#sorry I keep forgetting to crosspost

[enidtendo64]

I’m really that guy

[nicktoonsunite]

hello chat

[asterparfait]

merry 2024 rings it in with this old gilbert

[johntonkin]

Ship: Edward Little/Solomon Tozer

Rating: E

Words: 5015

Summary: “It’s not, right?” asked Edward, once they finally tugged it apart and Sol got started on the button of his trousers.

“Not what?”

“Weird?”

“Nah,” said Sol, voice so casual Edward couldn’t help but doubt how casual he really felt. “We’re two young, hot, single queers. It’d almost be weirder if we didn’t end up doing this at some point, right?”

“Right,” said Edward, forcing a laugh. “Yeah, it’s just…”

“Yeah,” said Sol.

Nearly a decade before Divine Fruits, Edward and his best friend hook up for the first time.

(Can be read as a standalone)

[atsadi-shenanigans]

Feeding Alligators 27 - True Blood

Gale makes a potion. Astarion feels generous.

On AO3.

Your face is puffy in the morning. Always is. You were never a pretty crier; it always left evidence all over your face for the others to see. Always marked you out as easier prey.

So you do as you always do. Make a show of being so goddamn exhausted. It wasn’t tears that left your eyelids swollen, it was a really rough night. Tossing and turning. You slept wrong, and make a show out of trying to massage out the crick in your neck. Find cool water so you can splash your face and hopefully coax the swelling down.

You avoid the others as long as possible. You’re an old hand at it all. Natural as breathing.

“Eleanor!” Gale calls as soon as you come back from dunking yourself in the river (your clothes are impossibly swamp-stained). The headache is still gone. You can, for the first time (through the heavy numbness clinging to you) notice how pretty the woods might be. How sweet the air smells. You should focus on that, you know. Grab at the small niceties and refuse to let them go. The only floating debris in the oil-slicked crash site in your head.

The whole “dying” thing threatens to put a damper on that—

“Hey,” you say. Your voice, luckily, is none the worse for wear. One point to silent crying.

You run your fingers through your damp hair. It’s getting longer on the sides, almost enough to brush the upper edge of your ear. You’re going to have dandelion head before too long, assuming you live long enough—

Gale all but bounds over to you, beaming. He presents you a still-hot bottle with a flourish.

Ah. Another potion. The potion to anchor your soul, the potion brewed especially to anchor your soul, your soul potion. Because if you can make this funny, maybe you can keep yourself all upright and on your feet and responding to everyone.

He wants to talk to you. Gale wants to talk to you so fucking bad. And you’ve got psychic brainworms, but who knows what using the damned things does? Maybe, as long as y’all are quiet with them, they’ll keep sleeping, instead of punching tentacles out of your face in a spray of blood and teeth and slime.

The potion smells like hot metal. Straight-up car engine. You wrinkle your nose and hold it away, but Gale gives you a stern look. Realize the others are watching from their respective tents.

This is bullshit.

“Bottoms up,” you mumble and toss it back.

Yep, hot metal all the way down. It’s that time you set water to boil (in a pan, because you were too poor for kettles and microwaves) and forgot about it until the smell of the pan burning itself crawled up your sinuses. Then comes a kick weirdly like clove, bitter like spinach, and then more hot metal. You might as well be licking an iron pipe.

“Sweet fuck,” you say. You have to clamp a hand over your mouth as some of it comes back up. Force swallow it down.

That shit is vile.

“What the fuck did you put in here?”

But Gale is watching you carefully. Beckons Shadowheart over, who says something magic and her hands glow. You stand there and shut off the breathing through your nose, hoping enough mouth breathing might dull the awful taste.

Then she’s done. She nods. Gale beams. You get the sense yeah, he’s happy it worked or whatever, but also he’s a bit smug with himself. Something about the tilt of his chin. And the way he motions you over to the front of his tent where it looks like he’s converted the space into a magical field lab.

There’s herbs. Some kind of powder collection. An empty vial with something still clinging to the bottom. He notices you noticing, and plucks it up.

Could almost be wine, maybe. Except wine isn’t that viscous. It’s not that dark, either. You stare at him, totally not shielding it from your view.

“Gale, what is that?” you say. Only it’s in Faerunese and it’s actually, “Gale, over there what is?”

He picks up the herbs you clearly are not referring to. Says the name.

“Gale.”

He stares back. Then sighs. Prattles a second before handing the empty vial over to you and letting you sniff at it.

Metal and earthy musk.

“Is that blood?” you say.

He doesn’t understand you, of course. You don’t have the vocabulary (or mental capacity at the moment) for this. Everything is spiraling down the shitter.

You tap the inside of your wrist, at the purple veins there. Then tap where Astarion bit you (the mark closed thanks to Shadowheart’s magic and the potion they poured down your semi-unconscious throat).

“Blood,” you say, in English. Then in Faerunese, “This is?”

You’ve caught him. His whole frame screams guilt. But, being Gale, he repeats what has to be “blood” in Faerunese. And then waits for you to repeat it.

Which you do, after the image of throwing the bottle at his stupid face flashes across your mind.

“Whose?” you say (English). You point from it to him. Hope it’s from a chicken or a rabbit or something. Animal blood you can understand—plenty of people use that in food. That would be the sensible thing.

But.

But he winces.

He winces.

And then points to himself. And then points to Shadowheart, and gestures to the entire fucking camp.

Your thoughts stutter. Your body goes sort of numb, even as a shiver runs through you. Even as Gale indicates with his fingers something tiny, a jab at a finger, the little oil lantern under the chemistry set on his desk as if to say, “See? Hot. Cooked.”

Their blood. All of their blood, and you threw it back like that cheap vodka you tried one time.

Your stomach heaves.

“No, no!” Gale says even as you swallow it back down.

“Why?” you say and enough of that must be beyond translation, because he sighs again. Ponders a moment. And then taps his temple.

Oh good. Why not potentially piss off the brainworms. It’s not even the worst thing happening to you right now.

This mind-whammy is short. The thoughts burst in your head like fireworks before he’s gone again and leaving you reeling.

Tethers, Wither had mentioned. Gale had visualized a thread, too thin and too taught. And then a purple one coming in and sewing through it, sewing into you. A black thread. Green. White. All of them stitching into you and tugging something far away just a bit closer.

Their blood. Their essence, part of Faerun itself (as you are of Earth) threading through you and reinforcing that link. Drawing your soul in.

Wait. Four threads. That’s…

“Lae’zel?” you say. “She’s not even…”

And then the full implication chops you over the head. You turn. Find the red tent and the floofy, white hair outside it. Because Astarion is, in fact, watching you. And is, in fact, grinning like a bastard. He’s got a goblet (possibly wine, but he’s been keeping bottles of animal blood in his tent this whole time, turns out, and he ain’t shy about that no more). When you look over, he lifts that goblet in a toast.

Welcome to the club, he seems to say.

Absolute fucking goblin.

Gale shrugs helplessly. Says, “Withers talk. Us all.”

***

Dirt potion has been, for now, replace by blood (hlurgh) potion. Fuck your life. Abducted by aliens to a fucking fantasy world and you’re still on daily medications. Swell.

Though that pings another thought. Or a lack of pings, really: no brain zings. You’ve been off your Earth meds for well long enough to have side effects. Brain zings, lethargy, massive bad temper. But you got none of that. The brainworm, maybe? Has to be. That or being here has fundamentally altered your physical makeup on like, an atomic level or something (holy shit, do you not have depression anymore? No, you’re not that lucky).

You feel much better, everything else aside. Physically. Still sore and aching from all the walking, but your head is clear and the bone-deep drag and time loss disappears.

Lae’zel stares holes into the side of your head as y’all head out again. She still runs you through the paces the next night, though. And this time, you manage to unlace your stays yourself. Progress?

But the way she watches you. It’s so cold. A crocodile in the river, eyes unblinking as a baby zebra picks its way down to the edge of the water.

You still wear stains and the faint stench of swamp and sweat and mud gremlin guts. Once Lae’zel is done with you that night, you grab your things, walk down to the river, and just keep walking—fully dressed—until your feet lift off the bottom and you float.

One good thing about being plus-sized: you are a personal flotation device. The only treading you have to do is enough to keep you floating upright instead of rolling over as your girls try to bob out the top of your tunic.

You float like that for a long while. Swirl your clothes around you and submerge yourself a couple of times to scrub at your hair and scalp. Then you paddle a little closer to shore, blow out, and let yourself sink.

Bubbles stream out of your lips. Your feet touch soft mud. You crouch down there, unable to sink far enough to sit, and see how long you can stay put.

You used to do this when you were a kid, down at the creek when the water ran high enough. Down here, there’s no sound. No one watching you, judging you. The water is cool, the pressure squeezes. It’s calming. You can close your eyes and listen only to your own pulse whooshing in your ears and pretend the rest of the world doesn’t exist.

No one can hurt you. No one can mock you. No one to call you a fuck up or failure. No constant, crushing sin.

Just you and your heartbeat and the press of the river.

At least until your lungs start to bitch, and the burn gets too much.

You plant your toes and launch yourself upwards. Breach the surface in a little hop, and clear your nose and suck in a deep gasp.

A fucking voice says something.

“Jesus fuck!” You whirl.

It’s Astarion, of course. Bastard stands at the water’s edge, face unreadable, his pale feet bare against the muck. Then ends of his trouser legs are rolled up, and for a mortifying second, you wonder if he was about to come in after you. Until you see the bundle of cloth under his arm.

Right. Laundry. Other people have lives outside of your bullshit.

“Hey,” you say in English, just because you can.

“Hello,” he says in Faerunese.

You wade back to shore, sluicing water as you go. Not the best laundry job ever, but you hope enough soaking and maybe some of the worst stains might lighten at least a little.

You’d give up your eye teeth for a goddamn washing machine.

He waits for you to slog onto the bank before moving in after you. Gravity presses back in, and your muscles remember how pissed they are.

The walk back to camp seems longer. The group has seemed to collectively agree on today being laundry day, and they’ve rigged up a sort of drying rack near the fire. They’ll smell like woodsmoke whenever the wind shifts, but that’s way better than gremlin guts. As you’re hanging them, you feel something in a pocket. Reach inside, and something glowing comes out.

That ring from the swamp. You forgot all about it.

It’s not flashlight bright. Not even cell phone bright. It’s enough for you to walk in the woods without tripping over anything directly underfoot, though. The band is plain, and from the look and feel, you suspect that’s real gold.

You never had real jewelry before. Never had the budget. The thing fits on your right ring finger, barely. You look at it, wave your hand around, watch dim shadows stretch and dance away from you, and catch Gale smiling softly at your display.

This is something nice. Another small thing you can latch onto. A shit awful mess, but you’re the proud owner of a real, gold ring for the first time in your whole life.

You don’t talk much around the fire back when you still had dirt potions. You try to listen to the others, but it ain’t the same. You didn’t realize how nice it was to sit back and listen until you can’t no more. You can only eat your food, cut off from the rest of camp.

Tomorrow, y’all should reach the grove. You’ll have to figure y’all’s shit out. Hopefully someone has the mergrass Gale needs so you can communicate again.

Soft footsteps pad up behind you. Nice of him to give himself away, this time. Astarion stops at the drying rack to fussily spread his dripping clothes. They appear to be linens, maybe? Towels? Long strips of undyed cotton or linen.

He finds your gaze, squints a second, and slaps on a smile that screams “mischief!”

Oh, what the fuck is he—

He points to one of the rags. Maybe two feet wide, three feet long. He’s got three of them (you have no idea where the fuck he even stole those from).

He gestures to you, points to the nearest linen. Only Shadowheart is close enough to notice and take an interest in whatever this is.

“You,” Astarion says (you’ve picked that one up). “You this is.”

The cloth. He’s saying is…yours?

You frown, mime grabbing it, point to yourself.

He nods.

“Why,” you say because Gale made you learn that one and this time it isn’t a question.

His grin is pure light and benevolence when he says, “Panties.”

Shadowheart snorts into her cup. You consider pulling the rag off and whipping it at his head. But this feels like a personal challenge, and you could use the fucking distraction. He might have a radically unfair advantage over you, but that about sums up your whole life.

“Thank you,” you say, deadpan, like it’s a normal gift between camp mates.

He gives a little bow.

Previous - Index - Next Chapter

[twodragonsinatrenchcoat]

terrified for how large the number on that post may be by tomorrow please don't give me any more notes. go give my friends' art more notes please and thank you <3

[820-anemone]

Drawthing day 198!: Anemone is an organization that takes in cyborgs, androids, robotic humanoids, and other former test subjects of the group that created 820. She likes to help with the interviews when they get new machines in ☺️

[lanadelspray02]

HOLD ME ANYWAY: CHAPTER 10

paige x azzi

Hey guys! Enjoy this chapter. I have a feeling y'all are going to love it. Let me know your thoughts :) Also, thank you for showing so much love on the last chapter, I truly appreciate it <3

crossposted ao3 here

masterlist here

wc: 8693

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

The arcade lights faded behind them like a distant echo, swallowed by the dark as Paige pulled out of the parking lot. The road ahead stretched long and quiet, streetlamps flickering in rhythmic intervals like they were trying to keep time for a heartbeat that had gone too fast for too long.

Neither of them spoke.

Azzi sat curled in the passenger seat, her forehead lightly against the window, breath fogging the glass in small, uneven bursts. The unicorn plush was tucked in her lap, arms wrapped around it like she didn’t quite know where else to put her hands. Her other hand rested near her mouth, not touching, not biting, but hovering. Like she might say something. Like she might unravel.

Paige gripped the wheel with both hands, her knuckles pale. Every few seconds, she risked a glance sideways. At Azzi’s profile. At the tension in her shoulders. At the silence that had spilled between them like something sacred and broken all at once.

She wanted to speak, God, she wanted to say anything. To ask if she was okay. To say she was sorry, even though she didn’t know what for.

But the truth clung to the air between them like smoke: if she said the wrong thing now, it might ruin everything.

So instead, she turned the music down and drove slower than usual.

The windows were cracked just slightly, letting the cool night air drift in, soft and steady. Her playlist had looped back to the beginning without her noticing. Some low, instrumental R&B track hummed faintly through the speakers, no words, just rhythm. Just feeling.

Azzi shifted a little in her seat, not looking over. “You don’t have to drive so slow.”

Paige’s voice came out quieter than she meant it to. “I didn’t want to rush.”

Azzi didn’t respond right away. Then, softly, “Thanks.”

The word landed between them like a fragile glass.

Paige nodded once, though she wasn’t sure Azzi saw it. Her heart was a mess, too loud, too raw, like it couldn’t decide if it was proud of how gently she was handling this or terrified it still wouldn’t be enough.

She wanted to rewind to the photo booth. To freeze the moment where Azzi had leaned in, eyes soft, breath held, heart wide open, and hold it like proof that it had been real. That it had meant something.

But she also couldn’t forget the look on Azzi’s face when she’d pulled back.

The fear.

The heartbreak.

Like she’d remembered something all at once that made it impossible to stay.

Paige swallowed hard and turned onto Azzi’s street.

The driveway came into view faster than either of them expected.

She slowed to a stop at the curb. Let the engine idle.

Azzi reached for the door handle, then paused.

“I’m sorry,” she said, so quietly Paige almost missed it.

Paige’s fingers tightened slightly on the steering wheel. “For what?”

“For… leaving. Running. I didn’t mean to.”

Paige looked over, their eyes meeting in the soft golden wash of the porch light through the window.

“You don’t have to explain,” Paige said, even though every nerve in her body ached to know. “Not now.”

Azzi blinked. Her jaw moved like she was holding something back.

Then she opened the door.

The cold night air rushed in around them.

She stepped out, the unicorn still clutched tightly in one arm. The door closed softly behind her, and Paige watched as she walked up to the front step.

She turned back just before reaching the door. Rested her hand on it. Eyes lifted to meet Paige’s one last time.

“I’ll text you when I’m in.”

Paige nodded. “Okay.”

The door opened.

Then closed.

And just like that, Azzi was gone.

Paige sat there for a long moment, hands still on the wheel, heart still in her throat.

Then, with a quiet breath, she pulled away.

She didn’t cry.

But something in her chest cracked anyway.

Azzi stepped into the house as quietly as she could, easing the door shut behind her until the latch clicked softly into place. The hallway light was off, but the warm flicker of the TV spilled into the entrance from the living room, soft and golden, like a candle left burning through the night.

Voices, familiar, animated, drifted into the air.

She slipped off her sneakers by the door and padded forward in her socks. The ache in her chest hadn’t gone away. If anything, it had only sharpened. But the moment she turned the corner and saw them all curled on the couch, something in her body exhaled.

Katie, Tim, and Ruby were bundled together under a huge crocheted blanket, the kind Katie had made years ago during a nesting phase that came right after Azzi had given birth. Toy Story was playing on low volume, Woody’s voice floating through the room in bursts. Tim had one arm around Katie, the other lazily scratching Ruby’s back, while Katie’s fingers were threaded through Ruby’s curls in slow, sleepy loops.

