[fleuriae]

𝔖. ── 𖤝 WHITE FERRARI

🫧 𝓡ia ( fleuriae ) .    she/her,  8teen,   ♊︎.

⠀     requests  are  now open!    ♱ please read ℜules & ℑnformation before submitting a request.

multi ( aphmau, freak show & more )   ⟡   mainly  hcs  &  oneshots.      ꩜

𓂃۶ৎ 𝔐asterlist — my works & wips !

divider(s) by @dollywons

[dailyaphmaumemes]

Day 452 + 1036 of posting Aphmau till MyStreet season 7 comes out | Now the real question is, how did Dante get this gif?

[concaveart]

MERRY ZANEMAS !!! 🎄🎉🎉💞!!

Ended up being far busier than I anticipated so I haven't been able to post at all, but I had to throw together something for *THE* zanemau moment 🙏🙏

this episode changed me for life 🙏❄️ happy holidays everyone ❤️❤️❤️!

(tumblr really screwed up the quality of this already messy piece but oh well ❤️‍🩹😭)

Version without filter below the cut <3

💜🖤🎄

[dilly-dahlia]

Mystreet Gene x fem reader

Reader and Gene used to date back in college, but reader broke up with Gene because he wasn’t a good boyfriend, and they go separates ways. Couple years past and reader gets invited to live in Mystreet (lovers lane) by Aphmau. When reader first arrive, she is welcome by Aphmau and the rest of the crew, but didn’t expect the one person she hasn’t seen in many years Gene.

No One Knows

pairing: Gene x Reader

content: mys Lover’s Lane, second chance, right person wrong time, soft gene, sprinkle of angst, sprinkle of suggestive description but nothing explicit, possible inaccuracies

summary: Years after breaking up with your semi-negligent college boyfriend, the two of you run into each other again at a housewarming party. Expecting some kind of explosion of emotions, you're surprised to find yourself offering another chance.

now playing: "No One Knows" by Stephen Sanchez

word count: 5.3k

a/n: I've gotten so many requests and had so many ideas with this concept, and honestly all that's telling me is that Gene was made for the second chance trope. also so sorry to keep you waiting i'm so bad with actually answering asks forgive me

masterlist | aphmau masterlist

The last name you expected to be lit up across your phone screen at five in the morning was Aphmau's. She wasn't a morning person for one, but you also hadn't spoken to her since . . . College? No, that wasn't quite right. You had visited her city apartment more times than you could count on your fingers. However, you hadn't seen her since before she moved in with Katelyn and Nana. That was almost three years ago, so . . .

Clearly, it had been a while.

You were even more surprised to hear how chirpy her voice was. The energy in it made it seem like she had already been awake for hours. It made you wonder if she had even gone to sleep. Maybe she had passed the exhaustion stage and was now in the delusional part of pulling an all nighter.

"Hey!" You could definitely hear music in the background. Maybe she'd gone out clubbing. Or something. "How's it going?"

"Fine, I guess," you replied. You put the call on speaker and set it on your nightstand as you fought with yourself to get out of bed. It was five in the morning—the sun's golden rays were already starting to peek through the slivers in your curtains. You saw no point in going back to sleep, especially if you were talking with the chattiest person in the world. But damn did you really want to. "As well as I can considering my landlord decided to sell the building so it can be replaced with more permanent residents."

The disdain in your voice was obvious. Just a couple days ago you had come home to a letter taped on your front door.

NOTICE, it said. It then continued to detail that the landlord had, with a heavy heart, decided the best course of action for him and his family was to sell his property to the city so they could contract a new neighborhood in the area. All current residents in the apartment complex were meant to find new housing by the beginning of September if they didn't submit a notice saying they were interested in one of the new houses being built.

Like hell you were buying a house. You couldn't afford it, so the next option was packing up your things and apartment hunting. It wasn't going so well.

"Right. I saw that the other day and thought of you," Aphmau said. You hummed in response, finally sitting up in bed. The two of you stayed in silence for a moment. You listened to the background music coming from her end, realizing just how generic it was. Where was she? "So, that's actually why I'm calling."

Aphmau let out a nervous chuckle, like she said something that might be considered controversial. It sounded suspiciously like Ryan Gosling's ha-ha-ha in the Barbie movie. Aphmau tended to adopt tendencies from films she watched, so there was no doubt she'd seen it.

"Okay," you said once her awkward laughter had dissipated. Aphmau took your voice as an invitation to continue.

"So, funny story." She gave another strained laugh. "Uhm, the street I was living on actually blew up, so—"

"What do you mean blew up?" You hadn't heard about that. Didn't most of her friends live there, too? Not to mention the countless other people. It was a popular neighborhood. If it had blown up, how had you not heard of it?

"Well." She paused, taking a moment to articulate her words. While she did that, you stood from your bed and strolled to the connected bathroom. You set your phone down on the countertop as you washed your hands and prepared to brush your teeth. "There was an incident with, ah, exploding feathers."

"What the fuck?"

"Yeah. It was . . . something. But that's not important!" She laughed again. You forgot how giggly Aphmau got when she was nervous to wanted to be dismissive of something. "Basically, all of us need a new street. Garroth and Zane's dad is like loaded, and they partnered with Aaron's parents, so now they have like a bajillion dollars—"

"Aphmau, please get to the point." If she was going to be dismissive about her street blowing up, then the least she could do was make her explanation for calling you short.

"I'm getting there! Basically"—you rolled your eyes; Aphmau had never been good at making things short—"the Ro'Meaves and the Lycans bought a really big plot of land and are building a new neighborhood on it. It's not the one where your apartment was! However, they are offering basically a free house to their sons’ friends if they're interested. And since you won't have an apartment soon and you’re friends with me, by extension Aaron . . ."

Your brow raised and you blew out a disbelieving breath. Thank Irene for her impeccable timing.

It almost seemed too good to be true, though. Sure, you didn't have to technically buy the house, but there was no doubt the bills would be high. You weren't sure if your job could cover it.

"Could I have a roommate? Or someone else to help with the bills?"

"Oh, they said not to worry about that! They're making it accessible for pretty much everyone, since our last street met an unfortunate demise."

Even though she couldn't see it, you made an O with your mouth. Obviously they would do that. Since when did ridiculously rich people want an opportunity to run people's pockets dry?

"Right." You clicked your tongue, thinking it over. This offer was perfect—too perfect. But you did trust the Ro'Meave and Lycan families. They hadn't screwed anyone over too bad, at least that you'd heard of. Plus, they'd raised pretty decent kids. They learned that from somewhere, right?

But you couldn't shake the feeling that something would go wrong. But you couldn't think of what it could possibly be. There was no doubt the neighborhood would be nice. Safe. After talking a bit more with Aphmau you found out that all of her friends from her previous residence would be moving onto Lover's Lane, so you wouldn't have to awkwardly approach people's front doors with a basket hoping they would treat you nicely.

But there was something. A small pit in your gut. It wasn't exactly telling you that moving onto the street would end in disaster, but it was definitely warning you of something.

Alas, you were just an unfortunate soul on the verge of losing your apartment. Of course you accepted the offer.

—

You pulled into the driveway of your new house, surprised by the amount of cars already on the street in front of it. It really wasn't a lot, maybe only two or three, but they were in front of your house. And the lights inside were already on.

This was the right address, right?

You double checked. You opened your chat with Aphmau and scrolled up until you found it. You read it, looked at the street sign, then at the number on the house, then back down at the message.

It was the right house, alright. But why was there already people in it?

You exhaled, looking into the back seat of your car. You didn’t have much with you—just a duffel bag with a couple changes of clothes and toiletries, some groceries you had picked up for the week just a couple minutes ago, and a backpack that held small electronics, chargers, and anything else you might need easy access to until you fully unpacked everything. The U-Haul mover you’d hired wouldn’t actually be getting to your new house until tomorrow, since you lived so far from your old apartment and had only actually packed everything int the truck less than two hours ago. The driver was already off the clock, and you didn’t feel comfortable driving with a huge load.

So you would just wait until tomorrow. You had a sleeping bag and extra blanket, but you had regrettably forgotten your pillow. You’d probably just sleep on your duffel bag, or something.

After taking a deep breath, you finally pulled your key from the ignition and stepped out of the car. You took your time in opening the trunk and getting everything from the back seat, balancing everything precariously on your fingers because you refused to take a second trip. You were shocked at yourself when you were able to lift your leg high enough to close the trunk with your foot.

You were also slow in actually walking to your front door, and it wasn’t until you were standing directly in front of it that tou regrettably realized you didn’t have the key to actually open it yet. Aphmau said she would hold onto it for you, and you had completely forgotten about that.

After cursing yourself out and letting out a long sigh, you turned on your heel to walk back down the driveway. Just as you did, though, the front door opened and out came Aphmau. She nearly knocked you over with the force of her hug.

“Y/n!” she exclaimed. You took a couple steps before you were able to balance yourself, and when you finally did you set the side of your head against her hair. “Oh, I’m so excited you’re here!”

You smiled. “Me, too.” Well, that solved the problem of needing to find her house to get your key. She was right there. But . . . “Uh, why are the lights already on?”

“Oh!” Her arms dropped from around you and she dragged you into your own house by the elbow. “I hope you don’t mind, but since most everyone has already moved in I invited them all for a welcoming party.”

“Oh, did you?” You appreciated the gesture, you really did. But you had just spent the whole day packing and playing Tetris with furniture and being unable to get rid of the sinking feeling that you were forgetting something, and you were exhausted. You wanted nothing more in that moment to lay out the sleeping bag you had and just flop on top of it.

Aphmau, oblivious as she often was, nodded happily. “And everyone said they’d offer help getting your stuff together if you needed it.”

You gave a soft, dismissive hum, and let your short friend continue to pull you through your house. She gave you a very quick, very vague tour before she let go of your arm and helped you set your things down in the kitchen.

Someone called your name, and when you looked up a smile stretched across your face at the sight of straightened pink hair.

“Nana!” you said, holding your arms out for a hug from one of your best friends. The two of you had been incredibly close—practically inseparable—in high school. You’d initially connected over the fact that you both enjoyed baking, and continued to let your friendship blossoms once you learned more about each other. Your names were often said in the same breath, and sometimes teachers would accidentally call you the other one’s name. It happened so much the two of you also responded to each other’s names. “I didn’t know you lived here, too.”

Nana nodded, keeping an arm slung around your shoulders when you pulled away from the full embrace. “Katelyn and I live just across the street. Oh, I’m so excited you’re living close now! We can have baking parties like we used to.”

You laughed at the memory of some of those baking parties. They either went without a single problem or the largest, most inconceivable mistake someone could make. There was no middle ground, but it was always fun.

Nana offered to help put away the groceries tou had brought in, which you were thankful for since you didn’t exactly want to do it. But also because Aphmau had just . . . left you. At some point she drifted back to Aaron’s side and seemed determined to stay glued there.

She hadn’t even given you the house key.

