Billie wrapped around you. Making deals and rationalizing and trying to compromise with an entity that you couldn’t understand for some semblance of your normal back. 

And now she was back. She was right downstairs. Directly below you. And somehow you were still here, alone. 

What were you doing?

You took a deep breath, twirling the strand of hair between your fingers. If you did this, there was no going back. If you asked, you couldn’t kick her out five minutes later. 

You could, you thought, but your heart broke at the notion. 

You didn’t want to. You didn’t want to have to. The question was, did you trust her enough to think that she would respect your space and your boundaries and not try anything funny. 

This was ridiculous. You were being ridiculous. 

Your feet hit the floor a second later, crossing the room and opening the door and padding down the stairs before you could think. 

This always happened late at night. You never thought, only felt. And tonight it was amplified, your want screaming louder than any rational boundary because you hadn’t slept, hadn’t really, truly slept in three weeks. 

You finally had a full meal in you, but all it had done was set you further on edge. Made you ache for a time that was long pushed to the past. A time that was so close for your future. All you had to do was reach out and grab it. 

Whispering caught your attention and you paused just short of the doorway, inching closer and peering around the wall. 

Billie was stretched out on the couch, hands pressed to her eyes as her mouth moved over words too soft for you to comprehend. And an ache twisted at your stomach, because you had forgotten. 

You had forgotten that she talked to herself when she was particularly upset. That she would mumble and mutter and block out some of her senses until she could get her thoughts straight. It was something she had done since she was little, she told you once, the voices in her head constant and too loud, forcing her to speak her mind aloud just so that she could hear her own thoughts. 

You had forgotten. Forgotten. And tears pricked your eyes as you realized that you never wanted to forget anything about this woman ever again. 

Ever again. 

Billie took a shaky breath, a sob pushing out of her as her knees curled to her chest. She cried quietly for a moment, body shaking softly in the darkness. 

You wanted to run to her. You wanted to comfort her. You wanted to hold her and rock her and tell her that everything was going to be okay. 

Except you didn’t know if it would. And you couldn’t bring yourself to lie to her. 

Suddenly you felt like you were prying, intruding on a moment that was too private and too personal. 

So you bit your lip, taking a breath and turning to leave. 

The floor creaked under your foot. 

Shit. 

You froze just as Billie‘s breath hitched. 

“Y/N?” she whispered, and goosebumps ripped out over your skin because it sounded like a wish. It sounded like hope. 

You could have left. You could have gone back upstairs and pretended like it had never happened. You were already behind the doorframe. She couldn’t see you. But what if she heard you again? What if the stairs squeaked and groaned and she came out to see you fleeing back up the steps? 

Stupid, idiotic new floors that hadn’t settled yet— 

You heard a sniff, a rustle, a sigh, and you realized it had been too long. You had hesitated too long. 

The mumbling started up again, and something inside of you fractured. She wasn’t sleeping. She hadn’t been. She had been crying and reasoning with herself and overthinking, her brain obviously too loud for her to fall into any semblance of rest. Just like yours had been. Just like you had done for three weeks, wishing and hoping and begging that she would come back. Just for a moment. Just for an instant. 

And now she was here. 

In your mind, when she came back everything went straight back to normal. She said just the right things and the world opened back up and you ran into her waiting arms with kisses and “I love you”s and millions of promises exchanged in seconds. 

But it hadn’t been like that. It couldn’t be like that. Not after everything. So it had been like this. And you were taking it one step at a time. 

One step at a time. 

A deep breath, and you gripped your hand around the doorframe, walking slowly, quietly around the corner. 

She was still curled on the couch, fingers carding through her hair as her mouth moved around words. 

This time, her hands weren’t over her face. This time, she saw you. 

Billie immediately froze, sitting up on the couch and scrambling to wipe at her eyes, to push her hair back into place. She tucked it behind her ear, and your mind flashed back to the first time you’d ever seen her do that. Her acrylics digging through curls and tucking them back as she eased down between your thighs, pushing them open and kissing them slowly. Hot, sticky kisses and deep red marks from her nails. It wasn’t the first time she had eaten you out. It wasn’t the thirtieth. But it was the first time she had pushed her perfect appearance out of the way so that she could focus on pleasuring you. It was the first little way she had said “I love you”, let her guard down and been completely open with you. In her own way. 

And here she was, doing it again. 

You pushed the thought aside as her voice cut through the still air hanging in the darkness. 

“Is everything alright?”

It was raspy, but not from sleep. It was raspy because she probably hadn’t stopped talking the entire night. 

You swallowed hard. 

“I couldn’t sleep,” you started, unsure of what else to say. What were you supposed to say? 

What did you want to say?

She chuckled, sniffing again and wiping delicately at her nose. “Me neither.”

There was a long pause, ice creeping down your skin as the words churned over and over in your head. You should ask. All you had to do was ask. 

Billie cleared her throat. “Did you want to watch tv? I can move, we can switch—“

“Come to bed with me.”

The words were out of your mouth before you could stop them, and you didn’t even know if you had said it right. Phrased it right. It might have come across completely wrong because you hadn’t actually thought. The only thing you processed was sheer want, and your request was born of that. Want of her. Want of company. Want of everything to go back to the way it had been. Before. 

Billie hesitated, and you watched her fingers twitch against her sheets. All of this darkness, all of this gloom, and you could still see her fingers twitch. 

You were too focused on her.

You were only focused on her.

“Are you sure?” Billie tried softly, but she was already standing, pulling the sheets off with eager eyes. 

Your heart stuttered. Backtracked. 

“N-Not like that. I just— I was cold and I couldn’t sleep and I—“

But then Billie was there, crossing the room and wrapping you in a tentative hug as she shushed you. 

“I know, I know. I couldn’t sleep, either.” 

You nodded, pulling yourself from her embrace. Coughing around the lump forming in your throat. Because you had asked. And she had been willing, and there was no going back now. 

You had expected her smile to fracture when you pulled away, but when you looked up at her you realized that she hadn’t been smiling. She didn’t look happy, or relieved. She looked exhausted. 

She wasn’t doing this because she wanted to. She was doing this for you. Because you had asked. 

And as she turned you around and prompted you out the door with a soft “let’s go to bed, sweetheart,” you suddenly felt like a child. Foolish. Small. Again. 

You only made it halfway up the stairs, Billie trailing close behind, before stopping mid-step and turning to face her. 

She wasn’t looking at you, her eyes pinned to the stairs, and just as your gaze landed on her she glanced up, realizing that you had stopped, and practically ran smack into you. 

Your arm came out on instinct, holding her steady, and she offered you a weak smile. 

“I’m alright,” she tried, and then her eyes moved past you up the stairs as she nodded expectantly. “Let’s go—“

“You don’t have to do this,” you said softly. And you hated the way you instinctively chewed on your lip, fingers digging into her arm to keep yourself grounded. 

“Don’t be ridiculous,” she replied smoothly, making to move past you. But you squeezed her arm, holding her back. 

“Billie, I mean it.” You stared at her. Blinked. Took a deep breath. “Please don’t do this just because you feel... sorry for me. I don’t...” Another breath. “I don’t want your pity. I just wanted some company.”

Your company. 

You expected a smirk. You expected a witty remark. But instead something like confusion etched down her brows, mixing with a flash of hurt in her eyes. 

“I don’t pity you,” she murmured, shaking her head. 

You scoffed. 

And then her fingers on your chin, tilting your face up to look her in the eye. And you were caught. Caught in her grip, caught in her stare. 

“I don’t pity you,” she said firmly, fingers tightening. “I missed you. That’s all.”

That’s all. Like it was nothing. Like you missing her hadn’t completely ripped you to shreds. Like it hadn’t taken every piece of your sanity and flipped your world into another dimension. Like it hadn’t ended your existence as you had known it. 

But there was something soft in her eyes, a depth there that you hadn’t realized was missing. And another memory came. 

The two of you on these steps. Not far from where you were now. Her hands flitting over you as you went before she grabbed you and pinned you to the wall, her hand coming to your throat for a second before fingers tucked under your chin and forced your face up. Forced your wide eyes to meet her lust-clouded ones. And the way she kissed you, like she was devouring you. 

“Mine. Such a good girl.”

Your fingers twitched on her arm, eyes flicking down to her lips. She watched you closely, calculating. And when her eyes tracked down your face, you knew she was remembering the exact same thing. 

Something hot pooled in your stomach and suddenly, suddenly, you needed her mouth on you more than anything. 

You tilted your chin up, following the push of her fingers. Licked your lips. Brushed your thumb over her arm. She was right there. Right in front of you. Inches away. 

Please.

And then she pulled away, shaking her head out and clearing her throat as she brushed past you. 

“We should— you should get some sleep,” she amended, flicking her bangs back into place as she walked. 

And you couldn’t help but stare at the way her pants hugged her hips as she went, swaying gently. 

Her pants. 

She hadn’t changed out of her clothes. 

You practically ran after her, following her into the bedroom. 

“Do you want to change?” You blurted out, and she was already halfway into the bed. 

She turned to look at you, exquisitely lit by the stars from the window. Eyes glassy. 

“It’s fine, I’m fine. You need sleep. Come on.”

She patted the bed and you shook your head, moving to the dresser and finding some sort of shirt and short set that matched. Handed them over. And the hesitance there, the way her teeth pinned into her bottom lip, everything aligned at once. 

She was afraid you were going to change your mind. 

That’s why she was rushing you to bed. 

You offered her a small smile, pushing the clothes further into her grip. 

“Go change.” A pause. A nod. “I’ll still be right here when you get back. I’ll still want you in bed with me.” 

Billie let out a soft sigh, nodding slowly. “Thank you.”

And as she slid into the bathroom and shut the door, as you crawled back into bed and pulled the covers around you, you weren’t sure if she was thanking you for the comfort of the clothes or the comfort of consistency. 

You barely had time to take a sip of water before the door opened again, and you had to physically stop yourself from staring at her legs. It had been too long since you had seen them exposed like that. You almost forgot how beautiful they were. 

You could never forget how beautiful they were. 

Billie pulled the covers all the way back, only pausing to give you a questioning look. To double check. 

You nodded. 

And then the two of you were laying down, covers tucked up to your chins and too much space between you. You stared out the window, chewing your lip at the silence.

It was so much better, and yet infinitely worse. 

“Thank you for... coming up here with me,” you whispered, fingers picking at the sheets. 

Billie hummed. 

“It’s just, the sheets are so cold and—“

She shushed you, cutting you off. “You don’t have to thank me. There’s nowhere else I’d rather be.”

Tears pricked your eyes then, at the loss you had endured, at finally having her back in your bed. At the inevitable space that separated you, growing by the second as the silence amplified. You hadn’t thought you’d had any tears left to cry. 

Stillness settled in, and you let yourself focus on the sound of her breath, rising and falling and rising again. Watched the constellations dance from the window. Thought back to buying this house, and how Billie had specifically pointed out what a great view it would be. She knew you liked to sleep with the curtains open. She knew you liked to watch the universe go by. 

A soft sigh and Billie rustled, and you thought maybe she had fallen asleep. 

A warmth threaded through you at the thought that she could do that. She felt comfortable enough to fall asleep in the midst of all of this mess. 

But just as you felt the exhaustion creep up, just as you started matching your breaths with hers and imagining her heartbeat beneath your ear, just like you had tried to do every night for the past three weeks, her hand covered yours under the sheets. 

You startled, whipping your head around to face her. 

But no, she was asleep. 

God, you forgot how angelic she looked when she was sleeping. The moonlight making her hair almost silver, her face buried in her pillow and half covered by curls. Peaceful. Soft.  

You almost pulled your hand away. Almost slid it out from under hers and turned away. But then she squeezed, just so, and brushed her thumb over your knuckles, back and forth and back and forth. And before you knew what was happening you threaded your fingers with hers, sank into the comfort of her touch, and fell into a thick, heavy sleep. 

You woke in a fog, dazed by sunlight streaming through the window and tangled up in Billie’s warmth. Her strong arms were wrapped loosely around you and you snuggled further into her chest, nuzzling your nose against the soft skin there. Her arms tightened, just so, and you blinked the sleep from your brain, running your foot up the smooth curves of her calf as you pressed soft kisses to her skin. 

She smelled of smoke and sage. Just like home, just like she always did. 

You buried your face closer to her chest, opening your eyes on bare skin streaked in gold, and a black lace bra barely containing the swell of her breasts when she was laying on her side like this. 

You hummed, groggily kissing and biting and licking hot lines up the edge of her bra as she stirred. She murmured your name, half-asleep. The way she always did when you woke her up like this, your legs tangled in hers and your mouth eager to darken the marks that had faded from the night before. 

The night before.

Why couldn’t you remember the night before? 

Nails pricked at your scalp as her fingers carded through your hair. Lazily. Absently. Tightened, just barely, and tugged you up. 

You happily obliged, tracing your fingers down her side and flicking your thumb over her bra as you kissed up her chest, sucked messy marks up her neck. You hummed again as she pressed a soft kiss to the top of your head, leaning up and nipping at her pulse point. 

And then her fingers twined with yours, her thumb rubbing lazy circles against your own pulse point as her lips ghosted across your hairline, over your eyelids, down your nose. Hovering just inches from your mouth. 

Her thumb pressed against your wrist. As if to say, “you’re mine.” As if to say, “I own this.” As if to say— 

Her fingers skimmed over your inner thigh, catching on something and sending a sting up your leg. 

Your eyes flew open, realization hitting you like a train, full force. 

Your bandage. Last night. Yesterday. All of it. 

Billie blinked slowly, confusion clouding her already sleepy expression. But she must have seen the look on your face, because a split second later, clarity sharpened her eyes and she pulled her hands off of you so quickly that you could have burned her. 

You scrambled back in the bed, pulling the sheets up to cover yourself. To put something between you and her for the millionth time in just a few hours. 

“I—“ Billie stuttered, looking around the bed and fumbling for something. And as you watched her, watched her ribs twist under her bra, you said the only think that you could think of. 

“Why the hell aren’t you wearing a shirt?!”

Your eyes were wide as she scrambled, face lighting as she found what she was looking for and leaned over the side of the bed. 

“I got hot in the middle of the night, I’m sorry, I—“ She pulled the discarded shirt from the floor, slipping it on quickly and tugging at it. “I’m sorry, Y/N. I’m so sorry.”

“You can’t just— you shouldn’t—“ you fumbled at words, heart pounding over everything that had just happened. At the taste of her still stuck in your mouth. “You can’t just take your shirt off like that, Billie. Come on.”

“I said I was sorry!” she countered, voice elevated as her chest heaved. As she stared at you. 

You stared right back at her, swallowing hard around your pounding heart. Watched the way she bit into her lip before her mouth fell open again around her panting. 

And then you were on her, and she was on you, arms reaching for you as you launched yourself across the bed and crushed your mouth to hers. 

She pulled you so tightly to her that you thought you would suffocate, not to mention the way her mouth was clashing against yours, teeth and desperation as she sucked the air from your lungs. 

Her hands were everywhere, sloppy, needy. So unlike how she normally touched you. But yours were the same. Dragging over every inch of her just to feel her again. 

You could feel her heart pounding against yours as you raked your nails over her back, and she gasped into your mouth, giving you a break to bite at her lip and hook your fingers under her shirt. 

“Get this stupid thing off,” you panted, yanking and pulling, up, up, up. 

Billie leaned back, ripping it up over her head. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” she mumbled, and then the shirt was back on the floor and she had an arm around your waist and you were being pushed down into the mattress, Billie’s thighs hugging your hips as she pinned you down. 

“Billie,” you begged, raking your nails over her arms before grabbing her by the hair and pulling her down to your mouth. 

Her lips were so soft, so urgent, and you couldn’t help but whine into her mouth, yanking at her hair and making her gasp. 

“God, fucking hell,” she breathed, kissing your jaw for a split second before moving back to your mouth. Like she couldn’t get enough of you. 

You didn’t want her kissing your jaw. You wanted her mouth directly on yours. The most intimate way to say the most intimate things. Hot and messy and broken by ragged breathing. Desperation into action. Kissing you, kissing you, kissing you. 

“I love you,” you breathed, not even sure you said it out loud. Halfway convinced she sucked the words right out of your chest. 

And she kissed you harder, her tongue pushing and fighting with yours. 

“I love you, too.” Panting, breathing, grabbing, holding. “I love you, too.” 

Something deflated at those words coming out of her mouth. Some kind of tension between you, because you hadn’t been sure. She had left and she had gone and you honestly hadn’t been sure anymore. 

But now she was back. And she was saying it. And the air lightened and the sun brightened and the last barrier lifted from your heart. 

Her kisses slowed down, tongue dancing with yours instead of fighting it, her fingers loosening on your waist and skimming up your sides. 

“Billie,” you gasped, toes curling at the sensation. 

And then she broke away, pressing her forehead to yours and nudging your noses together. 

And the way she was braced over you, taking up your entire field of vision. Taking up your entire world. 

A tear fell onto your cheek and you startled back to the present, hands coming up to swipe at Billie’s eyes before you even registered she was crying. 

“Hey,” you tried. She shook her head softly, closing her eyes. But you caught her cheeks, cupping her face in your hands. “Hey, what’s wrong?”

A sniff, and then she looked up at you, her perfect facade fractured once again. Eyes rimmed red, a flush in her cheeks from whatever she was feeling. From whatever she had been feeling just moments before. 

“I don’t know how to apologize to you,” she breathed, and her voice broke. “I’ve been over it and over it in my mind, and nothing that I could say will ever be good enough.”

You shushed her, cooing as your swiped at her fresh tears. But she batted you away. 

“Don’t—“

“Billie,” you chided, hands finding her cheeks again and forcing her eyes back to yours. Tear-stained. Glassy. “It’s going to take a long time for you to find the right words. Just like it’s going to take a long time for me to trust you again.”