Ruby was half-asleep, head tucked under Katie’s chin, bunny tucked tight under one arm.

Azzi paused in the doorway, the arcade-won unicorn plush still clutched in her hands, the one Paige had refused to give up on until she’d won it. She held it now with quiet reverence, the weight of what it meant pressing into her palms.

Katie looked up first, her eyes catching Azzi’s in the glow of the screen. She didn’t speak. Just smiled gently and nodded toward the hallway, the silent signal: she’s almost out. You’ve got bedtime.

Azzi nodded back, then stepped forward, crouching beside the couch.

Ruby blinked awake, her eyes heavy but clear. “Mama…”

“Hey, baby,” Azzi said softly. “Time for bed.”

Ruby made a noise of protest but didn’t fight it. She was too tired. She let Azzi scoop her up, blanket and all, arms looping around her neck like a habit.

Katie stood and handed her the bunny, tucking the blanket back over her shoulders.

Azzi followed the familiar path down the hall and into Ruby’s room, lit only by the soft glow of the unicorn nightlight in the corner.

Ruby murmured something incoherent as she curled back into her pillows, already drifting.

Azzi tucked her in gently, pressing a kiss to her forehead before stepping back, and then paused, remembering.

She turned, reached for the unicorn plush still tucked under her arm, and brought it to Ruby’s bed.

“Hey,” she said, teasing softly. “So… I may have brought home a prize. But it was technically mine.”

Ruby blinked one eye open, then both. “What is it?”

Azzi held the plush up by its glittery horn. “A unicorn. Won fair and square.”

Ruby’s whole face lit up — sleepy, delighted. “For me?”

“I said it was mine.”

Ruby pouted immediately.

Azzi sighed dramatically. “I guess you can borrow it.”

She laid the unicorn beside her daughter, tucking it gently against her chest. Ruby’s arms closed around it without hesitation.

“You win it?” she asked.

Azzi smiled faintly. “Nope.”

Ruby looked up at her, head tilting. “Then who?”

Azzi hesitated just a moment, and then said softly, “A friend. Her name’s Paige.”

Ruby yawned, settling in again. "The smiley one right?”

Azzi’s chest tugged. “Yeah. The smiley one”

“Mmmkay,” Ruby mumbled, and then she was out, unicorn cuddled tight under her chin like it had always been there.

Azzi sat beside the bed for another minute, brushing a few curls from her daughter’s cheek. She watched her sleep. Watched the rise and fall of her tiny chest. Let the stillness press into her, grounding and heavy.

Then she rose quietly, slipped from the room, and closed the door halfway behind her.

She walked the length of the hallway in a fog, her mind nowhere and everywhere at once. The arcade. The laugh. The look in Paige’s eyes.

The photo booth.

The countdown on the screen.

The warmth of Paige’s leg pressed against hers.

The look, the way Paige looked at her, like she was something to be reached for, not figured out.

Azzi had leaned in.

Paige didn’t pull away.

Their noses almost touched.

And just when Azzi thought she could do it, could leap off the edge and maybe be caught.

That old voice in her head screamed:

She doesn’t know about Ruby. She doesn’t know who you really are.

Don’t let her kiss someone who doesn’t know. Its not fair on her.

So she pulled back.

Too fast.

Too scared.

Azzi sat on the edge of her bed, the plush lavender elephant Ruby had given her hours earlier still lying there. She stared at it, unmoving, her pulse thrumming against her ribs like a warning.

She hadn’t cried in months. But tonight, her chest split open, not with sobs, but something quieter. Something lonelier.

The kind of ache that came with letting someone get close, only to run when it mattered most.

She rubbed her eyes with the bottom of her crop top, then stood abruptly and walked back to the living room, barefoot and unsteady.

The TV had gone dark, credits long since finished. But Katie and Tim were still sitting on the couch with lukewarm tea and the kind of quiet that only comes after waiting.

Katie didn’t even flinch when Azzi stepped back into the room.

“You ran again, didn’t you?”

Azzi sank into the armchair with a heavy breath. “Is it that obvious?”

Tim lifted an eyebrow. “You came in looking like someone unplugged your soul"

Katie gave him a warning look, but didn’t argue.

“I didn’t mean to,” she said finally. “I just… panicked. It felt real.”

Katie leaned forward, her voice gentle but firm. “It is real.”

There was a long pause.

Then Azzi whispered, “Her name’s Paige.”

Tim gave a little nod like he’d guessed it already. “Basketball?”

Azzi gave a faint laugh. “Yeah.”

Katie’s brows lifted slightly. “So… this Paige. She the one who got you that unicorn thing?”

Azzi nodded. “She basically emptied her wallet trying to win it.”

Tim smirked. “Bold move.”

Katie’s expression softened. “You like her.”

Azzi looked down with a smile “I really do.”

“So what happened?” Katie asked, scooting forward a little.

Azzi closed her eyes. “I almost kissed her. I wanted to kiss her. But then I remembered she doesn’t know. About Ruby. About… all of it. And I just, ran. Again. It wasn't fair to her.”

“You were scared,” Katie said.

Azzi nodded.

“And you’re allowed to be scared,” she continued. “But fear can’t be the one driving this.”

Tim leaned back, arms folded. “I mean, worst case scenario, she sucks. But best case? She’s exactly what you need.”

Azzi’s voice was small. “What if I tell her everything and she doesn’t want that kind of life?”

Katie met her eyes and didn’t blink. “Then she’s not the one. But sweetheart… I have a feeling you wouldn’t be sitting here if you didn’t already know deep down that maybe she is.”

Azzi blinked back another sting of tears. “She makes me feel… like I can breathe. Like I’m not just surviving. But I don’t want to let her love a version of me that isn’t whole.”

Katie reached out and squeezed her hand. “Then let her see the whole thing.”

There was a long silence.

Then Azzi whispered, “I think I’m ready. I have to be ready.”

Tim smiled gently. “About time.”

Katie leaned over and kissed her daughter’s forehead. “We’re proud of you, you know that?”

Azzi nodded, throat tight.

And for the first time in a long while, she felt something else underneath the fear.

A little flicker of peace.

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

The door clicked softly behind Paige as she stepped back into her dorm, the hallway light flickering overhead before finally stabilizing. She didn’t bother turning on the overhead light, just toed off her sneakers, dropped her bag next to the wall, and let the shadows wrap around her.

Her limbs felt too heavy to move. Her chest, too tight to breathe properly.

Azzi hadn’t kissed her.

Paige kept replaying that moment like it was a video she couldn’t stop rewinding. The angle of Azzi’s body, the look in her eyes, the way her breath had trembled in the stillness between them.

The way she’d almost leaned in.

And then didn’t.

Paige stood frozen in the middle of the room, her keys still in one hand, the other curled loosely at her side. The hoodie Azzi had returned earlier was folded neatly on her desk chair. Paige hadn’t touched it since she got home. Couldn’t. Not yet.

A breath shuddered out of her.

She walked over, dropped her keys into the small ceramic bowl Nika had made for her at some half-forgotten team bonding event, then sat heavily on the edge of her bed.

For a moment, she just stared at the floor.

And then, without really meaning to, she reached into her pocket.

Her fingers closed around the photo booth strip like it had been waiting for her, smooth, slightly crinkled at the edges. She pulled it out and held it up to the soft glow of her desk lamp.

First photo: goofy faces. Azzi’s nose scrunched up, Paige’s tongue out.

Second: smiling, close. Natural.

Third: Paige mid-turn, caught looking.

Fourth

Her breath caught.

That frame.

Azzi looking at her. Inches away. Lips parted. Paige could still feel the weight of the almost-kiss hanging between them.

She traced the edge of the photo with her thumb, then leaned back and stared at the ceiling.

“What are you doing?” she whispered to herself.

She wanted to scream. Or cry. Or throw something just to feel something else. But all she could do was sit there, feeling like she’d been left on the edge of something she didn’t know how to name.

The room felt too quiet. Too still.

So she grabbed her phone and opened her texts.

Nothing.

She checked her notifications.

Still nothing.

She clicked into Azzi’s thread anyway. Scrolled up, rereading the messages she’d sent before.

Maybe Azzi didn’t...

Her phone buzzed.

Paige jumped like it had shocked her.

Azzi:

made it home. thanks again for tonight

Paige stared at the message for a long time.

It wasn’t a paragraph. It wasn’t a confession. But it was something. Azzi had texted her. She had said thank you.

She was still here.

Paige’s thumb hovered over the keyboard.

She typed:

I meant what I said in the car.

Paused.

Deleted it.

Tried:

You’re welcome. You were amazing tonight.

Deleted.

Started again:

You looked really happy tonight. I liked that.

Backspaced.

Eventually, she just sent:

Glad you made it inside okay. Sleep well.

It felt like a lie. A safe lie. But she couldn’t do anything else right now, not when the air still felt charged with all the things they hadn’t said.

She set the phone down, face-down again, and sat back.

The room swallowed her in silence.

A minute later, the door creaked open.

Nika.

She poked her head in, towel around her neck, clearly fresh from a night shower. “You look like a kicked puppy.”

Paige didn’t answer.

Nika slipped inside fully and sat cross-legged on her bed without asking. “So…?”

“So nothing,” Paige muttered. “It was good. Then it was… weird.”

“Weird how?”

Paige didn’t answer right away. She reached for one of the photo booth strips on her desk and handed it to Nika.

Nika scanned the photos, the smiles, the closeness, the unfinished moment.

Then she looked up slowly. “Oh.”

Paige leaned forward, elbows on her knees. “She pulled back.”

Nika frowned. “After that?”

Paige nodded.

“She say anything?”

“Nope. Just left.”

Nika handed the photos back, her voice gentler now. “You okay?”

“I don’t know,” Paige admitted. “I keep thinking… maybe I shouldn’t have leaned in. Maybe I misread everything.”

“Or maybe she’s scared,” Nika said. “She looked scared the first month she got here. But she also looked at you like you were the only thing in the room, every time.”

Paige didn’t speak. Just nodded, quietly.

Nika stood, stretching. “Don’t spiral too deep, Bueckers. Maybe give it a minute.”

“I gave it a minute,” Paige said. “I gave it all night.”

Nika paused at the door. “Then give it a day.”

When she left, Paige stood, walked into the bathroom, and turned on the shower without waiting for the water to warm. She stripped out of her clothes robotically and stepped in, letting the steam fog the mirror and blur everything.

She stood under the spray, unmoving, her forehead resting against the cool tile.

The water was too hot.

But she didn’t turn it down.

When she stepped out, skin pink and towel clutched tight around her chest, she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror.

Her eyes were red.

She didn’t know if it was from the water or everything else.

She dried off slowly, threw on an oversized tee and boxers, then climbed into bed and pulled the blanket up to her chin.

Her phone sat on her nightstand.

No new notifications.

She left it there.

Turned off the light.

Let the dark come in.

And for the first time in a long time, she whispered to herself something she didn’t want to believe:

“I think I’m falling for her. Like for real falling.”

Then she rolled onto her side and let the silence settle around her.

The photo booth strips remaining on her desk.

That last photo still staring up at the ceiling.

Still waiting to become something more.

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

Azzi woke slowly to the tickle of something fuzzy beneath her chin and the familiar weight of a tiny foot pressed against her thigh.

The sheets were tangled, the air still with sleep, and nestled beside her, all soft curls and steady breaths, was Ruby.

The unicorn plush rested on Ruby’s belly like a loyal companion, its glittery horn crooked slightly, battle-worn from bedtime adventures. One of Ruby’s arms was flopped across Azzi’s middle, the other hugged the stuffed toy tight against her chest, as if it might disappear if she let go.

Azzi smiled to herself and let her eyes close for another moment.

Then: “Mama?”

Azzi cracked one eye open. “Hmm?”

Ruby tilted her head up, curls wild from sleep. “Where did the unicorn come from?”

Azzi smirked. “You don’t remember me sneaking in last night and slipping it under your arm like a fairy godmother?”

Ruby frowned. “No.”

“Well, maybe it magically appeared,” Azzi said, voice low and teasing. “You do have excellent toy karma.”

Ruby sat up slowly, still holding the unicorn. “Who gave it you?”

Azzi stretched a little, yawning. “Someone very determined. She tried, like, twelve times to get it out of the claw machine.”

Ruby’s eyes widened. “Twelve?!”

“At least,” Azzi said with mock seriousness. “She was very committed to winning it. Almost lost her mind when the claw dropped it on the eleventh try.”

Ruby giggled, curling closer. “Was mad?”

Azzi shook her head. “No, just dramatic. But she finally won it.”

Ruby hugged the unicorn close and grinned. “She must really like you.”

Azzi went quiet for a second, her smile lingering. “Yeah,” she said softly. “Maybe.”

Ruby looked at her for a long moment, then rested her chin on the unicorn’s glittery head.

“She made you smile,” she said simply.

Azzi blinked. “What?”

Ruby gave a little shrug. “You’re smilin’ right now.”

Azzi glanced away, caught, but her smile only grew.

“she your friend?” Ruby asked, curious again.

Azzi nodded slowly. “Yeah. Her name’s Paige.”

Ruby seemed to consider that for a moment, then whispered, “She got nice name.”

Azzi laughed under her breath and brushed Ruby’s curls back from her forehead. “Yeah, she does.”

They lay there like that for a minute longer, just quiet, wrapped in soft light and small truths, before Azzi sighed and gently shifted out of bed.

“Go back to sleep, Roo,” she murmured, kissing her cheek.

Ruby snuggled deeper into the pillow, unicorn still clutched tight, her voice already fading as she mumbled, “Tell her thank you… for the corn…”

Azzi paused in the doorway and whispered, “It’s called a unicorn.”

But Ruby was already asleep again.

She padded down the hall in her socks, the soft hush of old wood beneath her feet grounding her with each step.

The kitchen was already humming with quiet life. Tim was standing at the counter whisking pancake batter, Katie seated on the lounge nearby with the newspaper folded in her lap and her reading glasses perched halfway down her nose.

Azzi hovered in the doorway for a second, unsure.

Katie looked up first. “You look like you’ve been thinking all night.”

Azzi huffed softly. “I barely slept.”

Tim glanced over, pausing mid-whisk. “You want coffee or tea?”

“Tea, please.”

She moved into the kitchen slowly and slid onto the barstool at the counter, hoodie sleeves pulled over her palms, heart heavy with everything she hadn’t said last night, everything she still didn’t know how to say now.

Katie set the paper aside and joined them at the table, her gaze gentle but watchful.

Azzi finally spoke.

“I think I need to tell her today.”

“Paige?” Katie asked softly.

Azzi nodded. “Yeah.”

Tim set the whisk down and leaned on the counter, giving her his full attention.

“I don’t know how,” Azzi said, her voice barely above a whisper. “I’ve run from this conversation every time I got close. I almost told her last night. We were in the photo booth, and she looked at me like… like she could see the whole truth and still wanted me anyway.”

She swallowed hard.

“But then I panicked. Again. Like you already know”

Katie didn’t say anything. She just waited.

“I keep thinking,” Azzi went on, “how do I even start that conversation? ‘Hey, by the way, I have a two-year-old. Surprise!’ Like how do you say something like that without completely changing everything?”

Tim poured her tea and set it gently in front of her. “You just say it,” he said. “Because if she’s worth your time, she’ll listen.”

Azzi stared down at the steam curling from the mug.

“It’s not just about Ruby being part of my life,” she said slowly. “It’s about what that means.”

Katie nodded once, inviting her to keep going.

“It’s… the diapers, the schedule, the lack of sleep. It’s the mornings where I can’t go to class because Ruby’s sick or daycare’s closed. It’s bedtime songs and tantrums and needing to make every decision like someone else’s entire world depends on it.”

Her voice trembled a little, but she didn’t stop.

“It’s the fact that I can’t just be someone’s girlfriend in the way people our age usually are. It’s not movie nights and road trips and waking up late. It’s bath time and night lights and packing snack bags for the week.”

She exhaled, long and heavy.

“I don’t know if Paige is ready for that. If she even wants that. I don’t even know if I’m ready to ask her to be ready.”

Katie reached over and squeezed her wrist gently. “You’re not asking her to become a parent overnight. You’re asking her to see you, the whole you. That includes Ruby.”

Azzi blinked fast, trying not to cry.

“And if she can’t handle it,” Tim added gently, “then better to know now than later.”

“I’m just scared,” Azzi admitted. “Not because I think she’s cruel or selfish, she’s not. She’s so not. But because I like her. So much. And I’ve never brought anyone into this part of my life before.”

She looked between both her parents. “Not since… you know.”

They both nodded. The air thickened briefly, but not painfully.

Katie leaned forward. “Azzi. You’ve built something beautiful here. With us. With Ruby. You don’t have to apologize for protecting it.”

“But you also don’t have to hide it,” Tim added.

Azzi sat still for a moment, the warmth of their words settling into the quiet ache in her chest.

She wrapped her hands around her mug and let the silence breathe.