After your food stores for the week had been safely put away, you walked with Nana toward the space that was supposed to be the living room. However, it was completely sparse save for a speaker that was plugged into an outlet in the wall. It was where most everyone had gathered, though, so clearly the emptiness of the space didn’t bother them.

You greeted everyone. You’d never been super close with any of them outside of Aphmau and Nana, but you were at least familiar with most. Some more than you probably would have liked, but that wasn’t entirely your fault.

Despite your earlier qualms with needing to entertain a party you didn’t even know about, you were enjoying yourself. A couple hours flew by before you knew it. You had relaxed just a bit and drank a cup or two of the wine Lucinda had brought.

It didn’t matter how easy you were taking it now, once you heard that all too familiar chuckle your skin prickled. Goosebumps flared across your arms and you stiffened.

Surely it wasn’t him, right? None of the people you were around necessarily liked him, last you checked, so there was no reason for him to be here. Right?

If it was him, then he was somewhere in the living room space. Probably closer to the house’s entrance. Okay, that was fine. You would just make your way to the kitchen and wait there until you could survey the area and see if it was actually him.

You were filling a red Solo cup with tap water when someone—a man—bumped into you. Water from the faucet spilled onto your shirt, and you softly cursed. The man started apologizing and your heart nearly stopped at the sound of his voice.

Shit. Fuck everything to the ground. Of course this would happen to you.

The apology died on his tongue once he realized who you were. You avoided looking at him as long as you could, but you could only do that for so long before you were being rude. Reluctantly, you pulled your gaze from the stainless steel sink in favor of the sapphire one that haunted your dreams.

It was almost a breath of fresh air, seeing him. He didn’t look as . . . tired. Well, he did look exhausted, but not in the same way he did before. You weren’t sure how to explain it, but there was still light behind his tired eyes.

You blinked at him and tried to swallow the stone in your throat. “Gene.”

He gave you a curt nod. “Y/n.”

You pressed your lips together. Fuck everything.

—5 YEARS AGO

It was your anniversary, and Gene had completely forgotten.

It shouldn’t have surprised you—not really. Over the past few months the amount of effort Gene put into your relationship had been slowly waning. It took you a while to notice, but he had stopped texting first. When the two of you were in public or alone, he rarely touched you. Not that he was big on PDA to begin with, but he'd always had an arm slung around you or linked your pinkies. The absence of that felt . . . weird.

It was just little things like that. Small, barely noticeable. Hardly anything big enough to spark a big argument. Right? Well, he had forgotten your birthday that one time . . . But he also had a big test that day!

It really shouldn’t have bothered you. He was a busy man, trying to be top of his class in his neuroscience studies. There were probably other, more life changing and more important things that needed his attention.

But . . . Did that mean you weren’t important to him?

You were getting in your own head. Gene was always getting onto you for that. You’d stopped inviting him with you to the store because of it. Anytime you put something in your cart—something intended for yourself—you had to deliberate to make the purchase worth it. How much did it cost? Would you use it enough to validate the price? Would you even use it after a couple weeks or would it rot in your closet? Did you even like it? Or did you secretly think it was ugly and only holding it in your cart because you had already picked it up?

Gene often decided for you. That decision was almost always putting it back on the shelf before hurrying you out of the store with a hand on the small on your back.

“If it takes you that long to decide,” he always said, “then you don’t want it.”

So yeah, you were definitely getting in your own head about this. Your anniversary probably slipped his mind somewhere between the mountains of notes and his internship at the hospital. He did say he’d be observing a surgery later this week, so maybe he was stressed out about that. You couldn't blame him. You would also be stressed out about watching someone cut someone else open.

Still, his negligence toward your anniversary didn't stop you from inviting him to dinner—Olive Garden, because that was the fanciest you could afford without completely breaking the bank.

When you asked he completely blanked. He must have realized what he'd forgotten because he cursed, but ultimately agreed without argument.

He wore a white button up and his fancy loafers that cost hundreds of dollars. You wore a sundress that had been in your closet for years, which you probably gotten on sale from Walmart.

Conversation hadn't flowed as easily that night. Dinner was full of awkward, hollow silences that you weren't sure how to fill. He asked how your classes were going. You briefly told him about the dissertation you were writing over the mythical progression of sirens. You asked how he felt about his upcoming observation, to which his response had been a curt, "Fine."

You were poking at your noodles when he finally spoke first. "I didn't get you anything."

That was it. Just five little words you already assumed were true, but actually hearing them from his lips only made the knife twist.

You gave him a strained smile. "It's okay. This was last minute anyway."

His shoulders dropped. He didn't believe you, but what was he going to do to fix it? Suppose he could pay for dinner, but the last time he opened his wallet flies buzzed about.

He did end up paying, if only to make up for his own absentmindedness. He drove you back to your shared apartment the same way he'd driven you to the restaurant, and the two of you awkwardly undressed in your bedroom.

The air was thick, hesitance shifting the atmosphere into something uncomfortable. You were so in your own head, trying to think of a way to make everything less stiff, that you hadn't even noticed Gene coming up behind you until you felt his hands sliding around your waist.

"I'm sorry," he whispered in your ear. You tilted your head, letting his lips ghost against the junction of your jaw and neck. "I didn't mean to forget."

"I said it's okay," you replied, lifting your hand to brush your fingertips against his cheek.

Gene pressed his lips to your neck firmly. Your eyes fluttered closed. "Let me make it up to you."

You hummed, letting him pull you down to the bed even if you weren't in the mood.

Maybe that's what was wrong. Maybe the two of you just hadn't been the right kind of intimate. Guys needed that physical connection more than girls, right? So maybe if you did this, then everything would go back to normal.

"This isn't working," you said after, blankets pulled up to your shoulders. It was staring at the blank ceiling after that bland act of passion (could it really be called that?) that made the epiphany light up.

Gene sighed, pushing his dampened hair away from his forehead. "I know."

Silence thicker than the Stephen King novels on Gene's shelf enveloped the room. Your pursed your lips, clicking your tongue in thought.

"Why?"

Your boyfriend huffed, shifting in the bed so he could face you. Still, you did not look away from the ceiling. "We aren't putting in effort."

You couldn't have stopped the scoff that fell from your lips if you tried, and you finally glanced over with a raised brow. "We?"

He exhaled, closing his eyes and pressing his lips together. "Fine, I'm not."

"But why?" you repeated. "Do you not like me anymore?"

"No, that's not-" He paused. "I love you."

"It hasn't seemed like you do for a while."

"And I'm sorry, Y/n. My classes- They aren't easy." The same weak excuse you expected him to use.

"I know that. I'm here for you to talk to, Gene, so why don't you?" You shifted as well, propping yourself on your arm so you could properly face him. "We're supposed to be in this together."

"It's just stressful." Another thing you expected him to say, but it really didn't seem like he had anything else. Like this truly was the only thing weighing on him as of late. "Things keep slipping my mind. I-I keep forgetting deadlines and it's getting hard to keep up with you, and . . ."

He trailed off, running a hand down his face. You let yourself drop to your pillow, letting out a long breath. You reached over, gently stroking the side of his face with the tips of your fingers.

"Am I just adding to your stress?" you asked. It would make sense. Gene had always been naturally smart and clever, but he had a habit of taking on too many things at once. There was no doubt that there was a million other underlying problems he was piling up.

"I don't want you to think that." So the real answer was probably yes. "There's a lot more going on and it's not just you."

You hummed, tracing the curve of his jaw with your nail. "Even if it's not me, we both admit that this isn't working."

Gene closed his eyes and swallowed. For a moment, you wondered if he was tearing up. "I know it's not, but you're the best thing I've ever had and I don't want to lose you."

You faintly smiled. There were hundreds of insecurities covered by that broad statement—all of which he had told you in confidence at one point or another, many of them surrounding who he had been in high school. Over and over you'd told him that it didn't bother you. That he was a different person now, so the before was irrelevant.

Still, his actions stained his heart black. Something that persistently weighed him down.

After a moment of deliberation, you sighed, able to bring yourself to say, "I don't think it's smart for us to be together right now."

Gene practically deflated. He saw it coming from a mile away, but that didn't stop the words from hurting anyway. He drew himself away from your touch, as painful as it was. You saw the conflict in his gaze when he opened his mouth to say something. The words got caught in his throat, and instead he searched for your hand to hold in his.

"Let me have one more night." Gene wasn't a begger, but this was damn close. "Let me have you for one more night and then we can break up."

You exhaled. Ultimately, you were expecting it to hurt more if you did stay. However, you were not thinking of the future pain in that moment. You agreed, and Gene pulled you into his arms.

That was the most physical touch he had ever given you.

The two of you faded from each other's lives slowly. You weren't gone at the drop of a hat, it was a gradual progression. You moved back in with your parents for the time being, but your toothbrush stayed beside Gene's. When that was gone, he still found your clothes and blankets lying around. When you had packed those up, he drank the coffee you left behind under the guise of it being the only thing available.

By the time he finished that, the apartment was bare, void of any life you had brought to it. Gene was left with the loose glitter from your clothes dusting the floor, but even that had to be cleaned up eventually, too.

It was easier for you. There were hardly any reminders of your now-ex-boyfriend, and any that you did have could be easily dismissed.

The weird thing was this: you weren't sad. Well, maybe a little bit, but it wasn't in the wailing and throwing things way you thought it'd be if you and Gene ever broke up. No, it was quiet. Something that slowly tapped at your heart more than it actually hurt, but it was quick to heal.

—NOW

Okay, seeing Gene your first night on the street didn't go as poorly as you'd imagined. It was unexpected and you weren't exactly a fan of it, yes, but it wasn't that bad. The two of you had a rather civil conversation considering the empty feeling you left each other with.

It had been a very short and very straightforward conversation. You asked how the other was. The general answer was good, though it could be better. You asked what the other did for work. You said you were a copy editor for an independent publishing company that prioritized teen or college aged writers. Gene said he was working two jobs, one as a waiter at the maid café that Nana and Aphmau co-owned and the other as the neighborhood garbage man. Based on the way he'd said it, it almost seemed like he expected you to pity or be embarrassed for him—look at him, high school valedictorian working as the trash guy—but you just nodded and said you were glad he was going well for himself.

"It's nice to see you again, Y/n," he'd told you with a soft smile. You returned the sentiment before going your separate ways. You weren't sure if he'd left your house after that, but you didn't see him for the rest of the night.

It wasn't like you really hated him. No, the two of you ended on terms that were the farthest thing from sour exes. The memory of him was just . . . bitter. Something you wanted to keep in the past. You just weren't right for each other.

The next day, a few of your old friends dropped by to offer help. Garroth and Laurance carried in your mattress and couches and a lot of your other furniture. Dante helped you put together your bed frame and made a joke about putting it to use with him. Lucinda came by to help you decorate and Nana invited herself in to make you lunch.

The two of you sat on the floor, because your dining table and chairs were currently being occupied by dozens of boxes that had who knows what in them. A YouTube video essay about the Bermuda triangle was playing, something you had randomly turned on for background noise.