She ducked her head, a sob pushing out of her throat. 

You pressed a kiss to her forehead, continuing. “But we’ll get there. You’ll apologize and I will forgive you. Eventually.” 

She dropped her head to your shoulder, body shaking as she cried. Your hands came up immediately, one pulling through her curls while the other rubbed over her back. 

“It’s okay, Billie. It’s okay. You’re back now and we can start figuring everything out. Step by step.”

A slight nod against your neck and you smiled. Because you meant it. Something had settled and healed in the warmth of the morning, and you were ready. You were ready to try. 

“Now how about we go make some breakfast, and you can start at the very beginning. Tell me everything from your perspective.” 

Billie led you down the stairs, your fingers twined with hers as she tugged you along. Your eyes tracked down her back, still bare. She hadn’t bothered to put her shirt back on. You had silently pleaded with the gods that she wouldn’t. And you thanked them now as you watched her shoulder blades roll with every step. 

You didn’t miss the way her pace stuttered when she passed the spot where she had pinned you last night. Didn’t miss the way her fingers twitched. 

By the time you had pulled out eggs, peppers, and tomatoes, and scrounged for some frozen bacon, Billie had left sage to burn in every single room downstairs. 

“Who knew you had so much negative energy to expel,” she teased, coming up behind you and pulling the eggs from your hands. 

“What can I say,” you countered, turning your head and grabbing the eggs back. “You bring out the worst in me.”

Billie let out a low chuckle, her free hand falling possessively to your hip. 

You tutted. “Hands off while I cook.” 

She groaned, resting her chin on your shoulder. “You can’t kiss me like that and then tell me not to touch.”

Your brows hit your hairline, images flashing through your mind of the hundreds, thousands of times she had done just that to you. “Oh, I can’t?” 

She laughed then, a real, full laugh that warmed you instantly from the inside out. And you popped her with your hip, bumping her out of the way as you grabbed a bowl down and cracked the eggs. 

You didn’t notice her opening the wine fridge, didn’t notice her pull down two wine glasses. You were too engrossed in cracking the eggs, not making a mess, catching the shells. It wasn’t until you were washing your hands in the sink and Billie’s arm wrapped around your waist that you noticed the wine glass in her hand. 

You checked the clock. “It’s ten in the morning, Billie.” 

“Let me cook for you, hm?” She pressed a soft kiss to your neck, and you couldn’t help but shiver. 

You shook your head, making to move back to the eggs, but her hand splayed out on your stomach and she held you against her. 

“Billie,” you warned, that familiar warmth pooling in your stomach again. And this time, you were mildly afraid of it. Because you didn’t know if you were allowed to want her. Didn’t know if you were supposed to give in to her that easily.

She pushed the wine glass into your hand and pulled you around the bar, dropping you onto a stool. 

“You just sit and enjoy your wine. Let me do this for you. It’s the least I can do.”

Half of you wanted to protest. Half of you knew she was right. And there was a small part of you, growing by the second, that was remembering how much you loved watching her cook.

You watched her over the rim of your wine glass, grinning as she glanced up at you. 

“That’s the Pact,” she murmured, her brow popping up as she busied herself cutting up peppers. 

You almost choked. “We were saving it for a special occasion.”

She smirked, licking her thumb clean. “This seems special enough for me.”

You rolled your eyes, fighting the flush that burned in your cheeks. Billie dumped the eggs and vegetables into a pan, and then she grabbed her own wine glass and clinked it against yours. 

“To new beginnings,” she said softly, teeth digging into her bottom lip. 

“To my lover coming back to her senses and realizing she can’t live without me.” 

Billie laughed, her mouth falling open into that perfect smile, and you raised your glass, chuckling around your sip. 

“Fuck, that’s good,” you said after you swallowed, and you watched her eyes go wide as she swallowed her own sip. 

“Shit.”

“I told you.” 

Billie set her glass down, stirring the contents of the pan as they sizzled. “We definitely should have saved that for a special occasion.” 

You slid out of your seat, drawn to her like a magnet and refusing to be so far away from her for another second. It was like everything had melted away, with every minute that ticked by. Everything was going back to normal, and you had a feeling it was going to be a lot easier to forgive her than you had initially thought. Especially with the way your soul was responding to hers, cracking and popping and drawing your body to hers almost against your will. 

You wrapped your arms around her waist as she stirred. “What happened to ‘this seems special enough for me’?”

She chuckled low in the back of her throat, turning her head to kiss your nose. “I meant like an engagement.” 

“Ah,” you teased, brows popping up. “Should I expect a proposal?”

And then she kissed you properly, mumbling a soft “you wish” against your lips before removing the pan from the stove and setting it on the counter. 

You kissed her again as you giggled, desperate to get another taste, another piece of her affection. You had missed this, giggling into kisses and dancing around the kitchen, hands constantly wandering and pinching and flitting over places they shouldn’t. 

Billie broke the kiss, nudging your nose. “Go get the plates, sweetheart.”

And you couldn’t help your slight bounce as you crossed the kitchen, the pet name making your fingers itch. A second later and you were back, two plates in hand. Billie divided the contents of the pan evenly between the two, and you set them down at the bar. 

There was silence for a few moments, the meal from last night running through your mind on a loop. How you hadn’t taken a bite from her plate, let alone let her touch you. And just minutes ago you had been wishing she would sit you up on the counter and kiss you like she meant it. Like she used to. 

Billie cleared her throat, breath suddenly shaky. “So, should we talk now, or...?”

You swallowed your sip of wine, letting out a long sigh. Shook your head softly. “Billie...” 

She wasn’t looking at you, staring down at her plate as she absently stabbed at her eggs. “I don’t know why I left. Why I thought I could leave you. Just leave you here, alone. I don’t— I don’t know why I did it.”

You could hear her breaths quickening, the tears sticking in her throat. 

“Billie, we don’t have to do this right now,” you said softly, hand finding her knee and stroking over the dips there. 

“No,” she said firmly, and you startled. “You deserve an explanation. I just don’t have one. Not one that excuses what I did.”

“I’m not looking for an excuse,” you started, and she did look up at you then, the suave, swaggering woman who had just made your breakfast buried under the burden of her emotion. 

“I think I didn’t know how to ask you to come with me.”

You shook your head again. “Billie, you didn’t have to ask. I told you—“

“No, I know,” she sighed, fingers flicking over her fork like a cigarette. “I know what you said. But how was I supposed to ask you to give all of this up? Your life, your family, your friends, just to move across an ocean with me?”

“Just?” You repeated, brows furrowing. And now tears were forming in your own eyes. “Billie, do you realize how much you mean to me? Do you realize that I would do anything for you?”

She shook her head, swiping at a tear as it fell. “But not this.”

“Yes, this.”

“No,” she said again, her hand covering yours on her knee. Her thumb brushed over your knuckles. “Not this. Because what if it ended up being nothing? What if it was a waste of time and a waste of money, and— What if nothing came of it, and you ended up resenting me for pulling you away from your life, your job. For nothing?”

Time froze around you, ice threading through your veins. You tried to take a breath, but there was no air as realization settled down. As your heart stuttered in your chest. 

“I could never resent you,” you tried, hand frozen under hers. 

She shook her head, taking another sip of her wine. “You don’t know that.”

But no. You did know. That was the one thing you knew over everything else on this earth. Because even when your heart was shattered to pieces and you were only and solely blaming her, you still couldn’t resent her. You couldn’t, even though you absolutely tried. 

“Billie,” you breathed, still frozen in place on your barstool. 

Her thumb brushed mindlessly over the back of your hand. “And what if you came with me and you didn’t like London? Or hated your new job, or—“

“Billie,” you said again, more forcefully this time. And this time, she looked up at you. “Kiss me.”

Her eyes widened, just so. “What?”

“Kiss me,” you pleaded, tears welling in your eyes as the truth melted around you, melted into you, melted the ice in your veins and set your heart pounding. “Please—“

She lunged forward, hands on your face as she kissed you deeply, fervently, intently. And you kept melting, melting against her, hands coming up to grip her shoulders and pull her closer, closer. 

She hadn’t left you behind because she didn’t care about you. She had left you behind because she was trying to protect you. She was worried about you. Because you were her first priority. She wouldn’t sacrifice your happiness for hers. 

“I’m sorry,” she murmured against your lips, and you stood, pressing yourself flush against her. 

“Shut up.” 

You kissed her hard, the new angle making it easy to take control. And when you licked at her lip, she opened her mouth easily. She tasted of wine, of nice, expensive wine, the spice of the peppers warming your tongue. You couldn’t help but hum into her, tucking your fingers behind her ears and pulling her mouth impossibly closer. 

“You’re an idiot,” you mumbled against her lips, gasping as she let her teeth graze over yours. 

And then her hands were on your waist and she uncrossed her legs, pulling you between them. Her mouth hit your ear, hot and sticky and low. “You want to try that again?”

A groan fell out of you. You couldn’t help it. Not with the way her nails were digging through your shirt and her thighs were hugging your hips. 

Her lips trailed from your ear down your jaw, licking over your pulse point. She nuzzled her nose there, humming. As if to say, “you’re mine.” As if to say, “I’ll never leave you again.” As if to say—

“I love you,” she breathed, and you felt her sigh into her kisses, pinching your soft skin between her teeth and sucking over the sting.

Your fingers found her hair, raking through it. Desperate. You melted until you were burning, scorching need running from your fingers to your toes, pooling between your thighs and making it hard to breathe. You had missed that feeling. You had thought it was gone forever. But here it was, burning you alive. Back with a vengeance. 

You wiggled your hips against hers and she moaned into your neck. 

“Billie,” you breathed, fisting her hair and tugging. Her hands started wandering then, up your shirt, over your thighs, any piece of you she could find. But it was different than this morning. Something between the messy way her nails had raked over you, so needy, and the way she normally touched you, so carefully. Thoughtfully. An artful plucking of every one of your strings. 

“God, I missed you,” she sighed, pressing a hot kiss just over your heart. And then your shirt was rucked up and she was kissing down the line of your bra, tongue flicking out under the fabric as she glanced up at you. 

“Fuck,” you moaned, eyes fluttering closed as you squeezed your thighs together. “You can’t look at me like that.” 

She chuckled against your skin, fingers tight on your ribs as she held your shirt up. “Or what?”

You yanked on her hair, pulling her back from your stomach as you leaned down and kissed her. “Do you have any idea how fucking sexy you are?”

“It’s ringing a vague bell,” she panted against your mouth, breaths coming out in hot little puffs. And then she dove forward again, catching your mouth with hers and kissing you roughly. 

“Please,” you begged as you broke for air, hands falling to her shoulders as your thumbs ran along her collarbones. 

She shivered. You knew how that got to her. And when she spoke, there was a need laced under her usual confidence. “You haven’t asked for anything, sweetheart.”

You growled, shoving her back so she was pinned against the counter. Your mouth hit her neck and you weren’t gentle, biting hard as she gasped, her hands gripping into your sides. 

“God, baby, go easy.”

“No,” you mumbled into her skin, all of the need and want that had surfaced at her absence, the longing and pining and wishing and hoping, for her, bubbling back to surface and burning you everywhere she wasn’t touching you. 

And she read your mind, her hands tracing over your back as you marked her, sliding down over your ass and kneading. 

“Billie Dean Howard,” you gasped into that space between her breasts, biting down on the fabric of her bra to keep yourself from moaning. “You have thirty seconds to get me to a horizontal surface before I push you down on your knees right here—“

And then she was up, backing you out of the kitchen and down into the couch. 

“Shirt off, now,” she growled, ripping at the buttons as she straddled you. 

You smirked against her sloppy kisses, helping her get the buttons undone. “Yes, ma’am.” 

She moaned, leaning back on her thighs and letting her eyes rake over you as your shirt fell open. You couldn’t help the flush that crawled up your chest, that dove straight between your thighs. 

“God, I missed the way those words sound coming out of your mouth.” Billie shook her head as you bit into a grin. “How did I ever think I could live without you?” She murmured, fingers sliding up your stomach almost reverently. 

Your hands covered hers, squeezing softly before moving them up, arching your back and leading her to the clasp of your bra. 

“Don’t leave me again,” you whispered, holding onto her eye contact like she would vanish if you blinked. Because somehow you still felt like she wasn’t real. Like you were going to wake up and she would be gone. But the warmth of her fingers as she unclasped your bra proved you wrong. 

A tear fell as Billie leaned over you, kissing across your chest as she pulled your bra out of the way. “I couldn’t if I tried.”

You thought you heard her mumble something like “exquisite” as she ghosted her lips over your nipple, but then there was a loud click and the front door opened, and voices flooded your foyer. 

“Y/N, we’re here.”

“Just making sure you’re still alive.”

Your eyes went wide and you shoved Billie off of you, scrambling to re-hook your bra. 

“Shit,” you muttered, Billie fumbling with the buttons on your shirt and doing them up as you pulled your fingers through your hair. “Shit, shit, shit.” 

There was a split second before they came into the room, a split second where Billie reached up and adjusted your collar to no doubt cover a mark that she had left. A split second where you both looked at each other, fighting smiles as you settled down onto the couch, her on the arm, hand finding your thigh. 

And then Angelica and Michelle walked into the room, clearly shocked to find you sitting up, and clearly shocked to find Billie still here. 

“Should we have called?” Angelica mused, her brow popping up. 

Michelle stopped in her tracks right behind her, an impressed smirk on her face. “So, do we just not wear shirts in this house now, or...?”

And that’s when you realized that Billie was still only in her bra. 

Your heart stuttered and you glanced over at her, but she was already talking to your friends, her hand tightening, just barely, on your thigh in reassurance. 

“...honestly would have thought me not coming back last night would have been a clear enough sign that everything was alright.” 

Angelica scoffed, moving through the kitchen and stabbing at some of the abandoned eggs. “I don’t know what happened,” she mumbled around a bite of food. “You could have killed each other for all I know— Fuck, these are good.”

She took three more bites as Michelle set her stuff down on the counter and walked to the stove. 

“I’m assuming you’re going to make this bacon, yes?” 

You coughed to cover a snort as Billie’s nails dug into your thigh. 

Her mouth hit your ear. “You distracting, little—“ 

You hummed, hand coming to cover hers. “You were the one who insisted on cooking. It’s not my fault you can’t focus. I laid everything out for you.” 

“Listen—“ Billie started, lips already twitching up into a predatory smirk. But then Angelica’s voice cut through the room. 

“So you got her to eat?” 

“And shower, by the looks of it,” Michelle finished as Angelica spun a wine glass in her hand.

“And I see we’re day drinking?”

You rolled your eyes, getting up from the couch to take the glass from Angelica before she took a sip. 

“So we’re staying, right?” Angelica asked as you set the glass down, looking to Michelle. 

“Oh yeah, definitely staying.”

“Oh, no no,” you chided, grabbing them both by their arms and dragging them back towards the front door. “I don’t think so.”

“Kicking us out already? God, you two really can’t keep your hands off of each other.”

You flushed, glancing behind you to find Billie smirking as she rose to follow. 

“How about the two of you shut up?”

“How about you say thank you for taking care of your sorry ass for three weeks?”

“And for covering for you at work,” Angelica added. 

You chuckled, hugging them both tightly. 

“Thank you. Really. I don’t know what I would do without you two.”

“Probably die in a hole of self-pity,” Michelle chimed in, and Angelica nudged her. 

Your brow raised and you felt Billie behind you before you heard her, leaning back instinctively as her arms wrapped around your waist. 

“You know,” you started, thumb brushing absently over Billie’s arm. “If you two are nice to me, I might just invite you over for a thank you dinner tonight.”

“And if not?” Angelica teased, Michelle practically dragging her out the front door. 

“We’ll see you at seven!” Michelle called, Angelica shoving at her and pulling keys from her back pocket. “You’d better have wine left!”

You waved, laughing as you shut the door behind them. As soon as it clicked, you felt Billie’s hands on your waist.

“I’m not going to lie, part of me will miss staying with them.”

You turned in her arms, brow popping up. “Oh yeah?” 

Billie’s lip twitched over a smirk. “Jealous?”

“And what if I am?” You replied, breath hitching as Billie’s hands slid up under your shirt, pinning you against the door. Her mouth found your neck in seconds, sucking and licking and kissing over your pulse point. 

“I seem to remember you begging me to fuck you a moment ago,” she purred, and your eyes fell closed, fingers tightening on her waist. 

“Please,” you whined. And you felt Billie smirk against your skin. 

“So needy for me already, hm?”

You nodded, pulling her impossibly closer. “Always.” Your hand fell to her hair, holding her in place. “God, please, Billie, just—“

A loud banging on the door made you practically jump out of your skin, and Billie sprung off of you, cursing. 

“What the fuck?” You muttered, pulling your shirt down and looking to Billie for the answer. She shook her head, flicking her bangs back into place. You peered through the window by the door. And immediately rolled your eyes.

“What?!” you growled as you yanked the door open, eyes landing back on your friends. 

“I forgot my phone,” Michelle apologized, sliding past you and giving Billie a soft wave. 

Angelica sighed. “Honestly, Y/N. Against the door? We didn’t even make it down the driveway.” 

“It’s not my problem you’re a slow driver, Angie,” Billie chimed in, sidling up next to you. 

“And we didn’t have time to do anything against the door, because you two—“ Michelle slid back past you, phone in hand. You waved your finger between them. “—you two can’t seem to leave me alone.”

Angelica laughed, shaking her head. “You’d better be glad we didn’t leave you alone, or you wouldn’t have eaten for three weeks.”

Michelle slid her phone into her back pocket as Billie’s hands wrapped around your waist and her mouth found your neck. 

“You’re only alive because of us,” Angelica tried again, obviously looking for another thank you. But you couldn’t focus with Billie’s fingers sliding against your stomach. 