Then, finally: “Will you guys look after her for a couple hours?”

Katie smiled. “Of course.”

“She still asleep?” Tim asked.

Azzi nodded. “Yeah. But when she wakes up, she’s going to ask about her unicorn. And probably demand pancakes.”

“We’re ready,” Katie said.

Azzi stood slowly, then crossed to hug each of them, first her mum, then her dad, resting her chin against his shoulder longer than usual.

She turned back toward the hall, brushing her hands down the front of her hoodie.

No more running.

Today, she’d tell Paige the truth.

Not just about Ruby. But about all of it, the fear, the complexity, the love.

And she’d find out, once and for all, if Paige wanted to step into that world with her.

The knock came at 10:03 a.m.

Paige hadn’t expected anyone. She was still in her sleep shirt, hair tied up in a lazy half-bun, sitting cross-legged on her bed with her laptop open and untouched. The photo booth strips from the arcade still on her desk, just where she’d left it the night before, but her eyes kept drifting to it like it held more answers than she had questions.

She froze at the sound of the knock.

Not a group chat knock.

Not a Nika-barging-in knock.

Just… a knock. One time. Quiet. Like whoever was on the other side didn’t know if they had the right to be there.

Paige stood slowly, padding across the room, heart already skipping ahead of her brain.

She opened the door.

Azzi was there.

Hair down, cheeks a little flushed from the morning breeze, her hoodie sleeves pulled down over her knuckles like she’d been twisting them the whole walk over. She looked like she hadn’t slept much either.

Paige blinked. “Azzi.”

“I should’ve texted,” Azzi said quickly, quietly. “I just… I didn’t want to give myself time to back out.”

Paige opened the door wider. “Come in.”

Azzi stepped inside without hesitating, and Paige shut the door behind her, slowly, carefully, like any sudden move might send the whole thing shattering.

The room was warm, lit by the pale morning sun spilling through the blinds. Quiet. Still.

Azzi didn’t sit. She just stood near the center, hands in her sleeves, heart beating so loudly she could barely hear herself think.

“I need to tell you something,” she said, voice steady but soft.

Paige nodded once. “Okay.”

Azzi looked at her, really looked at her, the sweatshirt hanging off one shoulder, the nervous way she was tugging at the hem of her shirt, like she didn’t know where to put her hands.

“You remember the unicorn?” Azzi said.

Paige blinked. “Yeah. Of course.”

Azzi gave a half-smile. “It’s already her favorite.”

Paige’s brow furrowed, confused. “Her?”

Azzi took a breath.

“I have a daughter,” she said gently. “Her name’s Ruby. She’s two and a half.”

The silence that followed wasn’t shocked. It wasn’t cold.

It was still.

Like the air itself had paused to listen.

Paige didn’t move.

Azzi kept going.

“She’s mine,” she said, a little quieter now. “All mine. I’ve raised her with my parents’ help. Since high school. I don’t talk about it much. Most people don’t even know unless they’ve met her.”

She paused, breathing carefully.

“And that’s why I’ve been so careful. So slow. So hesitant. Because Ruby isn’t just part of my life. She is my life. And liking you, being around you, it scares me.”

Paige’s eyes hadn’t left her. She didn’t look stunned. Just… focused.

Azzi shifted her weight.

“It’s not just about Ruby,” she said. “It’s about what that means.”

Her voice cracked a little, but she didn’t stop.

“It’s… the diapers, the schedule, the lack of sleep. It’s the fact that I can’t just be someone’s girlfriend in the way people our age usually are. It’s not movie nights and road trips and waking up late. It’s bath time and night lights and packing snack bags for daycare.”

She laughed once, low and self-deprecating.

“I don’t get to be spontaneous. I don’t get to just disappear for a weekend or skip a practice without thinking five steps ahead. I have this little person who depends on me. Who comes first. Every time.”

Another pause.

Azzi looked at her hands. “I should’ve told you sooner. But I was afraid you’d see me differently. That you’d feel like you had to pull away. Or worse, like you had to stay out of obligation.”

Her voice dropped even lower.

“And last night… the photo booth… I wanted to kiss you. God, I almost did. But then I remembered everything I hadn’t told you, and I panicked. Because it felt too real.”

She finally looked up again. Her eyes were glassy.

“I know this is a lot. I don’t expect anything from you. I just… I needed you to know. All of it.”

The silence that followed wasn’t empty.

It was full. Full of breath. Full of truth.

Paige walked forward, slowly, like she was approaching a flame.

She didn’t say anything at first. Just looked at her. Eyes soft. Grounded.

Then, quietly: “You could’ve told me sooner.”

Azzi’s shoulders tensed, just barely.

But then Paige added, gently, “But I’m glad you told me now.”

Azzi blinked.

Paige kept going. “I don’t know everything. I’ve never… I’ve never liked someone who already has a life of loving a person like that. But I want to learn. I want to try. Because I like you, Az. More than I’ve let myself admit.”

Azzi’s throat tightened.

“I don’t need perfect,” Paige said, her voice barely more than a breath. “I just want real. And you, with Ruby, with all of it, that’s real.”

She hesitated for only a second before letting the truth slip out, raw and aching.

“God, I want you so bad.”

Azzi’s lips parted, like she had something to say, like a thousand words were tangled in her throat, but none of them made it out. Her chest rose sharply, then fell, as if the force of wanting Paige back hit too fast to contain.

So Paige moved closer.

Not in a rush, not in a way that asked for anything too soon, just enough to let Azzi know she wasn’t afraid to close the space between them. Just enough to say I’m here.

“I’m not going anywhere,” Paige murmured. “Unless you ask me to.”

Azzi let out a shaky breath, her shoulders dropping as if she’d just unclenched something she’d been holding tight for too long. Her eyes fluttered closed for a moment, then opened again, searching, soft, open.

And then, finally, her hand reached out. Slowly. Tentatively.

Her fingers grazed Paige’s before curling around them, like she wasn’t sure she was allowed to hold on until Paige laced theirs together, grounding them both.

Paige took one more step, closing the last inch of space between them. Close enough for their breaths to mingle. For Paige to feel the heat rolling off Azzi’s skin. For everything unsaid to hang like mist in the air.

“I want to know her,” Paige whispered. “When you’re ready.”

Azzi’s eyes shimmered, lashes wet. She nodded, just once.

“I’m scared,” she confessed, voice catching. “I don’t want to mess this up.”

“I know,” Paige said, brushing her thumb gently across Azzi’s knuckles. “Me too. But we’ll learn, together.”

The silence that followed didn’t feel heavy this time. It felt safe.

Like a pause between heartbeats.

Like a promise.

And then, slowly, like she was testing gravity, Azzi leaned in.

Paige met her halfway.

The kiss was quiet.

Unrushed.

Not the kind born of desperation or heat, but of ache, the kind that had bloomed slowly, patiently, through every look and every moment they hadn’t let themselves want this too much.

Azzi’s lips were soft against hers, trembling just slightly. Paige cupped the side of her face, holding her gently like she was something precious. And she was.

When they pulled apart, their foreheads stayed pressed together. Neither of them moved. Neither of them had to.

Azzi smiled, small and unguarded, a crack of sunlight breaking through after a long, grey storm.

Paige tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “You smiled again.”

Azzi laughed, breath catching.

“Get used to it,” she whispered.

Azzi didn’t let go of Paige’s hand as they stepped farther into the room.

Her pulse was still wild beneath her skin, not from nerves anymore, but from something deeper. Something fragile and real and almost brand new. And maybe… maybe safe.

Paige gave her a small, wordless smile and nodded toward the far corner of the room. “You can sit wherever,” she said, voice softer now. “Sorry it’s a mess.”

“It’s not,” Azzi replied, even though there was a hoodie on the floor and a half-finished smoothie on the windowsill. “It’s… you.”

That made Paige flush, but she didn’t look away.

Azzi’s eyes wandered as she moved to the edge of the bed, and that’s when she saw them.

Tucked just above Paige’s desk lamp, curled at the corner like it had been handled too many times, was the photo booth strips.

Azzi reached out, hesitating only a second before gently pulling it free.

Four small frames.

The first, chaotic joy. Their ridiculous faces. Azzi with her nose scrunched, Paige’s tongue out.

The second, them leaning close, smiling like they’d forgotten the camera.

The third, Azzi mid-glance, just turning.

The fourth, that moment. Inches apart. Azzi leaning in. Paige waiting.

Azzi swallowed.

“You kept these,” she murmured, fingers trailing the glossy paper.

“Of course I did,” Paige said from behind her, quietly but without hesitation.

Azzi turned.

Paige walked forward and took the strips gently, fingers brushing Azzi’s again. Then, without overthinking it, she hung the strip on the pin board.

She handed Azzi the other one.

“This one’s yours,” she said.

Azzi stared at it, something warm and unruly blooming in her chest. She took it carefully, holding it like it mattered.

Then Paige sat down on the bed beside her, and Azzi followed.

They lay back, slow, quiet, side by side on top of the blankets, shoulders almost touching, eyes fixed on the ceiling like the space up there could hold the weight of this new beginning.

After a few beats, Paige whispered, “Can I ask you something?”

Azzi turned her head slightly, hair brushing the pillow. “Of course.”

“What’s she like? Ruby.”

Azzi smiled, small at first, then brighter as she let the question bloom in her chest. “She’s funny. Loud but shy when she first gets to know someone. Smarter than I ever was. She loves music, but only the chaotic kind. And she makes up words for things she doesn’t know yet. Last week, she called cucumbers ‘green noodles’ and now we’re not allowed to call them anything else.”

Paige let out a soft laugh, and Azzi felt it echo in her ribs.

“And she is obsessed with that unicorn, by the way,” Azzi added, turning her head fully now. “Like, fully obsessed. Slept with it on her chest like it was guarding her dreams. I tried to move it this morning and she acted like I’d just taken away her firstborn.”

Paige blinked, grinning. “Seriously?”

“She made me tell her how you won it,” Azzi said, laughing quietly. “Wanted every detail. I think she thinks you’re, like, some kind of claw machine goddess now.”

Paige pressed the back of her hand over her mouth like she was trying to hold in a laugh. “I mean… I did go twelve rounds for that thing.”

“She respects the grind,” Azzi teased, eyes soft.

“I like her already,” Paige whispered.

Azzi felt something in her chest tighten. Not painfully, just fully. “She’d like you too.”

They lay there in silence for a moment, the kind that wasn’t empty, but full, of what they weren’t saying yet, of what they were slowly beginning to believe.

Then Paige exhaled. “I’m scared.”

Azzi blinked, turning again. Paige was staring at the ceiling, hands folded over her stomach like she was afraid of what might spill out.

“I want to get it right,” she added. “I really, really want to get it right.”

Azzi scooted closer until their shoulders touched. She didn’t speak for a second, just let her presence do the answering. Then she gently nudged her elbow against Paige’s side.

“I don’t expect perfect,” she said. “Not from you. Not from anyone.”

Paige turned her head this time, slow and searching. “But you’ve done it. You’ve raised her. You’ve made a whole world for her.”

Azzi nodded, a little breathless. “Yeah. And I’ve had help. And I’ve made mistakes. And I still don’t know what I’m doing half the time.”

“You make it look like you do,” Paige murmured.

“That’s because I have to,” Azzi said softly. “Because she needs me to. But I mess up. I cry. I freeze. I forget to wash her favorite pajamas and then have to bribe her with rainbow cereal.”

Paige laughed again, a low, warm sound. Her face was still turned toward Azzi’s.

“I just…” she hesitated, then added, “I’ve never had anyone rely on me before. Not like that.”

Azzi’s face softened.

“She wouldn’t expect anything from you,” she said. “Not at first. She’d just be curious. You’d have time.”

“You think she’d like me?” Paige asked, and the vulnerability in her voice cracked Azzi open.

“I know she would,” Azzi said. “You’re kind. You’re patient. You make me laugh when I don’t want to. You went to war with a claw machine just to make a two year old happy, even if you didn't know it yet. That’s… not nothing.”

Paige turned onto her side, slowly, propping her head up on one arm. “You make me want to be someone she could count on. I want to be someone you can count on.”

Azzi mirrored her, rolling onto her side so they faced each other, their knees just barely brushing.

“She doesn’t need perfect,” Azzi said again, voice gentler now. “She just needs someone who shows up. Someone who sees her. The same for me.”

Paige reached out and, without thinking, tucked a loose strand of hair behind Azzi’s ear. Her fingers lingered, brushing gently against Azzi’s cheek like she was memorizing the moment by touch alone.

“I see you,” Paige whispered, voice low, rough with emotion. “And I want to see her too.”

Azzi’s breath caught. Her throat tightened, the weight of those words pressing deep against something tender inside her. She blinked once, slowly, as if to hold back the welling feeling behind her eyes, then looked at Paige.

Really looked.

The space between them buzzed, alive with everything. Paige’s gaze dipped to Azzi’s lips for a fraction of a second too long, then flicked back up. Her breath hitched, almost imperceptibly.

And Azzi leaned in, slowly, carefully, not for a kiss, but like she was being pulled by gravity into the one place that had started to feel safe. Her forehead almost brushed Paige’s, her nose nearly grazing hers, the closeness teasing something electric between them. But at the last second, instead of closing the distance, she tilted sideways and gently let her head rest against Paige’s shoulder.

Paige exhaled. A shaky, quiet release of air like she’d been holding her breath.

She didn’t say anything, just shifted her body ever so slightly and wrapped one arm around Azzi’s back, pulling her closer with the kind of touch that said I’d wait forever if you asked me to.

They stayed like that, curled into each other, quiet, warm, steady.

And for the first time in what felt like forever, Azzi didn’t feel like she had to hold it all alone.

For the first time, Paige didn’t feel like she was standing outside someone’s life, hoping to be let in.

They were in it together now, not fully, not perfectly.

But enough.

Enough to begin.

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

It had been quiet for over an hour.

Sunlight spilled through the dorm window, catching on the soft edges of two girls wrapped loosely around each other. Paige’s arm was tucked protectively beneath Azzi’s waist, Azzi’s head resting in the crook of Paige’s shoulder. Their breathing had evened out somewhere between conversation and calm, and sleep had crept in before either of them could stop it.

It was the kind of peace neither of them had realized they’d been craving.

Then....

BANG.

The door flew open like it had something to prove.

“PAIGE. You left your....”

Nika stopped dead.

Mouth open. One foot already in the room. She blinked.

Azzi jolted upright, heart leaping into her throat.

Paige groaned under her breath, arm still tangled around Azzi’s waist. “Nika, what the...?”

Nika’s eyebrows flew somewhere near her hairline. “Oh my God.”

Paige sat up, blinking sleep from her eyes, and shoved her hair back. “Can you knock for once in your life?”

“Can you warn me when your life becomes a rom-com?” Nika replied, full of unrestrained glee. “Am I dreaming? Did I walk into a moment?”

Azzi flushed. She was still half-tangled in the blanket, and her hair had definitely flattened weird on one side. “Hi,” she said awkwardly, giving Nika a small wave.

Nika pointed at her like she’d just found Bigfoot. “You! You were here! Like...here here!”

Paige rubbed her face. “We were sleeping, Nik.”

“Oh, I see that,” Nika said, leaning against the doorframe like she was settling in for a front-row seat. “I just didn’t know we were moving on to ‘falling asleep cuddled and looking soft as hell’ stage.”

Azzi gently pulled away, brushing down her hoodie and smoothing her pants. “I should probably… get going,” she said, voice quiet, eyes darting toward Paige.

Paige looked at her, the change in tone instantly grounding her. “Right. Of course.”

Azzi’s gaze softened as she stood. “I promised I’d be home before lunch. Ruby’s probably driving my parents wild by now.”

There it was, not a full explanation, but enough of one. Paige nodded, her heart tugging with something gentle and slightly aching.

“I’ll walk you out,” she said.

Azzi smiled at that. “Thanks.”

As they passed Nika on the way to the door, she held up both hands like she was blessing them. “Y’all are lucky I’m respectful. I could’ve had my phone out already.”

“Please don’t,” Paige muttered, brushing past her with a glance that said do not make this a thing.

Azzi just laughed softly, her cheeks still pink.

They walked slowly down the dorm hall, the air between them warmer now. Settled. Sleep-soft and unhurried.

Outside, the breeze had picked up, early spring and sweet. The kind of air that carried the hint of new things.

Azzi reached her car and paused by the driver’s side, fingers lingering on the handle. Paige stood just behind her, hands in her pockets.

“I’m really glad you came today,” Paige said.

Azzi turned to her. “Me too.”

There was a pause, shy but not cold, just full. Like neither of them quite wanted to leave.

“I’ll text you,” Azzi added, quieter this time. “When I get home.”

Paige nodded, stepping forward. “Okay.”

Then, without fully thinking, Paige leaned in and wrapped her arms around Azzi, pulling her into a hug that wasn’t rushed, wasn’t uncertain. Just real.

Azzi folded into her easily.