That was when the doorbell rang, and that's when Gene came in. Nana had opened the door, the changed pitch in her voice as she greeted him enough to give you some warning.

When she turned, Gene trailing behind her, her eyes were wide. Her eyebrows were raised as if she was wordlessly apologizing. Your heart pulled at the sight of your ex behind her, carrying two drinks from Sonic.

Gene smiled at you. "Hey. I just . . . thought I'd drop by."

You pushed yourself up from where you sat, dusting the butt of your leggings for anything that might have stuck. "That's nice of you," you said, not knowing what else you could say. "And the drinks are . . . ?"

"Oh, uhm. I-I got them for us." He held one out for you, which you carefully took. "I just got you a cherry slushie, since that's what you always . . ."

He trailed off, seemingly thinking through what he was going to say. You raised your brows, almost daring him to continue. Instead, he let his lips curl into a charming smile.

"It's for you," he clarified, glancing back at Nana. "I didn't know you'd be here, so I didn't-"

"It's fine!" Nana said, shooting you a smile. She was quick to step back towards the door and slip her shoes on. "I was just about to leave anyway. Have fun!"

Well. There goes your last line of defense—just right out the door with a wide smile and a cheery aura. You should have expected it. Of course Nana would see something that's not there and leave to let it play out. That was something that hadn't changed since college.

"Um . . . Thanks for the drink," you said. It didn't do much to chip away at the tension.

Gene nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, it’s . . .” He trailed off, words lost on his tongue. Awkwardly, he nodded again. “Yeah.”

You curved your lips into a tight smile. The audio from the video playing did nothing to dissipate the thickness in the air. If anything, it only made the situation more awkward.

He motioned to the screen. “The Bermuda Triangle?”

“Oh, um.” You looked back at the TV, completely lost on the words coming out of the narrator’s mouth. Your gaze flitted between the screen and Gene before you nodded. “Yeah, just something to use as background noise while Nana and I . . .”

Irene, this was crashing and burning. You were used to talking to people, manipulating your words so publishers picked up the book you’d been hired to advertise. That was easy. This was practically the same thing, so why was it so difficult?

“We were just getting me settled in.”

“Well sorry I took away your best friend.” He tried to make it lighthearted, you could tell, but there was still a strain in his voice. “I, uh, I can help out. If you need.”

You have him a smile. “Sure.”

“And, y’know, maybe we could go out after? Like for dinner.”

You couldn’t help the chuckle that slipped from your lips. Gene wasn’t smooth, but he was cute. You’d never seen him this nervous or distressed, aside from the last night you spent in the same bed.

“I know what you’re doing.” You were a copy editor. You’d read hundreds of stories exactly like this. Couple breaks up and years later rekindle. It sounded like a standard romance.

He sighed, running a hand through his dark curls. “Yeah, I can tell.”

Silence. Thick, unbearable silence. Again. You didn’t know how to fill it and were glad when Gene started talking again.

“Listen. I . . .” He paused. Shook his head. Probably came to the realization that this was ridiculous. “Obviously I wanna date you again.”

“Strong start.” The words tumbled out. You covered your mouth, but felt relief when Gene laughed.

He continued, speaking without interruption. “But that’s like me saying I want to be a billionaire.” He held his hand out. “Probably not gonna happen. But I-I’d at least like to be friends again.”

Another silence passed, but this one wasn’t as tense. No, it was considerate. Deliberately thinking through your choices.

Finally, you nodded. “Okay.” You didn’t miss the way his sapphire gaze lit up. “Yeah. We’ll keep cleaning up a little here and then we can go to, like, McDonald’s.”

Gene nodded. “Yeah. Somewhere casual, yeah. Definitely.”

Something fluttered in your heart. You were quick to squash it down, knowing it was the result of rekindling and mistaking feelings that were once there, but it was nice.

The longer you spent together, the more freely conversation flowed. You caught up on all the memories you missed, reacting to stories like you used to.

For a while, you pretended to be back in that shared apartment. And even though you were hesitant to pursue this again, you built it slowly.

i’m still kind of figuring out how I want to write some of these characters (most notably Nana), so apologies if they seem a bit stiff or generic! i know what i’m doing guys i swear 😔

but also. i feel like this whole one shot is stiff. idk i just feel like it isn’t flowing right. anywaysss hope y’all enjoyed regardless ♥️

TAGGING: @orinlin @revxwrites @kixbit38 @fartmonster98 @myluvbucky @empresslashadow @iim5foryour4ever @jess1kaburra1 @hartwyrm @etherealservantdruid @sweetlvrgene @domainexpandme @fleuriae @daisycake @angelhyperfixates @silverstxrs if you'd like to be notified when I post for Gene, leave a comment or fill out this form!

[fleuriae]

THERES A XMAS FREAK SHOW EP SANTA HEARD MY PRAYERS 🎄✨🙏 also belated merry christmas lovelies! hope you all got spoiled plenty this season!!

[crrybrry]

the way these two have such similar vibes.

[fleuriae]

Girl..why is it u reblogg avatar stuff the second i finalls watched avatar way of water? U are stalking me

STOPPPP i just watched the third movie and it’s so good pls

[fluttervoid]

TIDES OF CHANGE

summary: Ao’nung made his hatred of your family clear from day one— you’re outsiders who brought war to his peaceful shores. But somewhere between the insults and the fighting, hate transforms into something neither of you saw coming.

pairing: ao’nung x fem!sully!reader

warnings: spoiler-free, fic takes place in atwow, slight enemies to lovers, slight slow burn, angst, fluff, mutual pining, whipped ao’nung, protective ao’nung, aged-up characters, violence, near drowning, prejudice, hurt/comfort, happy ending

w/c: 5.6k+

The ocean was supposed to be a refuge. That’s what your father had said when he announced the family was leaving the forest, leaving everything you’d ever known behind to seek shelter with some reef clan halfway across Pandora. A refuge. A safe haven.

Nobody mentioned it would feel like drowning.

You broke the surface of the water with a gasp, lungs burning as you struggled to orient yourself. The reef people moved through the water like it was air, like their bodies were made for this. Your body decidedly was not. Your tail, built for balance in trees, did nothing but drag behind you. Your arms, strong from climbing, felt heavy and useless in the water.

“Again.” Tsireya’s voice was patient, kind even, but you could see the concern in her eyes. You’d been at this for hours and you still couldn’t hold your breath for more than a minute. Beside you, Kiri seemed to be managing, and even Tuk was doing better than you. Lo’ak was showing off as usual, probably trying to impress Tsireya with how quickly he was picking things up.

“I need a break,” you said, hating how defeated you sounded. You were a skilled hunter back home, and here you were, struggling with something children could do.

“That is fine,” Tsireya said. “We can continue later.”

You pulled yourself onto the nearest platform, water streaming off your body. Your lungs felt tight, your throat raw from salt water. This was humiliating.

“Pathetic.”

The word cut through the air and you didn’t need to look up to know who it was. Ao’nung had made his opinion of your family clear from the moment you’d arrived. Freaks, he’d called you. Demon-blooded. Not true Na’vi.

“Got something to say?” you asked, finally looking at him. He stood with his arms crossed, that same condescending smirk on his face that made you want to punch him. He was tall, muscular in the way reef people were, built for swimming and diving. Objectively, you could admit he was attractive. Subjectively, he was the most infuriating person you’d ever met.

“I am saying it. You cannot even manage a basic breath-hold. What will you do when you need to hunt? Starve?” His eyes raked over you dismissively. “Perhaps you should have stayed in your forest.”

Your jaw clenched. “We didn’t have a choice.”

“There is always a choice. You chose to bring your war here. To put my people in danger.” He stepped closer and you stood, refusing to let him tower over you even though he had a good six inches on you. “Tell me, forest girl, what happens when the sky people follow you here? When our children die because you were too coward to face your own problems?”

“That’s enough.” Jake’s voice rang out across the platform. Your father looked exhausted, the kind of tired that went bone-deep. “We’re grateful for your father’s hospitality. We’re learning your ways. That’s all we can do.”

Ao’nung’s expression flickered with something that might have been respect for your father, but when his eyes landed back on you, there was nothing but contempt. “Learn faster,” he said, then dove into the water with barely a splash, disappearing into the depths.

You stood there, dripping and furious, your hands balled into fists.

“Ignore him,” Lo’ak said, hauling himself onto the platform. “He’s just an asshole.”

“He’s not wrong though,” you muttered. “We did bring our problems here.”

“Hey.” Lo’ak grabbed your shoulder, forcing you to look at him. “Dad made the call he thought was right. We’re here now. We’ll figure it out.”

You wished you had his confidence.

The days blurred together. Wake up, struggle through lessons, endure Ao’nung’s comments, go to sleep sore and frustrated. Your siblings were adapting faster than you. Even Lo’ak, who’d always been reckless and unfocused back home, seemed to be thriving here. You watched him joke with Tsireya, saw the way she laughed at his stupid comments, and something bitter twisted in your chest.

You’d always been the steady one. The reliable one. The one who kept Lo’ak out of trouble and helped Kiri when her head got too lost in the clouds. Now you were the one holding everyone back.

“Your breathing is wrong.” Ronal’s voice was sharp as she observed the lesson. The Tsahik scared you more than you wanted to admit. She’d made her opposition to your family’s presence clear, and unlike her son’s teenage posturing, her disapproval carried actual weight.

“I’m trying,” you said through gritted teeth.

“Trying is not enough. You must slow your heartbeat. Breathe from here.” She pressed a hand to your stomach, hard enough that you gasped. “From your center. You breathe like prey, quick and panicked. You must breathe like a hunter.”

You wanted to snap that you were a hunter, that you’d made your first kill at fourteen and had brought down a thanator at seventeen. But that didn’t matter here. Here you were useless.

Ronal studied you for a long moment, her expression unreadable. Then she said something that surprised you. “You are afraid.”

“I’m not—”

“You are. I see it. Fear makes the body tight, makes the breath shallow.” Her voice was still stern but something in her eyes had shifted, just slightly. “What are you afraid of?”

The honest answer sat in your throat. I’m afraid of being useless. I’m afraid we made a mistake coming here. I’m afraid the sky people will find us and it will be my fault when people die.

“Nothing,” you lied.

Ronal made a dismissive sound. “Then you will continue to fail. Fear must be acknowledged before it can be released.” She turned away, already moving to correct Tuk’s form. “Again,” she called over her shoulder.

You dove under, forcing your eyes open against the salt sting. The reef was beautiful, you could admit that. Colors that didn’t exist in the forest, fish that moved in shimmering schools, coral formations that looked like art. You could see why the Metkayina loved this place.

Your lungs started to burn. You pushed yourself, counting the seconds. Sixty. Seventy. Your chest was tight. Eighty. Ninety. Your vision was starting to blur at the edges. One hundred. One ten. One—

Your body made the decision for you, forcing you to the surface. You broke through gasping, immediately angry at yourself.