“I’m not waiting for you to leave, Angie,” Billie chimed in again, pressing a kiss to your neck. “It’s been three weeks. You’re lucky I kept my hands off of her this long.”

Michelle dragged Angelica away with a soft “ew, ew come on,” and Angelica rolled her eyes as she was tugged back to her car, pointing at you. 

“I did this! You owe me!”

“Mhm, yep, I’ll be sure to thank you in my next acceptance speech,” Billie called, spinning you in her arms and kissing you properly. 

You melted into her, wrapping your arms up around her neck and threading your fingers through the hair there. 

You heard the car start, and then Angelica’s voice screaming “get a room” as the engine faded off. 

Billie broke away from you then, reaching out and shutting the door. 

“If only we had a room,” she teased, pulling your hips against hers. 

You smirked. “Or two.”

“Or three.”

“Or four—“

You cut off with a squeak as Billie’s hands hooked under your thighs and she picked you up. 

“I guess the only question now is which one, hm?” 

You hummed, scratching your nails against her scalp. “Or in which order.”

Billie did thank Angelica during her next acceptance speech. It was a speech for an award she won, for a job that she had gotten only because she had left the London job. You didn’t realize, as you sat at the table with her costars and watched her shine up on that stage, light bouncing off of her smile just as brilliantly as it was bouncing off the gold statue in her hands, that this award would be one of seven. That this job that she had gotten because she had decided to stay with you would sweep her career to heights that you couldn’t have even imagined. Soon, you would be dating an A-list celebrity. Soon, your lives would change. Soon, everything would be different. 

But as you sat in that uncomfortable chair and gazed at the love of your life on one of the proudest moments of her life, absently twisting your engagement ring over your finger as you always seemed to do when Billie was on your mind, all you could think about was how lucky you were. Blessed. Utterly spoiled. 

Because Billie was yours. Billie was yours, and you were hers. Unequivocally. Forever. And no matter where this award took her, no matter what happened next, none of that would change. Billie Dean Howard had come back to you. She would always come back, be it an hour or two months. Billie would always be standing right next to you. Right by your side.

Time after time. 

Tag List: @thatgirlintheleatherjacket​ @shineestark​ @duchessfics​ @darling-dontforgetme​ @midnight-lestrange​ @nerdaroo​ @pradababey​ @mssallymckenna​ + @raleigh-ocean​ (because we’ve been talking about this for too long)

[catxsnow]

UNDER THE MASK B.W.

Summary: You and Bruce were best friends your whole life until you grew apart. Seven years later, things changed when Batman shows up. Pre-Robin Batman

Warning: blood, angst, some fluff, mentions of smut at the end but it doesn’t go into detail at all. Swearing. 

A/N: I’ve had this in my drafts for like three months whoops

Word count: 4.3k

You had known Bruce your whole life - literally.

With your parents being best friends, the two of you had been inseparable since you were in diapers. Growing up, he was the one person that you could always rely on and the only person that was able to make you smile when you were sad. Bruce knew more about you than you ever knew about yourself.

When his parents died, your whole family grieved alongside him. For a while, it had brought you even closer. You found yourself staying over at the Manor to watch over Bruce alongside Alfred. Nights that you would hear him crying, you would sneak in and sleep next to him. Even during school when kids would tease him you would stand up for him.

When high school rolled around, you found yourself closer than you ever had been with Bruce. One drunken mistake between the two of you and the next day it was all across the school that you were dating. For the first time in a long time, you saw him genuinely happy.

You weren't going to leave his side for anything, at least that was what you had thought.

As Bruce grew older, he also grew farther apart from you. Less evenings were spent together and soon your weekends went away too. He took over his family's company and disappeared off your radar at the same time. You were heartbroken by his absence. For years you had watched over him, now he had left you.

You had seen him all over the news. Paper headlines about what WE was planning for the future or some fancy gala that he attended with girls hanging off his arms. You couldn't help but think of the pang of hurt that ran through your chest every time you saw him with someone new. He was gone from you life and by the looks of it, he wasn't coming back.

There were the rare times that you would run into Alfred. He had raised you nearly as much as he had raised Bruce by the amount of time that you spent together. You always asked how Bruce was and it seemed to be the same answer every time: he's good, working hard at WE, keeps to himself half the time.

You had lost hope that you would ever get to be close to him again. Maybe you had lost hope when he had broken up with you after high school. Maybe, you out grew him and his life. The reality of it all, was that you had just given up.

If Bruce wanted to be a part of your life, he would have made the effort in the past seven years. Instead, he sat at the top of his Wayne Tower without a single thought of you. Why bother missing someone when they never missed you?

Just like any other night in Gotham, it was cold. You sat in your apartment with your blanket wrapped around you and a hot mug in your hand. Some movie played but it was more background noise than anything. Over the years, you had gained the bad habit of zoning out when you were alone. This happened to be one of those times.

Memories of you and Bruce as kids running around the Wayne Manor. The two of you getting in trouble with his parents and eventually Alfred. Apart, you were both well-behaved children, together, you were hooligans. No matter how many times you had gotten lectures, you would never stop your games.

You missed those times. Free of responsibilities, free of pain, free to do anything you wanted. Those days were long gone, and no amount of wishing would get them back.

A loud thud had brought you out of your daze. You nearly screamed at the sight of your window and if you weren't there to see it yourself, you wouldn't have believed it to be true. A dark figure hovered on your fire escape right outside your window. This was Gotham, you were terrified at first.

It wasn't until the figure turned his head that you realized it was Batman himself. You had heard the rumors of him in the city and what he did at night. You wouldn't have believed them either if you didn't have a run in with him.

It was several months back. You had worked late that night and the walk to your car had apparently been too late to go by yourself. It wasn't even half way there when some creep tried to grab hold of you and do god knows what. If it wasn't for Batman popping in and beating the ever living hell out of him, you weren't sure what was going to happen.

As far as you were aware, his intentions were good, but his methods terrified you. He showed no mercy against that man and you had been unnerved by him ever since. You were thankful for him that night, but you hoped to never run into him again.

Now, he was standing at your window looking like he was about to pass out and smearing blood all over the glass. You didn't know why he was there, or if it was just coincidence that it happened to be yours. It couldn't be, you were five stories up and if he was desperate enough, he wouldn't have gone to yours.

So, here you were debating whether or not to let him in to your home to see what the hell was wrong with him and what he wanted. For some damned reason, you had gone against your gut and unlocked your window for him to crawl in. Batman nearly collapsed against the ground, his hand against his side.

"(Y/N)..." he mumbled out. You didn't know how he knew your name, but that wasn't your worry at the moment. A gash as long as your forearm tore through his skin. He should have been at a hospital, but you suppose that wasn't really an option for him.

"Holy fuck," you breathed out. His eyes fluttered in and out of consciousness until finally resting. If it wasn't for the faint rise and fall of his chest, you were sure that he would have been dead. You scrambled to your pathetic excuse of a first aid kit and went to work on his wound.

With the blood wiped away, you could see that the gash wasn't particularly deep. He had lost enough blood to concern you though and if he lost any more you were sure you were going to have to call an ambulance.

You drenched the wound with alcohol but you couldn't bandage it unless his suit came off. Instead, you settled on cutting away the weakened material and placing long bandage on as best as you could. It wasn't near perfect, but at least he wasn't going to die in your living room anymore.

As the adrenaline started to wear off, you realized just what kind of mess you were in. The great Batman was passed out on your floor by god knows who and you had no idea why. You paced around your living room, blood staining your hands and your heart racing a mile a minute. This was by far insane.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," you muttered to yourself. What was going to happen when he woke up? If he woke up? What if he died and you had to explain to the cops why Batman was dead in your home? That wasn't something that you could handle. However, you knew that if he had risked his well-being to show up at some random person's apartment instead of the cops, then you knew you couldn't call 911.

The curiosity of who was behind the mask was eating you alive. You couldn't fathom who was idiotic enough to try and fight crime in Gotham in a suit based on an animal. He was out cold, there was no way that he would know if you took one little peak under to see who it was.

With a sigh, you went against your desires. Instead, you grabbed one of the pillows on your couch and tucked it under his head. The nervous twitch in your limbs wouldn't go away and you were sure that it would never go away while he was here. With high hopes, you drew your blanket around yourself and took your place on the couch once more.

Not once did you eyes live the unconscious body on your floor. Blood was no longer dripping from his wound but it was still smeared across your floor. This was the last thing that you expected to happen that night.

It was hours that you were staring at the same place. Hours of wondering if he was going to be okay and who he really was. Batman's mask was the last thing that you saw before sleep had consumed you.

><

You woke up the next morning with a start. Sprawled out on the couch with your blanket half on you. Memories of what happened the night before hit you like a freight train. Batman.

The man that had shown up last night was no longer on your floor. The pillow that he had was returned onto your couch and the remnants of his blood was the only proof that it wasn't some fucked up dream. You scrambled off your couch and ran around your apartment to see if he was still within it.

Thankfully, he wasn't. Instead a note was on your kitchen counter that hadn't been there the night before.

'Thank you. I owe you. -B'

Short and brief, it was still more than you were ever expecting from him. However, it wasn't the note that had gotten you shocked, it was the writing. You knew that handwriting from anywhere, you had grown up with it.

From learning how to spell and write, to passing notes in class, and for a brief moment in your life - love notes. This writing was something that you would recognize from anywhere at any time. It was Bruce's.

There was no way, Bruce couldn't be Batman. He was the owner of a multi-billion dollar company he didn't have time to dress up in a costume. Bruce was just some rich kid who slept with any woman he wanted to. Right?

There was only one way to find out - and you were going to make sure of it. You knew your way to the Manor like the back of your hand. Your parents had driven you there hundreds of times and Alfred even more. You knew the ins and outs of that place more than anyone. It had been your home for a long time too.

However, driving up to the gates filled your heart with terror. It had been seven long years since you had been here and you didn't know if you were ever welcomed back. Not to mention that if your theory was wrong, you would look like nothing but a deranged fool trying to get back into Bruce's life.

It was worth the risk, it had to be. When you were kids, you always made fun of how Bruce would write his ‘B’. It drove him crazy but he refused to ever change it - it was exactly like how his father wrote it. Elegant and flawless. 

The gates opened wide before you could even put your car in park to get access. The closer your drove up, the more you got nervous. Seven years without seeing Bruce, far too long for someone you thought was going to be in your life forever. You didn't even know what you wanted to say to him or where to even start.

The door to his home was surprisingly unlocked. You were sure that this must have been Alfred's doing, as well as being the one to let you in. He didn't appear at the front door like he used to upon your arrival. Then again, maybe he just didn't want to get between you and Bruce.

The Manor hadn't changed much since you had been there last. In fact, it didn't look like it changed at all. The study still looked the same. Shelves of books lining the wall and a sturdy wooden desk in the middle. That was always one of your favourite places to be.

You continued your journey, each room bringing back memories that you had completely forgotten about. Times that you and Bruce ran around, nearly destroying everything in your path. Others where the two of you would try and sneak up on Alfred. You felt a sense of longing the farther you went through his home.

It wasn't until you reached Bruce's room did you finally stop. His door was closed and you weren't sure what was going to be waiting for you on the other side of it. You did know, that if you stayed out there for any longer you would have turned right back around and pretended as if this never happened.

So, without even knocking, you had flung his door open. Bruce was buttoning up his shirt of the day. He looked surprised to see you there. Not that you could blame him, it had been close to a decade since you last spoke.

"(Y/N)," Bruce's face lit up. He finished tucking in his shirt as he stalked across the room towards you. "What are you doing here?" Bruce lifted his arms up as if he was going to hug you but you had stepped back. Confusion filled his eyes and he lowered himself back down.

"You have a lot of fucking explaining to do, Bruce Wayne," you snapped. A fire filled your eyes but Bruce had acted as if he was confused. "Showing up to my apartment last night half fucking dead in a bat suit? Are you fucking insane?"

"What are you talking about?" Bruce asked. "I was here last night, ask Alfred." You rolled your eyes at his life and fished the note out of your pocket.

"I know your hand writing, Bruce." You shoved the paper in his face until he grabbed it from your hold. "It might have been a long time since I've seen you last but you still haven't learned how to lie to me."

"(Y/N)," Bruce kept calm. "This is ridiculous, do you honestly think that -" You had cut him off with an attempt to jab at where the wound have been from the night before. Just as your fingers grazed the material of his shirt, he had caught your wrist. Darkness filled his eyes like you had never seen before.

"Take off your shirt."

"I didn't realize that we were going to get so close so quickly again," Bruce tried to joke, but you could hear the strain in his voice. You had too much frustration in you to try and listen to him change your mind.

"Now, Bruce!" You raised your voice. Bruce dropped your wrist and hung his head low. He should have never gone to your apartment last night. However, he was on the street below fighting a gang of men that had him far too out numbered. He knew exactly where your home was, it was the closest place for him to go.

Reluctantly, Bruce did as he was told. It was agonizingly slow as he undid the buttons of his shirt and pull of the material. Just as you expected, a long bandage covered his torso, right where you had patched Batman up the night before. It was changed, this time done much neater than yours.

You jaw was tight as you looked at his scarred skin. With a huff of air, you had stormed out of his room and towards the front door. This had been exactly what you were expecting and yet the truth seemed to sting a wound that you hadn't felt in a long time. Betrayal.

"(Y/N)! Wait!" Bruce called out for you. He latched onto your wrist once more and stopped your movements.

"Seven years Bruce! You dropped out of my life seven years ago and never tried to see me again! Do you know how much that fucking hurt me? We had been best friends my entire life and you just fucked off without so much as a reason why! I was so lost without you, I was alone!" You felt tears well up in your eyes.

"You don't get to come to my apartment needing my help and then pretend like it wasn't you under that mask!" You ripped your hand out of his hold. "Fuck you Bruce. Fuck you for leaving me. Fuck you for making me wonder what went wrong for so many years. Fuck you for breaking my heart!"

Your voice finally cracked and the tears spilled down your face. Bruce could feel the grief rolling off you. He knew what it was like to be consumed by the pains of your past and he never realized how badly he had hurt you. Leaving you was the only way to keep you safe while he was on this journey to become someone else.

Bruce pulled you into his chest. Sobs racked through your entire body as he held you close, just like when you were younger. One of his hands rested on the back of your head, keeping you as close to his heart as he could.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry," he whispered to you. You would understand why he did what he did one day. Once this pain was gone from you, you would be able to see that he did it to keep you safe. He never wanted to hurt you, of course he didn't. Bruce loved you his whole life, that was never going to change.

Heart-wrenching sobs echoed through the manor. It broke Bruce to see you like this, to know that he was the one to cause you this pain. He was different now, but his place for you in his heart was just the same as it always was. No matter how cold he got, you were always able to bring the brightness out within him.

"I didn't want you to see me change into the person I am now," Bruce tried to explain to you. Your cries had quieted but the tears continued to flow. "I'm not the same person that I once was. I just... I couldn't drag you through that. I didn't want to. You were the only good thing out of my life and I couldn't bare the thought of tainting you with this... darkness in me."

You pulled away from him and wiped the tears from your cheeks. "Just because you dress up as a Bat at night didn’t mean I didn't want you in my life," you shook your head at his ridiculous train of thought. There was still anger in your voice. "I've known you forever. Don't you think I didn't know that you changed the second your parents died? You've been wearing a mask for a long time before you decided to change it to this one."

"I'm sorry," Bruce averted his gaze. Guilt that he hadn't felt in years consumed him. He always told himself that keeping you away was for the best. It was the only way to protect you and keep you safe against the crime he went against.

"Sorry isn't going to cut it this time, Bruce," your hands drew into fists. "How the hell did you think I wasn't going to want to be part of this? You never even asked me! You needed me then more than ever! Now more than ever! And you choose to be a selfish asshole instead. You never thought about anyone but yourself."

"I did this to protect you," Bruce tried to argue. He should have known that you wouldn't understand why he did what he did. After all these years, you were right - sorry wasn't going to cut it. He felt terrible for just leaving you, it was the biggest mistake that he had ever made.

"Protect me?" You raised your voice even more. "Nothing could ever hurt me as much as you leaving my life. If you wanted to protect me, you wouldn't have left. It's been seven years since I've seen you, seven years of trying to forget about you.

"I loved you, Bruce, more than anyone. You ruined that the second that you walked out my door for the last time," You scoffed, turning away from him. Your throat felt constricted and tears burned your eyes. Bruce leaving you was the biggest heartbreak you had to endure. No man ever proved to be better than him, you couldn't move on.

"(Y/N)," Bruce's voice went soft. He reached out to grab your shaking hand. To both of your surprises, you let him. His hands were calloused after the years of hard work he had gone through. You felt small in his grip, just like the child that you were when you were his best friend.

"I should have never assumed that you wouldn't want to be part of this life," Bruce went on. You finally turned back to face him again. "I wanted to keep you safe and that was the only way that I knew how at the time. You're one of the only people left that I truly care about and I couldn't bare the thought of losing you."

"I've been with you since birth, Bruce. Don't you think I want to be with you until death as well?" You held hope in your eyes that he would take you back. After all this time, all the anger and frustration that you had at him, it seemed to wash away the second that you looked into his beautiful blues.

Bruce Wayne was a stubborn, arrogant, asshole. He had been for a long time, but you knew that he was still one of the most caring people in the world, even if he didn't show it. Deep down, as much as you didn't want to believe him, you knew that what he did was to keep you safe.

He was a genius man, both in business and in life. He knew how the world worked and fought against it to make it right again. You respected him, even when you were mad at him. Bruce had a way of getting the world to love him, even if it was never the real him that he showed. You were the only person that knew the real him - besides Alfred.