When they pulled back, Paige hesitated for only a second before leaning forward again, pressing a soft, unassuming kiss to Azzi’s cheek.

Azzi’s breath hitched.

Her eyes fluttered shut for a heartbeat, then opened again. “You’re dangerous,” she whispered, teasing, but her voice was warm.

Paige smiled. “You bring out the risk-taker in me.”

Azzi ducked her head, grinning now, and pulled open the car door. “See you soon?”

“Definitely.”

She slipped into the driver’s seat, still smiling as she buckled her seatbelt. Paige stood at the curb, watching as she pulled away, one hand raised in a little wave, the other still warm from where it had touched Azzi’s skin.

And for a long moment, she just stood there.

The breeze ruffled her hair.

And somewhere deep in her chest, Paige let herself hope again, not just for something real.

But for someone.

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

Azzi stepped quietly through the front door, slipping her shoes off by muscle memory and catching the faint sound of chatter from the kitchen.

The house smelled like roasted vegetables and something warm with garlic, the kind of familiar, grounding scent that told her her parents had been busy while she was gone. The low hum of music played through the Bluetooth speaker on the counter, Stevie Wonder crooning something lazy and upbeat.

Katie looked up first, a wooden spoon still in her hand and her apron smeared with a streak of tomato sauce.

“There’s our girl,” she said, eyes soft.

Tim turned from the sink, hands dripping from rinsing a bowl. “Hey, sweetheart. You okay?”

Azzi smiled and let her bag fall to the floor before padding into the kitchen and leaning against the counter. “Yeah. I’m okay.”

Katie stepped closer, brushing a curl from Azzi’s face in that habitual, motherly way. “You told her?”

Azzi nodded, then let the breath she’d been holding spill out slowly. “All of it. About Ruby. About why I panicked. About the photo booth.”

“And?” Tim asked, voice calm but curious.

Azzi let out a small, disbelieving laugh. “She listened. Like, really listened. Didn’t flinch. Didn’t try to fix it. She just… stayed.”

Katie exchanged a quiet look with Tim, one of those shared glances that said we knew this girl was different.

“I told her I was scared,” Azzi continued. “And she told me she wanted to try. That she wants to know Ruby. Wants to show up.”

Tim dried his hands, then stepped around the counter and kissed the top of Azzi’s head. “That’s a good thing, kiddo.”

“It really is,” Katie added, squeezing Azzi’s hand.

Just then, Ruby came flying around the corner, socks sliding on the hardwood, tutu bouncing like it had its own gravitational field. “Mamaaaa! I hungry!”

Azzi crouched automatically and caught her mid-run, scooping her up and swinging her gently to her hip. “You hungry, huh? What do you want?”

“Chicky nuggets,” Ruby said, completely serious. “With sauce. The good sauce.”

“We’re having grown-up lunch today,” Tim said, reaching for plates. “Roast veg and pasta. No nuggets.”

Ruby sighed like the world had betrayed her.

They all sat at the table together, Azzi nestled beside Ruby, her parents across from them. The food was simple but delicious. Ruby picked around the spinach and tried to trade her carrots for extra pasta, which Tim accepted with mock seriousness like they were bartering ancient artifacts.

About halfway through the meal, Ruby looked up from her fork and blinked at Azzi with all the subtlety of a detective. “Where you go?”

Azzi smiled, brushing a curl off her daughter’s forehead. “I went to see Paige.”

Ruby’s mouth puckered. “You always see Paige without me.”

Azzi raised a brow. “I do not.”

“Yes you do!” Ruby pouted, crossing her arms. “You always come back smilin’ and say nothin’. I wanna see the girl who won unicorn.”

Azzi blinked. “Wait....you wanna meet Paige?”

Ruby nodded dramatically. “She won me Sparklehorn.”

Katie choked on a laugh. “Sparklehorn?”

“She named it this morning,” Azzi said with a grin. “Don’t ask me why.”

“Sparklehorn is my best fwend,” Ruby said firmly. “And I wanna say thank you to the girl who got her.”

Azzi tilted her head, something soft blooming in her chest. “Wanna make a video? We can send it to Paige.”

Ruby gasped like she’d just been offered a Grammy. “Yes pwease!”

They cleared the plates first, Azzi balancing Ruby on her hip while loading the dishwasher one-handed, Tim and Katie moving easily around them. It felt easy. It felt… full. Like something whole she hadn’t let herself hope for.

Later, in the lounge, Ruby climbed up on the couch with Sparklehorn tucked under one arm, eyes wide and serious.

“Okay,” Azzi said, holding up her phone camera. “Say whatever you want.”

Ruby grinned into the lens. “Hi Paige! Fank you for Sparklehorn. Mama says you had to fight a big claw monster to get her. You did a good job. You should come over. We have snacks.”

Azzi snorted, nearly shaking the camera.

Ruby waved Sparklehorn’s hoof. “She says hi too!”

Azzi stopped recording and was still laughing when she dropped onto the couch beside her. Ruby leaned against her side with all the trust in the world, Sparklehorn tucked into her lap like a sidekick.

Azzi opened her messages, found Paige’s name, already pinned at the top, and sent the video without a caption.

Just the video.

Just her daughter.

Just the start of something new.

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

Paige was still lying on her bed when her phone buzzed.

The room was quiet again, Nika had disappeared with a wink and a "you owe me details later," and Paige had sprawled out on her bed staring at the photo strip on the pin board. She hadn’t moved in a while. The last few hours replaying like a movie she never wanted to end.

Buzz.

She blinked and reached for her phone, thumb swiping lazily across the screen.

Azzi:

Video

No caption.

Just the blue bubble and the little preview still of Ruby, wide-eyed and smiling, the unicorn tucked under her arm.

Paige sat up fast, suddenly wide awake, and hit play.

The second the audio kicked in, something tugged in her chest.

“Hi Paige! Fank you for Sparklehorn. Mama says you had to fight a big claw monster to get her. You did a good job. You should come over. We have snacks.”

Paige’s hand flew to her mouth, a startled laugh escaping before she could stop it.

Ruby waved the plush’s glittery hoof like it had its own personality, then added in a rush,

“She says hi too!”

The clip ended.

Paige didn’t move for a full ten seconds.

She just stared at the screen, like maybe the weight of what she was holding would settle a little slower if she gave it time.

Then she hit replay.

Twice.

By the third time, her smile was so wide it hurt.

She couldn’t believe this was real. Couldn’t believe Azzi had wanted to share that, her daughter, her world. Couldn’t believe Ruby looked so much like her: the same curls, the same round eyes, the same crinkle of her nose when she smiled.

Azzi’s mini twin.

Paige felt like something had cracked open in her, something she hadn’t even realized was locked.

Not just because Ruby was adorable. Not just because she was holding Sparklehorn like a prize from a fairytale.

But because Azzi had sent this. Because Azzi had let her in.

And for a girl like Azzi, guarded, strong, private in the most sacred ways, that meant everything.

Paige laid back down, clutching the phone to her chest, letting the silence stretch.

It wasn’t loud or dramatic, the realization that settled over her next.

It was quiet.

Soft.

But it was full.

She was falling.

Harder than before. With more clarity than she'd let herself admit.

Not just for Azzi.

But for the world Azzi had built. For the daughter who waved with glittery hooves. For the mess and the beauty and the love that came with all of it.

For them.

She didn’t reply with words.

She just hit the heart on the video and sent back a picture, one she’d taken earlier and never meant to keep.

Azzi asleep on her shoulder.

Peaceful.

Safe.

Captionless.

Letting it say everything she didn’t know how to yet.

And then Paige tucked her phone under her pillow, exhaled, and closed her eyes.

For the first time in a long time, she let herself dream about a future that looked like this.

Sticky fingers. Laughing toddlers. Toothbrushes by the sink.

Love that wasn’t simple.

But was real.

And hers.

[hypnobeauty]

A Chance Encounter - a cho hyun-ju x reader fic (part 6)

summary: a story about how you and hyun-ju met and the following years of your relationship. part 1 / part 2 / part 3 / part 4 / part 5 cw: no use of y/n, reader is afab, fluff, sexual tension, slow burn, pre-squid game, slice of life. a/n: greetings from the south hemisphere! sorry for keeping you waiting, i’m living my latino summer rn! anyway, ed sheeran wrote 'kiss me' in 2011 so i could write this chapter in 2025 (i stand in defense of '+' - it was the soundtrack of my sophomore year). enjoy xx and as usual, comments are welcome <3 oh before i forget, now crossposting to ao3 as well!

Aein (애인) – “Sweetheart”

Naekkeo (내꺼) – “Mine” or “My Sweetheart”

taglist: @strayteez3staner @dekiruxxx @jeongteen @sunnysurvives @3leni @etta-huracan @honeyhyunju @basoressia @antisocial-aina @googie-jeon @christinamadsen

part 6. close enough to feel

the restaurant was warm and inviting, its wooden interiors glowing under the soft light of paper lanterns. shelves lined with small potted plants added a cozy touch, and the quiet hum of conversation mingled with the soft clink of glasses. it was a friday night, and although the restaurant was mostly empty when you arrived, it felt like the calm before the weekend rush.

hyun-ju had chosen the place—“playing it safe,” she had said in her text—and it felt perfect.

it had been just over 24 hours since you last saw each other, but in that short time, the two of you had texted almost constantly. what started as a casual exchange about the restaurant quickly turned into a rhythm of sharing little details—your morning routines, the neighborhoods you lived in, the songs stuck in your heads. by the time you wished each other goodnight, you felt like you’d known her for weeks instead of days.

when hyun-ju confirmed the date the next morning, you couldn’t resist teasing her. “i’m not letting you run away again,” you had texted.

her reply had been instant: i wouldn’t dare.

*

at 7 p.m., you entered the restaurant, shrugging off your coat and hanging it in the small closet by the door. you slipped off your shoes, exchanging them for the provided slippers. the mismatched socks you’d hastily thrown on in a hurry before leaving made you grin—one striped, the other solid blue.

you walked in, scanning the room for hyun-ju. the air was warm, carrying the faint scent of soy and sesame, and you spotted her almost immediately at a table tucked into a corner. she stood as soon as she saw you.

she was dressed in loose black pants and a sleek black turtleneck that left her toned arms exposed. the simplicity of her outfit only emphasized her natural beauty. as you approached, her eyes flicked down to your mismatched socks, and she laughed softly when you wiggled your toes.

“i’d have worn a nice pair if i knew i’d be getting naked tonight,” you joked, earning a blush that colored her cheeks.

but she didn’t look away.  hyun-ju met you halfway, and for a moment, you both stopped, unsure of what to do. your eyes locked—hers warm and dark, yours wide and searching. the electricity in the air was palpable, her floral-spicy perfume enveloping you and making your head swim. for two charged seconds, you weren’t sure what to do—hug? shake hands? something else entirely?

the moment broke as the waiter brushed past, murmuring an apology. “oh, sorry!” you said, stepping aside.

“please, have a seat,” hyun-ju said, motioning to the low table set with cushions on the floor.

you settled in, feeling the soft fabric beneath you, while hyun-ju sat a few cushions away. the space was intimate, the mismatched artwork on the walls and small potted plants adding to the restaurant’s charm. soft jazz played in the background, mingling with the murmured conversations.

the menu lay open between you, a buffer against the initial awkwardness.

“this place is lovely,” you said, glancing around.

“i thought so too,” hyun-ju replied. “i haven’t been here before, but it’s been on my radar for a while.”

“are you a foodie?” you asked.

she tilted her head, considering. “i guess i like trying new things. i’m pretty open-minded.”

you smiled. “that’s nice. i like to think i'm just like this as well.”

hyun-ju chuckled, her shoulders relaxing as the conversation moved forward. soon, the table filled with small dishes—pickled radish, kimchi, steamed vegetables—while the two of you swapped stories.

*

as the main dishes arrived, the conversation drifted to work. hyun-ju brought up your job at the advertising agency, saying she’d been curious since you mentioned it the day before.

“graphic design,” you explained, your fingers tracing the edge of your glass. “i love telling stories. and i’ve always been a visual thinker, so doing that through colors and shapes just makes sense to me. advertising felt like the right mix of creativity and practicality.”

“practical creativity,” hyun-ju mused. “i like that. i’ve never met a graphic designer before.”

“what about you?” you asked.

her chopsticks hovered mid-air as she hesitated. “i’m… between jobs right now. but i was in the military, a sergeant. special forces.”

you blinked, startled. “wait—what?”

a small, shy smile tugged at her lips. “twelve years. i enlisted right out of high school.”

“that’s… incredible,” you said, awestruck. “twelve years? that’s a whole life.”

she nodded, her expression softening into something wistful. “it was my life. the structure, the purpose—it was everything to me.”

“well, i’ve never met a special forces sergeant before,” you countered, grinning.

her expression shifted slightly, a flicker of pride softening her features.

“do you miss it?”

“every day,” she admitted, her voice tinged with nostalgia. “but things change. you adapt.”

your hand brushed hers briefly, a small gesture of comfort. the contact sent a spark through you, and you found yourself lingering just a second longer than necessary. “i’m sure you’ll find something that gives you that same sense of purpose again.”

hyun-ju smiled at your words, though there was a hint of something unspoken in her eyes.

as the conversation meandered from work to life again, you learned more about her—a childhood scar from a chihuahua bite, you teased her, calling it a “battle wound,” and she laughed, her eyes lighting up in a way that made your chest feel tight, the high-stakes rescue mission she once led. each revelation deepened your admiration for her, and you found yourself wishing you could shield her from the world’s harshness. you noticed that whenever the topic drifted towards talking about family, hyun-ju would get a strange look on her face and subtly change the direction of the subject. you made a mental note about it.

*

another bottle of soju arrived, and the night grew even warmer. hyun-ju poured you a glass, her movements precise and deliberate.

“you’re supposed to drink this in one shot,” she teased.

“i’ll pass out,” you said with a laugh, taking a careful sip.

“i’d carry you,” she said, a teasing smirk curling her lips.

your eyes flicked to her arms and you winked. “i don’t doubt that.”

her cheeks flushed, and you noticed the way her lips puckered slightly as she drank. you found yourself staring, your gaze lingering longer than you intended.

“you’re staring,” she said softly, her tone teasing.

you blinked, caught, and smiled sheepishly. “sorry. you’re just… distracting.”

the air between you grew heavier, charged with unspoken longing. at some point, you found yourself brushing stray strands of her hair behind her ear, your fingers lingering against her cheek. her eyes locked onto yours, and before you knew it, her lips were grazing yours—a tentative, breathless moment that felt like the opening of a door.

the moment your lips brushed, it was like the world tilted, shifting its focus entirely to the space between you and her. it wasn’t a kiss, not really. it was a question, an invitation, a whisper of what could be. her lips were impossibly soft, grazing yours in a way that sent shivers down your spine.

you could feel her breath on your skin, warm and sweet with the faint taste of soju. her hand, which had hovered uncertainly near your arm, finally rested there, her fingers brushing against the fabric of your sleeve. the weight of her touch felt deliberate, grounding, and yet it made your head spin.

her eyes flicked between yours, searching, waiting for some unspoken confirmation. you gave it with a tilt of your chin, leaning into her space just enough to erase any doubt.

this time, when her lips met yours, it was intentional. the world around you dissolved. the faint jazz, the clinking glasses, even the soft murmur of the other diners—all of it faded into nothing. all you could focus on was the press of her lips, the way they moved against yours as if memorizing the shape of you. 

it wasn’t just a kiss—it was the unraveling of something unspoken, a thread pulled taut between you and hyun-ju finally snapping under the weight of your mutual longing. her lips were soft, impossibly soft, and as they brushed against yours, a shiver coursed through your body. it wasn’t just the physicality of it; it was the vulnerability, the rawness of baring a piece of yourself and finding it met with equal fervor.

hyun-ju’s other hand, hesitant at first, found its place on your waist, her fingers curling gently as though afraid to hold on too tightly. her breath was warm against your skin, mingling with her perfume, and you were certain you’d never forget the way she smelled, the way she tasted—you could try to describe it but it was something distinctly her.

for hyun-ju, the kiss was a revelation. it wasn’t just the softness of your lips or the way your hand rested on her shoulder—it was the way you leaned into her, as though she were a safe harbor. she hadn’t realized how much she craved that, how much she needed to feel wanted, not just for her strength or her discipline but for who she was.

she’d wanted this—ached for it, really—from the moment you walked through the door. but she hadn’t expected it to happen so soon, hadn’t expected you to close the space between you with such certainty. she thought she’d have more time to prepare, to silence the voice in her head that whispered she wasn’t ready, that she wasn’t enough.

but then you leaned in, your hand brushing against her shoulder, and all her defenses crumbled.

she’s kissing me, hyun-ju thought, a mix of wonder and disbelief coursing through her. she’s kissing me, and she knows. she knows everything, and she still wants me.

her other hand moved close to your jaw, hesitant. she wanted to touch you, to feel the warmth of your skin beneath her fingertips, but the voice in her head was loud, insistent. you’re not ready, hyun-ju. you don’t deserve this yet.

but when you sighed softly against her mouth, the sound silenced every doubt. it was more than physical; it was a conversation, a promise, a question. it asked, can i trust you? and it answered, yes, you can.

your lips moved together in a slow, deliberate rhythm, each kiss deepening the connection between you. she let herself hold you, let herself sink into the moment, and for the first time in what felt like forever, she let herself feel.

the kiss deepened, and with it came a cascade of emotions—desire, longing, fear, hope. hyun-ju’s mind raced, a jumble of thoughts she couldn’t quite untangle. what if i mess this up? what if i’m not enough for her? what if she changes her mind? but then your fingers slid up to brush against her jaw, and the tenderness of the gesture quieted every doubt.

you felt the tension in her body—the way her hand hesitated on your waist, your face, the way her breath hitched as the kiss deepened. it was as though she was holding back, caught between wanting to give herself to the moment and fearing what might happen if she did.

does she feel this too? you wondered, your heart pounding in your chest. does this mean as much to her as it does to me?

you wanted to tell her, to put into words the way she made you feel. how her laughter had warmed you, how her stories had captivated you, how her presence made you feel safe and alive all at once. but words felt inadequate, so you let the kiss speak for you.

for a brief, perfect moment, it felt as though nothing else mattered—not the restaurant, not the other diners, not the world outside. it was just you and her, suspended in a moment that felt both infinite and fleeting.

and then, the world intruded.

the sharp clearing of a throat shattered the moment, and you pulled apart, startled. hyun-ju’s hand lingered on your waist for a fraction of a second before she dropped it, her cheeks flushed a deep crimson.

the waiter stood a few feet away, looking anywhere but at you. “uh… sorry to interrupt, but the kitchen is about to close. if you’d like dessert, now would be the time to order.”

you couldn’t help but laugh, the sound bubbling out of you like a release of all the tension that had built up. hyun-ju joined in, her laugh low and warm, and for a moment, the awkwardness melted away.