“Ninety seconds.” Ao’nung’s voice came from behind you. You spun to find him floating there, barely treading water. Showing off how easy this was for him. “Better than yesterday.”

You waited for the insult, the mocking comment. But he just watched you with those sharp eyes, expression neutral.

“What do you want?” you asked.

“To tell you that you are breathing wrong. You are trying to fight the water. You cannot fight the water. You must move with it.”

“I’m not asking for your help.”

“I am not offering it. I am stating a fact.” He dove under, and you watched his form cut through the water with effortless grace. When he surfaced again, he was twenty feet away. “Slow your heart. The body follows the mind. Or continue to struggle. I do not care either way.”

He disappeared again, leaving you treading water and confused. Was that… advice? From Ao’nung? The same guy who’d been making your life hell for weeks?

“Don’t think about it too hard,” Tsireya said, swimming up beside you. “My brother is complicated.”

“Your brother is an asshole.”

She laughed at that, bright and genuine. “Yes. But he is not wrong about the breathing. You are trying too hard, using too much energy. Here.” She placed a hand on your chest, over your heart. “Feel how fast this beats? You must calm it. Think of something peaceful. Something that makes you feel safe.”

You closed your eyes, trying to think of something, anything that felt peaceful. The memories that came were all from the forest. Climbing through the canopy with your siblings. The smell of your mother’s cooking. The sound of your grandmother’s songs.

Your heart slowed.

“Good,” Tsireya said softly. “Now breathe. Slow and deep.”

You did. And when you dove under again, you managed two minutes.

Three weeks in and you were starting to get the hang of it. Not proficient by any means, but improving. You could hold your breath for nearly four minutes now, could swim without feeling like you were fighting the tide, could even dive deep enough to touch some of the coral formations.

Lo’ak was spending every free moment with Tsireya. Young love, your mother called it with an indulgent smile. It was cute, you guessed, watching your brother actually apply himself to something for once because he wanted to impress a girl.

Ao’nung had mostly left you alone lately. He still made comments, still radiated disapproval whenever your family was around, but he’d stopped directing his worst venom at you specifically. You didn’t know what had changed and you weren’t about to ask.

You were helping repair fishing nets when you overheard it. A group of younger reef boys, maybe fifteen or sixteen, talking in low voices that still carried across the water.

“—demon blood,” one was saying. “My father says they will bring destruction to our village.”

“The Tsahik agrees. I heard her talking to the elders. She wants them gone.”

“Ao’nung’s father is too soft. Giving them shelter, teaching them our ways. For what? So they can bring war to our home?”

Your hands stilled on the net. You should walk away, should ignore this. But your feet wouldn’t move.

“I say we make them want to leave on their own,” another voice said. “They do not belong here. The sooner they realize it, the better.”

You should have walked away. Instead, you stood, the net falling from your hands. “Say that to my face.”

The boys turned, startled. When they saw you, their expressions shifted from surprise to something uglier. The oldest one, the one who’d been talking about making you leave, sneered. “Gladly. You do not belong here, forest girl. You and your freak family should go back to where you came from.”

“We were invited. By your Olo’eyktan. Who you seem to think you have authority to question.” You stepped closer, using every inch of height you had even though these boys were bigger than you. “You want us gone? Take it up with Tonowari.”

“Or maybe we take it up with you.” The boy stepped forward too, aggressive, posturing. His friends flanked him. You were suddenly very aware that you were alone and outnumbered.

But you’d faced sky people. You’d faced worse than some bigoted teenagers.

“Try it,” you said.

What happened next happened fast. The boy reached for you, probably just meant to push you, to intimidate you. But you’d been training as a warrior since you were twelve. Your body reacted on instinct. You caught his wrist, twisted, used his momentum against him. He went down hard on the platform.

His friends rushed you. You got one in the stomach with your elbow, heard the air whoosh out of him. But then there were hands grabbing you, pulling you toward the edge of the platform, toward the water. You fought, but there were too many of them.

You went into the water hard, disoriented. Hands pushed you down, holding you under. Your lungs burned. You thrashed, trying to break free, but they were stronger here, in their element.

This is it, you thought distantly. This is how it ends. Drowned by a bunch of kids who think they’re protecting their home.

Then suddenly the hands were gone. You shot to the surface, gasping and coughing. When your vision cleared, you saw Ao’nung holding two of the boys by their necks, his face twisted in fury.

“What do you think you are doing?” His voice was low, dangerous. You’d heard him angry before but this was different. This was the voice of a future leader, someone who expected immediate obedience.

“We were just—” one of the boys started.

“You were attempting to drown her.” Ao’nung’s grip tightened and the boy gasped. “Do you know what the punishment is for attempting to kill someone under my father’s protection?”

The boys had gone pale.

“I should let you find out. I should drag you before the Olo’eyktan and let him decide your fate.” He shoved them away, disgust clear on his face. “Get out of my sight. If I hear of you going near any of the Sullys again, we will finish this conversation.”

The boys fled. You stayed in the water, still catching your breath, trying to process what just happened.

Ao’nung turned to you. His expression was hard to read. “Are you hurt?”

“I’m fine.”

“You are not fine. They had you under for nearly a minute.” He pulled himself onto the platform and then, to your surprise, offered you a hand.

You stared at it for a moment before accepting. His grip was strong, pulling you up easily.

“Why did you help me?” you asked.

He didn’t answer right away. Just studied you with those sharp, assessing eyes. Finally, he said, “Because you are under my father’s protection. An attack on you is an attack on his authority.”

“That’s the only reason?”

“What other reason would there be?” But he looked away as he said it, and you got the sense he was lying.

“I had it handled,” you said.

“You were drowning.”

“I got jumped. Four on one. It happens.”

“It should not happen. Not here. Not to someone my father has offered sanctuary to.” He seemed genuinely angry about it, which was confusing coming from someone who’d spent the last month making it clear he didn’t want you here.

“Well. Thanks. I guess.” It felt awkward, thanking someone who’d been your main antagonist since arrival.

Ao’nung nodded once, sharp. Then he turned to leave.

“Wait,” you called. He paused, looking back. “Why do you hate us so much? And don’t say it’s about the war. I know there’s more to it than that.”

For a long moment, you didn’t think he’d answer. Then he said, “You want honesty? Fine. I look at you and your family and I see everything my people are not. You come from a place of war, of violence. You have fought sky people, killed them. You carry that with you, in the way you move, the way you watch everything like you expect an attack.”

“Because we do expect an attack. We’ve been at war our entire lives.”

“Exactly. And now you bring that here. To our home. To our peaceful waters.” His jaw clenched. “My sister looks at your brother like he hung the stars. She does not see what I see. She does not see that he is reckless, dangerous. That he will get her hurt or worse.”

“Lo’ak would never—”

“Not intentionally. But it will happen anyway. Because that is what happens around your family. Chaos. Destruction.” He took a breath, seeming to forcibly calm himself. “I do not hate you. I hate what you represent. I hate that my father felt he had no choice but to offer you sanctuary. I hate that my sister is falling for someone who will break her heart when you inevitably leave or when the sky people come and kill you all.”

It was the most honest he’d been since you arrived. And maybe it was because you’d nearly died, or maybe it was because you were tired of all the hostility, but you found yourself saying, “I get it.”

He looked surprised.

“I get it,” you repeated. “You’re scared. You’re trying to protect your family, your home. I understand that. I’ve been doing the same thing my whole life.” You wrung out your hair, suddenly exhausted. “For what it’s worth, I don’t want to be here either. I miss my home. I miss feeling competent. I hate that we brought our problems to your door. But we’re here. And we don’t have anywhere else to go. So maybe we can both stop pretending the other doesn’t exist and just… coexist.”

Ao’nung stared at you for a long moment. Then, surprisingly, his mouth quirked up in something that might have been the ghost of a smile.

“Coexist,” he repeated.

“Yeah. Radical concept, I know.”

This time he definitely smiled, just a little. “You are not what I expected.”

“Yeah, well. You’re exactly what I expected.”

He laughed at that, actually laughed, and the sound was so unexpected you found yourself smiling too.

“I am going to pretend that was a compliment,” he said.

“Take it however you want.”

He shook his head, that almost-smile still playing at his lips. Then he dove into the water and was gone, leaving you standing there wondering what the hell just happened.

Things shifted after that. Not dramatically, not all at once, but gradually. Ao’nung stopped going out of his way to antagonize you. He still made comments, still had that air of superiority that made you want to throttle him, but the real venom was gone.

You found yourself watching him sometimes, when you thought he wasn’t looking. Watching the way he moved through the water, the way he interacted with his sister, the way he took his role as future Olo’eyktan seriously even at nineteen. He was a good teacher, you realized. Patient with the younger kids, firm but fair with his peers.

He caught you staring once. Raised an eyebrow in question.

“Your form is good,” you said, because you had to say something.

“I know.” Cocky as ever. But then he added, “Yours is improving.”

It might have been the nicest thing he’d ever said to you.

The lessons continued. You were up to seven minutes on your breath-hold now, could dive deep enough to hunt, could keep up with the others on the ilu rides across the reef. Ronal had even given you a grudging nod of approval last week, which felt like a bigger victory than anything else.

Lo’ak and Tsireya were officially courting now, whatever that meant for the Metkayina. It was sweet, watching them together. Your brother had never been so focused on anything in his life.

“Your brother is going to ask Tsireya to be his mate,” Ao’nung said one day.

You were sitting on a platform together, repairing a fishing spear. When exactly you’d started sitting together, working together, you couldn’t say. It had just sort of happened.

“They’re young,” you said.

“So are we.”

You glanced at him. “We’re nineteen.”

“Yes. Old enough to know our own minds. Old enough to make our own choices.” He was quiet for a moment, focusing on the spear. Then: “Would you try to stop him? If he asked her?”

“No. It’s his life. His choice.”

“That is very reasonable of you.”

“Don’t sound so surprised.”

“I am not surprised. I have learned you are more reasonable than I gave you credit for.” He tested the sharpness of the spear tip, nodded in satisfaction. “I have been unfair to you.”

You nearly dropped your own spear. “What?”

“I said I have been unfair. The things I said when you first arrived, the way I treated you. It was wrong.”

“Are you… apologizing?”

“Do not make me say it twice.” But there was no heat in his words, just a kind of wry amusement.

“I’m just shocked you’re capable of admitting you were wrong.”

“I am capable of many things that would shock you.”

There was something in his tone that made you look up, really look at him. He was watching you with an intensity that made your breath catch.

“Like what?” you asked, trying to keep your voice steady.

“Like recognizing when I have made a mistake. Like changing my mind about someone I was determined not to like.” He set the spear aside, turning to face you fully. “Like admitting that I find you fascinating.”

Your heart was suddenly beating very fast. “Fascinating.”

“Yes. You are stubborn and defensive and you never back down even when you should. You argue with me constantly. You question everything. You make me want to either kiss you or throw you into the ocean, sometimes both at once.”