"(Y/N)," Bruce dragged his hands up your arms until resting them at the base of your neck. Though he looked older, more muscular since the last time that you had seen him - he was still the same man you loved. Without another word, Bruce tilted down to meet you lips. It had been years since you had kissed him, yet it only felt like yesterday.

Without breaking your kiss, he led you back into his bed room, slamming the door on the way. You didn't have intentions of this happening - none at all. You came here to get mad at Bruce, finally have so long awaited answered, and leave with a weight off your chest that you had been carrying around for years.

Sleeping with him was not on your agenda.

Bruce was a player, he knew how to get his way. It didn't take him long to master the art of distracting women and avoiding an unwanted conversation. He had managed to do it to you lots when you were dating in high school and by the looks of it, he still had a hold over you. Bruce knew how to get to your heart, and your pants.

Moans of pleasure cascaded through his room. The years apart had left you more experienced and god did it show. Bruce had gave you more pleasure than any other man in your life ever could. He still knew you better than anyone - in nearly every way possible.

"Fuck," you breathed out. A layer of sweat covered your bodies as you laid against his sheets. Heavy breathing filled the room and you were still soaking up the orgasm that he had given you. "That shouldn't have happened. I'm still furious at you."

"I know," Bruce kept his voice tight. The wound that he had gotten the prior night was flaring up with pain but it had been worth it to be with you again. "I know that nothing I do will change the past... but I'm giving you the choice now. All I want is for you to be back in my life, but once you're in, there's no going back.

"This new life I have is dangerous, you need to know that. But if you're willing, I'd love to have you be a part of it," Bruce asked. He wanted you back, he always wanted to crawl back to you and beg for forgiveness. The better part of him always stopped himself.

"Why did you come to my apartment last night?" You changed the subject. "Why not back here? Or a hospital, or anywhere else?"

"Because I knew I could trust you no to reveal who I really was."

"Then why leave the note?" You barged on. There were so many questions that you had for him, but these two were the ones that were bothering you the most. He was smart enough to have known that you could have figured it out. Batman was far too cautious to be so stupid to leave a note for a stranger.

"Because I was hoping you would figure out that it was me all on your own," Bruce confessed. He had one arm rested under his head and the other resting on his chest. He didn't look at you, too afraid to see what your reaction was going to be with his words. "And you did."

"I'll join you, Bruce. You can't shut me out again, I can't handle another heartbreak like that," You decided. Being back with Bruce, even for this short time had filled the emptiness in your chest that had been void for years. He was the missing piece in your life, and as much as you knew it, you tried to fill it with anything else.

"I promise."

[all0nsyidjits]

Guess I'm going to out myself here just a bit. I'm a Lokean. In fact I'm a Godspouse have been since July of 2011. I came to realize who the imaginary friend I had as a kid who never really went away was via pop culture. Before you roll your eyes and dismiss me as a Marvel Loki fangirl let me explain. I didn't fall in love with Tom Hiddleston or his version of Loki. In fact a whole other fandom brought me to Loki. See I'm a fan of the show Supernatural and a favorite character was Gabriel who starts off as the Trickster then it is revealed that he is really the archangel Gabriel who skipped out of heaven and hid his true identity by pretending to be a trickster god, Loki to be exact. I wanted to write a fanfiction about Gabriel's time posing as Loki but I knew shit all about Norse mythology aside from the names of some of the Gods and Godessess. So I started researching and reading the lore and by accident stumbled across a few Lokean blogs. Shortly after Loki showed up and I proceeded to start to question my sanity. I'd gotten into Wicca in my early teens so I had some concept of Pagan deities and all things woo. Still having a god show up and just want to hang out and talk freaked me right the heck out. When he started flirting I was sure I'd completely lost my shit. Slowly he calmed me down and earned my trust. I found others who had been His for a long time and they helped me navigate this new relationship.

Then the Thor movies came out and suddenly everytime I went online there was a new Lokean Godspouse. Loki is not one to waste free PR I guess. I stayed active in the community for awhile but then the cattiness of some in the community made me decide to go solitary. Years passed I rarely missed the community. Loki and I just did our own thing. Sometimes Loki would be gone for some pretty long stretches. Still he was here and things were good.

Then 2020 happened. Look in all honesty I can be a bit of an introvert. I tend to withdraw from people if I sense to much conflict or tension. It's not so much my true nature but more a trauma response to withdraw. My childhood was well complicated. But I'm getting off track here what I mean to say is 2020 was a really shitty year for me and my family. In June I cought Covid 19 I never got all that sick, but the body aches and fatigue never quite went away. Then at the end of July my husband who is diabetic and has neuropathy stepped on a tac and ended up with MRSA. He nearly lost his foot and could have died. He was hospitalized for a month and out of work for three. I worked myself to a frazzle. At one point I had three jobs and was on the clock for 23 hours and 45 minutes one day. I was headed for a breakdown. My husband physically seemed to be on the mend, but his personality was no longer the kind, easygoing affectionate, man I had known for nearly twenty years. Then came the suicide attempt. Like I said it's been a rough since about this time last year.

When my husband made the suicide attempt Loki showed back up worried about both of us. Loki and my mortal husband know about each other. They like each other so please nobody suggest that Loki is trying to get rid of my mortal husband. When we married the priestess who married us was well aware that Loki was part of the ceremony and that I was marrying the both of them. We've been happily married and Loki always felt like I would be okay during his absences because I had someone else that he trusted there with me.

At first Loki tried to be my distraction from all the stress, he's really good at that. Then Loki started to worry I worried about mortal hubby and Loki worried about me. Many pleas to slow down before I had a breakdown too and Loki finally put his foot down I had to learn to say no and I had to take care of me if I was going to take care of anybody else. Finally the tears and the exhaustion came after my husband told a lie that made me look like a very bad person. My mother-in-law went off on me I had been up for three days with only about four hours sleep and those weren't even consecutive hours and I was reduced to a sobbing mess. Like so many times before Loki was there to catch me He let me cry, He let me rage, when the worst had passed I looked at Him.

"So I guess being the God of change you're going to tell me to throw away twenty years of my life and file for divorce." I asked.

"Oh you think you know me so well Little One." Even at a such a solemn moment Loki can't resist using an old nickname from back in my childhood when he was the imaginary friend who took me on wild adventures far away from whatever was going on at home at the time. It had went from term of affection for a child he had chosen to protect to a teasing dig at my 5'3 height compared to well all of Them.

"Well aren't you?" I asked.

"Little one besides being the God of Change what else am I?" I start to rattle off titles and associations.

No let me rephrase that Little One who am I married to who are my Wives his voice somehow conveying the capital W that lets me know it is Sigyn and Angrboda he speaks of.

"Sigyn and Angrboda" I say.

And what Little one is my precious Sigyn the Goddess of?

Fidelity I answer and then it hits me She had stuck by Him through far worse.

So I'm here I'm staying but there are days when I just wish I had someone to talk to. Someone human.

This year has been hard the isolation brought on by Covid 19 precautions is wearing on everyone in one way or another I think. Add to that the fact that I live in a very rural, very Conservative Christian area where I have to hide my witchy ways. Knowing full well just how many people in my life would utterly abandon me if they knew about Loki and my true beliefs. I can't talk about Him to well anyone besides my oldest and there are things about being a godspouse you wouldn't want to discuss with your kid. I used to have my husband but now talking to him about the most mundane things is a cross between walking on eggshells and navigating a mine field. I got lonely, really lonely.

Against my better judgement I decided to dip my toe back into the Lokean Community after walking away from all the groups, blogs, message boards ect in about 2013. So about 7 years as a solitary Lokean witch and I was ready to test the waters again.

I found a Lokean on social media (I don't want to draw any negative attention to this person because they are doing a fantastic job with what they are doing) so much of what they were saying resonated with me and I wanted to talk. Hey maybe I could make a friend. I commented maybe a bit too much. I meant no harm I was just excited to talk to someone after so long keeping it all to myself. Well that went spectacularly wrong and I ended up with someone who I'm pretty sure thinks of me as a rival or an enemy now. Loki being Loki was quick to remind me that my ramblings don't offend everyone. I had commented on a completely unrelated post about Him a few days earlier and within hours of the well I fucked up incident I'm reading a post by someone thanking me for talking about how I experience Loki because it resonated with them an affirmed a few things.

Then Loki was like I want you to start talking about me. I want you to rejoin the community. I was like oh hell to the no. Well you can see who won that argument. So here I am hoping I don't come to regret this.

[marshmallow-phd]

Nine Little Letters

Genre: College AU, Fake Dating AU, To All the Boys I’ve Loved Before AU

Inspired By: This graphic made by @rcse-tvler​

Pairing: EXO x Reader

Summary: Just when you thought life was done shoving you down, it got much, much worse. After finding out that your latest crush was already in a relationship, you did what you always did when emotions ran high: you wrote a letter. Signed and sealed, you put it away with the eight other letters you’d written to past one-sided loves, never to be seen again. That is, until a mix up accidentally sends those letters out to their respective recipients and you find yourself in the middle of one confusing web of love. With fake relationships, insecurities, and revelations swirling around, things are bound to get a little messy.

Part: 1 I 2 I 3 I 4 I 5 I 6 I 7 I 8 I 9 I 10 I 11

The second letter you ever wrote was perhaps the most embarrassing of them all.

During the summer of your thirteenth year, Baekhyun had gone away to a summer camp that had lasted for over a month. Bored to tears due to the missing antics, you spent more time with your other friend, Yeonhee, though - as much as you loved her - her presence didn’t have the same level of comfort as Baekhyun’s did. You weren’t sure what the reason was, but there always seemed to be this invisible barrier between you and Yeonhee. You couldn’t get quite as close to her. There was so much relief the day that Baekhyun came back. But something else was there, too. Something that had been growing throughout the absence.

At first, you thought your heart was beating fast because you ran to the park where Baekhyun told you to meet him. You were excited - elated - to have your best friend back. When you saw him lying on the teeter-totter, you stopped. His skin was sun-kissed, hair a bit longer and tousled. You’d never realized how… handsome he was before. Your face was smiling before you knew it.

You liked him. That had to explain why you missed him so much, right? As soon as Baekhyun saw that you’d arrived, he lit up, jumping off the playground equipment and running towards you. He pulled you into a quick hug then stepped back, ruffling your hair.

“I missed you.”

“I missed you, too.”

“Come on.” He grabbed your hand and started pulling you away from the teeter-tatter. “Let’s go down to the creek!”

You followed him without hesitation, loving the feeling of his hand in yours. Later that night, you tossed and turned, unable to sleep because of this new information. At thirteen, you were a bit smarter than you were at ten, so you decided to put some feelers out. You would see if there was any chance that he felt the same way. The two of you were close, after all. The chance had to be there, didn’t it?

The answer was no. And you received that answer almost immediately. The next day Baekhyun went on and on about this girl he had met at camp. He talked about how funny she was and cute and playful. And beautiful. He wouldn’t stop talking about how pretty he found her. She was at a summer camp, for Pete’s sake, but somehow still managed to be soft and delicate and everything Baekhyun liked in girls. It felt like an uppercut punch to the jaw. You could be soft and delicate. You wore skirts and boots and cardigans. Your room was pastel colors! What was the difference between you and this girl he rambled on about?

Flashing back to Jongin and how much better you felt after writing him the letter, you sat down at the table while your parents were away at work and tried to see if it had the same effect.

 Dear Baekhyun,

How are you? I guess that’s an awkward thing to ask given how I always know how you are. You always tell me, whether you’re happy or sad or simply indifferent. You tell me everything. And I’ve always loved that, the fact that we could tell each other whatever we’re thinking. But lately, you’ve been telling me too much and I’ve been keeping quiet. You tell me so much about this girl you met at camp and how much you like her and what the two of you talked about on the phone last night and how you’ve made plans to meet up next week. You go on and on about her without seeing the hurt in my eyes. I stay silent because of that hurt. Because while you were away, I realized something. I realized that I like you. As more than just my best friend. I find myself wishing that you were talking about me that way. What does this girl have that I don’t, anyway? She sounds a lot like me. I even wondered at one point if you were secretly talking about me until you mentioned meeting up with her. You seem so happy, though. So, I wonder, should I say anything or should I just go on being just your friend? I guess I'll make the decision at the end of this letter. If I send it out or if I keep it hidden in my drawer. Do I come out and say it or do I risk forever thinking “What if?” Only time will really tell. Either way, I hope you’re happy. That’s most important.

Love,

(y/n)

 In the end, you decided not to mail it. Though you never met the girl from summer camp, Baekhyun ended up “dating” her for the fall semester of school - if it could be counted since they lived in different cities. He always went to see her, but she never made the same effort. That was why they broke up, according to Baekhyun. Though he never came to see you in the same light as far as you were aware, you found that you were able to move on, to see him once again simply as your friend. Perhaps the two of you were soulmates in the platonic way. You were thankful to your past self for not mailing out that letter. Where would your friendship be if you had sent it? Would there even still be a friendship?

“Okay, I know you’re not a professional or anything, but you’re even worse today. What’s going on?”

You blinked, coming out of your head just in time to watch your character crumple to the ground, dead. Great.

You weren’t the best at video games, but you found them fun and Sehun didn’t mind if you weren’t as good as him. He definitely carried the two of you in the team rounds.

“Nothing, I just have a lot on my mind.” Both the truth and a lie. You were mildly distracted at the moment. It was a small amount of connected things. Seeing Junmyeon with a girlfriend had conjured up some old insecurities. While you were fairly sure that you were over him, you were circling around your lack of love life - and lack of dating history. As in zero. Zip. A big old goose egg. Of course, when that happened, you tended to retreat into your books and movies. Which rom-coms you were going to binge tonight was currently at the forefront of your mind, held up by everything else.

“So, obviously, it’s not nothing,” Sehun pointed out over the headset. Touché.

“Okay, it’s not nothing, but it's not something you’d be interested in anyway.”

“Try me.”

You paused. “I was thinking about how I’ve never had a boyfriend, so I was going to watch romantic comedies tonight.”

Silence.

Well, not total silence since the video game was still on in the background, but there was no response from your partner. “Sehun?”

“Yeah, you’re right. I’m not that interested. But I also don’t see how watching movies about romance is a direct response to not having a boyfriend.”

You sighed as your character re-spawned and you continued with the game, covering Sehun from any surprise attacks as you inched closer to enemy territory. “They make me feel better.”

He took a pause to kill an enemy soldier before replying, “I still don’t get it. How can watching fake couples get together make you feel better? If you want a boyfriend, why don’t you go out and get one? It’s not like there isn’t a whole campus full of single guys.”

You scoffed. Yeah, right. Like it was that simple. There wasn’t a store or a catalogue that you could flip through and go “Oh, I’d like that one!” and have a boyfriend ready and raring to go. Although… someone should get on that revolutionary idea. It could be worth millions.

Part of you wanted to respond with “Fine, do you want to date me?” but you bit your tongue, knowing that you didn’t mean it. There had once been a time that you had thought about Sehun in that way. The two of you rarely saw each other in person. For a good year and a half, the two of you had been simple online buddies until you realized you lived in the same city. You’d invited Sehun along to outings with Baekhyun and Yeonhee, but they didn’t click very well, so it didn’t happen too often. After the first time you met Sehun, you thought he was cute. Que the letter.

 Dear Sehun.

I know you try to hide it, but you’re actually very sweet. And I know that you let me win sometimes. And you help me every chance you get. I like you because of that. Also, I never thought you would be cute. Is that bad? Do you think you could like me back? We could be that gamer couple. Those who play together, stay together, right?

Love,

(y/n).

 It was the cringiest of all your letters. Short, uninteresting, bland. After you wrote it, you realized quickly that those were the only reasons you liked him: his face and he was nice to you. Were your standards really that low? His letter always stayed at the bottom of the pile, hardly ever revisited. That was when you realized it was hard to truly like someone you didn’t know all that well. You still considered him a friend and could confide in him, but he didn’t make your comfortable triangle a square.

“Hey, (y/n)!” Baekhyun burst into your room with no warning. You jumped, letting out a rare curse into the headset.

“Baekhyun, what are you doing here?” On Saturdays he was usually busy giving piano lessons.

“And on that note, I’m out.” Sehun clicked off without a real goodbye. You shook your head. Boys.

You turned off your console and swiveled around in your chair. Baekhyun was seated at your vanity which made you nervous. He knew better than to go peeking into your things, but that hardly stopped him. And while he was aware of the letters’ existence, he was neither aware of his own nor where they were located.

“My pupil for the day canceled on me. They’re sick. I was bored so I came over. As per usual.” Looking over his shoulder at your mirror, he plucked off one of the pictures you had wedged into the frame. “Heard from your long-distance boyfriend lately?”

“Hardy, har-har.” You snatched the picture from him and replaced it. “He’s not my boyfriend and you know it.”

Zhang Yixing was your pen pal from high school. After seeing a flyer on one of the bulletin boards in the hallway, you jumped at the chance to communicate with someone from another country without really thinking about it. The partners were all chosen at random and you considered yourself quite lucky. The person you exchanged letters with was sweet and funny and really read what you wrote to him, always replying to your words before going into his own story. While life got in the way and the two of you weren’t able to exchange letters at the frequency you once had, you still received a surprise every so often.

And yes, before anyone asks, he was one of the nine. One look at his dimpled smile and charming eyes and anyone would be hooked. You’d giggled like crazy when you opened the letter junior year and his photo fell out. He’d wanted to show you the countryside school he’d volunteered at and the kids he’d helped. As cute as those children were, he was all you could look at. So, naturally, there was one letter you never sent. It didn’t make sense to send it. He was in an entirely different country. So, you used his letter as camouflage, keeping it on top at all times to hide the others underneath.

“And no, by the way. I haven’t gotten a letter for a little bit.”

“Too busy volunteering?” Baekhyun quipped.

“You could take a page out of his book, you know.”