“yes, uh, give us a minute,” hyun-ju said, her voice a little breathless.

you glanced at her, your heart still racing, and found her looking back at you. there was something in her eyes—something raw and vulnerable that made your stomach flip.

as the waiter shuffled away, you leaned in slightly, lowering your voice. “that was… unexpected.”

hyun-ju smiled, her lips still a little swollen from the kiss. “in a good way?”

“in the best way,” you replied, your gaze dropping briefly to her mouth before flicking back to her eyes. her eyes met yours, dark and smoldering, and for a moment, you thought she might lean in again. instead, she reached for the menu, her fingers brushing yours as she slid it toward the center of the table.

“what do you think?” she asked, her voice still a little breathless.

“something sweet,” you said, your gaze lingering on her lips before flicking back to the menu.

the two of you settled on a small bowl of adzuki bean ice cream, and when the waiter returned, you handed him the menu with a smile.

as the waiter left, hyun-ju leaned back slightly, her eyes still locked on yours. “i can’t believe we’ve been here for hours,” she said softly.

“it doesn’t feel like it,” you replied, your voice equally quiet. “talking to you… it’s easy. i don’t want it to end.”

hyun-ju’s lips curved into a small, shy smile. “me neither.”

when the dessert arrived, the waiter placed a single spoon on the table. hyun-ju didn’t hesitate, scooping up the first bite and holding it out to you.

“open,” she said, her voice soft but teasing.

you obeyed, parting your lips as she fed you. the ice cream was velvety and sweet, but it was the intimacy of the gesture that made your cheeks flush.

“good?” she asked, her eyes watching your every reaction.

“delicious,” you murmured, your gaze lingering on hers.

hyun-ju took a bite herself, and you couldn’t help but watch the way her lips curved around the spoon. the small, appreciative hum she let out sent a flutter through your chest.

the back-and-forth continued, each bite a quiet act of care. at one point, you tried to grab the spoon from her, but she laughed, holding it out of reach.

“you’re impossible,” you said, laughing as you leaned closer, your hand brushing against hers in an attempt to snatch it.

hyun-ju grinned, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “and you’re persistent.”

finally, you gave up, settling for dabbing at the corner of her mouth with a napkin when a bit of syrup lingered there. the touch was brief, but the way her lips parted slightly at the contact made your heart race.

*

when the bill came, you insisted on splitting it, and hyun-ju eventually relented. as you zipped up your coats in the entryway, a group of rowdy men stumbled past, one of them bumping into you hard enough to make you stumble.

hyun-ju’s arm shot out, catching you around the waist before you could fall. “watch it,” she hissed, her voice low and sharp as she glared at the man, that in turn mumbled something incomprehensible.

“it’s okay,” you said softly, your hand coming up to touch her face, turning her attention back to you. “it was an accident.”

her gaze softened immediately, her hand still firm on your waist. “are you okay?”

“i’m fine,” you assured her, your other hand finding hers where it rested on your side.

outside, the chill of the evening air bit at your cheeks, but the warmth between you was enough to stave it off. you stood close together under the awning, her hands tucked into her pockets. she wanted to reach for you, to hold your hand, to feel your warmth again, but she hesitated.

“this was really nice,” she said softly, her voice almost lost in the stillness of the night.

“it was,” you replied, your breath visible in the cold air. “talking to you… it’s easy. i don’t want it to end.”

hyun-ju’s gaze met yours, and for a moment, she forgot how to breathe. she could see the sincerity in your eyes, the way they softened when you looked at her, and it made her want to believe that maybe, just maybe, she could be enough for you.

you stepped closer, your hand brushing against her arm. “is this okay?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

hyun-ju’s breath hitched, and for a moment, she couldn’t find the words. but then she nodded, her voice trembling as she said, “yeah. it’s okay.”

when your lips met this time, it was slower, deeper, laden with the weight of everything unspoken between you. hyun-ju’s hand slid up to cradle the back of your neck, and she let herself get lost in the moment, her doubts momentarily silenced by the warmth of your touch and the feel of your tongues dancing together.

when the headlights of your approaching rides illuminated the street, you pulled apart reluctantly. hyun-ju’s fingers lingered on your arm, her eyes searching yours as though trying to memorize every detail of your face.

she turned her head to the side, glancing at the street, her profile illuminated by the soft glow of the streetlights. the curve of her cheek, the elegant line of her jaw—it was a sight you couldn’t resist. you leaned in, your lips brushing against the smooth skin of her cheek, trailing down to the edge of her jawline.

the faintest sigh escaped her lips, barely audible but enough to make your heart race. your hand, which had been resting lightly on her neck, slid down to her collarbone, your fingertips grazing the hollow there. the way she tilted her head slightly, as though inviting more, sent a rush of heat through you.

“aein,” you murmured against her jaw, your voice soft but filled with longing.

she closed her eyes, her breath hitching as your lips lingered. her hands, which had been resting at her sides, moved instinctively to your hip, her grip gentle but firm. for a moment, she let herself get lost in the sensation—the warmth of your breath on her skin, the tenderness of your touch, the way her body seemed to respond to yours as though it had been waiting for this.

“our… our rides are here,” she said finally, her voice barely above a whisper.

you hummed in agreement, but your lips didn’t stop their exploration. you pressed another kiss to the curve of her jaw, your mouth brushing the sensitive skin just beneath her ear.

“hyun-ju,” you murmured again, the sound of her name carrying a weight that made her chest tighten.

she squeezed your hip softly, her fingers pressing into the fabric of your coat. “we ought to get going,” you whispered against her skin, though your tone betrayed your reluctance.

“yes, we do,” she replied, but her voice wavered, as though she were trying to convince herself.

when she turned her head to face you again, her eyes were dark and searching, her lips slightly parted as though caught between words. her hands moved from your waist to your face, cupping it gently, her thumbs brushing against your cheeks. for a moment, she simply looked at you, her gaze drinking in every detail—the curve of your lips, the softness in your eyes, the way you leaned into her touch as though you couldn’t bear to be apart.

i want to take her home, hyun-ju thought, her chest aching with the intensity of her desire. i want to kiss her until the world disappears, hold her, touch her, take care of her.

and yet, the voice in her head was louder now, insistent. you’re not ready, hyun-ju. you’re not worthy of this yet. she deserves someone who’s whole, someone who doesn’t carry this weight.

the conflict tore at her, a war waged in silence as she held you in her hands. but then your lips curved into a soft, hopeful smile, and for a fleeting moment, she let herself believe.

she leaned in, her lips capturing yours in a kiss that was both tender and desperate. it was slower this time, as though she were trying to memorize the feel of you, the taste of you. her hands slid to the back of your neck, her fingers tangling in your hair as she deepened the kiss, pouring every unspoken word into it.

but just as quickly, she pulled away, her breath uneven and her eyes filled with something you couldn’t quite name.

“hyun-ju,” you whispered, leaning forward, but she stepped back, her hands falling to her sides.

“i have… we have to go now, naekkeo,” she said softly, her voice tinged with regret. “it’s late. let me get you into your car.”

her words felt like a wall going up, and you were left standing there, your hands barely brushing hers, your lips parted in a silent plea. the warmth of her touch lingered on your skin, and you wanted nothing more than to pull her back into your space, to hold onto the connection that felt so fragile now.

hyun-ju took your hand gently, her grip firm but careful, as though afraid you might slip away. she walked you to your ride, her steps purposeful but her heart pounding with every step. when she opened the door for you, she hesitated, her eyes meeting yours again.

you stepped one foot inside the car but turned back to her, your gaze full of unspoken questions. “hyun-ju, i…” you began, your voice trembling slightly.

before you could finish, she reached for you, her hands cradling your face as she leaned in for one last kiss. this one was softer, more restrained, but no less charged.

“goodnight,,” she murmured against your lips, her voice breaking slightly on the last word.

you stepped into the car, your heart heavy but full, and watched as she closed the door behind you. through the back window, you saw her jog to her own car, her hands tucked into her coat pockets as though trying to hold herself together.

[macbethsymphony]

The Swordsman and the Blacksmith | Chapter 8

Roronoa Zoro x Reader

Chapter wc: 2.5k

Chapter rating: SFW

Content/Warnings: NSFW, 18+, Fem!Reader, Enemies to lovers, SLOW slow burn, Eventual smut

Summary: Your skills as a blacksmith have made you desirable to both the government and pirates. You know you have to leave this island if you want to escape your fate, but that doesn't make the choice of leaving any easier. Roronoa Zoro is intrigued by your skills as a blacksmith. Your work is like nothing he's ever seen before. Unfortunately, you're hot-headed and he's rude and you both definitely hate each other.

Chapters [1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [7]

Masterlist

Slowly crossposting from AO3 Feel like binging the rest of it? it's all there!

Chapter 8: The Burden of a Creator

The soft buzz of the ship filled the infirmary as you lay on the bed, drifting in and out of consciousness. Your body still felt numb, but sensation and control were slowly returning to you. Two days had passed since the incident at the marine base, yet the memories still haunted your dreams, replaying the events over and over like a relentless nightmare.

Each time you woke, disoriented and drenched in sweat, one of the Straw Hat crew members was there, a comforting presence at your side. Whether it was Luffy keeping you entertained with stories of his childhood, or Sanji, trying to coax you into eating a bite or two of the food he’d brought, they never left you alone for long.

Today was no different. As your eyelids fluttered open, you were met with the sight of Robin sitting beside your bed, a book in her hand and a serene expression on her face. Her presence brought you a sense of calm, grounding you in the reality of the ship's familiar surroundings.

"Hey," Robin said softly, setting her book aside as she noticed you stirring. "How are you feeling?"

You managed a weak smile, your voice barely above a whisper. "Better, I think," you replied, your throat dry and scratchy.

Robin reached for the glass of water on the bedside table, holding it to your lips as you took small sips, grateful for the relief it provided. "You've been through a lot," she said, her tone gentle and understanding. "But you're safe now. We won't let anything happen to you."

You nodded, a lump forming in your throat at the reminder of the crew's kindness. You hadn’t been on the ship for long, but they had been by your side through thick and thin, offering their strength and reassurance when you needed it most.

"I'm sorry," you said, your voice barely audible as tears welled up in your eyes. "I didn't mean to put any of you in danger."

Robin reached out, gently wiping away your tears with a comforting touch. "We know," she said, her voice filled with compassion.

Her words brought you comfort but the guilt you felt for failing to control Yokubari was unbearable on your conscience.

“Were there any survivors?” You asked her after a while.

“Not that we know of.” Robin’s response weighed heavily on your heart. The burden of responsibility for the lives lost at the marine base pressed down on you like a suffocating blanket.

“I see.” You turned your back to the woman, closing your eyes in a futile attempt to forget.

“We… The crew survived so it’s not impossible” She added, a reassuring hand on your shoulder.

You didn’t answer.  It was a pointless attempt to give you hope.

When it became clear to Robin that you were not going to respond, she got up with a sigh. You listened as her footsteps carried her towards the exit of the infirmary. She stopped for a while, a hesitant hand on the doorknob. “You did the best you could.” She said voice heavy. “Sometimes, things are beyond our control. You shouldn’t blame yourself for what happened.” Her tone sounded distant, as though she was directing those kind words to someone else.

She opened the door and closed it gently behind her.

She was wrong. Yokubari was your responsibility. Deep down you had known there was the possibility you wouldn’t be able to control it in your weakened state. And yet. Yet, your fear had made you selfish. Selfish enough to endanger those around you. Selfish enough to kill, to take innocent lives away from this world.

You tossed and turned, willing yourself to go to sleep unsuccessfully. This wouldn’t do. With a groan you clumsily sat up. Your eyes landed on the sword at your feet. The blade seemed to beckon to you. With a heavy sigh, you reached for it, running your fingers along the smooth obsidian surface of the scabbard.

“I should throw you in the sea.” You mumbled at the blade.

Silence.

“I swear, you’re nothing but trouble. You’re greedy. You’re stubborn… You’re worse than a cursed blade really.” You reprimanded.

The soft hum emanating from the sword seemed satisfied, proud almost.

“You caused so much pain” you continued, your voice barely above a whisper. “And yet, I can’t bring myself to part with you.”

It was pleased with your words, pleased with itself. You can’t help the anger that filled you at its content hum.

“I should have never created you,” You whispered, your voice tinged with regret. You knew it was pointless, you hadn’t had a choice but to create it. Still, it was a necessary lie you told yourself to keep you sane. “You were supposed to be a tool for good, but all you’ve brought is pain and destruction.”

The sword remained quiet, its cold surface offering no solace or reassurance. It reveled in the chaos it caused, indifferent of the suffering it wrought.

“Having a heart-to-heart with the sword, huh?” Franky chuckled in the doorway, trying to lighten the mood. His brows were furrowed with concern, a sharp contrast with the lightness of his tone.

“An aimless argument I keep having” you said, shooting him a half smile.

Franky pulled up a chair, sitting down beside you. “Look, kid, what happened back there. None of us blame you for it. That sword… Zoro said its got a mind of its own. He didn’t explain much but it ain’t really your fault, is it? What happened that is.”

You stared at Franky, his words slowly sinking in.

“You’re wrong, I knew there was a chance I’d lose control. I gambled with all your lives.” You argued weakly. “Besides, I’m the one who created it. I brought this bastard of a sword into existence.”

Franky leaned forward, his expression earnest. He scratched his head, looking for the words he wanted to say. “Let me tell you something, kiddo. Never be ashamed of what you’ve created.” He started. “No creation is inherently evil. You made that sword with good intentions, right?” He asked.

You nodded.

“That blade, it’s a work of art. I can tell you put a lot of effort and passion into it when you forged it. A sword’s purpose may be to kill, but at the end of the day a weapon is still just a tool. It can be used as much for good than evil.” The cyborg stated, eyes not leaving yours. “What happened back there was an accident. I’m not saying you don’t hold responsibility for what you decide to create but intent matters.

Your eyes left his to look down at the sword clutched in your hands. Your vision was suddenly blurry as thick tears rolled down your cheeks.

You sniffed loudly. “Franky” you uttered between loud sobs, “I’m so sorry” your shoulders shook violently with emotion.

 “Oi, oi, oi, kiddo” Franky’s strong arms enveloped you in a comforting embrace, his voice gentle as he tried to soothe your turmoil.  “No need to apologize.”

Your fists buried themselves in his Hawaiian shirt as you finally let the tension you’d been holding out of your system.

“Is everything alright?” Chopper’s rattled voice rang through the room as he slammed the door open in panic.

“What’s going on?” Sanji appeared next, clearly frazzled. “I heard the sound of a woman’s tears falling.”

You can’t help the chuckle that escaped your lips at the cheesy line from the cook. You let go of the cyborg’s shirt and he passed you the box of tissues next to him.

“Are you alright, (Y/n)? Are you hurt somewhere? Do you need medical attention?” The small reindeer asked in a frenzy.

You blew out your nose loudly. Tears still falling on your cheeks.

“No Chopper” You said with a smile. “I think I’ll be alright!”

“That’s my firecracker!” The cyborg said proudly, giving you a pat on the back before standing up and leaving space for Chopper.