You couldn’t breathe. “Ao’nung—”

“I know this is unexpected. I know I have given you no reason to see me as anything but an asshole, as your brother so eloquently puts it.” His jaw clenched. “But I cannot stop thinking about you. I have tried. Eywa knows I have tried. You are supposed to be temporary. You and your family are supposed to leave when the threat passes and I should want that. I should want you gone.”

“But you don’t,” you said softly.

“No. I do not. And I do not know when that changed. Perhaps it was when I saw you refuse to give up, day after day, even when everything was difficult. Perhaps it was when you stood up to those boys even though you were outnumbered. Perhaps it was a hundred small moments I did not notice until suddenly I was noticing everything about you.”

You couldn’t find words. Your brain had short-circuited somewhere around “I find you fascinating.”

“You do not have to say anything,” Ao’nung said, misreading your silence. “I know I have no right to feel this way. I know I have done nothing to earn your good opinion. I just… I needed you to know. I needed to be honest with you.”

“I think I might hate you,” you said.

He flinched, but nodded. “I understand.”

“No, I mean—” You grabbed his arm before he could pull away. “I think I might hate you because you’re not supposed to be right. You’re not supposed to be the person who pushes me to be better. You’re not supposed to make me laugh when I’m frustrated or challenge me when I’m being stubborn. You’re not supposed to look at me like I’m something special when I still feel like I’m barely keeping my head above water here.”

His eyes were very wide. “I do not understand.”

“I’m saying I think I might be fascinated by you too, and I hate it because it’s inconvenient and complicated and you drove me absolutely insane for weeks.”

“And now?” His voice was rough.

“Now you still drive me insane. But differently.”

The smile that spread across his face was like watching the sun rise. Slow and bright and inevitable. “Differently,” he repeated.

“Don’t let it go to your head.”

“Too late.” But he was already leaning closer, one hand coming up to cup your cheek. “Tell me if you want me to stop.”

You didn’t want him to stop. You kissed him first, closing the distance between you before you could overthink it.

The kiss was everything you’d expected and nothing like you’d imagined. He tasted like salt water and something sweeter, and his hand was gentle against your face even as the kiss deepened. When you finally broke apart, you were both breathing hard.

“Well,” you said, eloquently.

“Well,” he agreed.

You should probably talk about this. About what it meant, where it could go, all the logical concerns about courting someone from a different clan when your own status here was still uncertain.

Instead, you kissed him again.

Word spread fast in a village this size. Within days, everyone knew that you and Ao’nung were… something. Together, maybe. People had opinions about it. Lots of opinions.

Ronal’s expression when she first saw you together could have frozen the ocean. Tonowari looked thoughtful, assessing. Your father just looked tired, like this was one more complication in an already complicated situation.

But Lo’ak was thrilled. “Does this mean we’re going to be related?” he asked, grinning. 

“Don’t get ahead of yourself,” you muttered, even as Ao’nung’s hand found yours under the table.

Tsireya was delighted, immediately pulling you aside to talk. “I knew it,” she said. “I told Lo’ak weeks ago that you two would end up together.”

“We’re not—I mean, it’s early—” You stumbled over the words.

“It does not matter. I see the way he looks at you. The way you look at him. My brother does not give his heart easily, but when he does, it is with everything he has.”

You thought about that later, sitting with Ao’nung on his favorite platform, watching the sun set over the water.

“Your sister says you don’t give your heart easily,” you said.

“My sister talks too much.” But there was affection in his voice.

“Is it true?”

He was quiet for a moment, his thumb tracing patterns on the back of your hand. “Yes,” he finally said. “I am… careful. My mother raised me to think about duty, about the clan, about what is best for the people. Personal desires come second.”

“And yet.”

“And yet.” He looked at you, and there was something vulnerable in his expression that you’d never seen before. “You make me want to be selfish. To choose what I want instead of what I should want.”

“What do you want?”

“You. This. A future where you stay here, where you become one of us, where I can court you properly without worrying that one day you will disappear back to your forest.”

The honesty of it stole your breath. “The sky people—”

“I know. I know they are still out there, still hunting you. I know the threat is real.” His grip on your hand tightened. “But you asked what I want. And I want you to stay. I want to build something with you. I want to argue with you every morning and kiss you every night and teach our children to swim someday.”

“Our children?”

He had the grace to look embarrassed. “I am getting ahead of myself.”

“A little.” But you were smiling. “Though for what it’s worth, I’m not planning on leaving.”

“No?”

“No. I miss the forest sometimes. I miss the trees and the green and the way everything smelled like life and growth. But this is home now. You are—” You paused, trying to find the right words. “You are home.”

He kissed you then, soft and sweet, and you thought maybe Tsireya was right. Maybe you’d been heading toward this moment since the day you arrived, since that first antagonistic meeting. Maybe all that anger and frustration had just been something else in disguise.

But of course, nothing could ever be simple.

It was Ronal who brought it up, during a gathering of the clan leaders and elders. You weren’t supposed to be there but you heard about it afterward from half a dozen sources, each version slightly different but the core the same.

“The boy may court my daughter if he wishes,” Ronal had said, speaking of Lo’ak and Tsireya. “But Ao’nung is different. He is my son. The future Olo’eyktan. He cannot tie himself to a girl from a family of fugitives.”

Your stomach had dropped when Tsireya told you. “What did Tonowari say?”

“He said it was Ao’nung’s choice to make. That he was old enough to know his own heart.” Tsireya squeezed your hand. “But my mother is not letting this go.”

You found Ao’nung at the edge of the village, sharpening his spear with more force than necessary. He looked up when you approached, and you could see the tension in every line of his body.

“You heard,” he said.

“Yeah.”

“I will talk to her. I will make her understand—”

“Ao’nung.” You knelt beside him, taking the spear from his hands before he could hurt himself. “She’s not entirely wrong.”

He stared at you. “What?”

“Your mom. She’s not wrong. You are the future Olo’eyktan. The people need to trust you, need to believe you’ll put them first. And choosing me… it’s a risk.”

“I do not care.”

“I know. But maybe you should.” You took a breath. “Your mother thinks I’m going to bring trouble here. That my family is cursed or marked or whatever. And honestly? She might be right. The sky people are still out there. They’re still looking for us. One day they might find us. And when they do—”

“We will fight. Together. As a clan.”

“And people will die. Your people. Because of us. Because of me.” Your throat was tight. “I don’t want to be the reason your mother is proven right. I don’t want to be the reason your people suffer.”

Ao’nung cupped your face in his hands, forcing you to look at him. “Listen to me. You are not responsible for the sky people. You are not responsible for the war. You are not responsible for any of the violence that has followed your family.” His voice was fierce. “You are responsible for showing up every day and working harder than anyone else to learn our ways. You are responsible for treating my people with respect and kindness. You are responsible for making me believe that maybe my mother is wrong, that maybe strength comes not from isolation but from unity.”

“That’s a pretty speech.”

“It is the truth. And I will say it as many times as necessary until you believe it.” He pressed his forehead to yours. “I am not giving you up because my mother has concerns. I am not giving you up because the future is uncertain. I am not giving you up at all. Unless you want—”

“I don’t,” you interrupted. “I don’t want to give this up either. I’m just scared.”

“Of what?”

“Of failing you. Of failing your people. Of being the disaster your mother thinks I am.”

“You could never be a disaster.” He kissed your forehead, soft and gentle. “You are brave and stubborn and you never give up. Those are exactly the qualities my people need in their future Tsahik.”

“I’m not—we haven’t even talked about—”

“I know. I am getting ahead of myself again.” But he was smiling. “For now, just be with me. Let me worry about my mother. Let me handle the politics and the clan concerns. You just focus on being yourself. That is more than enough.”

You wanted to believe him. And looking into his eyes, seeing the absolute certainty there, you thought maybe you could.

Ronal cornered you three days later.

You were helping prepare food for the evening meal, gutting fish alongside some of the other women. You felt her presence before you saw her, that commanding energy that made everyone instinctively straighten.

“Walk with me,” she said. It wasn’t a request.

You followed her away from the village, down to a more secluded part of the reef. Your heart was pounding. This was it. She was going to tell you to stay away from her son, to know your place, to stop reaching above your station.

“You are afraid,” Ronal said, echoing her words from months ago.

“A little,” you admitted.

“Good. Fear means you are smart enough to understand the situation.” She studied you with those sharp eyes. “I do not like this thing between you and my son.”

“I know but—”

“But.” She held up a hand when you started to speak. “I do not like it because it is complicated. Because it challenges the way I have always seen things. Not because you are unworthy.”

You blinked. “What?”

“I have watched you these past months. I have seen you struggle and fail and get back up and try again. I have seen you treat my people with respect, even when they did not deserve it. I have seen you learn our ways with dedication and sincerity.” She paused. “And I have seen my son become someone I barely recognize when he is with you. Softer. Kinder. More patient.”

“Tsahik—”

“Let me finish. When the sky people come—and they will come, do not fool yourself about that—we will need warriors. We will need strategy. We will need unity.” Her gaze was piercing. “My son believes you and your family can help provide that. I am beginning to think he may be right.”

You didn’t know what to say. This was so far from what you’d expected.

“But,” Ronal continued, her voice hardening, “if you hurt him, if you prove to be the disaster I fear, there will be nowhere in this ocean you can hide from me. Do you understand?”

“Yes,” you said immediately.

“Good.” She turned to leave, then paused. “He asked me to give you a chance. To see you as he sees you. I am trying. Do not make me regret it.”

Then she was gone, leaving you standing there trying to process what had just happened.

When you told Ao’nung later, he looked unsurprised. “I told you I would handle my mother.”

“You talked to her?”

“I did more than talk. I told her I was going to court you whether she approved or not. That she had raised me to know my own mind, to make my own decisions, and this was my decision.” He pulled you into his arms. “I also may have pointed out that she mated outside her own clan when she was younger, before my father became Olo’eyktan. That she of all people should understand.”

“You’re kind of devious.”

“I prefer to think of it as strategic.” He kissed the top of your head. “She will come around fully. She just needs time.”

“And if she doesn’t?”

“Then I will deal with it. But I think she will. My mother respects strength and dedication. You have both.” His arms tightened around you. “Besides, she already likes you more than she lets on. I can tell.”

You weren’t sure you believed that, but you wanted to. And maybe that was enough for now.

This was home. He was home. And you were done running.

The tide had brought you here, through anger and struggle and fear. But it had also brought you to this moment, to this person, to this love.

And you wouldn’t change a single thing.

[fleuriae]

so freak shows over

[fleuriae]

NO ONE NOTICED ౨౿　　⁺　　༄　

pairing(s): rev vennett x fem!lovecraft!reader

tags/w: unfortunately for rev vennett, he’s fell for lovecraft’s daughter, ooc(?) rev, fluff, oneshot, x reader, daddy lovecraft oooo, requested

a/n: i accidentally deleted the ask but this was req by the one n only @sightofaghost ♡ i thinkkkk u said smth about his friends helping them get tgt but my tired ass read it as lovecraft so ig he’s playing cupid IM SORRYY — lowkey this is poop n rushed especially the end, deffffff not proofread it is 1am i got one eye open i will fix tmr gn!!!