“I do give back! I give free lessons all the time!”

Okay… that was true. Baekhyun did have a soft heart for kids that wanted to learn to play the piano but whose parents couldn't afford to pay for lessons. About twice a month on Sundays, he went to a local church and taught a class for anyone who wanted to join. It was actually kind of sweet. You’d gone a few times and he could be pretty adorable with the kids.

“Alright,” you said. “What do you want to do?”

“I don’t know.” Baekhyun pursed his lips and tapped a finger against his chin. His eyes slowly made their way around your room. He would smile when his eyes landed on pictures of the two of you or little souvenirs from your various adventures. Your room was like a scrapbook for the world to view. You enjoyed being surrounded by memories, like reading a book based on your life. “I’m kind of hungry.”

“Okay,” you laughed. “For what?”

He turned away from you, mostly still listening, but obviously distracted by something. “Let’s go to a grill.”

That suggestion sent sparks off in your brain. Your stomach, which had been neutral up until now, was roaring for the sizzling meat and spicy side dishes. In fact, you’d been distracted at the thought of a Korean grill that you didn’t notice Baekhyun’s hand twitching on the forbidden drawer. Before your brain could process what he was doing, the drawer was open. Baekhyun pulled the entire stack of letters out.

“Wow, you actually do keep all of these!”

“What the hell are you doing!” You bounced on him, tackling him down to the floor as you wrestled the envelopes from him. Once you finally pulled them free, you smacked his arm with the stack. “You jerk! You know those are private!”

He actually had the audacity to pout. “I just wanted to see!”

“They’re not for you to see!”

“Come on, (y/n),” Baekhyun sat up when you moved off him. You kept the envelopes close to your chest in case he tried for them again. “I thought I was your best friend.”

“Don’t you dare try to guilt trip me,” you snapped. “I have a right to my privacy. These aren’t meant for anyone else but me.”

“Fine.” He threw his hands up in defeat. “But you might want to find a better hiding spot. Let’s go eat.” He left your room, smiling to himself.

Grumbling to yourself, you placed the envelopes on your vanity. Later, you would find a better place to put them. For now, though, you draped a shirt over the stack so they were mostly covered.

You forgot about the letters for the most part by the time the two of you made it to the restaurant. Baekhyun had his moments where he didn’t think things through or he acted purely on impulse, but you could forgive those happenings. At least, when he was paying for dinner. On the way to the grill, you called Yeonhee to join.

“So, there’s this girl in my World Music three-oh-four class,” Baekhyun said right after shoving a stuffed sesame leaf into his mouth. “She’s really cute. And plays the cello. Her fingers are so nimble and small.”

“So, you going to ask her out?” you teased.

Baekhyun took some time to chew his food before answering. “Yeah. Actually, I think I might.”

“Does she seem interested in you?” Yeonhee asked. She was always the more practical one out of the three of you. She saw things in black and white. She either chose door number one or door number two. It was a philosophy she used in every aspect of her life. That realism rounded your little triangle out. Baekhyun was the carefree, never-knew-what-he-was-going-to-do-next type, you were the slightly anxiety-ridden, romantic daydreamer, and Yeonhee was the down-to-earth, rational one.

“Yeah, I think so.”

“Okay. Then do it.” Yeonhee pulled her long, dark brown hair back into a scrunchy to keep it out of her face. To her, that was the end of it.

Baekhyun sent you a look, but he shrugged. “Alright. I’ll see her on Monday, so I’ll ask her to coffee then.”

Your phone vibrated against the table. Normally you would have ignored it, but given the lull in conversation, you checked to see the notification. It was a text from your mom.

I’m doing laundry. It looks like you have a full hamper. Do you want me to take some?

You smiled. You loved getting out of laundry. Yeah! Thank you!

Okay! A second text came through. Do you want me to take this shirt on the vanity, too?

Shirt? What- Panic swept through you. No! That’s okay! It’s clean.

Okay! Love you!

Love you, too!

Phew. That was close.

The rest of dinner was spent talking about classes and professors and new movies coming out. The three of you bounced from subject to subject, spending a good hour and half at the table slowly devouring the different meat courses. Multiple groups came and went while you sat there and enjoyed this time with your two best friends. When it was time to go home, Yeonhee volunteered to take you home since it was more on her way than Baekhyun’s. Once there, she parked in your driveway. Rounding the car, you bent down to tell her goodnight. A second or two later, Kyungsoo pulled into his parents’ driveway. He got out of his own car, eyes down on his phone. Noticing the two of you next door, he froze. There was an awkward tension as the exes made eye contact while you stood there like an unneeded third wheel on a bike. Finally, Kyungsoo broke the contact and went inside.

“Have you talked to him lately?” you asked.

Yeonhee shook her head. “Not at all. What’s the point? I ended it. Going back and opening the wound makes no sense.”

“Yeah, that’s understandable. I’ll, um, I’ll talk to you later.”

“Yeah, see ya.”

You straightened up and headed inside.

Yeonhee and Kyungsoo were a tragic story, at least in your eyes.

Kyungsoo was your next-door neighbor for your entire life though the two of you didn’t interact very often. He ran in different circles and seemed annoyed by Baekhyun most of the time - a pattern you were not blind to. But Yeonhee always took the time to talk to him if you happened to be in the front yard and crossed paths. Oblivious to what was going on while they conversed, you stood by, studying your neighbor.

He was handsome and sweet when he wasn’t frowning. In fact, his smile was quite stunning. And he was smart and, though rare, cracked jokes that had you in stitches. You found yourself admiring him. Imagine your shock when you discovered that he was dating one of your best friends. You were devastated. The strength of the feeling took you by surprise. But you’d managed to keep it together in front of both of them. Only when you were alone were you finally able to let it out. That night you’d locked yourself in your room, tears flowing in an unending stream. At some point, you were sitting down at your vanity, pencil flying across the page without you having to think it through.

 Dear Kyungsoo,

What am I even feeling right now? How am I feeling like this? You were always just my neighbor, the boy next door. Occasionally kind, helpful. I never even suspected that you liked Yeonhee or that she liked you back. I was completely left out, blind to what was happening in front of me. Mostly because I couldn’t see past myself. You were nothing like how I’d thought in our younger years. You are so much more. Amazing feels like too simple a word but that’s all I can conjure up. I’ve been so in awe that I couldn't completely understand what it was that I was feeling inside. But now… I feel like my heart has shattered. I had come to look forward to talking to you in between our yards. I never suspected you were coming out for Yeonhee. You chose her over me. I’m sure in your eyes, I was never even one of the selections. But why? Am I really that invisible?

You are a wonderful person. I’m not sure if there are enough adjectives in the world to describe how I see you. You’re like a portrait in the Louvre, unable for me to touch. You’re out of reach. And now that you’re with Yeonhee, you always will be. I know that you’ll treat her well. You’ll keep her hand warm with your own like I wish you could with mine. When she’s tired, she’ll rest her head on your shoulder. I hope you’re a comforting pillow. You seem like that kind of person. A comfort, a stronghold. I wish you could have been mine.

Love,

(y/n).

 They dated for two years before Yeonhee inexplicably ended the relationship. You knew she would have a very logical, analyzed reasoning for why she abruptly broke it off, though she never told you or anyone. However, you were surprised with how angry you were at her. How could she do that to someone like Kyungsoo, who had never treated her badly even for a moment? Your sympathy lied with him, but you had to show support for your friend. She wanted to move on, so you pretended to understand. She didn’t come around very often anymore in case of situations like tonight where she might accidentally run into or see him.

Up in your bedroom, you took a deep breath. Because it still hurt after all this time. You still longed to be the one he looked at, the one he wanted to see. Out of all your letters, his was the one that never worked. His was sealed up tight, but the feelings didn’t go away. They held on tight like a rock climber without a rope. You could distract yourself with other crushes, give in to fleeting feelings for others. And it would work for a little while. But in your weak moments, those feelings never failed to come back. Tonight was a reminder of that.

[fe-semi-decent-scenarios]

How do the BL students cope with missing their s/o? (like they're on a mission or something and won't be back for a long time) Bonus points for including how they react to seeing them again lol. Congrats on the big 100 btw

[Thank you! This is a little late but I was amazed to see so many people reading these posts.I’m pretty proud of this one.I wrote this as a ‘first time they’re apart’ kind of scenario. Hope it is to your liking! :3]

Dimitri: 

Karma really does bite, and boy does it do so hard

More often than not it is Dimitri leaving you behind for missions. Being the leader of the Lions meant that he was stationed at almost every important battle. Sometimes you’d join, and others the professor would decide to have someone else take up arms. No biggie, you know? He never complained since it guaranteed your safety.  

He didn’t even think of the possibility of a role reversal. One where you’d be sent out while he’s left behind. Up until now he was always by your side, but Manuela knew his limits better than anyone. She insisted he take the month off to rest. 

Once again, no biggie. He’d much rather be productive but with some convincing he easily gave in. Everyone departed for the monthly mission and he decided to invest some of the extra time on his hands into an evening with you 

He was about to search for you, but then memory did it’s job.

“Ah, that’s right. They departed with their battalion this morning...”

Dimitri wasn’t used to the silence of an empty Monestary. Was it always this hollow when the army was deployed? There were some people, yes. However most areas appeared almost lifeless. 

It brought up some unpleasant memories to say the least. Ones of a dusk castle, strangers on every corner, empty dinner tables, and cold nights spent staring up from his balcony. 

The time he spends without Dedue glued to his side is full of reflection. Once he’s trained, eaten, studied up, etc. He’ll stroll around the monastery and think of what his life has become 

How fragile the peace is. How much longer will it last?  

He wanted to talk with someone. The silence was deafening and he wished for a distraction before the voices made their appearance. 

They did.

He wished for you to come home. Despite the voices screaming that he had no right to long for your comfort, the desire still remained.  

 Was it the same for you when he’d depart? This...lonely? 

He hoped not. 

Since when had Dimitri become assimilated to the daily nonsense that was his life? 

Dedue had caught on to his highness’ feelings instantly. Dimitri was more reminiscent than usual, and often his walks would take him to your room. He wouldn’t enter, just look at the door as if expecting it to open. He wasn’t one to talk of the past as it made him uncomfortable, but sometimes Dedue would catch him smiling at nothing. It was a welcome change to have happy memories. 

When you come home it’s as if Dimitri has a new aura. Well, maybe not entirely but he has a more solemn look in his eyes when they meet yours. He spends the first day being caught up on politics with the Professor and Seteth, but for many nights beyond the return he seeks your company 

He wants to hear your voice. The one he craved for when the silence became intolerable 

“I’ve returned my beloved, would you care to tell that story from the other night again? I know it has only been one day but I would love to hear it.” 

Dedue: 

Time alone with you was already a rarity, so your complete absence didn’t dieter him as much as one would think. Dedue’s schedule rarely has a slot for free-time, and so the days pass on like seconds 

As long as there is no specific reason to worry then he refrains from doing so. Dedue genuinely believes in your strength and capabilities so he won’t needlessly fret over nothing. He has his own duties to attend to just as you do. 

However, this doesn’t mean he feels nothing on the matter. Others can gossip about him all they want but his nationality doesn’t define his personality. Not that he cares, since his stone exterior hides signs of weakness 

Let’s get this straight: he does miss you. While not in surplus, your time together is precious to him. He notices how your seat is empty during lessons and meetings. He unconsciously checks the training hall’s door during his regime, impatiently waiting for you to pop in and say your daily ‘hello’. He’s painfully aware of the extra pair of gardening gloves in his tool pail. Dedue knows that you are gone and it has an impact. 

He just ignores it. Dedue knows that when duty calls it must come before personal issues. Even if there is no contact between you two, he would rather no letters than one relaying distress 

If his highness asks about his feelings Dedue’s replies are short and curt. He does not wish for any worry or pity. 

One small sign that Dedue is off-put is that he becomes forgetful. It’s something only those who know him well can pick up on. For example: he won’t bring any writing utensils to a meeting. To a stranger this is a common mishap that happens to everyone. Only people who know Dedue well will see that someone as responsible as him wouldn’t forget something so minute 

Another is the short sighs he lets out. Nothing drawn out or dramatic, just quick puffs of air through the nose- kind of like a huff. They’re very difficult to catch and are a habit when he feels impatient or restless 

The day you come home isn’t a large extravaganza. Prince Dimitri accompanies him to greet the returning troops, but it doesn’t take a wise man to see that he mainly came for moral support. You were his friend as well, and he also wanted to see Dedue happy. 

When you come into sight Dedue approaches as if it’s a normal day. Your appearance is a bit too worn-down for his liking, and he says so. He asks if the journey went well, and whether it did or not he gives a minuscule smile 

If you return it he’ll pat your head. A welcome home, if you will 

“Come. Let us speak of the time we were apart. I would like to hear of your travels” 

Felix:

Simple solution. Whenever Felix feels as if he’s missing your presence he’ll go find you. 

Oh wait 

He can’t lmao 

It doesn’t hit him how big your role is in his life until you’re forced to be apart. All it took was a few days for Felix to feel like something was missing

At first he’s in denial. What is he, a child? A grown man doesn’t need someone to lean on, or keep him company, or check on him...or to give him encouragement......make him laugh....listen to his problems............okay. Maybe he does. 

At the beginning he seems put together but gradually as the days go on Felix becomes socially intolerant. The only person he wants to talk with is you, and you’re not there. Anyone else can buzz off or they’re getting snapped at

No one says anything either. Sometimes you can’t when the only solution is so far away 

Felix works extra hard when you’re gone. No one’s there to force much needed breaks onto him. From morning till dusk he’ll train and only stop for meals.

It’s his distraction. Every time that familiar pang shows up the training dummy gets another slice 

What’s happened to him? He was never so dependent on another person. Yeah, he has people that he cares about but their presence was never a necessity in his life 

The pain only intensifies as he thinks of what you’re doing, the dangers you’re facing, other (men/women) making you smile-

Oh....Oh no. Dear god he’s in love que the dummy’s head being sliced off

He’s waiting in your room on the day you get back. You’ll walk in to see him reading at your desk, only for the book to snap shut when you open the door 

A bit roughly he’ll pull you in for a hug. Not too tight, if you wanted to escape it you could

“Look. I’ll only say this once so you better listen...don’t leave for that long ever again. If you have to then I’m going with. No arguments”        

Ashe:

He’s fine. It’s okay. Ten days in and life goes on, you know? Today he played with some of the stray cats in the monastery like he normally would. The only off part was that he forgot to bring fish treats, normally you’d do that. 

Then he ordered some sweet buns for dessert after dinner; it was his usual order on your rare dates. Those days you’d snatch one but this time they were all his

He had them in the garden with some mint tea and watched the sun set. The last time he did that you decided to braid his hair while he told bad puns about his patchy facial hair fiasco. This time he viewed in tranquil silence 

Later in the evening he practiced archery to unwind. Lately Caspar agreed to be his training partner with you gone. He’d collect the arrows shot and help reposition the targets. You would normally do the same and in turn Ashe would wake up extra early to help you in the morning. 

At night he curled up in bed with “Loog and the Maiden of Wind,” picking up from where he left off. It was easy since you had given him a copy with a built-in cloth bookmark for his birthday. He loves it to pieces. 

Please come home When his eyes began to feel heavy he tucked it under his pillow for the day. 

Under the covers he shifted to get comfortable, and just like every night he ended up cuddling one of his pillows 

How much longer 

He closed his eyes 

....

..........

What was taking so long? The professor never mentioned that the journey would take weeks? There haven’t been letters either...

Where are you? What are you doing? Do you miss him? Are you eating properly? Are you sleeping right? He should have asked Seteth to let him accompany you. Are you on your way home? Should he go ask? No, it’s late. Asking now would be a bother-

 He misses you so much. No amount of time spent absorbing himself in different hobbies makes the discomfort in his chest go away. Everything reminds him of you. 

When you come home he’s front and center at the gate. The professor had taken pity on the boy (courtesy of Flayn’s plea) and arranged his schedule to be free all day. He spent it chatting with gatekeeper until troops appeared in the distance 

The moment you’re in sight he’s skipping down the stairs and greets you with the warmest embrace. The second you pull back he’s peppering kisses on your cheeks. 

“You’re back! I’ve missed you so much I can’t even begin to explain. Let’s go eat dinner and you can tell me all about the trip” 

Sylvain:

Is it weird that with you gone Sylvain actually begins to be a productive human being?

He spends the newfound spare time at the stables with the horses, or helping with chores around the monastery. Very rarely is he found goofing off 

Weird. Most would expect him to let loose considering how you have him on a ‘ball and chain,’ as he puts it 

So???? How come he chooses now to be responsible. 

Simple. He only acts rebellious to get a rise out of you

Just kidding lol. Only partially

While he does get a free show out of your nagging, it isn’t the reason he behaves like that. Neither why he’s suddenly ‘turned over a new leaf’

Sylvain highly respects you. Not only do you work hard but you’re also one of the most genuine people he knows. He’ll never say it to your face but before he loved you Sylvain looked to you as a role model. He never could have imagined that someone with such an authentic set of emotions would become his partner 

He also puts you through hell with all the trouble he gets in. Anyone else would have ended the relationship by now with so many FALSE rumors of adultery on his end. Yet you never gave up on him.  

In short, you’ve stood by him through thick and thin. From daily mess ups to the more deeper problems. You’ve been a major pillar that he leans on.

So that’s what he’s going to be for you. While you’re away he’s going to pick up the slack and make sure there’re no messes waiting for you to come home to 

Just him and maybe a few snide jokes. You know, a couple of dramatic whines about all the trouble he went to in making sure your room stayed clean 

Sometimes it gets difficult to turn down the invites from his peers, but he holds strong. The change is so drastic that Byleth even jokes about sending you away more often. 