The doctor bustled over instantly, taking your vitals.

“Franky” You called out to the shipwright as he was making his way out. “Thank you.”

He turned back, his trademark grin radiated positivity. “No problem, firecracker! Besides we’re family.” He took a few steps before turning to you again. “By the way, you should join us for dinner if you have the energy. Everyone’s been worried sick over ya and it’ll do you good to get out of here.” He gestured at the small room.

You nodded gratefully, a genuine smile spreading on your face. “I think I’d like that,” you said, feeling a spark of warmth at the thought of being surrounded by your newfound family once more.

“Well, in that case, I better make a feast. We ought to celebrate.” Sanji said following the cyborg out of the infirmary.

“I wasn’t sure if we’d lose you.” Chopper spoke, bringing your attention back to him. “But you’re doing much better now,” he stated with a hint of pride in his voice. “Just make sure to take it easy, okay?”

You nodded. “Thanks, doc”, you said sincerely. “I’ll make sure to listen to your orders.” You shoot him a conspiratorial wink.

The doctor readjusted his hat shyly, happiness and relief clear in his eyes.

The galley was bustling with energy as you entered. The smell of Sanji’s cooking made your stomach grumble loudly.

“Oh! You’re finally out of bed!” Luffy’s voice boomed with enthusiasm, and before you could fully process his words, his palm landed squarely on your back with a force that nearly sent you careening forward. You stumbled a few steps, catching yourself just in time to avoid crashing into the table.

“Whoa there, Captain,” you chuckled, steadying yourself. “Good to see you too.”

Luffy grinned. You let yourself fall down in your chair, not completely trusting your legs yet. You set your sword next to you, unwilling to let it out of your sight just yet.

“How are you feeling, (Y/n)?” Usopp asked, his eyes leaving the slingshot he was tinkering with. The conversations died around you, all awaiting your answer.

“I’ll be alright.” you said. “All thanks to our amazing doctor.”

Chopper looked down shyly at the compliment, muttering something unintelligible under his breath.

Robin smiled warmly from her seat, setting her book down. “We missed your company. It’s good to have you back.”

“That’s right, you had us worried for a second there” Nami added next to you.

Sanji placed plates of food on the table. He hadn’t been lying when he’d said he’d make a feast. You watched as the rest of the crew took their places around the table.

The swordsman lowered himself into the seat across from you, his gaze intense yet guarded. For a moment, it seemed as though he was about to speak, but then he hesitated, his lips pressing together in a firm line as if wrestling with his thoughts.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Zoro broke the silence between the two of you. “Glad to see you’re up” he muttered gruffly under his breath.

“Thanks for bringing back Yokubari” you shot back at him.

He shuffled uncomfortably. “’twas nothing.”

You scoffed. Like hell it was nothing.

The swordsman began to say something else but Sanji interrupted the moment.

"Here you go, (Y/n)," he said with a charming smile, placing a heaping plate of food in front of you. "Made with extra love and care to help you get back on your feet."

You glanced down at the mouthwatering spread before you, feeling a surge of gratitude toward the cook for his kindness. "Thanks, Sanji," you said, offering him a grateful smile. "It looks delicious."

Sanji beamed at your appreciation before turning his attention to the rest of the crew, ensuring that everyone had their fill before he let Luffy dig in. The galley buzzed with conversation and laughter, the atmosphere warm and inviting as the crew shared stories and jokes with one another.

As you dug into your meal, you couldn't help but feel a sense of camaraderie wash over you. Despite the challenges you had faced and the mistakes you had made, you were surrounded by a crew who accepted you for who you were, flaws and all. You’d have to write to Mary about it, she was going to be happy.

Across the table, Nami and Usopp engaged in a spirited debate about the merits of different navigational techniques, their voices rising and falling in animated discussion. You couldn't help but smile at their enthusiasm, grateful for their friendship and the sense of normalcy they brought to your life.

Chopper, his plate piled high with food, chattered excitedly with Robin about a book they were both reading. Robin listened attentively, her quiet wisdom a steady presence amidst the exuberance of the young doctor.

And Luffy, ever the enthusiastic captain, laughed and joked with each member of the crew in turn, his infectious energy lighting up the room and drawing everyone together in a spirit of camaraderie and friendship.

You could feel Zoro’s eye on you as he still clearly battled with something in his mind.

“Well? What is it?” You asked him, tired of waiting.

He wavered for an instant. “Let me hold that sword of yours again.” He demanded.

Your mind struggled to process the meaning of his words. You couldn’t help the incredulous “huh?” that crossed your lips at the man’s idiocy.

Brook stumbled a note on his guitar, stopping the tune he’d been playing. The conversations died around you.

“Let me hold Yokubari” The swordsman demanded again.

“Are you fucking mad?” You screeched.

Zoro’s jaw clenched, he held your gaze, unwilling to back down.

“Are you suicidal or something? It almost fucking killed you!” you scowled at him.

His eye bore into you with a fiery intensity, his words dripping with stubbornness. “I need to check something, let me hold it. I can handle it.”

You both knew that last part was a blatant lie. You shot him an insolent glare. “Oh, look who thinks can handle you, Yokubari, do you agree?” You retorted, tone dripping with sarcasm as you set the sword on the table in a bold display. Your eyes traveled from the blade back to the swordsman in defiance.

His face broke into a familiar sneer. “I can fucking handle it” he reiterated leaning forward.

You scoffed, a smirk playing on your lips. “Oh I’m sorry, I didn’t realize you were the expert on handling my own damned swords,” you shot back, tone dripping with condescension.

“You’re downright insufferable, witch” He shouted at you, standing up brusquely.

“Oh yeah?” Your nostrils flared with anger as you stood up, matching his stance. “Well, you’re just a fucking idiot if you think you can handle it again, swordsman.”

The crew sat back, looking amusedly at the familiar display before them.

Everything was all right after all.

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Masterlist

[hellfire--cult]

Baring Teeth {Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader} - Ch. 8

Edit of Eddie: pitifulbaby

Chapters: Masterlist (Go here to see list of chapters, plotline and general warnings.)

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader

Tropes: Enemies to Lovers, Non-Traditional Omegaverse, Slow burn, Modern!AU, Mechanic!Eddie

⚠️This chapter contains: billy hargrove x reader, smut, oral sex (f receiving), physical pain, hospital mention, dirty talking

wc: 5.4k

Crossposted on: Wattpad & AO3

A/N: I entered with a bang today. Sorry it took so long! I had a lot of work going on but I finally managed to write a few things! Don't forget to go to my profile's masterlist to see my other works!

Anyways, Enjoy! ❤️ And don't forget to always support me by hitting the reblog button or leave a comment!

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Chapter 8

“Shit… Shit, shit, shit!” He groaned in pain, the bindings on his wrists and ankles onto the hospital bed not helping with his writhing. 

He felt as if he were engulfed in flames, as if there was lava all around him, his body ablaze in a red crimson color, and his belly felt a pressure that he never felt before. He didn’t know what was going on. He was at his home, playing his guitar, and then he just felt feverish.

Why was he in the hospital? Wait, it’s not even a hospital, it looks like a private room of some sort, but he couldn’t hear anyone outside. His sight finally focused and he looked to his side, seeing Wayne getting up from his seat with a pained frown in his face, rushing towards his nephew.

“Why am I here Wayne?” 

“They’re specialists in this Eddie, but you’ll be okay son, I promise I will keep you safe.”

A doctor, or that’s what Eddie thought he was because of the white robe, entered the room. He was sort of bald, dark hair, beard and had glasses on, but another shot of pain surged in his belly and he tugged onto the restraints of his wrists. He felt a warm hand press on his forehead to push him back down to the pillow and he saw Wayne’s pained expression looking down on him.

“I will keep you safe.”

Eddie’s eyes shot open, sweat all over his body as heavy breaths left his mouth. He looked over at his clock, signaling 2 AM, sharp. He groaned, sitting up on his bed and that’s when he felt the strong migraine that started to develop. His hand shot towards his head, and he cursed under his breath, feeling warmth expanding towards his chest.

He picked up his phone and immediately opened instagram. Numerous accounts of random girls popped on his profile and his stories, and he started watching them one by one. One posted 2 hours ago, the other 3 hours ago, the next one posted a story 6 hours ago, and then he finally came across Tara. Posted herself drinking at a club 21 minutes ago. 

He winced as he looked up to the ceiling, he knew that the ache was not leaving him unless he did this. He looked back down towards his phone and sent a text to the girl.

‘PIck you up in 20?’ 

Straight forward, no pleasantries, he didn’t care for them really. These women, he just had them for these kinds of cases, not that they knew about it, and the sex was always mediocre, but it helped. It was always empty, thrusting into a hole, no excitement to it, no real attraction except the one they had for him.

He sighed as he waited for the response. He felt another sting in the side of his head as well as if a punch was directed into his belly. 

“Son of a fucking bitch.” He grabbed the ponytail in his nightstand, putting his hair in a bun. Always conditioned to this part of him that wanted to take over his body. Always feeling weak thanks to all the medication he has to take. Always feeling like an animal because of these things he does to women who just want to have a good time.

And he was never satisfied.

But they all had to do. They just simply had to do it for now.

His phone made a ‘Ting’ sound and he looked down on it.

‘Always rdy 4 u bby ;)’

Eddie rolled his eyes, getting up from his bed to get dressed with a groan. It’s just a hole, just a helper, that’s all he thinks about. That’s all it is. When was the last time he had an enjoyable time with someone else? His pleasure was never equal to his partner’s, so he often wondered if he will always be the problem of his demise.

For now, that’s what it seems like.

You fixed your skirt as you took a deep breath in, clearing your throat before going into the meeting room where your client was alongside your boss and other editors.

Be professional. It’s your workplace. Behave.

You opened the door to find your Boss, Liana, sitting at the very end of the table. On her right was a man in a suit, then you found your co-editor in this article, Tony, and then on Liana’s left side was Billy Hargrove, smiling at you, no, smirking at you with mischief in his eyes as the chattering of the room dimmed down as you entered.

Your belly filled with knots as you locked eyes with him, clearing your throat slightly as you noticed that the only available seat was right next to him. 

“Good morning.” You called out and Liana beamed up at you, calling out your name. You had an exceptional relationship with your boss, it was far from friendship, but the trust was there as well as confidentiality. She had trusted you with small projects, then bigger ones, and now this would be the second huge project you would do for the magazine, but this time it is only you. Last project you shared it with Robin, when she actually put a little bit of effort.

But Robin took this job because it paid, not because it was her long term dream, and you understood that. You actually studied Fashion and made your way to get an Editor degree. Your passion stood here, in the background of the flashes of cameras and interviews. You preferred pen and paper, to voice out the new trends to long term designers, or show off new ones to the world. Entrepreneurs, even people you had scouted on TikTok and Instagram.

You wanted to shove the great chain industries away, for fresh material. Balenciaga, Gucci, Louis Vuitton, that’s just what they are. Names. Fashion wise it was too old, too bland, too antique. And then, on TikTok, small businesses of high fashion popped up, people that made these dresses and clothes out of pure love and ambition. You wanted that in the new world, in the new generation. 

But for now, you have to stick to big companies, and hope that next project you will be able to talk Liana into bringing a new designer for the photoshoots.

“Please, take a seat! We are discussing our meetings with our next clients.” You walked around the table, taking a seat next to Billy, who shot you a smile. Liana interrupted again in order to present you to Billy, thinking you two haven’t met before. You were about to correct her that you actually met Billy before by coincidence, but Billy just grabbed your hand and placed a kiss on your knuckles, making your cheeks redden slightly at the gesture.

“Beautiful name. Cannot be happier that a woman like yourself will be guiding this project.” He says into your hand, his warm breath hitting your skin which sends goosebumps all over your body and you could only stare at his blue eyes. Liana chuckled under her breath and that made you snap out, pushing the butterflies in your belly aside, taking your hand away from him.

“Nice meeting you too, Mr. Hargrove. And thank you for that flattery.” You finish saying as formal as possible, sitting down right next to him, putting your suitcase on top of the table. Liana sat down again with a content sigh as you fished your papers out of the leathery case.

“Okay, so, we know Curtis Delore wants more details on these designs, wanting to change it a bit to put on you Mr. Hargrove. He wants to buy the blueprints on these–”

“Actually…” You cut Liana off and your boss already knew you went a step ahead, a smile brooding on her red lips. Liana can always trust your diligent work, and she could see the passion you have for this industry and what it could be. So, she let you continue. “I took the time to contact Millie, and I may have sent her a copy of this article so that she could pass it onto her boss.”

“I already love the mention of Millie.” Liana says and Billy and his manager only looked with confused faces to one another, to then go back at you.

“I got a call this morning from Kim Jones himself that he wants to purchase the blueprint for the next collection and he is also very interested in the model himself for the campaign.” You say with a smirk on your face and Liana simply cheered in excitement. That meant that the design is now valued almost ten times than what it was going to be originally purchased at. Billy was still confused and looked at his manager, Ralph, who cleared his throat to catch both of your attention.

“Excuse me Ladies, who is Kim Jones?” He asked and you slid one of your papers towards Billy and then one towards Ralph. His eyes bulged out of their sockets as he looked up at Billy, who almost had the same expression in his face. 

“You got me to model for Dior? Dior Homme?” Billy slowly turned his head to look at you and you still had the snicker in the inside of your cheek, giving him a shrug.

“It’s a possibility, if you do desire to take it that is.” Billy looked at his manager, then smiled widely, throwing himself back on his chair, running his hands through his hair out of pure happiness. In his career, the only big gig he got was the Chanel advertisement, clothes wise, he didn’t get high couture brands to pick him as their face or body. 

But, the Chief Designer of Dior Homme was actually interested in him. 

He felt his chest almost exploding as he looked at the table and saw the three people all around him chatting excitedly. They were talking about numbers, and possibilities but Billy’s eyes could only look at you. How your mouth moved, how your eyes sparkled with ambition and he couldn’t help but drown in the sound of your voice.

And oh, how he wants to fuck you into his mattress for what you just did for him.

He really wants to show you how grateful he is. How happy you just made him by giving him an opportunity like this, despite him trying to make a move on you. You didn’t take it as offensive, and you didn’t push him away completely because of it either, you didn’t butcher his opportunity to show him a lesson, but you even gave him a bigger chance. 

And he really wants to make it up to you.

Once the percentage of the gainings were talked about and how Billy’s patronage with Dior would give a small percent to the company, the meeting finally ended. 

“Ralph, may I speak with you for a second? It’s just a legal matter.” Liana says with a smile as she guides Ralph to her office. You sighed in contentment, your insides up in flames at how well everything went as you turned into the hall to go to the elevators. You cannot wait to tell Robin about this, or maybe you shouldn’t. You don’t want to rub this in her face, because this would have given her a lot of commission if she were still in the team.

Maybe you can tell her as if it’s not a big deal, or just simply not tell her anything at all. But you needed to tell someone, because this was a big step, and you couldn’t– 

Your thoughts were completely cut off as you felt a hand grip onto your bicep, guiding you into a storage room that was near the hallway you were crossing. Your eyes widened in the darkness, brazing onto your suitcase to swing it, when the lights turned on above you. You turned around to find blue eyes staring down at you with an intensity that was making your knees grow weak. 

The sound of a lock was heard in the room as you took a step away from the man. He was a model, yes, but what if he was a psychopath? You didn’t know the guy, and now he has you locked up in a storage room in the building where you work. 

“Um, Mr. Hargrove–” He put his hands up for you to stay silent as he looked at you, a smile drawing on his lips which was making the butterflies in your stomach flutter all around.

“Billy…” He reminded you and you blinked while staring at him, feeling your throat going dry as you saw how his eyes moved around as he tried to find the words to say. Was he nervous? “I wanted to thank you. I mean, apart from Ralph, no one ever put that much faith in me, or my work before.”

You were stunned. He was actually grateful for what you did, and that made your chest go warm at his actions. It saddened you slightly that no one paid attention to him before, because Billy was beautiful, and sexy when he had to be. He has multiple faces that people can possibly use, and you were happy to be the one to introduce him to that chain of possibilities. 

“It’s my job Billy… But I am glad this can help you out now, and in the future.” He gave you a nod as you kept smiling at him but that smile slowly lowered as he took one step closer, tentatively. His hands reached for your suitcase, taking it from your hands to put it on the floor. Your eyes widened and your throat went dry as he looked down on you. 

His eyes were lustful, but the tint of red on his cheeks told you that he was excited. The gaze he was looking at you with was enough to make your core clench, and your belly burn with intensity as he took another step towards you. You didn’t notice that you were taking your own steps back, not until you felt the cold wall against your back. 

You have to talk, you really have to talk, tell him that he is crossing the line, that you were sort of his boss in this situation, but his eyes. There was something in his eyes that was not filled with lust.

Billy was admiring you right now. 