If any monster at Kincaid noticed how close you and Rev Vennett were, they would’ve called it a coincidence with how he acted with everyone else—grumpy, often loud, wanting to pry away from constant attention, yet somehow always finds a way to attract it.

But unfortunately for him, everyone noticed.

How could they not? You were Professor H.P. Lovecraft’s daughter, you had always been eye-catching, you naturally stood out. You’re composed, well-spoken, kind. And he’s.. Rev.

He wasn’t even very fond of your father, the amount of times he’d bump into him or end up in his office for his little ‘therapy’ sessions annoyed him on the daily. Everyone at KAID had witnessed him yell his frustrations out on Lovecraft at least twice a week. And still, no one understands how not one, but two Lovecraft’s tolerate Rev Vennett himself. How could you have caught his attention?

Complete polar opposites, but, they do say opposites attract.

You first met him in Rehabilitation 101, ironically, your father’s class. He paired you both up for one of the first group projects of the semester, you didn’t mind—that was until you noticed how much Rev lacked effort in the project and you desperately needed that A+, you would’ve done it yourself, but group communication was a big part of the project, and you know your father would see right through you if you had done Rev’s part for him.

And so came the back-and-forth bickering, the complaining, the nagging, yet you somehow end up convincing him to do his half of the project, in exchange of you convincing your father to stop bothering him, for now at least. And since then, you both were unexpectedly inseparable.

At first it was simply acknowledging each other’s presence when walking past the other in the hallway, then you two suddenly had little inside jokes here and there, then it turned to sitting with his group during lunch, then he’d walk you to class, and all of a sudden you were touchy—which everyone knew of course, but he was allowing you to touch him.

You’d hit his arm when he said something stupid, you’d nudge him with your shoulder when he’s teasing you, yes, teasing.

Everyone found it odd. Mark Dracula found it odd, Wendy Indigo obviously found it odd—hell, even Sera Phim found it odd, and usually she doesn’t care.

“Did he just.. laugh?” Mark murmured to Sera, the pair watching you two whisper to each other in your father’s class, the four of you sitting together.

Sera simply squinted, not used to the soft expression on Rev’s face, it felt.. foreign. “I think he’s exhaling, humorously.” She said, tone ever the same.

Then there it was again, you snickering as you hit Rev’s arm lightly to shush him. He didn’t snap like he usually would with anyone. Didn’t glare. Just looked at you like the world had narrowed down to that moment.

Mark and Sera noticed the look on his face again, Lovecraft too, he always had noticed, just as everyone had.

He noticed how Rev’s tense posture relaxed at the sight of you, how he’d quiet down just a little yet he was still feisty towards you, and that somewhat ignited your chemistry.

Later after class, Lovecraft called him over to stay. You, Sera and Mark lingered, pretending to slowly pack your belongings before you all left and waited for him, you couldn’t help but to be curious.

“You’ve improved,” Lovecraft’s voice rumbled as he spoke to Mark, fingers sliding down the parchment as he observed it, pushing his glasses up a tad.

“Surprisingly.” Rev simply replied, wanting to keep the conversation short. “Didn’t think that was impossible.”

“It is,” The professor stated, glancing up from the paper, “With the right environment.” His eyes then flicked towards you, his own daughter, Rev notices yet says nothing.

Then later that evening, your father calls you over to help organise his office, and you knew what that usually comes with purpose and reason.

“You care for him. A lot, I’ll add.” Your father starts as you swiftly wipe the dusty old books that had always sat on your shelf.

“Who?” You ask him, feigning confusion. You have a good idea on who he’s talking about, he gives you a knowing look in response without saying a word, causing you to let out a small groan while shoving the book back in its original spot on the shelf, hesitant. “I do.”

Your father hummed, “He does for you as well, though I don’t think he realises.”

You purse your lips together, “I doubt it.”

“Everyone has noticed how he acts around you.”

“Since when did you care about how Rev Vennett acts around people, dad?” You let out a laugh, crossing your arms together while your father took his glasses off, wiping the lens clean.

“When it comes to my own daughter, it tends to be hard to look away, child.” He states, you look away from him, simply staring at the shelf in front of you in thought.

“You’re talking nonsense.” You simply say.

Your father sets his glasses up on his face once again, he doesn’t argue, a small smile appearing on his face.

“Some things often grow better in time when not rushed.”

You sigh, taking his words to heart.

“Rev.. isn’t good with feelings, clearly. It’ll be impossible.” You comment.

“Not impossible. Yes, he isn’t—but he’s learning how to be steady. That’s progress.” Your father mentions, “So, what are you suggesting?” You ask him, turning to face him.

“Nothing more than honesty, when it comes naturally.”

You only blink at him, saying nothing. And that’s it.

The next few days pass rather strangely, you weren’t awkward—just more aware. It felt like a constant itch you couldn’t scratch away. This time you notice. Notice how Rev waits for you after class, notice how he listens, like, actually listens, and remembers even the smallest details.

And evidently, he notices too.

How you fidget when you’re rather nervous than usual, the way you pick at your fingers. How you unconsciously hum to yourself when your in a happy mood.

Then one day, your father announces a new group project, and naturally he pairs you both up, again. You believe he did it on purpose, but you don’t question it, especially the way he eyed you both for a reaction as he read out the list of pairs.

“Library?” You ask after class, the sound of the screaming bell filled your ears. He simply nods.

You both sit next to one another at that one quiet corner in the library, no one really goes here, you two called it your spot unintentionally. You sit so close your knees are brushing against each other, and none of you pull away, just comfortable in the other’s presence, though you two haven’t said a thing since walking in.

“You’ve been.. quiet,” The revenant breaks his silence. He’s scribbling down on a piece of paper while you read the textbook of the topic you’re both researching.

“Just thinking.” You reply softly, reaching for the paper, your hand grazed against his rough, pale one, the touch light yet he stiffened slightly.

“What, about me?” He jokes to lighten the mood, you were quiet at first, hesitant on how to reply before letting out a small laugh.

“Maybe. Or the project. Depends how you see it.” You say, reading his notes before glancing towards him.

You watch him pause, “Honest, huh?”

You simply shrug, “Depends how you take it.” You face him as you slid the paper back across the table, and your fingers graze each other again, but this time your hand rests there and he surprisingly doesn’t pull away.

“You’ve always been..” he starts, looking down at your hands, “different.” He simply admits out of the blue.

“Different?”

“You’re not like anyone else.”

You snicker, “I could say the same to you.”

He simply exhales, slowly, as if collecting himself.

“I.. don’t know.. If I’m good at this.”

His words cause you to tilt your head in confusion, “The project?”

“No..” He shakes his head, letting out a small laugh, a laugh. “This.” He simply interlocks his right pinky atop with your left, causing you to drop the piece of paper onto the table, “Feelings.” He confesses, voice low, vulnerable. “Letting people in.”

You felt your heart skip a beat, he never initiated touch first, you don’t know how fast this small conversation escalated, but you’re not complaining. You let yourself go, not realising you were so tense.

“You’re doing fine.” You shake your head, reassuring him.

Hesitantly, he slowly interlocks your hands altogether. You could feel your cheeks warm up.

“…I care about you,” he admits, the small confession causing you to smile. “I do. I’ve been trying not to, because I don’t know what to do when I feel like this, with you.” He says, “But I just can’t stop.”

The work on the table was now ignored, the both of you only focusing on the other beside you.

“I care about you too, Rev.” You murmur, thumb rubbing the back of his hand, this time you’re looking down at your interlocked hands, you could get used to holding him like this. “I always have, I guess I just never realised it.” You whisper, “and I didn’t know if you could ever reciprocate.”

He stays silent, you don’t know if his silence meant good or bad. You could feel your heart thumping out of your chest rapidly, you were almost afraid your hand was too sweaty against his. But as you glanced up at him, the look on his eyes had soft written all over it, it was unlike him, a new version of him only you could probably ever see.

Slowly he leant closer, His eyes flick up to yours, unsure, uncertain, as if he was asking permission with just his eyes. You say nothing, only leaning closer as well, and as soon as he saw the green light, he simply closed the gap between you both. Tentatively, as if testing the waters. You squeezed his hand in reassurance, returning the kiss, letting it linger and deepen.

A dramatic yet quiet gasp erupted from the book shelves behind you, causing you both to jerk away from each other, hearts almost jumping out of your chests as your heads snapped behind you, the sound was followed by a small whack from another figure, then a small and soft, “Ow!” One you both easily recognised from a white-haired vampire.

You both let out an exaggerated sigh, glancing at one eachother.

© fleuriae, 2025 — i do not own any of the characters mentioned.

[fleuriae]

DAMNNNN my inbox is flooded but also ppl pls make sure to read rules & info cs i forgot to tell everyone i tweaked it a lilllll LMAOO much love !!!!!

[fleuriae]

i shall now get to work while i still have the motivation!!!!! i have work at the crack of dawn 🫩

[fleuriae]

DAMNNNN my inbox is flooded but also ppl pls make sure to read rules & info cs i forgot to tell everyone i tweaked it a lilllll LMAOO much love !!!!!

[fleuriae]

i just found out freak show is ending😔

yeah <//3 final ep isnt even out yet but i am in NEED 🙏🙏🙏🙏 for s2

[fleuriae]

are you still doing requests?

yes!!! i completely forgot to update my prof for taking reqs again literally the day ilmbwiwy 2 released HELP it slipped my mind i apologise 😭

[fleuriae]

hi new moot!!!! im so grateful i found you bc im dying of thirst here in the rev vennett x reader tag

helloooo new moottt!! i swear we need more rev x readers out there, which is why im here to feed :P sometimes LMAOOO

[fleuriae]

Haiii long time not speak, I was so in my study flow u cannot possibly imagine..hope you atleast got to rest ria ♡ excited for the new episode of freak show coming out soon? (rex mentioned it will probably come out before Christmas)

haiiii sine!! hope ur studies are going well, study hard ദ്ദി◝ ⩊ ◜)

the fact that it’s taking a bit to release the final ep means that rex is COOKINGGGG im so excited but also sad because i simply need MOREEE, im way too attached oh goodness :’) .

[sunday2late]

chap 1: you're my romeo. ↳ better distractions

wc: 4.8k pairing: pdh!gene x fem!reader a/n: basically js setting up the story but i hope u all like:) srry 4 the wait!!!! masterlist. | next.

Moving might’ve been the least desirable outcome.

The following year had been planned so meticulously that you might as well have filled a cork board out of it — complete with red string and perfectly pinned notes. You were thrilled about every dance, every club, every day you’d get to spend with your friends. And it’s uprooted in just a minute.

“You’re kidding.”

Your weary figure clung to the stair railing; barely having rubbed the sleep from your eyes while your parents broke the news. The shock alone seemed to wake you up just fine.