He takes it with a grain of salt. They’d never exploit their students like that and he knows it 

When you arrive home he’s waiting patiently in your room. In one arm there’s a blanket and in the other a feather duster c’mon he has to make this believable

“Well there’s the (man/woman) of the hour. Do you realize the horrors that I’ve endured these past weeks? I cleaned this room EVERY DAY. You owe me big time!”  

Sylvain demands that for all the worry, strife, and hard labor you put him through; he deserves an afternoon nap with his partner. Will you let him slack off?

Annette: 

Busy, busy, busy!!!

She has so many chores to get done, books to read, people to talk to, and songs to sing 

She hated to say goodbye, but eventually you’ll come home. This isn’t like before. You’re not like him. 

Annette trusts you

She loves you 

While you’re gone she’ll think of all the things you can do together when you get back. What’s a better way to use the time, right? 

She 100% plans to blackmail you into treating her for lunch. How could you leave her behind to watch over everyone by herself? So cruel...

There are mild worries that fill her heart. Thoughts on your health for one. Whether you’re skilled in faith or not it doesn’t matter to her. 

She kind of wishes that the professor scheduled her to fight as well. However, things were better this way.

Annette will make sure you have somewhere wonderful to return to 

She even writes a small ‘welcome home’ jingle! Anything to bring out your smile 

People will occasionally ask how she’s holding up. After all, if Annette doesn’t worry about herself then of course others will do it for her. 

And yeah. Sometimes it does get rough. She’s human and naturally her partner means the world to her. Who the hell would be okay with sending their loved one away? 

It’s just that if she isn’t optimistic than who will be. Who’s going to give you encouragement when you need it most? Isn’t that what being a couple is about? To have faith and believe in each other? 

That’s why she’s okay. She’ll sing those fear demons away and take comfort in knowing you’ll come home with everyone else

And when you do she’s there with a few of your favorite flowers. She’ll congratulate you on a job well done whether the battle was a win or lose, and literally force you into her dorm to talk the hours away.

“Welcome home! I had plenty of time on my hands while you were away so I wrote a small song...i-if it’s okay then can I sing it for you? I promise it’s not about tasty cakes this time haha!” 

Mercedes:

The daily church hymn lifts her spirits. Mercedes’ devout faith is what supports her during moments of weakness 

You’ve probably guessed this, but every day you’re in her prayers. 

Not that you weren’t before, but now she spends a little more time mulling over possibilities of danger. Some extra blessings couldn’t hurt either 

She does find her thoughts trailing over to you often as well. Not anything negative but instead the happier memories. Saying goodbye was a rough blow when realization hit that your return date wasn’t definite 

Alas, the goddess will protect you. Mercedes steels herself to be patient and invest her energy into more productive things 

Mercedes is sort of like the big sister of all her friends. The doting type. Without you around she has all this pent up affection, and the lions get the blunt end of it

They’re an outlet that she uses to distract herself from not having you around. Not that they necessarily mind it (maybe Felix but he’ll get over it)

The time she’d spend with you is used to bake for the monastery children, or help with chores. She uses it wisely and also works on some of her own hobbies. 

You may or may not find some well-stitched embroidery on your socks. She goes all out and even offers to help mend Dimitri’s battle-worn cape. That thing needed a literal miracle to return to it’s former glory 

Life isn’t much different aside from your lack of presence. With each day she finds herself looking forward to your return, and occasionally she’ll inquire with the professor about it. Mercedes is known for her patience, and it truly is a virtue in many cases. Definitely in this one. 

When note of your future return arrives she can’t help but smile. If allowed she’ll ask to read the letter of notification herself and will do so with incredible focus. She’ll clutch one hand to her chest in relief before giving it back and leaving to return to her duties 

and so it goes until your return. She might not be able to come meet you at the gate, but at first sighting she’ll engulf you in an embrace. 

After a once-over for any injuries, she’ll insist that you have tea together. Hell, Mercedes would be happy if you two could just chat together on the nearest bench. There’s so much to talk of and now you two have all the time in the world 

“It’s so nice to see you again! Oh my...it feels like forever since I have seen you smile. I almost forgot how contagious is is haha” 

Ingrid: 

If it was up to Ingrid than she would be positioned right at your side. You two work well as a duo both on and off of the field. The army would benefit from your skills being magnified as a team 

She also wouldn’t have to deal with this ungodly sense of dread in the pit of her stomach. Don’t misunderstand- Ingrid isn’t the protective type. She trusts in your capabilities both as a fighter and person. It’s only that being away for so long is a rarity, and she needs time to adjust. 

She’d just have to trust in the other people stationed at your side to do what she can’t  

If she knows any of them personally then Ingrid 100% approaches to ask that they watch your back 

That takes care of any worry, but not of the crack in her daily life 

Ingrid has much on her shoulders. Her family, Fargeus’ future, her friends, what food’s being served in the dining hall, if it tastes good or not, the church, the ‘flame emperor’, and you of course.

She’s also the type of person who likes uniformity: a schedule. You’re a part of that and being so far disrupts it. She’s afraid that her personal emotions will tap into her ability to fulfill her duties  

Everyone else assures her otherwise. Ingrid is known for always giving 110% so a while of just 100% is no big deal. She is allowed to be human 

She’s allowed to miss you. Her friends assure her of it 

She’s allowed to worry. There’s no need to sear shut her fears. After losing Glenn...well, it’s understandable. 

She’s allowed to ask for news updates. The professor has encouraged this. 

She’s allowed to go in your room if she needs alone time. You said so before leaving. 

However, Ingrid doesn’t allow herself those comforts until days after your departure. When you said goodbye it unsettled her stomach in more ways than one. It took some time to sort through her emotions while still maintaining her responsibilities

It took everything for Ingrid to move on from the past, and this experience set in a sense of gratitude for all that she’s been given. It also was an opportunity for her to reminisce over what she has lost, and still has to do. 

Needless to say, when you return Ingrid has gained a newfound confidence and comfort in not having a set schedule for life. Everything has always felt as if it needed to be rushed, but meeting you wasn’t something she had planned nor sped into. Spending some time to focus on her own personal goals aside from the ones preset for her before birth aided in Ingrid coming to terms with that. 

“Hello. It’s been so long that I hardly recognize you! What? It’s a joke!...Yes, I know how to tell jokes- hold on this is supposed to be a heartfelt reunion so don’t ruin it!” 

[just-a-8th-dreamer]

Mine | Yves

Request :  “ can i request a Yves scenario of both her and reader s/o being so busy that they rarely see each other so they were worried about their relationship but they talked it out and they start making and spending time with each other? angst but then fluffy, thank you!”

Happy 23rd birthday to Miss Ha Sooyoung! 🌺

I tried to write something good but I think I lost myself 😂 Anyway, I hope you’ll enjoy reading It✨

You and Yves were together for a while now. You had met her during her vacations after Buttefly comeback when she came back in Busan to rest and see her family. You were here to discover the city with your friends and one night, you were on the beach to watch wonderful fireworks because of a festival and It turned out the fireworks exploded in your chest rather than in the sky when you saw the beautiful raven haired girl. She had her eyes shining and the softest smile you’ve ever seen. You were taken aback by her natural beauty and her nice figures. You almost dropped your jaw when she came to you with a bubble tea this night, offering you the drink and talked to you about the sea’s freedom like If you have always known her. She was so caring for a girl she didn’t even know that you were speechless. Plus, because of her physical appearance, you thought she was one of those mean girl you couldn’t stand. But she wasn’t. Because Yves is one of the biggest cream puff in the world. When you asked her name, she answered “Sooyoung” without hesitation and you told yours before tasting the bubble tea she bought you.

“Do you know a group called Loona ?” she had asked during your conversation because you had said you liked the festival’s concert. 

You had started thinking, shaking your head but suddenly putting your hand on her arm with a bright face, like if you had had a revelation.

“This is the group where there is this cute girl who always smile ?” you smiled, almost screaming because you were happy to remember something your friends had shown you. “I know her name.. Oh come on, It sounds like something cute” 

Sooyoung was smiling playfully as you were struggling with your memory and she couldn’t take her eyes of your innocent face in front of her. 

“Come on, I can’t remember her name” you said. “Plus, my friends told me she is always with a tall girl with a name related to the Garden of Eden”

“How does she look ?” she had teased without making it obvious. “I can help you maybe” 

You had shook your head, wanting to find by yourself and took your cellphone.

“I saw her just once on a video and I think she is the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen” you had confessed, laughing a little, searching on your phone. “Well untill now” you had whispered right after.

“So I have a rival” she had tilted her head on the side.

You had blushed in front of her words but had kept your eyes on the screen to hide the fact you enjoyed flirting with her. 

“I found her ! Her name’s Chuu” you smiled with a victorious face. “And the other one is...

Your voice turned off as your eyes were attentively looking to Sooyoung’s face and you felt like the most stupid girl in the world. 

“Yves ?” she had finished your sentence with a grin.

Your jaw had almost dropped as she was containing her amusement and you had bitten your lower lip, feeling totally dumbfounded.

“Well now that I know you find me attractive too, would you mind If I ask for your phone number ?” she had asked with an intense gaze on you. 

_______________________________________________________________

If at first you didn’t know she was an idol, you knew it at this moment. You were sitting on the couch, watching absentmindedly a movie, waiting for your girlfriend to come back home. Since she prepared for Loona’s comeback, she had been really busy, practicing a lot, and on your side you had been focusing on your job. But each time you came in your flat, you were missing every part of her. You were missing her sweet smile when she was listening to you. You were missing her intense gaze when she was looking at you. You missed cooking with her, hugging her behind her back while she was pilling some sweet potatoe from her parent’s farm. You missed her touch, how badly you missed feeling her hands on you or resting your head on her chest. You were missing her jokes, even the bad ones. Because, behind her divine beauty, she was one of the funniest girl you knew. You couldn’t live without her and her absence was destroying your heart everytime you were alone. 

You jumped when you heard the door of your appartment being closed and when your eyes met Sooyoung’s ones, you couldn’t believe she was real. You felt she was even more beautiful than the last time you really saw her. It has been few months she had cut her hair but you couldn’t get used to it. Her shorter hair were giving her a different style and It fit her so well that your eyes were grafted on her. She smiled at you and you couldn’t deny that your heart raced immediatly. She had such power on you, It made you feel so vulnerable when It came to her. She was your strength ans your weakness at the same time, and you were the same for her. 

“Finally” you let out with a half angry, half sad tone.

“I practiced all day, i’m sweating baby” she answered, kissing your forehead. “I’m going to take a shower and then I’ll be all yours”

Your heart melt because of her words but you couldn’t forget your anger because of her absence. She couldn’t take some time for you ? At least maybe few hours ? Even your best friend, Siyeon (who you met thanks to your girlfriend), had tried to see you in her free time even If her group had been busy too. Couldn’t Sooyoung do the same ? 

You shook your head and went to the kitchen, drinking a cup of tea, drowning into your own thoughts. Your girlfriend came back few moments later with her favorite volley-ball shorts and high white socks, her abs uncovered by her shirt. You frowned. Do you want to apologize for something Sooyoung ? you thought. She came closer to you and pulled you against her without a word, holding you tight in a meaningful hug, her wet hair making your shive. But you were cold. Too cold for the warm flame she was. She pulled away, looking at you with her intense gaze, her chocolate eyes in your irises.

“Talk to me” she only said with her legendary relaxed tone, caressing your forearm with her delicate and long fingers.

“Your mother called me about a thousand times” you let out after a long silence because your anger were too strong to keep it inside. “She was worried because you didn’t answer to your phone the last past weeks”

Sooyoung felt surprised but she crossed her arms in front of your words.

“She knows I have to work hard. Plus, she calls you everytime just to talk with you and you perfeclty know that” she answered. “Now, can my girlfriend tell me what’s the true reason of her coldness ?”

She knew you too well and the fact that she could read into you like an open book were satisfying but annoying at the same time. You pinched your lips and you felt your eyes darken.

“I know you are busy with the comeback but I couldn’t see you properly for the last months” you declared, harshly. “Couldn’t you take a little time for your girlfriend just once in a week ?”

Sooyoung was taken aback by your violent tone but your words didn’t surprise her because she felt the same. If she had a true calm temper, when her emotions were controling her, she couldn’t stay still and the fire that was animated you took her too.

“Where were you at night when I came back home just to sleep with you in my arms ?” she replied, her face turning into a stone wall. “You were working late when I was working early. I had to wake up and go when you were taking a shower before going to bed. I am not the only one who focused on my work”

When she was like that, you couldn’t really win the arguement. When she turned into the Chinese wall, you couldn’t really fight her because she was always fair and she would stay strong like a pillar in front of everything. You shook your head and started to go away from her but she suddenly grabbed your wrist.

“How can you be like this ?” you almost screamed. “We barely see eachother ! Even when you cut your hair, I discovered it a week later. Do you think this is a couple’s life ?”

“I didn’t tell you because I wanted It to be a surprise for you. And you’re not the only one who felt alone, Y/n. I was here when you were at work and I started to think that you’d like to spend time with you collegues rather than me” she told you. “I even wondered If you had met someone else once”

You widened your eyes, feeling charged unfairly by your gilfriend and you couldn’t answer something without sarcasm in your voice. 

“Are you saying that I am the one who drove us here ?”

“You knew when you started to date with me that my life was different, that I have to work a lot, sometimes don’t sleep for few days and often travel to shoot music videos” she declared, her eyes in yours, a serious expression on her face. “I told you from the start”

You clenched your teeth and quickly pulled away from her, your anger burning your veins. Her words were like arrows for your heart and you were shoked by her words. Did she mean that you had to stay quiet because she warned you from the beginning of you relationship ? Your girlfriend was impressive, her presence filling every room, especially during an arguement but It seemed she had forgot something.

“Do you want to know something ? I started to date Ha Sooyoung”, you finally said and she widened her eyes. “I fell in love with Sooyoung before knowing Yves. I fell for her because she was all that I want in a girl. She is funny, she is smart, she is caring and she is a little bit shy when the attention is on her. Plus she has an unreal beauty without any makeup. Sometimes I wonder If she has been created in Heaven. But Yves.., well Yves is different.”

She stayed quiet, her expression slowly changing. She tilted her head, letting her arms falling on her sides, already knowing she will be powerless in front of the huge wave that was coming. 

“Yves is confident, about everything. She has a powerful sexy attitude. She knows how to catch people’s attention and keep it on her. She has a very dominant side, making people want to worship her” you continued, clenching your fists. “But she is different from Sooyoung” 

Her heart started to race when she started to believe that you didn’t want to be with her anymore because she had changed or something and she instantly felt anxious, her stone walls falling. She loved you with all her heart, with all the love she could give to someone. She was always talking about you to Chuu, saying that she was the luckiest girl on earth to have a girlfriend like you. She was always annonying Hyejoo, asking her about the new outfit she wanted to buy because she wanted to be perfect for you. She was always spending a lot of time shopping when they were abroad to find you some souvenirs, making her managers worry. You were a part of her and she couldn’t stand the idea of loosing you. She opened her mouth, wanting to say something to show you she was still the same but when she saw tears pearling at your eyes, she changed her mind and listened carefully to the voice she loved the most in the world.

“Sooyoung and Yves are different” you declared, holding back your emotions. “But both are mine”.

Sooyoung’s heart almost exploded in her chest when she heard your words and saw a particular sparkle in your eyes. She then understood. You weren’t fighting, you were opening to her.

“They are mine and you’re a fool to think that I like to share what belongs to me” you let out, feeling finally confident to tell her how you felt. “I miss you everytime you’re gone and I can’t stand your absence anymore. Falling asleep or waking up without your arms around me breaks my heart”

A single tear fell on your cheek while Sooyoung was holding back hers. She shook her head, growling a little because you both starting to fight because of your love for each other and she pulled you in a warm hug that only her can give to you. 

“I am sorry I’ve made you feel abandonned” she only whispered and you felt like It meant everything. “I’m going to take care of my babygirl”

________________________________________________________________

You were walking on the sand, blessed by the sunset and especially by the hand of your girlfriend in yours. After her group’s comeback, Sooyoung had organized a surprise for you and brought you in Busan for vacations. It was your first day and you had spent the entire day with Sooyoung’s parents, happy to have some family dinner with them and to see their smile because they were missing Sooyoung too. When the evening had came, Sooyoung being Sooyoung, she had took you out of the house and brought you to the beach were both of you met and couldn’t deny that your heart melt you realized it.

While the fresh sea reached your feet, giving you a pleasant sensation because of the contrast with the burning sun rays, you couldn’t take your eyes away from the wonderful landscape, your mind full of happiness and relief.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it” Sooyoung said, her eyes on you. “Almost as beautiful as the red fireworks that helped me to see your face the day we met”

She was obvisously flirting, even If you were already together for a long time now. You blushed a little, still not used to her deep voice when she was talking about you and you finally hit her in the shoulder to hide your cheeks. She laughed and went forward, dancing a little on the sand. The sunlight were revealing even more her beauty and you couldn’t help but fall in love for her again. You met her dark irises and her broad smile and you instantly felt your heart flutter. She was enjoying spending time with you more than anything and seeing her like this, free and blissful, made you feel pleased. 

“Come here babygirl” she shout with joy when she came back to you.

Suddenly, she reached for you and lifted you to walk with you on her back, your legs around her waist, both of you laughing. Sooyoung... She was always like this, always playful and always searching to make you smile with her personnality. As If she wasn’t aware of her beauty. The thing is, since the day you started to date her, you always told you that the true beauty was inside her, in her heart. And even If she looked like a goddess, you fell for her divine and good heart. You rested your chin on her shoulder, smiling against her skin and she felt it, quickly pecking your cheek. You shook your head and bit her neck playfully, making her shiver. 

“If you start like this...”she said with a deep voice, stopping her race on the sand to look at you above her shoulder with a grin. 