“If you’d let me, Mousy…” He slowly starts kneeling in front of you, your eyes widening as your breath gets caught in your throat at the sight. This supermodel, this way too handsome of a man, was kneeling in front of you, and your whole body broke into a sweat. “I would like to show you just how grateful I am…”

“Y-You don’t have to do it, it’s part of my job–” His right hand raised up, brushing on the side of your left thigh, slowly, fingertips as light as feathers, and your skin grew goosebumps thanks to it. You shivered at the touch, and your belly turned with anticipation at what could happen right now.

“I want to. You don’t know how much I want to.” And Billy doesn’t say it, but he never wants to. But you, you are different. He wants to please you, ultimately make you see stars, helping you to relax, to untangle yourself from the everyday nerves. You gulped and almost let out a small groan when his fingers dug into the skin of your thigh. 

“B-Billy, I don’t know if we should–” You tried to stop this, but you didn’t really want to. Your excitement and your nerves were moving all around your body, going through your veins from head to toe, warming you up and making your heart pump even faster to keep you conscious. 

“Let me eat you Mousy… I need to taste you, god how I want to taste you…” He wasn’t even looking at you as his fingers creeped under your skirt, going up, leaving a trail of fire at each graze of his touch on your skin. You looked up at the ceiling as your breath started picking up. 

“I won’t do anything to you later.” You state, putting your foot down to see if he will stop his movements when he realizes he is not getting anything out of this. But your eyes widened when you felt his fingers hook with the elastic of your underwear, and slowly slide it down your legs. You looked down to see blue irises staring directly into you, a lustful look hiding behind his black blown pupils and he said the next words without a smirk, a smile, or anything at all that would tell you he was playing with you.

“I am doing this because I want to. Not because I expect anything, Mousy.” All your life, you met men that wanted to take or wanted something in return for what they did to you. Women were a different thing, there was no way around it when it came to that, one has to get off the other and that’s final, but men really don’t care about that. 

He urged your right foot to step out of one of the holes of your underwear and then you felt him raise your left leg up, your breath getting stuck in your throat as he hooked your under knee over his shoulder. You gasped when you realized he was staring directly at your center, and you tried to pull your skirt down for him to not see, a deep blush covering your entire body at how open you felt.

He tsked at you, and with his right hand he gripped your hand that was pulling your skirt down and looked up at you with a shake of his head. Your underwear was dangling off your left ankle and your hand was moved away by him as your other helped you stay stable against the wall. He smirked as he bunched up your tight skirt up, going over your ass so he could have a clear view in front of him

In all honesty, you could have avoided this situation. He didn’t seem like a guy who would take a No like a complete offense. He would have let you go the moment you struggled a little bit, but you didn’t. Because you felt the desire the moment he closed the door on the two of you. The tension that has been building up for the past week. 

And wanted nothing else than for him to continue.

“Fuck– Let me thank you properly Mousy… I’ll make you feel real good.” He moved forward, and you felt your whole body shake in anticipation as his breath felt closer and closer on you. Your eyes widened when he blew a bit of air on you, and you realized thanks to the coldness that you were already wet. And he didn’t even touch you yet.

He chuckled as he saw the glistening of your slick, licking his lips as he pressed a kiss above your clit, just gently, teasingly, and you bit on your bottom lip to hold back the whine that wanted to come out of your mouth. He raised his hands up, and got hold of your ass, making your lower body lean forward to him and your hand immediately shot to his head as the other held onto the wall because you needed stability.

His smirk widened as he looked up at you and you stared down at him, alarmingly, because you realized that you fell into it. You grabbed onto his head. A clear invitation. And thanks to that, he was moving forward to press a kiss on your throbbing nub, making you squeal slightly. 

He trembled with excitement at the sound, almost as if he were an animal tasting his prey. But you were no prey. You were a prize. A beautiful prize. And he wanted it, he really did want it. 

His excitement though, betrayed his teasing, and his tongue flicked out to finally get a long lick up your slit, tasting you, and you threw your head back at the sensation, a groan getting caught in your throat. He moaned at your taste, taking another lick for good measure, making your hand clench on his hair. 

“You taste so sweet… Fuck, I think I’m gonna get addicted to you.” And like that, he went in. All in. His tongue lapping your wet folds as if he were a starved man, flicking your clit with the tip of his tongue every now and then and you couldn’t help the breathy moans that escaped your lips. 

Holy shit. Billy Hargrove was eating you out. Out of his pure pleasure.

He gripped into the flesh of your ass to pull you even closer in order for his tongue to go even deeper and finally shove it inside of you to taste your walls. His nose was hitting on your clit just right as he moved his head to the thrust of his tongue. You threw your head back as your eyes rolled to the back of your head, bliss filling your body as you tried to keep your moans as low as possible.

Your grip in his hair shifted, tightening to then let go to rub it gently. He pulled out of your mouth to now solely focus on your clit, putting his lips around it to suck on it while flicking the tip of his tongue against it, and that made you moan out a little louder.

“Fuck, Billy–” He moaned against you as you called his name as if it were a prayer. He let go of your clit, to repeatedly flick it with his tongue, making your hips shake slightly at the feeling. Oh, he was going to be the death of you today, but how long has it been since someone took care of you in this way?

How long has it been since someone cared enough to do so?

His left hand left your ass cheek, to move to your front. He was sucking onto your clit as his index finger touched your slit, coating it in your fluids to lubricate it before pushing it inside, slowly and tentatively. You took a sharp intake of breath at the intrusion, but loved it nonetheless, the grip you had in his hair tightening at the feeling. His tongue never stopped moving on you as his finger started going in and out, in a slow pace. 

You were trying to keep your moans as low as you could but you had nothing to cover your mouth with. Both hands were occupied with something. One was on the wall to keep you from falling and the other was in blonde curls. You wanted more, you needed more. Your belly was starting to pulse, and burn for him.

He pulled away from your clit to take a look at you, and what he saw made the bulge in his pants, which was already hard enough for the buttons to pop out of his jeans, simply twitch. Your face was completely flushed, your eyes half closed from the pleasure you were feeling, and breathy moans were escaping your lips.

But his name, his name was coming out of them as well.

“Can you feel it doll? How thankful I am for what you did?” He licked his lips with a smirk as you whined at his words. He will have his chance on being the one in control some other time. Right now, he had to show you how happy you made him today. So he will return the favor. 

“Billy, I need to…” Your words got stuck in your throat as his finger kept thrusting into you but it wasn’t enough. The squelching sound of your wetness could be heard in the small room, making your belly turn in embarrassment and arousal at the same time. He hummed as he pressed a kiss to the thigh that was draped over his shoulder.

“What do you need, Mousy? I’ll give it to you… Anything you need. Anything you want.” And there was a hidden message behind those words, a message that only Billy knew about. He nibbled on your flesh to urge you to talk and you gasped slightly at the bite, looking down at him.

“I want to… I want to cum, please…” You beg of him and he almost fainted at how good you sound, at how pornographic your voice is like this. Breathless, with choked up moans in it. With his name stuck on your lips, your legs trembling over him, and he was glad he decided to show up to the meeting today. He was gonna let Ralph handle it, meet you afterwards as he snuck away from his manager, but this was much better. So much better.

He added his middle finger now with his index one, and your mouth fell agape, feeling the tight coil in your belly starting to snap slowly. He started moving his fingers, thrusting into you slowly at first and he guided his head towards your clit, sucking on it to add to the stimulation. Your eyes widened at the feeling to then clench them closed, your other hand gripping onto his hair as well as your back held you against the wall.

“Fuck! Billy– You’re so good, what the fu–” You almost moaned loudly, but you held it in as soon as you opened your mouth for it. He curled his fingers inside of you, his pace increasing and you were grinding your hips against his face now, your hands gripping his hair tightly to push him into you, for him to keep going, for him to keep making you feel so wonderfully blissful right now, for him to keep moving on you, for him to keep showing you how grateful he is to you.

“Cum on my face baby, come on, I can feel it…” He says into you with a smirk on his lips before attacking your clit again with his tongue. Your breathing became too heavy, your chest going up and down as the knot grew in your belly, and it burned, and it was unbearable until it finally snapped. 

One of your hands flew to your mouth, the other holding Billy’s hair still, pushing him into you as your walls clenched around his fingers, your eyes rolling to the back of your head as you tilted your head back, almost hitting yourself against the wall. You were seeing white, then flashes of stars all around you as he kept shaking his head against you, helping you to ride your orgasm.

He took a deep breath in, breathing heavy when he felt your hand release his hair a bit. Your left leg was shaking over him and he was blown out by how responsive you were to him. He smirked, leaning over to take a long lick of your juices that were already dripping down your inner thighs. You winced at the overstimulation, looking down at him through teary eyes. You gripped onto his hair again, and motioned him to stop.

“Too much– Please…” You were breathless. You didn’t expect your day to turn out like this at all, but here you were. And you didn’t wish to be anywhere else at all. Billy pulled away from you, putting your left leg onto the floor, but not before slipping your underwear out of your ankle. You almost fell, feeling your legs shake because of the aftershock of your orgasm. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, getting up from the floor to face you again.

His knees hurt, his jaw was sore, but his mouth was filled of you, and he wanted more. He needed more.

“Did my thanks go through?”  He asked with a smirk to his face and you looked up at him, with half hooded eyes, your pupils still dilated from the pleasure you just received. His eyes almost widened at the sight. He wanted to kiss you, really badly, taste your lips, make you taste yourself in his mouth. You gave him a tired smirk, making him raise an eyebrow up.

“It did Mr. Hargrove.” Your breath was slowly catching up on you, and you realized your skirt was still up, and you pulled it down, to then look at him again. “Can you give me back my underwear?”

“What underwear?” He says with a sly smirk on his lips that it makes you tremble with desire once again. How did he do it so easily? The butterflies in your stomach reappeared to wreak havoc once more inside of you. 

“The black panties that are on your hand?” You say to him and he slowly puts said panties into the backpocket of his denim jeans, his face coming closer as he talked.

“You came commando today, Mousy.” He was keeping them. He was going to keep your underwear to do god knows what later on. This man, who didn’t ask for anything back right now from you, ignoring the hard bulge that was in his pants, and he just did it out of pure pleasure and also because of the lust he holds for you. You were speechless at his actions, because never once you had a man be this passionate to you. Never this filthy.

He was staring at you, his face as close as he could, breath grazing all of your face and you wanted to dive into his lips, feel them on you, wanting nothing more than to feel how his mouth linked with yours in a frenzied kiss. But he was waiting, patiently, because the line was crossed, but not quite. The next step was yours to take.

“I want to thank you too… How about Friday?” 

His smirk grew as he heard your words, licking the inside of his bottom lip, and his chest puffed in victory. You knew that this might be a one night stand. That his fixation with you will be gone as soon as you two have sex, but you needed him. You wanted him. Fuck the game of cat and mouse.

“Friday sounds perfect… And trust me, you don’t have to thank me Mousy… But if you insist.” He pulled away from you, fixing his hair with a wipe of his hand through it. You gulped as you stared at him and he kept his eyes on yours. He leaned over again, his instincts wanting to betray him, but he stopped as his lips graced yours. Your breath hitched at the touch, and your skin was burning from how aroused you were feeling for him. “God, I want to fucking kiss you.” 

“Friday…” Was your quick response. You knew that if he kissed you now, your one night stand would be at work, and with all honesty, you wanted a whole night with him. You wanted to be able to hear him grunt, moan, and call your name, but you also wanted to scream to let him know how you were feeling.

Because you know, Billy Hargrove was gonna make you scream. And you could hardly wait for it.

“Friday.” He pulled off you completely this time, and you felt the cold embracing you at the lack of body heat. He backed off from you, a smile on his lips as he unlocked the door, giving you a small wink before sliding out and closing the door behind him. The room being void of his cologne now, and you could only smell it 

You finally let yourself slam against the wall, your body shaking as you pressed your hands to your face, feeling the strong heat that was on your skin, smiling widely at what you just experienced. You felt a cold breeze in between your legs, and you clenched your eyes at the feel of your arousal on your inner thighs. You had to go wash yourself.

But that didn’t make your smile falter one bit. You were still trying to believe what had just happened, and not because it was Billy Hargrove. That was a bonus. Someone actually made you feel pleasure, after so long of faking orgasms, of making up excuses to not meet with bad hookups, after taking care of your needs by yourself.

You had to thank Billy properly. It was the right thing to do.

End of chapter 8

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A/N: I know the smut it's not with who you would want it to be, but we need some backstory before we get to the juicy bits u kno. I will avoid future smut with Billy to focus on Eddie, this was just to introduce him like this into Reader's life.

If you wish to be in my tag list, comment or send me an ask!

Taglist: @enam3l @katethetank @seatnights @oliskitten @bebe07011 @seventhlevelofhell @babez-a-licious @arsenicred @bl4ckt00thgr1n @harrysgothicbitch @emma77645 @fictionalcomforts @hellv1ra @sarcastically-defensive17

[dailykurokei]

more countdown art i keep forgetting to crosspost (sorry) (first one kindly drawn by @nacisses )

[solrika]

Set on Yavin, when Kallus gets a crate of his recovered belongings. Crossposted to AO3.

~

He waited until he was alone in his room, door securely locked and with a chair pushed up under its knob for good measure, to open the crate. 

The meteorite sat on top, glowing through its wrappings. Kallus couldn’t help giving it a little smile, placing it on the crate that served as his bedside table with a fond pat. The next bundle, much larger, turned out to be–

“Oh, thank the stars,” he breathed, running careful fingers over the bo-rifle. It was the work of a moment to unfold it, the motion as smooth as ever. He stood, carefully running through a few basic stances. It followed as if it was an extension of his arm, and when he activated it, the purple crackle made something in his chest finally settle into place. His ISB instructors would have chided him for getting so attached to a mere weapon–

“Fascinating,” Pedaari murmured, leaning forwards to look over the bo-rifle. Kallus tightened his grip, half expecting the Inquisitor to take it out of his hands. For once, though, Pedaari kept his curious fingers to himself. “Are you aware that your weapon houses a kyber crystal?”

Reflexively, Kallus glanced down at the bo-rifle. “Kyber?”

Pedaari tapped his ever-present lightsaber. “Kyber.” 

“Oh. Oh.” 

“Indeed.” Pedaari gave him a razor-thin smile. “It likes you, Hound. Aren’t you full of surprises?”

—but for once, it was easy to quell the disapproving whispers in his head. 

Another bundle, also full of weapons he shouldn’t have felt so glad to see. The set of throwing knives gleamed, their watered-steel surface reflecting the same oil-slick colors as Osa’s skin.  An experimental flip–the balance was still as perfect as the day he’d received them. 

The clothes he found underneath were nothing special, just disguises for various missions, but he supposed he couldn’t fault the Rebels for not knowing the difference. He dug deeper, and froze when his hand brushed soft fur. 

His body moved without his volition, grabbing the pelt and pressing it to his face. Stars, it still carried the tang of Imperial ship air, so specific in its sterile ozone, and the whisper of rubbing alcohol from his last stay in a hospital bed, and—

And—

Sleep, Hound. Nothing can hurt you here. 

–the howl of grief took him by surprise. 

He’d known Pedaari was dead, of course, had seen it first in reports and later heard it from Kanan’s mouth. But his mission, first as ISB-021 and later as Fulcrum, had taken precedence, and he’d thought maybe, just maybe, he could escape feeling it–

Stars, he was stupid. As if he could escape the yawning absence of good caf and sweet blood and hands in his hair. As if he could run from the gasping, wrenching sobs shaking his body. As if he could forget safety, pressed up against a narrow body in an even narrower bunk. 

He felt like a child. There was no way to swallow down the tears, to stop the horrible keening sound coming from his throat–later, he’d realize it was just as inhuman as the rest of him, some strange leftover from the surgeries–to keep himself quiet–

–what a sorry excuse for an ISB agent–

–someone was hammering on his door, several someones with voices soaked in concern–

–Hera, and Zeb, and Kanan, and barely, just barely, Kallus stopped himself from letting his screaming shape into words, from howling, “You killed him, you killed him–” 

He wailed, instead, buried his head in the pelt and bit down on his forearm in a vain attempt at making himself shut up. The bright bloom of pain was just enough to shake some semblance of sanity free, and he gasped, “I’m alright.” Louder, so they could hear, “I’m alright, I just–” 

Just what? Just–

Breathe, Hound. 

There was no Force to compel him this time, just his own will. But he’d faced worse, and would again. Kallus dragged in a gasping breath, made himself hold it for a second before letting it go. Another deep breath. Another. The scent of the pelt filled his mouth, and he refused to let the grief swell again, made himself think instead of comfort, of peace, of the steady cadence of Pedaari’s heart. 

It didn’t work as well as he’d wanted, but at least it could quell the horrible wail in his chest. “Just some memories,” he called through the door. Swiping furiously at his stubborn tears, he added, “I’ll be fine. I promise.” Resisted adding, Go the kriff away. 