“...We know, but… I can’t really turn down the offer.” Your mother folds her arms. “It won’t be all that miserable.”

You had a role in your life here. You’d joined clubs, made good friends, upheld good grades. Of course, your high school experience hadn’t come without a few bumps along the way… but still, you’d liked it. And starting high school once was enough. 

“Without all my friends, it might be,” you sigh.

Your mother shrugs. “Well, you won’t be completely alone.”

Your eyes narrow at the words. Being alone was undeniable at a new school. You don’t speak, instead hinting at your confusion with a tilted head.

“I mean Laurance and Cadenza. Y’know, your old friends. Their parents were just telling us all about it.”

Your father suddenly pipes up from the couch. “They're doing well at Phoenix Drop. It’s a good school, honey.”

It didn’t take long for you to recall… especially when it came to Laurance.

The last time you’d seen him was around 8 years ago. It’s funny that you didn’t even picture his face first. It was the scent of freshly cut grass, the petrichor after running in the rain, the deep-set mud stains. You remember being such a chatty kid back then. Running around with everyone and anyone. But when your parents insisted you hang out with a kid you’d never met from school… you were so nervous. 

That scruffy-haired kid you’d always caught in open fields, kicking around with the others. Even just remembering it forced you back into your 8 year old self — complete with your red cheeks and sweaty palms. Something about the move convinced you that you'd be there again. But then again, why were you so caught up in this childhood crush? Surely, in these seven years, you'd found the time to move on.

You remember his older sister, Cadenza, always pushing you on the swings. She was only a year older, but at the age you were, that felt like a decade. You'd never forget her bright orange hair — a feature you hoped she maintained even now. She was always that cool older sister that you'd idolized for as long as you'd known her. Braiding each other's hair, making bracelets (well, Laurance was there, too), and having sleepovers at your house. It would be nice to see her again, but that didn't make the idea of moving any less far-fetched.

“They… all still live around there?”

“I don't think they ever left,” your mother adds. “But I know their parents miss having us around. And I'm sure those two would love to hang out with you again.”

You frowned slightly. You would like to see them… but not so much that you'd leave your life behind for it. Your parents had already forced you to adjust when you'd first moved here, and now you'd have to do it again.

A few seconds of silence go by before you speak again, biting the inside of your cheek.

“So I guess… we’re really moving?”

Your mother looks at you solemnly. “I know you don't want to, but… yes.”

A FEW MONTHS LATER…

You wished you'd moved a little earlier, but getting the house had taken some time. Instead of blending into the new crowd of freshmen like everybody else, you had to enter during the middle of the year. As if this couldn't get any worse.

A little white thread had come loose at your hem. Despite only having it for a week, your incessant picking was likely to undo it. Eventually, you placed your hands beneath your thighs.

The principal's office was strangely warm — or maybe it was just your nerves. You’d been waiting in this chair for what felt like forever, but was really 7 minutes. The creak of the door behind you forces your back to straighten.

“Ah, sorry for the wait.”

A blonde woman settles into a chair behind the desk before you. Principal Leyla, she'd told you. You smile, dismissing the apology. She hands over a piece of paper. 

“This here is your schedule. So based on this, you should have…” Her head tilts to read it. “Oh, English in 204.”

You nod, lips pursed.

English wasn't so bad. You hadn't yet gotten to see much of the school, but 204 was only a floor higher. All you had to do was follow some signs.

You also supposed that eventually, you would bump into Laurance or Cadenza. Not that it would be bad, just awkward. Silently sitting in the office, you were wondering things like whether or not a hug would be appropriate. A handshake, maybe? Actually, definitely not. Realizing Leyla had been awaiting a response, you snap out of it.

“S-Sorry, what did you say?”

The principal laughs off your nervousness. “I only asked if you had any further questions.”

You shook your head. “Oh, no, I'm alright.”

She nods carefully. “Well, other than that, I wanted to let you know that I've assigned you someone to help you settle in.”

Those words allowed you to breathe.

“During your lunch period, I'd like you to return here to meet her. I think you might share a class or two… her name’s Katelyn, if you see her.”

You nod, making a mental note of the name.

“And that's it, really.” Leyla locks her fingers, leaning forward a small bit. “The bell should be going soon, so I'll see you at lunch.”

After a quick thank you, you're out the door. Immediately, you're forced to integrate with the moving crowd. It feels like you've been holding your breath for ages as you get nudged back and forth. To your relief, it's far less crowded on the second floor. Now, all you had to do was find 204.

Everyone who passed you busied themselves with conversation. At some point, it all became a blur of blue blazers and vests. The walls were lined with lockers; clung to by chatty students. Your eyes scanned the walls for any indication of the right classroom, and yet…

Yeah, you weren't making it to English.

Every turn faced you with a hallway you'd swore you'd already seen. And it seemed that every classroom sign had every number but 204. Somehow, you'd run into 205 three times already, earning you several side-eyes from the teacher.

Any person that you could ask for help was slowly vanishing into each of the rooms. You could walk in and ask, but with a full class, that was far too much attention. More than you could handle on day one.

The final bell rang, and instead of sitting in English, you were sinking into a bench. You nearly exploded from the sheer amount of anxiety caused by the sound.

You had your head down; endlessly reading over your schedule. It wasn't like the schedule could offer you any kind of clarity. All it did was serve as a reminder of where you should be.

“Are you alright?”

Your eyebrows shoot up. The voice speaks softly, and almost has a kind of charm to it. When you look up, it seems to have come from a blazered boy.

You make contact with a pair of emerald eyes first. You couldn't really help it — something about the colour or that shine drew you in. Brunette hair hangs over his face, and the length reaches the base of his neck. You eye his face curiously. There was an underlying familiarity to his features, but you couldn’t place it… or maybe you were just fascinated. When a guy like that smiled at you the way he did, it’s not like you had any other options. It was warm, dreamy, and strangely charismatic. 

“...Oh, me? I-I’m… fine.”

You weren’t, and you’re unsure why you’re lying in such a desperate moment. 

“Are you sure? You just seem a bit…”

His face suddenly lights up. As his eyebrows raise, you wonder if your mascara smudged, or if there's a crumb of breakfast on your cheek. Before you can say anything, he suddenly repeats your own name back to you. 

“Wait, how do you know my—”

“Woah, it really is you,” he beams. “Don't tell me you forgot me already.”

It's then that your lasting memories of Phoenix Drop spring to mind. Playing in the dirt, hanging upside down on the playground. How had you not realised before?

“Hold on, Laurance?” You exclaim, immediately getting to your feet.

“It's been a long time. You, uh…” Laurance's eyes look you up and down, and you go stiff under his gaze. “You look great.” 

“Y-You too,” you squeakily reply. “Good to see you.”

Laurance then pulls you into an embrace, which you quickly accept. You smile, feeling the sense of awkwardness fall away. Afterwards, you notice he’s still widely grinning at you.

“I knew about the move, but didn’t realise you were starting today. Must be destiny,” he chuckles.

You smirk. “It might be… or just really good luck for me. I’m actually a little lost.”

“So you’re not fine,” he comments with amusement. “But it’s a good thing I ran into you then. Where are you off to?”

You fiddle with your schedule just to double-check, despite having the number ‘204’ burned into your brain. “Uh… Room 204? For English.”

“Oh, nice.” Laurance has craned his head to read the paper as well. “We’re not far, actually. Follow me.”

He motions you towards him with an arm, before guiding you through the halls. You should probably be making a mental note of what turns he’s making, but you’re only really thinking of the interaction you just had while staring at the back of his head.

Sure, you liked Laurance as a little kid — you could be making heart eyes at just about anyone back then. And sure, Cadenza did tease you because of how much you liked him. But after all these years, you weren’t expecting to feel so nervous. Like you’d shrunk back into your younger self. He looked a little different now. A good different. Maybe it was just heightened by the fact that you were starting at a new school. Either way, the idea that you’d totally ruined that reunion wouldn’t stop torturing you.

“Here we are,” he finally says, suddenly halting. You nearly bump into him. 

Laurance gestures to a door labelled ‘204’, and you look sideways in disbelief, like you don’t think it’s possible that you got here. Did you miss the secret passage on the way?

“Oh,” you say. “I don’t know how I missed that.”

He dismisses you with a wave of his hand. “Ah, don’t worry about it. I’ve seen plenty of people get lost before.”

You chuckle awkwardly. “Well, thanks for helping me out… didn’t mean to make us both super late.”

“It’s fine, I was gonna be late anyway,” Laurance says. “But let me know if you get lost again, alright?”

You nod, rubbing the back of the neck. You finally take a step towards the door, hand on the doorknob. “I guess I’ll see you around, then.”

Laurance nods, “For sure. And come find me at lunch if you’re not sure where to sit.”

You smile at the offer, accepting before you disappear inside. You try to be quiet about the door creaking open and clicking shut, but you’re obviously there. Everyone’s heads have turned to face you. Most importantly of all, the teacher, whose eyebrow quirks up at you.

“...Sorry,” you say in a hushed voice. “Um, I’m new here. I was just a bit lost.”

Dismissing you with a single look, the teacher faces the board again. “Have a seat,” he instructs.

You squeeze between the rows, finding an empty seat second from the back. The class is quiet for the remainder of the lesson, leaving you to silently keep your head down. You proceed to stare at your books until it’s over, tracing over whatever lines had been etched into the desk. 

The one positive about being here was the fact that you would already have a built-in friend. Actually, two, counting Cadenza. Laurance had already invited you to his lunch table. And who knows, maybe you’d get to sit with that Katelyn girl as well. You just had to get through a few quiet classes.

LATER THAT DAY… 

You drummed your pen against your thigh as you waited. Eventually, you accidentally flick it from your hand, sending it flying across the room. You and the office receptionist both watch it roll across the tile, as you sheepishly move to retrieve it. Embarrassed, you simply pocket it for later.

Leyla’s door swings open, and her head sticks out, looking side-to-side. Her eyebrows shoot upwards once she spots you, soon gesturing for you to follow her in. You do as told, squeezing into the office beside another student.

The girl you find has a fairly tall and athletic figure, with powder blue hair messily tied back into a ponytail. Sweat glistens on her forehead, and you’re unsure how she’s hardly exhausted right now. She probably just came from P.E, and you feel worse after coming from the stairs. She tilts her head to the side, extending a hand towards you.

Leyla seems like she’s about to say something, but the girl's voice overtakes hers. She gives you a wide grin.

“Oh, hey, you must be the new girl, right? What’s up?”

You take her hand, which she shakes quite firmly, to your surprise. “Oh, uh… not much yet, I guess.”

“I’m Katelyn. I’ll be helping you settle in and stuff.”

Leyla leans back in her chair with pursed lips, allowing Katelyn to do the talking. She seems pleased with her decision. You are, too, but can’t help feeling a little intimidated.

“Yeah, I heard,” you smiled. “Um, I appreciate you helping me out.”

“Eh, don’t worry about it. It’s only lunch right now, so…” Katelyn briefly glances at the clock on the wall. “Do you wanna just eat at my table?”