“Don’t even think about it” you answered and she laughed.

“Too bad, we could have enjoyed the warmth of the sun better” she teased and you hit her shoulder with your fist again. 

You shook your head, sighing but still amused.

“Would you do something for me babygirl ?” she asked with an adorable tone and you couldn’t resist to accept. “Close your eyes”

There was a thing about Sooyoung : never trust her when she was in a playful mood. The second you closed your eyes, you felt her muscled legs starting to move really fast and you suddenly felt something cold on your clothes before being thrown entirely in the water while Sooyoung was diving. When you came back to the surface, Sooyoung was already looking at you with a smile and laughed at your widened eyes.

“I should have never give you my phone number” you pretented to be mad while she was pulling you closer to her, your legs around her waist.

“Do you mean it ?” she raised an eyebrow before biting your lower lip, a meaningful sparkle in her eyes.

“I think I meant that It was the best decision I’ve ever made” you grinned at her. “To date Miss Ha Sooyoung” 

“I agree with you” she replied, holding you in her arms in the water, her loving gaze in yours. “I love you more than anything, future Miss Ha Y/n”

“W-What ? Baby-” you stammered, taken off guard but in a good way.

“No talking” she declared, taking your chin in her hand firmly. “Just kiss me now babygirl”

And with that order, she pressed her lips against yours in one of a passionnate kiss only her can give you to show you how she truly felt for you and you could tell you were the luckiest girl in the world to have this goddess in your life.

[pucapu]

Another day went by... #4

[ Please Read ]

4 - Training

The sky was clear with not many clouds. The sunlight shone soft and warm. The Sooga Village was peaceful this morning and the four fighters of the village were hanging out in the Turtle Training Hall, Ching's house.

Garu and Abyo were sparring while Pucca and Ching were chatting.

With Pucca's work, she was rarely available in the morning so when that happened Ching would waste no time spending with her best friend. Her father would come teaching them soon, so they needed some workout— a little sparring. In the middle of the room, Abyo got thrown by Garu for the third time.

"Geez, Garu!"

A little complain escaped the Kang Fu boy. Garu bowed towards his opponent as he would always do and Abyo groaned. The girls giggled softly while Garu helped Abyo getting up on his feet.

"Yeah, laugh as you wish, girls. Why don't you guys try sparring with him too then?"

Garu eyed him and Abyo just shrugged. Ching smiled. "Well, why not"

As Ching got up and ready her stance, Abyo walked and sat down next to Pucca. He didn't really upset and actually planned to laugh at whoever lost the fight since he lost to Garu and the girls laughed at him. So, why not. Their fight took longer than Abyo's but eventually Ching's lost.

"That's to be expected, thanks for the workout Garu" Pucca helped Ching up as Ching let out a soft 'ow'. Garu and Ching bowed to each other before Ching went to sit next to Abyo who was laughing.

"Get your butt kick out there huh?"

"Oh, shut it Abyo" with a 'hmph' Ching shook her head.

Pucca walked up to Garu and they started to spar.

Ching eyed those two casually while hummed softly. She didn't know what the two were thinking while sparring but for the observer sitting here like herself and Abyo, well, they could clearly see that Pucca was going easy on Garu while in the same time, Garu was being very, very considerate and careful to Pucca.

"What with those two." Abyo said, almost complained.

Ching shrugged, putting her chin on her hands trying to hide her smile while thinking to herself.

Garu feared Pucca's hugs and kisses that obvious but it's because he hated getting affectionate in the first place especially in public but Pucca was already special to him no matter how much he tried to deny it. The outsider, like Ching herself, could see clearly during the time like this— and when Pucca was sad and upset.

Let's see— few months ago, the villagers in Sooga, including herself, prepared the 11th birthday party for Pucca. They wanted a surprise so Pucca's uncles asked Garu to be her distraction that almost not worked out well since the absence of people got Pucca really upset and eventually cried. Garu was troubled from both her tear and what he needed to do since he wasn't good with acting affectionate, but he managed to lift her mood. By the end of the party, however, both Garu and Pucca told them to not ever had a surprise party ever again— especially for Pucca. She was such an emotional and sensitive girl. She would be anxious and yes, they agreed after they heard the story from the worried Garu. Yes, Garu was worried though he acted as if it's obvious since he was older than her and Pucca was like his little sister.

Ching wouldn't buy that though.

If he thought that Pucca was only his younger sister, then just tell her so. He knew— everyone knew— despite how much Pucca loved Garu, she respected his decision and choices and would only interfere if needed. Well, maybe he was afraid to hurt Pucca that would understandable.

Or, maybe he was waiting...

Ching tilted her head a little as Garu caught Pucca from falling even though that move should threw the opponent on the ground— Pucca giggled as she summersaulted and got behind him. Ching smiled.

They were both young. No, they were all young. So, it's possible if Garu was waiting that would be so romantic. Garu would adore Pucca up to the age when they can go on dates and eventually marry. Ching giggled at her thought and stole some glances towards Abyo who currently pouted at the way those two sparred.

Hiding her sighed, Ching realized that she was waiting as well...

Her fantasies ended when her father walked in the hall and in the end, it seemed they never found the winner between Pucca and Garu's sparring.

The day came to an end quickly when you had a good time. The four waved goodbyes at Goh-Rong after dinner and as Ching and Abyo were walking home together, Garu was called by Pucca's uncle, Dumpling, to speak about tomorrow's ingredients. Pucca waited outside and when he came out, a big grin painted across her face. Garu startled, as always.

Garu thought back to the sparring they had today and suddenly felt embarrassed. He cautiously walked pass Pucca, ready to jump away if she jumped in. The moon already rose, and the stars were sparkle throughout the sky. Pucca gave him a mischievous grin. He was so ready to jump yet— she's always one step ahead because as he about to took off she grabbed him firmly and pulled him close to her. He inhaled sharply, shut his eyes tight. It was quite a long moment before a soft, feather like kiss landed on his cheek instead of his lips and that's it. Nothing more.

Garu opened his eyes, almost blinked in confusion as Pucca just stood there smiling at him. Good work today was something written over her face and the kiss might be a reward for his hard work today or something. He frowned. Garu never understood this little girl in front of him. She could be very understanding sometimes but most of the times she would disturb his routine.

And that disturbance just happened on the next morning when he was trying to meditate.

Garu was back home after sending the morning ingredients to Goh-Rong. He fed Mio first and then started to meditate. As the sunlight got brighter and the gentle wind blew pass through him— a disturbance came in a swift causing him to shoot his eyes opened and there she was with a smooch right on his lips.

His morning routine— no, it's almost noon actually— was ended immediately when he jumped and ran away while she followed. He heard his stomach grumbled. With a groan, he eventually ran towards Goh-Rong to get his lunch. Abyo and Ching were already there, and he plopped down beside his best friend with a tired look.

"Man, Pucca interrupts you again, huh?" asked Abyo and Garu sighed.

Ching shook her head and Pucca came in through the door, giving a big smile towards their table then skipped into the kitchen.

"She just worried" Ching's eyes followed Pucca. Her comment made both Abyo and Garu gave her a weird look.

"No, really" Ching said firmly. "You are far in the woods, Garu. And sometimes, when you boys think she was messing around and interrupting whatsoever, she just wants your attention—"

"Obviously, people know that" Abyo cut in with a nodding Garu and Ching glared at both of them and the boys straighten their back with an awkward chuckle and apologetic looks.

"She wants your attention to get you out of your training for the change of pace. You don't have to be serious all the time" Ching shrugged "Moreover, when you meditate, Garu, time flies and you could forget your meals—that happened before. Pucca just wants to see you occasionally"

Clearly Garu didn't agree but he didn't argue either. Instead, Abyo commented

"But the kisses and hugs just— you know, ew"

Ching glared at him and Garu didn't say anything about it. Maybe he didn't exactly disgust or dislike or even annoyed. It's just tiring and embarrassing.

Pucca served his noodles and Garu prepared for the kiss— which landed on his right cheek. A soft, happily giggled came after before she skipped away.

"Hmm" Ching hummed. "You know what, if you at least show her an affection once in a while she would be delighted and who knows, maybe you can, well, negotiate about the kisses and hugs"

She clearly amused as Garu made an indescribable face.

A/N: I quite like Netflix's Pucca. She seems nuzzling and cute. Very much childish at that. About training, I just view that maybe Pucca just tries to get Garu out of his training from time to time. Though in the end, it would become a new session of training (with that ran and chase...) but maybe he can relax a bit? (or not) at least, I think Pucca would want Garu to relax and spares some of his time with her. That why Ching suggests so. I need to warn you guys a bit that even though I try to keep their characters as a mixture between Flash's and Netflix's, I'm afraid of making them a bit too OOC since I put my own opinion in their relationship as well.

Whew, writing in English is hard but I'm working on it.

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[chocolate-parfait]

Hi there! Congrats on 300 followers! May I please have a matchup? One for IkeSen, and one for IkeVamp if that’s okay! 💖 A little about me: my pronouns are she/her, I’m a Leo, and my MBTI is ENFJ! I like to think I’m confident in myself, so I hate asking for help. I love to learn, but I also love to help others learn too. I enjoy getting to try new things, especially with others! I’m pretty extroverted, but still appreciate days where I can lounge and take time for myself to recharge 😌 1/2

Thank you✨ Here ya go, sweetie~

I match you up with... Comte!

Comte has a terribly weak spot for strong and indipendent women who can hold their own, so upon meeting you he can already feel his heart going at full speed when he feels your aura. It takes the self control he has learned in who knows how many years throughout his immortal life not to directly ask you to step on him each time you show him your leadership skills and self confidence.

He's basically whipped from the beginning, but he won't be making a move nor show his true feelings (aside from very light teasing remarks here and there) unless he sees some type of interest on your part, too. The moment you correspond his feelings he's on cloud nine, as he tries not to think too much about the future and all the obstacles you'll have to overcome

He respects your natural autonomy, and knowing how difficult you find it to rely on others, he'll try to give you as much space as possible; as soon as he sees you slightly more tired or stressed than usual though, he immediately steps in and helps you out while softly scolding you for not relying on him

If you love reading AND learning then rejoice! Comte's library has books so rare and old that you ask yourself whether he directly got them from the library of Alexandria before its burning. You can sit on the super soft sofa in his room and read one or snuggle his neck as you stay on his lap while he tells you stories and legends. It's a great way of combining the things you like the most while also not doing anything too energy consuming! Honestly it's actually a top tier date, and knowing that he trusts you enough to let you that close to him does things to your heart.

Good thing you like shopping! A little less good that you don't like it when he spoils you too much. That will always be a recurring "problem" in your relationship, being part of his love language, but maybe you can convince him to spoil you with cuddles instead and leave the gifts for important occasions only! The moment you convince him (he won't always stick to this, mind you), your relationship will go smoothly. With Comte there are no fights and little to no misunderstandings since you're both people who prefer to talk things over before jumping to conclusions and he tends to be quite compliant with your every request.

The only other problem that may emerge between the two of you is your eventual vampirification. Unlike Leonardo, our mama pureblood has no issue with biting you, and he actually plans on doing it at one point or another when and if you ever feel ready to take such an important step. He loves you so much that it is only natural for him to live a part of eternity with you, but in the eventuality you refuse to do so, he will respect your choice and won't mention it again

Your extroversion is something he's pretty grateful for. You don't have any problems attending balls or other types of public events; it's an easy task for you to entertain guests and dodge tricky or too specific questions in a way that doesn't let others in on your past and real identity.

It's a win-win situation for both on multiple levels. You get to witness real 19th century clothes, people and behaviors while experiencing things you could have only dreamed of back in the present, and Comte gets to enjoy your bright smile whilst maintaining his reputation

On the overall, you're truly the perfect example of what people call a power couple, and everyone in the mansion knows not to mess around with you unless they want to get a more-violent-than-usual spank session with the pureblood

Second choice: Masamune

What a peculiar lass he has stumbled upon! He chases anything that sparks some kind of interest in him until all the surprise and excitement is completely squeezed out till the last drop. What makes you so special though, is that you never cease to fuel his amazement; no matter the situation, you always react unpredictably, and he adores that. You're strong-willed, and not even Nobunaga can order you around when you set your mind on something.

Bold and indipendent, you're quite the rare sight among other women in the Sengoku period, you'd surely make a great warlord! Masamune takes it upon himself to show you around and explain you how things work; keep in mind that he's no Hideyoshi nor Mitsunari, so his explanations can involve more a practical approach which isn't always the safest way. Wanna learn how to ride a horse? Masamune raises you up to sit between his arms and almost flings you both off a cliff. Want to learn more details about formations and how soldiers live? He takes you on the battlefield. Once he gets an earful from his fellow warlords, he tones it down a bit, though he's pleased to notice that none of those experiences broke your enthusiasm.

Slowly he realizes he's fallen head over heels for you, and he knows all too well that this is not like his other short lived crushes. His flirting turns more purposeful and daring, but the moment he sees sprouts of mutual interest he takes your relationship to the next level. No one's really shocked about the news (aside from Mitsunari, who was oblivious the whole time), and even you two seem to be pretty chill with it.

When it comes to you, PDA is frequent, but it's so smooth and natural that barely anyone notices, but Masamune always seems to make a big fuss about it, either to tease you or annoy Ieyasu. All in all it's pretty funny to see him getting worked up over nothing, and this routine of yours brings you the certainty that your lover will always welcome with open arms whatever form of affection you have for him!

In private, goodnight and goodmorning kisses are a tradition, along other pecks and tight hugs in-between breaks or whenever you happen to see each other. At least once a day he'll come to your room with some snacks to chat over tea and cuddle together.

As a couple you do not only reign over the Tohoku region, the kitchen was the kingdom you loved ruling over together the most. Dates, dates and even more dates, you spend endless hours messing around with recipes trying to recreate a modern day cake or traditional sweets. When duty takes Masamune away from you for a couple days, you make sure to have a freshly baked plate of his favorite sweets waiting on his desk the moment he comes back. He absolutely adores knowing that you always think of him whenever he's gone, so he makes sure to make it up to you for his absence with love, affection and a nice dinner.

Since you come from two completely different worlds, your knowledge, point of views and opinions are bound to be like day and night. Where other couples might stumble and fight, you and the Sengoku hottie use your contrasting characteristics to strengthen your bond even more. You're more than eager to ramble about the modern day and tell him about mind blowing discoveries made in the western continents, whereas he finds himself complying with a loving smile whenever you ask him to teach you something. He thinks you're kind of like a black hole for knowledge, similar to Mitsunari (though you're far more cuter). You want to learn about his smooth calligraphy? No problem, he already has white sheets and ink ready! Now you'd like him to teach you how to cook zunda mochi? He has already bought all the ingredients!

You two make a great couple with many points in common but also quite the number of dissimilarities. For example, during the first steps and months of your relationship, he didn't seem to know the meaning of "I'm tired". Being the ball of endless energy he is, he dragged you off by the wrist with him whenever he had the chance to, and when you snapped and told him that you needed time to recharge, he was left dumbfounded and he decided not to approach you for a couple days. Everyone in the castle is on your side because obviously there's no one able to keep up with the hyperactive samurai. After this experience he learns to read you better, he observes with a keen eye your expressions, your movements and the light in your eyes.

[paullicino]

A Year like No Other

(Taken from, and funded by, my Patreon.)

A lot of people are now calling 2020 the lost year and it’s not difficult to see why. Most of us have never had a year remotely like this last one. For some of us, the calendar began to blur, weeks and even months merging into one another in a sickly, uneasy timelessness that had us double-checking what day it was. For others, there was stress after stress, as we worried about our health, our jobs, our governments, even our countries. And the two experiences certainly weren’t mutually exclusive.

This month, I wanted to take a moment to reflect on that, acknowledging both the struggles and the successes. It’s sometimes been a difficult twelve months for me, but it certainly hasn’t been without its inspirations and its wonderful moments. I wanted to share some of those, to talk about a few ideas and to spotlight the things that helped me through 2020. I hope it helps. I figure it’s as good a time as any for us to be sharing our blessings.

And I think that first involves celebrating you. I think that’s very important. This past month, a year on from the first COVID cases being widely-reported (and also the first reports of cases where I live), I’ve read a lot by people asking questions like “What difference does it all make?” or “What is the point?” when they look back. They ask these questions when they think about things like their life changes, their mask wearing, their activism or their voting. They see an ongoing pandemic, social unrest or political inaction and wonder why they should make an effort while others are lax or apathetic. It’s natural to wonder that. I think anyone can understand the fatigue, the cynicism and the disillusionment.

But I also, get this, have a Hot Take on this that says that the choices you made were vital. When you chose to wear a mask, to socially distance, to restrict when and where you went, you actively helped fight a deadly virus. You may well have saved lives, saved someone’s health, protected livelihoods by acting as you have. When you voted, shared a cause on social media, attended a protest or talked to even one person about helping others or making the world better, you contributed to improving your society.

In fact, I have capital-O Opinions about these things so strap in and hold on, 'cause here they come.

I’ve been very fortunate to share much of my work on the internet over the years, which is a very particular medium, and sometimes that work reaches a lot of people. My experience of this is that you never know who it truly reaches, or when, or even how, and most of the time you never find out. There’s certainly an immediacy to things where you can see, pretty quickly, what the instant reaction to something is, but that’s fleeting. It doesn’t last and, within moments, there’s already something newer demanding more responses.

In time, the true consequences of things shake out. People get back to you with their more considered opinions. Sometimes months, even years after you do something, you find out from someone what they thought about it, how it affected them or even how they were changed. It can take time for a person to realise how they were changed, too, and we rarely have perspective in the moment. Sometimes it takes us years to appreciate the choices and the actions of our friends, our family members, our teachers, our communities. People have contacted me about work I’ve done long, long after I first shared it, and many of those people have come from places that I never expected, have found my work in ways that I never expected. I think, now, that consequence never travels in straight lines. That cause and effect are strangers rather than siblings.