It took some more reassurance to get the Spectres to leave. Zeb took the longest, and it was only biting his tongue til it bled that kept Kallus from snapping at him. He cares about you, he chanted to himself, trying to keep his patience. He cares about you. Be polite. 

 Finally, blessedly, it became quiet, nothing but the hum of the Ghost’s systems to disturb the sound of his hitching breaths. Slowly, he became aware that he was still crumpled next to the crate, his knees aching against the floor. Heaving himself to standing, Kallus swayed the few steps to his bunk, dragging the pelt with him. 

Briefly, he considered kicking off his boots. Discarded the thought, and collapsed onto the mattress. It was nearly too hot under both his jacket and the pelt, but he couldn’t bring himself to move. Just nosed into the soft fur, and tried to keep his breathing steady. 

When he closed his eyes, he dreamt of narrow fingers in his hair.

[enidtendo64]

Sorry for spam liking so suddenly, I just now saw all the yellow jackets' art as it's like early Christmas. THANK YOU FOR DOING WHAT YOU DO!!!!

no it's okay, thank you for the likes! I'm glad you like all the yellowjackets doodles i had a ton stored bc i keep forgetting to crosspost from twitter lol

[peninkwrites]

Hear no evil. See no evil. Speak no evil. Ch 2 of ?

Ranboo has been going blind his whole life.

Ch 1

Ch 3

crossposted to ao3

Ranboo knows blindness is inevitable.  He’s known this since he was small.  His mothers had never said it to him directly, but it seems maybe they regretted having a child who was only half enderman.  How could they have known he would inherit his other half’s tear ducts?  They did their very best to raise a child who wouldn’t cry, but they were fighting an impossible battle.  The early years were the worst.  Ranboo lost maybe a quarter of his vision in the first six years of his life.  Six was old enough to hold back, to refuse tears through skinned knees and childish insults and getting lost.  It took him a few years more to realize that never crying would have a different toll.  Ranboo kept his emotions clutched carefully to his chest, letting them pour free not in burning salt, but ink.

Eventually it became clear that their forgetfulness went beyond the ordinary, and his book began to serve a different purpose.

Not that Ranboo remembers these finite details, things like his mothers, his childhood, where he is from.  Nor is he really sure how he arrived on the SMP, only with the vague goal of winning an election.  He remembers a few essentials kept carefully in his memory book.  Tears burn, they make his vision worse, and one day he will go blind.  Crying will hasten the process, and even as that scares him, he cannot let it scare him enough that tears fall.

So he doesn’t cry.  First he meets Niki, whose voice is soft and kind and reassuring, and she shows him around the server.  He follows her closely, and she points out different structures and places and Ranboo pretends to perceive them.  He pretends there isn’t a fog over his vision, confining his view to the prime path and a bit beyond that, depending on the brightness of the sun that day.  His peripheral is worse, but as long as he’s looking at something head on, something close enough, he can see it generally.  Niki he will remember by voice, by her outline, her hair, but not really her face.  He would have to get way too close to see what she really looks like, but he knows enough to recognize her.  He can remember people relatively well by name and vague appearance, it’s who they are, the details of what they have done together, that’s where things get fuzzy just like his vision.

This was not ideal, as the next person he met, the current president, introduces himself and rather curtly tells him:  “I’m pretty much totally deaf, so, sorry if I’m not much for conversation.”

“Oh,” Ranboo had briefly had no clue what to say, before some impulse built on the sound of this boy’s voice, his small stature, wearing a suit, by the looks of it, he felt inclined to show a little faith.  “I’m… I’m kinda blind, so,” he mumbled.

“Um, like I said, man.  I can’t hear, so.  Dunno what you just said.”

Ranboo’s cheeks flushed green and red, fumbling for his memory book and flipping to the back of it.

I’m a little blind, so.  I don’t think I’ll be very good at sign language.

He holds it out to Tubbo, who frowns at the page, reading slowly.

Instead of irritation, he laughs.  “I mean, that works out!  Sort of.  Maybe not, but, how about I help you with the seeing bit, and you can… you could be my minutes man!  If you’d like.”

“Minutes-?” Ranboo stops, going back to the page.  Minutes man?

“Yeah!  If you want, you could write down the stuff we talk about in meetings, so if I have a hard time keeping up, I can still keep track of stuff,” Tubbo says brightly.  Ranboo knows he’s staring at him.  “So, is that why..?” Tubbo’s hand goes to his own face, which Ranboo notes is slightly discolored.  “Sorry, I shouldn’t…”

“Oh! The scars?” Ranboo brushes against his own cheeks, and the deep, red divots along the corner of his eye.  “It’s okay,” Ranboo shrugs, hoping that’s reassurance enough.

“I’ve got some pretty gristly scars too, dunno if you can tell,” Tubbo says.

“Not really,” Ranboo shakes his head, and then shrugs.  He should really just write.

“Huh, you can’t even see that?” Tubbo says unthinkingly.   “Sorry, that was, well, not very tactful of me.  If you want to, I could like, I dunno,” Tubbo pauses, thoughtful  “I could describe stuff?  If that would help?”

“Uh, yeah!  Yeah, I mean, I–” Ranboo nods and starts talking before remembering, returning to his book.

I’d like to be the minutes man. I was actually planning on running in the next election, so it would be cool to work with you.  And that might be nice. If you described stuff sometimes.  I don’t know I’ve never tried that.

Tubbo reads, and sounds surprised.  “Oh!  You’re planning on running, then, Rambo?”

Ranboo almost goes to correct him, but can’t bring himself to, endeared.

“Right, well, least I can do is show you around!  Or, show you what I can,” Tubbo says sheepishly.  “How bad is your vision?  You don’t have glasses, you know?  Feel like that could help a bit.”

Ranboo tries to remember the explanation.  He doesn’t have glasses.  Because..?  Another quick scribble on the page.

I don’t really remember why.  I think it might have to do with the different types of eyes?  I’m not really sure.

“Huh.  Well, if you want, we could see about getting you glasses.  My friend Wil–” Tubbo stops, and Ranboo cannot see that his expression is stricken.  Tubbo continues, and Ranboo notices the slight tremor in his voice.  “My friend Wilbur.  He wore glasses.  So, I’m sure we could get you some as well.”

Ranboo hesitates, writing slowly.

thank you. That would be nice.  Maybe it would help.

my vision is pretty bad.  I can’t see far over distances, it gets all foggy, and my peripheral is almost nonexistent.  And things are always a little blurry unless you’re right in front of my face.

Tubbo reads it slowly and carefully, murmuring the words as he does so, maybe meant to be inaudibly, but Ranboo can hear him.  “I am also dyslexic, so, the reading stuff is a bit slow for me.”

Ranboo just nods.

“Well then, Rambo.  I will give you a specialty tour of New L’Manberg!” Tubbo had originally wanted to take him to the top of the hill, to look out over the city, but he now knows that wouldn’t exactly be much use, so instead he takes him over to the platforms.

“I built this recently,” Tubbo puts a fond hand on one of the support posts.  “Made it out of spruce, and look, can you see how new it is?”  He motions Ranboo closer.

Ranboo follows, having to crouch down, but once he does, he sees the grain in the wood, he sees the fresh bark still left on the logs and the new metal bolts holding it all together.  “You built–” Ranboo quickly course corrects.

you built all this?

Tubbo stares at the page, always a delay, but not that Ranboo minds.  When Tubbo has to lean in to read it, Ranboo can see a bit more of his face.  “Yeah, I did!  With some help from the rest of the cabinet, and… and from Ghostbur.”

it's really cool

Tubbo reads it, and for a second Ranboo thinks he might be blushing, but then Tubbo is too far for him to tell.

“Right, now over here, we’ve got a few houses set up.  This one here,” Tubbo all but escorts him to the front door.  “It’s the one to the left of the stairs up.  It’s where Phil lives.  You’ll like Phil!  He’s really great.”

Ranboo nods, and he is startled when Tubbo takes his hand, pulling him along to the next doorway.

“This house is unoccupied at the moment.  The door is also spruce, and we’ve even placed flower boxes outside!  The house is a bit small, but it has two stories.  And I dunno if you know this, but the whole city is on stilts right now.  Over a big crater.  The plan is to hopefully refill it with rain water, there’s already some starting to collect, and make it a little less… rough,” Tubbo actually guides his hand to the flower boxes, so he can touch the dirt, so he’s close enough to see the flowers clearly, and Ranboo, if he weren’t so repressed, thinks he might have cried.  Tubbo doesn’t seem to notice, moving along.  “And here’s the flag!  The flag for New L’Manberg.  Maybe I can find you an old flag and show you that one too.  The history is important, you know?”  Once more, Tubbo hands the cloth to Ranboo, so he can feel its material, and hold it up close enough he can see the colors and the heart stitched on its surface.

It’s pretty

“Thank you!  I tried, you know?” Tubbo sounds a little bashful.  “Um, maybe it could be your house!  You’ll need to have a house here if you want to run in the elections.”

yeah!

Tubbo opens the doors to the house.  “Check out the inside!  It’s got barrels for storage, and a crafting table already set up, and a ladder up to the second floor.”

Ranboo can see the outline of the walls, and the second floor, he can guess where the ladder is from how it stands out distinctly to the cobblestone.  He can see the lanterns hanging from the ceiling from the harsh streaks they leave across his eyesight.  Ranboo also finds his vision does better in the dark.  Outside in the sun, the fog gets worse.

“You’d have to buy it.”

Ranboo scribbles faster.  Wait how do I do that??

Tubbo laughs, and Ranboo wants to make him laugh again.  “You’d have to talk to Ghostbur.  Don’t worry, he won’t charge you an arm and a leg for it or anything.”

Ranboo nods.

“And down here we have market stalls built!  No one is selling anything at the moment, but Ghostbur has decorated each one with wool and these… these decorative panel things, um, banners!  Lots of different patterns and things,” Tubbo nods him over to one of the stalls so Ranboo can see the detailed weave.  Tubbo walks to the next stall, and then the next, pausing at each so he can see the decorations.

“Alright, come on.  Stick close to me.  There are railings around the main platform, but we haven’t finished adding them to the sides really yet, or the stairs.”

I can see the railings and where the edge drops off.  I just can’t see far away or details unless it’s really close.

“Oh, sorry, didn’t mean to… to patronize or assume or anything.”

it’s ok! thanks tho

“No problem, bossman!  Up here, this is Karl’s house.  I’m sure you can hear the llama?” Tubbo says this more hesitantly.  “There’s also bright red flowers.”

yeah!  The flowers are nice.  You’re right the llama is loud.  So is the redstone track.

“Oh, right, the redstone!” Tubbo stares at the track perhaps thoughtfully.  “Forgot about that,” he murmurs, and Ranboo isn’t sure if he was supposed to hear him or not.  “Um, back over here is Quackity’s house.  It’s very… open concept at the minute.  All those big gaps over there?” Tubbo points to a large opening in the far wall.  “There’s no glass in there yet, so it’s very… airy.”

Ranboo nods.

“Right, and over his Fundy’s house, it’s across this bridge here,” Tubbo leads the way.  “And… he’s got blue carpet!” Tubbo actually sits on the floor in his fancy suit, and brushes through the woven wool.

Ranboo can see the color, he knows it’s carpet, he doesn’t actually need to know what it feels like, but Tubbo is trying so hard, so Ranboo sits beside him and threads through the wool.  Ranboo smiles.  He glances up to Tubbo’s face and is unsettled to find that he’s most likely staring at him.  He hopes Tubbo isn’t looking him in the eye.  Even if Ranboo can’t tell, he doesn’t like the thought very much.

“Right, um, anyway.  Down here is the rest of Fundy’s house.  His house is very nice, it’s properly furnished, lots of that blue carpet,” Tubbo describes it as they go.  “And outside here, under the crane, this is Ghostbur’s property.  It’s not all under water, he just… he sort of lives next to the sewers––storm drains, to be clear, nothing gross.”  Tubbo heads down into the water and Ranboo hesitates.

He fumbles with the edge of his iron armor.  He should be safe enough to make it down there.  Ranboo can’t help but cover his eyes as he follows.

“You… you alright?” Tubbo asks carefully.

“Y-Yeah!” Ranboo quickly nods, relieved to find his face is dry.  He needs to have more faith in his enchantments, and once he gets some netherite, he shouldn't have to worry about water anymore.

“Um, well, in here is Ghostbur’s house.  His thing is making invis potions, as you can tell.  Reeks of blaze powder,” Tubbo flips through barrels of supplies.  “And in here is his library…”

So it follows.

Tubbo shows him everything, every little thing close enough, at least.  He gives him things to feel, and he points out sounds he knows should be there even if he can’t hear them anymore himself, and Ranboo cannot describe the feeling it brings him to follow Tubbo.  It’s not merely caring, it’s the fact that in some way, Tubbo understands.  He won’t realize for a long time that that was where he started to fall in love.

Next, he follows around Tommy, who is an explosion of noise and energy and his hands always a flurry of motion that Ranboo cannot quite make out.  He does his best not to reveal how little he can see.  He doesn’t know Tommy well enough for that; Tubbo’s own confession had felt like enough.  When Tommy questions Ranboo accidentally hitting him––Ranboo hadn’t noticed Tommy out of the corner of his eye until Tommy was right there, he’d reached out to stop him, severely misjudged the distance, and apparently hit Tommy––Ranboo fumbles an explanation about wanting to hand him a flower.  He cannot read Tommy’s hazy expression as he says, “y’like flowers, Ranboo?” but since Tommy continues to talk to him, asks Ranboo to walk with him, he assumes Tommy wasn’t offended.

Ranboo agrees to join Tommy in his mischief.  He doesn’t realize the house is burning until he smells smoke, and Tommy drags him away from harsh yellow light and heat muttering a fierce string of curse words.  He hisses to Ranboo as they walk quickly up the prime path, “we saw nothing, got it?  We saw nothing.”

And Ranboo nods and deigns not to tell Tommy how true that is.

When they are dragged to a court house, Ranboo doesn’t remember what happened.  He remembers going somewhere with Tommy, he remembers Tommy’s panic, but he doesn’t grasp the details.  He doesn’t see Tommy’s face, but hears him defend him, and support him when he explains why he can’t remember.

So Ranboo is let go, and Tommy isn’t.

And it only gets worse from there.

Ranboo is overwhelmed by how everyone starts to panic, but he told Tubbo he would follow him, that he would try to help, so he does, and he tries to keep the minutes.

[miramizar]

@aphfrukweek

Day 4: Pets (sorry I’m a little late!)

(Takes place somewhere during the post-roman era)

~~~

Bonnie

Francis is in the garden again.

You may find it a bit odd, but for being a personification of a country he really isn’t that interested in battles, politics or even in expanding the borders of what is to become the Frankish kingdom. No, the young man loves beautiful things alone, and among them he loves his garden the most - he can spend literal hours in the clearings that are surrounded by lush forests and sparkling rivers, and he feels no shame in admitting that the meadows overflowing with pretty flowers are his biggest source of happiness.

But today there is something strange about the garden.

It is as he twirls in the grass that he notices something out of the corner of his eye; something bright and shapeless, and.. unnatural. He stops to look around, but sees nothing out of the ordinary. That should calm him, but it doesn't - Francis hasn't seen anyone for years, if you don’t count the conquerors that pass through every now and then, so for something to appear silently like this is quite alarming.

There!

He’s quick to react and grabs whatever it is that slithers across the ground near his feet, and immediately he is pulled forward, the power behind it forcing him to push his heels to the ground to avoid toppling over. After taking a couple of seconds to catch his breath, he turns his focus to the thing he is holding onto, which turns out to be a long, twisted rope with a loop that encircles a white horse’s neck. A surprised gasp then escapes the youngling’s lips as he looks up to see the horn located on the animal’s forehead.

“A unicorn?”

Then he is once again pulled forward, this time with such force that he loses his footing and finds himself being mercilessly dragged away.

He somehow manages to keep his hold on the rope until the unicorn slows down, and moments later he hears a cry of joy.

“Unicorn! Where have you been?!” Francis looks up from where he’s been dropped off and sees a mop of golden hair, green eyes and thick eyebrows that are raised high upon the little boy noticing him. “Who are you?”

Despite it sounding more like gibberish than words of an actual language, Francis understands enough to know that he has to introduce himself, which he does after tidying himself up enough to look presentable. “My name is Francis. Is the unicorn yours? It was in my garden - wait, I think we still are in my garden.”

He forgets his confusion when the boy leaves the unicorn and steps closer, squinting a little - because that’s when Francis recognises him.

“Arthur?”

It’s been ages since he last saw his immortal friend from across the sea, and he takes in the boy’s appearance, curious to know just how much he’s grown since then. Arthur on the other hand seems to become bashful under his gaze, running back to the unicorn when a hand is reached out to touch him. And yet, those big, beautiful eyes never avert from his and it doesn’t take long before they’re both smiling.

So if you notice something peculiar about the garden today, or rather it’s inhabitants, fear not - they simply got the nicest surprise of the century, all thanks to a certain magical creature that only the two of them can see.

~~~

(crossposted on AO3)