And so I hope it’s clear that the ramble you have so kindly indulged is meant to say that we don’t always notice the good things that we have done. We ask “What difference does it all make?” or “What is the point?” because we don’t get those answers immediately, or for a long time, or sometimes ever. But not knowing when we saved someone’s health, when we changed someone’s mind, even when we inspired someone’s actions doesn’t mean that we aren’t making a difference. There is a point to our life changes, our mask wearing, our activism and our voting.

I hope you can celebrate yourself and give yourself credit for the choices you made this last year. They have mattered.

I also want to thank you so, so much for supporting my Patreon. I know many of you have been with me since day one, for more than two years now, and I’m so grateful for both your capital-P Patronage and your presence, whether that’s in our Discord community or through your comments and your correspondence. That’s made a big difference to me this past year, helping me pay rent and put food on the table during a time when so much has been uncertain. 2020 was to be my first full year back in Canada after a complicated, circuitous absence and I had half-finished projects, freelance ideas and half a dozen tabs open in my browser with writing residencies to apply for, everywhere from nearby Richmond to the Yukon Territory. I hoped this would be a year that I’d both finally see more of Canada and be able to write about it, too. A lot of things didn’t quite work out, freelance budgets were slashed, work timelines lengthened and I became ill, but as I look back now I’m thankful for a great deal.

I still managed to fulfill some ambitions. At the start of 2020 I’d been finishing up some work on Zafir, which had been an absolute delight, and I was not far off starting spring work on Magical Kitties Save the Day. The close of the year saw me resuming work on a Feng Shui expansion and each of these projects has been really good for me. All of them gave me a chance to work with skillful, progressive people and to become a better designer.

As spring continued, I decided to make a one-off video about board gaming and mental health during a pandemic, partly to offer a practical and helpful introduction to playing board games online and looking after yourself, but also because I wanted people to feel that their actions during a pandemic mattered. Among the things I referenced and linked to, I’ve continued dipping into Headspace from time to time, and this helpful list of brief work-from-home tips has been further updated. I’ve also since further investigated the terrific work of Dr. Ali Mattu, a psychologist and therapist who has produced a lot of material over the last year focusing on how to handle the pandemic.

With the summer came widespread protests across the United States, which highlighted the oppressive and fatal consequences of systemic racism and the urgent need for police reform, both issues not exclusive to the that country (for me, the events echoed the protests that began on my Tottenham street in  2011 and the violent response to 2010’s student protests). I shared a list of resources that I thought were important at the time, but there also followed a wide call for white people to make more effort to both seek out, engage with and promote motion pictures made by Black Americans, or which reflected the Black experience. It wasn’t a big ask and, as well as watching films that had been recommended many times over (such as Us, Da 5 Bloods, The Last Black Man in San Francisco and the excellent BlacKkKlansman, which was the best film I saw last year), I also tried to diversify my social media feeds more. Instagram was host to a growing discussion about how the platform seems to (deliberately or accidentally) divide people by race, something which I think may still be the case, and several nature photographers I follow promoted Tsalani Lassiter and Rae Wynn-Grant. To my delight, among many of the things they speak about and share, both are experts on bears.

I thought it was important to look more closely at Canada, too, so I made more of an effort to follow Indigenous issues and have begun reading Indigenous news sources, including First Nations Drum, Windspeaker and the Nunatsiaq News. CBC runs its own Indigenous news section, much of which is written by Indigenous reporters.A lot of freelance and writing opportunities dried up as the pandemic contracted the world’s economies, but in 2020 I was able to start writing for VICE, working with my old colleague and friend Rob Zacny, and interview the world’s most famous board game designer. VICE has written a lot of relevant, helpful and informative material about current events over the last year and I was heartened by the words of a fellow VICE writer, Gita Jackson, who concluded her essay about living in The Cool Zone of historical possibility by reminding us how “In The Cool Zone, we can also rediscover hope.”

This year I was also inspired by Faith Fundal’s widely-shared CBC podcast They and Us, which was an excellent (and still rare) example of a mainstream media exploration of gender identity and trans rights, and really pleased for my friend Brendan, who launched his podcast project Hey, Lesson! in the autumn. Of course, I can’t mention podcasts without again reminding you of my love for the spooky, supernatural Death by Monsters, which I got to host last winter. It was my dear friend Paula, one of its presenters, who recommended that I start streaming regularly, something I now do here. She was absolutely right when she talked about how positive and social an experience it can be. It’s been a real joy, as well as added some important structure and schedule to my week.

And, of course, the arrival of my first full year as a Canadian resident meant that I got to celebrate my first anniversary as a Canadian resident. I paid my taxes! Let me tell you, it was a slightly confusing and esoteric experience, but it was also one of those mundane, humdrum things that confirms and validates you. Though I didn’t get to throw a party for that anniversary, I did get to enjoy my birthday celebrations before the pandemic really hit. My partner surprised me with a trip to the not-quite-remote-but-definitely-secluded Gibsons, on the quiet British Columbia coastline, which was the best birthday gift anyone’s ever given me and a chance to see more of the rocky, forested, mountainous fringes of a place I’ve fallen so in love with. Before Vancouver closed down, I was also able to collect more than a dozen people (representing five different nationalities!) together in a brewery and then a restaurant, something that now feels like an extremely alien concept. For some of us in our friend group, it’s the last memory we have of coming together and being in the same space. That gives it a pronounced poignancy, a bittersweet quality.

Finally, I’d like to share two more things with you. The first is particularly peculiar and personal: I found my wizard. After drafting this piece last summer, then sharing it in the autumn, a few suggestions led me not straight to my goal, but ultimately down the right path. The game that I was thinking of is called The Tomb of Drewan and I very much doubt that anyone, anywhere is likely to have heard of it. It’s thirty-nine years old this year and it was distributed by a publisher in Berkshire, not so far from where I grew up. It only took me three and a half decades to see what it looks like in colour.

Tracking down this game was a softly satisfying experience. It’s exactly as I remember. Everything makes sense. Reading through the manual reminds me of how difficult it was to try and understand this thing through a monochrome monitor, though I also think it was likely way too complex for the child I was. I don’t think I ever got anywhere. I don’t think I ever could have. But I at least know that my memory has served me well. That wizard was as real as could be.

The second thing is something about my own missing year, something that has also resurfaced in my memory as we’ve plodded through 2020. In the long, dark winter months, in the unstructured days and the collapsing weeks, I’ve been transported back to the early 2000s and to a time that now feels very familiar. Here's what that was like.

I’d been writing professionally for a few years, comfortably and competently, while still living in suburban Hampshire. As publishing moved from magazines to the internet, my work began to dry up, my options narrowed and, honestly, I didn’t respond to this shift by producing my best material. I also didn’t know what to do about all this change, becoming directionless and unsure. I didn’t yet have the confidence to take some of the larger steps that I eventually did and, instead, somewhere in all that I began to move backward. I struggled to find work. I slept the strangest hours. I was frustrated, but it also didn’t matter nearly enough to me because also, I was no longer motivated.

I have memories of waking up at all kinds of times of day and night. Of not knowing where to go. Of running out of things to take photographs of, after looking at the same local sights over and over. It was like living at the bottom of a well, with a tiny, distant view of the world and no handholds for climbing out. I wasted time because I had time to waste, something I deeply regret now, and I became crabby, unhealthy and inward-looking. I was far from my best.

The last time I was in England I found myself going through old things from the early 2000s. I found many of the books I read, a great deal of writing I’d done and, in particular, a lot of my old RPG notes. A lot of old RPG notes, an absolute wealth of work that far exceeded anything I’d done outside of any work except that on Paranoia. I’ve written before about my roleplaying past and how I have fond memories of it, but I had completely forgotten exactly how much material I had collected together. I had so many biographies that I’d indexed them. I was starting to form an encyclopedia of everything I’d done, just so that I could find and reference the things I needed.

I had also read so much, which both prepared me for my degree and began to make me a better writer. I’d mostly stopped reading in my mid-teens and this was a new spurt of interest that led me toward many of the tastes and preferences I have today. I began to develop my fiction and non-fiction writing styles and I developed an interest in non-fiction that had paid me back a thousandfold.

I was building a new me.

I see now that I didn’t lose a year. I was certainly caught in a swamp of sorts, struggling to make progress, but the experiences I had during that time still mattered. They didn’t matter right away and they didn’t matter in any way that seemed at all obvious to me at the time, but they helped to shape me and to guide me, to show me both what I wanted and, certainly, what I didn’t want. If I had the chance to repeat it, I’d for sure live that missing year differently. I’d live it so much better, so much wiser and so much more fruitfully, but I can at least see it now as not the waste I long thought that it was.

And so I hope it’s clear that the ramble you have so kindly indulged is meant to say that, some time in the future, you may look back on 2020 and find your successes, your satisfaction, even your strength. I don’t mean to disregard anyone’s suffering or sadness, your feelings are valid and the pain, loss and difficulties you’ve encountered are very real. I don’t much like people who dismiss the feelings of others and I apologise if I’ve been too glib. I think a past version of myself needed to read something like this, a long time ago, and I only want to give them, you or anyone who might see this, hope for the future, a few reasons to be optimistic and, very importantly, a reminder to celebrate yourself.

Happy 2021. You made a difference. You always have.

[soldouthaz]

hi! 

this is very different from anything else i’ve ever written and i’m not completely sure that i love it but i couldn’t get this idea out of my head. i’m obsessed with the concept of louis being the sun. most of this is up for interpretation and is borderline ambiguous in it’s ending, so feel free to imagine it how you’d like. again, another huge thank you to @risthebrave​ for yelling about this idea with me / planning it in two days and for letting me know that there is actually a lunar eclipse today (june 5th!). it was fate :) enjoy! 

“Tell me the story about how the sun loved the moon so much he died every night to let him breathe.”

“Once during a time when the earth was simple, the Sun shone brighter than anything. The people were grateful and rejoiced every time the Sun shone. He brought them joy and warmth, he was even the source of their warmth.

But he was lonely, all by himself in the vast skies. He would look down at the people dancing in his radiance and wonder if he was simply destined to a life of solitarily. That was the price he paid for being the brightest, he reasoned.

Then there was the Moon.

As the Sun grew weary and began to disappear [he] would rise into the sky, flanked by millions of stars. [His] radiance was a sad kind of beauty, one that went unnoticed as the people slept.

The Stars watched [him] with woefulness, hoping that one day they could get close enough so [he] wouldn’t feel so empty. But they couldn’t. The Moon was untouchable, surrounding [himself] with a blanket of darkness through the cold nights.

Until one day when the Sun was sliding out of the heavens, he caught a glimpse of [the Moon]. [He] was peeking up, a rare side of [him] being exposed to the light. And while the Sun could shine, he knew the Moon could glow, and a faithful whisper trumped an arrogant shout any day.

So just as the Stars were wandering into the night, the Sun fell in love like a snowball hurdling down a mountain. How the Sun wished to see [the Moon] more than the fleeting moments he shared with [him] at both dawn and dusk.

But the Moon was untouchable.

Uncurable.

Unfreeable.

“Go,” [the Moon] whispered to him one of those nights, [his] voice as sweet and sorrowful as the last light of morning, “Go and let me breathe, for you and I have decided fates. You illuminate the day, and I cast a glow on the night. We will never be. Our connection would go against what all people believe, all they know.” During the summer [the Sun] would stay a little longer just in case [the Moon] would change [his] mind. It was no use.

“Don’t you dare abandon your blessing of light for my darkness.”

~ anonymous

--

Early morning is Louis’ favorite time of the day. The sky is transformed into a blank canvas of pinks and purples with a few feathery clouds, soft birdsong the only soundtrack to his endless work. Sometimes he feels trapped inside of his workspace, but he tries to make the best of his circumstance by listing all of the details that bring a smile to his face.

There are as many advantages as there are disadvantages, really. Louis enjoys his privileges, enjoys being able to shed light on the world and watch as they create new memories underneath him and bask in the glow. Sometimes it makes him so happy that his smile only adds to the illumination of the landscape below him. Other times though, his mind wanders.

Nighttime has always been somewhat of a fantasy for him. Louis catches glimpses of it as he retires for the day, light stars dotting the cobalt blue of the darkening skyline. In the light that Louis provides everything is visible - it is difficult to hide much from his rays. Oftentimes people shield their eyes from him or stay indoors as he shines over their homes. Louis finds himself envious of the thick shadow of night. Everything is more serene and silent, and there is time for rest and renewal away from any prying eyes. Still, there is another reason Louis is so keen about the night.

His name is Harry.

Louis has only seen the Moon a few times before, each one more wonderful than the last. Harry is the physical embodiment of the things of Louis’ daydreams. While Louis is freckled and radiating with light, Harry exudes a certain calmness that he’s never been able to replicate in his absence. With the softest touch Louis has ever felt, Harry is an enigma although he lays all of his deepest secrets out bare for him to see. Each crater carved in the surface of the Moon is synonymous with Harry’s own. His skin tells a story that Louis has spent years attempting to figure out without much luck.

Several times a year Louis has the pleasure of being in his arms. It isn’t ever for long, but he values every last second until they shift again, saying goodbye for another few months until they’re able to coexist once again.

Louis has learned several things in the course of his lifetime, has paid attention to the patterns and frameworks that the people below him subscribe to. In the harsh light of day, people pretend. They plaster on fake grins and pretend to be people they aren’t, trying a thousand times harder to seem alright with sunlight shed over all of their insecurities.

At night is when the illusion fades. Everything becomes more genuine underneath the hazy blanket of the stars. Harry listens attentively as people vent their troubles to the Moon, asking for guidance and comfort that is only given through the moonlit strips that peek through the curtains onto the floor. It’s easier to cry and to be upset when there is no one else around - Louis would know. He aches with it sometimes, wishing that people would look to him in the same way they do Harry.

No one ever talks to the sun. In fact, like he’s said, at times they actively hide from it. And it hurts him sometimes that he shines too brightly but he can’t do anything to dampen it, can only look down on them and hope they know that he’s only trying to provide warmth as best he can. Harry has a way of making people feel like they aren’t alone, but it seems like Louis only sheds light on the opposite.

There are times when the Moon is the only thing that keeps him going, the repetitive cycle a soothing reminder that, even if he can’t touch him right now, he’s never truly alone. He can always make out his silhouette opposite from him when he feels lonely or needs comfort. Sometimes he allows himself to be fooled into thinking that they’re closer than they are, that he could reach out and touch him if he tried hard enough, but Louis knows that isn’t the truth.

He and Harry are the exact juxtaposition of each other but he thinks that’s probably why they work so well. It’s forbidden in many ways, but the fact that the universe allows them an opening of time to themselves during the longer months must be some sort of a sign, he figures; the fact that they’re given time together even in the midst of such important obligations - bringing light and darkness to every corner of the world.

It is seldom that Louis ever gets to rest, only another reason why he longs to be in the Moon’s presence. For those few minutes Louis can forget about everything else, can be completely camouflaged by the Moon. He no longer has to worry about shining too brightly or filling up an entire sky by himself. Everyone below them gathers to watch their brief union, flashing cameras and pointing up at them, and Louis would give anything to be able to see it from their perspectives.

Tonight they’ll get to see all of it again. There is only a small portion of time before their rotations align and he’ll be able to breathe once more. There are days when Louis wouldn’t trade anything for his responsibility, but there are also times when he wishes nothing more than to give it up, if only for minutes at a time.

The Moon comes into his vision exceptionally slowly but too fast all at once. The sooner Harry arrives the sooner he leaves, and Louis thinks he should probably be at peace with that by now but he isn’t.  He longs for the day when they won’t have to part from one another, though he knows it is selfish to keep his light from the world.

That is why he’s eager to take willingly what he receives, and why he is so eager to keep going each day. It is one of the only reprieves he is allowed and Louis plans to take full advantage of it each time he is allowed.

He watches as Harry moves closer in the sky, as the horizon darkens and he begins to glow as well. Louis enjoys this part, when their colors begin to blend together in a mix of purples, blues, and pinks. Though he can’t ever see them together, he can always feel their energy. He radiates warmth every day but with Harry it’s almost as if their light is combined, his skin vibrating with it as he draws even closer.

Louis blinks over and over again, trying to convince himself he isn’t imagining it when he begins to see the features of Harry’s face come into view. It’s never exactly like he imagines it, always better than the time before. Harry ages beautifully and it never fails to amaze him. He isn’t bright like the Sun, like Louis, but he’s effortlessly radiant in his own way.

No time to prepare himself is allotted when Harry arrives though he’s been waiting weeks for this. One moment he’s out of reach and the next he’s in Louis’ space, big and bright and a thousand times more lovely than Louis remembers.

“Louis,” Harry whispers.

His voice is something Louis knows, looks forward to hearing for months at a time, but he still isn’t prepared when Harry utters his name. Immediately Louis feels as if he’s been encased in deep velvet. His body is lighter at the tone, at the feeling of the heavy weight falling off of his shoulders even if only for a few minutes.

The sky is dark when he falls into Harry’s arms, invisible under the thick haze of fog, stars, and the shape of the Moon covering his silhouette. Everything is strikingly bright and pitch black at once in his vision.

“Sleep, my Sun,” Harry whispers.

Louis allows himself to follow his suggestion, his eyes fluttering shut. When he wakes, there’s a good chance Harry will be gone again, separating further and further from him as they continue on their paths. But for now, he’ll let himself fall underneath his spell feeling comfortable and safe and warm, dreaming of the day where they won’t have to part from each other, when Louis can bask in their combined glow for the rest of eternity.

--

I see what it's like for day and night

Never together

'Cause they see things in a different light

Like us, but they never tried

Like us