“Oh, that’d be great,” you beam at the offer. “I’m… actually not even sure which way the cafeteria is.”

“Well, that’s what I’m here for.”

Leyla has barely squeezed in a word when Katelyn has given her a casual goodbye. She wraps an arm around the back of your neck, leading you to the cafeteria.

You make light conversation along the way, getting an onslaught of questions like ‘What was your last school like?’ and ‘How do you like it here?’ You then spend a few minutes comparing schedules, and find that Principal Leyla was right about the two classes you shared. She quickly gives you a rundown of each one, which you merely nod along to in silence. It doesn’t take long for the two of you to begin joking around, and it fills you with delight to know you have someone to rely on.

“Wait, you used to live here?”

“Uh, I think like… seven years ago?” You have a finger to your chin, looking up in thought. “I’m kinda surprised how much it changed in that time.”

“Damn, seven years must feel like forever, huh?” Katelyn has now switched to fiddling with the ends of her bag straps. “You probably went to the same elementary school as some of us.”

“Yeah, I remember some people pretty well, actually…”

Your words gradually fade out as Katelyn holds the door to the cafeteria. She ushers you in first, seemingly used to all the noise.

Scanning the area, you see a large array of packed tables, where full and empty trays are scattered across. Everyone is buried in conversation — from boisterous laughs to hushed gossip. Well, it was probably difficult to be hushed at all in this environment.

By the time you reached the cafeteria, the line had emptied completely. Katelyn walks in front, handing you your own tray. You’d thank her both times for her politeness but it’s unlikely she’d hear it.

“Over here,” Katelyn instructs, guiding you towards her table.

When you finally reach it, you’re in a little bit of disbelief, because this ‘friend group’ should count as a whole crowd. It seems you’ve caught them at a bad time, too, because most seem deeply engaged in an argument.

“...you’re all just haters. See, this is why me and Travis don’t like you guys.”

A white-haired boy, who you presume is Travis, awkwardly pipes up from the opposite end of the table. “When did I say—”

“Oh my Irene, Dante,” a ginger says, wiping tears from her eyes. She’s unable to stifle her smirk and is clearly on the brink of a laughing fit. Her hair is shiny and long, and you actually can’t help but pause to appreciate how gorgeous she is. “Please don’t tell me you actually told her that.”

Dante, whoever that is, seems to be against everyone at this table — or rather everyone’s against him. They were seemingly already mocking him before you arrived. You make a mental note of his curly blue hair. It’s pretty hard not to, actually.

A charming blonde boy suddenly chimes in. “Dude, sometimes you get way too confident for your own good.”

“Who says I’m over-confident?”

“The shirt you have that says ‘Girls Love My Swag’,” Laurance casually shares from one end of the table and — wait, when the hell did he get there?

Katelyn gently nudges at the ginger to move over, settling in beside her. She leaves a gap for you, snorting at Laurance’s remark. She pats at the free space. “You have a shirt that says ‘Girls Love My Swag’?”

“I like the Swag shirt,” Travis adds. There’s another girl seated beside him with a purple ribbon tying her hair back, who snickers almost immediately.

You quietly shuffle into the seat, feeling a little awkward with all the people around you. Especially the fact that Laurance was there, too. You hadn’t at all considered the fact that she might be friends with him.

Dante throws his hands up, exasperated. “Fine, I get it, Travis is the only real one at this table. I see how it is.” He concludes with a bite of his food.

Not wanting to interrupt anything, you quietly do the same, but Katelyn abruptly clears her throat.

“...Okay well, now that that’s over, I have someone to introduce to you guys.” She gestures to you, sharing your name with the table. “She just started today.”

They all seem pleased to meet you, welcoming you with warm smiles. Although, amidst all of the small nods of acknowledgement and nice-to-meet-yous, Laurance’s voice suddenly stands out. 

“Oh, hey, it’s you!” He’s leaning forward slightly, arms folded on the table. “This is a nice surprise, actually.”

“Hey Laurance,” you casually say, as if you had only just noticed him. “Um, it’s good to meet the rest of you.”

The whole table exchanges equally confused expressions at your greeting, but Katelyn especially. “You two… already met?”

“Years ago, actually,” Laurance explains. “Our parents were friends, so Cadenza and I hung out with her a lot. I just helped her get to class this morning.”

The ginger leans forward in her seat, intrigued. “Ah, so you guys reunited today? That’s kinda sweet.”

“Yeah, um, I guess so,” you sheepishly answer.

“Can’t believe you put up with this guy as a kid. I could never,” the blonde huffs a laugh.

“I’ll have you know I was an angel, Garroth.” Laurance leans into his personal space to annoy him, earning him a gentle swat.

“I dunno, was he?” Dante says to you in a lower voice, seemingly pleased to put the heat on someone else.

“Eh…” You shrug.

You quickly fell into being showered with introductions, and hoped that you wouldn’t later mix anyone up. Most of you were all the same year, minus two younger students — Aphmau, the purple-ribboned girl, and Travis. Supposedly, a little shyer than the rest. The remainder of the lunch period left you learning a variety of new things about the group. Like that the ginger was Lucinda, and managed to butt heads with Katelyn a lot. Or that Garroth had been aptly nicknamed ‘Prince Charming’ and was presently being teased by that fact. Somehow, you had a feeling you could rely on this table.

Amidst your long conversation, you ended up passing your paper schedule across the table for the others to compare with. You discovered you had an odd class or two with a few of them, and would be following Katelyn to your P.E class. You weren’t particularly sporty, but she’d already been raving about volleyball to you, and clearly wanted you on her team. She was pitching the idea to you from the table, all the way until you’d gotten to the lockers.

You shuffle your foot into your shoes, struggling to keep up with the rest of the girls. You then hoist your feet onto the bench to tie them.

Katelyn is already fixing up her ponytail in her locker mirror. She eyes your reflection in the mirror. “Nearly done?”

You nod with an affirmative hum, finishing up your laces. You hop to your feet, following the line out the door.

Upon reaching the court, you hang back a little, watching Katelyn confidently stroll up to the rest of the players. It hardly takes her long to notice — pulling you to her side by the wrist.

You’d only just met Katelyn, but you’re quick to find her competitive side during the game. She’s almost fueled by it; hurling insults and commanding the team. The teacher is almost forced to step in a couple of times. You feel a little out of practice, but you’re still encouraged to go for the ball whenever possible.

By the time it’s over, you feel like you’re drowning in a pool of sweat — hair glued down to your forehead, skin on fire. You look down at the water bottle in your hand and consider emptying it out over your head. When Katelyn casually walks up beside you, you wordlessly look at her with pure exhaustion. She finishes her sip of water and tilts her head at you. She simply gestures to you to follow along once everyone is dismissed.

“So… Did you have fun?”

You collapse onto the bench. “I don’t remember that game being so tiring.”

She chuckles. “You should try out next year.”

You cock your eyebrow at her. “Uh, really? I think I might’ve been the weakest.”

“Oh, come on, it’s not like it’s tomorrow.” Her voice muffles as she leans further into her locker. “It kinda sucks that you missed all the orientation stuff at the beginning of the year. Like the club social and everything.”

“Yeah…” You say, mind drifting to all the clubs you probably would’ve joined at your old school.

After changing back, the two of you are forced to part for the time being. Katelyn offers to walk you there, but you insist on going alone. You had plenty of time to settle in now, and were confident that you could probably find your way to Art.

Navigating the halls, you’re forced to keep up with the crowd. It doesn’t help someone as tired as you currently are. Taking note of this, you cling to the walls for a moment or two, waiting for the swarm of people to dissipate. Eventually, you’re able to fall in step with the rest of the slow-walkers and skippers.

Rounding a corner, you finally feel free to take a breath, but a collision dissolves your moment of peace.

Your eyes snap shut as your head knocks into thick, blue fabric. You lurch backwards, shoes squeaking against linoleum as you attempt to find your footing.

As your eyes open, everything seems to sling into sugar-coated slow motion.

Staring up through your lashes, you lock into contact with dark blue eyes. You don't realise that your mouth is hanging agape as you do. Your gaze finds strands of black hair dangling over their face — every curl forming a beautiful mess. They're decorated in small, silver piercings. Especially so when it comes to their ears — a mixed stack of small hoops and studs. Their lips, with a small cut near the cupid's bow, quirk up at you.

You can feel the warmth on your cheeks as you pull backwards. You've never seen this guy before, but he's undeniably handsome. Squarish jaw, pretty eyes. You're still taking in his features while you're sitting on the floor; where the collision has landed you.

For a moment, you feel five again. Laying on the pavement, books strewn across the ground. There's a scratch on your knee, and maybe that's why you were crying. Except you hadn't noticed it until someone had fetched you a bandaid and... right. That was Laurance.

Ever since you'd arrived, everything seemed to trace back to him. Or were you just being delusional again? You hated that so much it nearly made you hate him. He'd never done anything wrong — unless being extremely likeable and attractive was a crime. Something was supposed to have changed in those seven years apart. Instead, you returned to Phoenix Drop empty-handed. You were a nervous wreck in front of every attractive person you met, apparently.

But you never know. Maybe the solution was just to worry about someone else..

Your eyes haven't broken contact since the collision. Your jaw might as well be bolted in place. As his head tilts down at you, you anticipate a response. Just something. Anything.

"Watch where you're going."

The words are sharp as a knife, spat at your head as he cuts past you.

You're still frozen, but now for a different reason. You blink at the empty ground in front of you. Just like that, he's gone.

Dusting yourself off, your eyebrows knit themselves into a frown. 'What a jerk?!' I mean, who was he to tell you to watch out? You'd both turned the corner at the same time. 

If there's anyone you wanted to slap, though, it'd be yourself for pausing to daydream. 'This is what I get for getting ahead of myself.' You'd built up this stranger's image in your head, only for you to find out he's an asshole. How did these visions in your head carry that far? Irene was testing you, surely. And now, you’d probably be a little late.

As you stand, your head turns back. The rest of the hallway is completely silent. You're not sure what you expect to find.

Despite it all, though, you had to get to class. You tighten your grip on your bag straps. This time, you turn the corner with a little more caution.

Finally arriving, you duck your head as you shuffle around to find a free seat. You’re not sure where you should sit, but standing around like this is just making yourself far more obvious.

A sharp whisper catches your attention. Your name. You rapidly spin around, scanning the classroom for anyone you might recognise. The whisper occurs again. You eventually land on a girl behind you, who beams once you make eye contact. Those long, ginger waves, pale blue eyes… you’d recognise that look anywhere.

“Wait, Cadenza?”

She pulls out the seat beside her with a nod, and you quickly settle into it. Your soured mood has switched in a matter of seconds. Cadenza leans over to you for a hug — which takes you by surprise, but you welcome it.

“It’s been forever,” she exclaims happily, ensuring to keep her voice down. “Oh my Irene, how are you?”

“Everything’s been great,” you say, still kind of reeling from your surprise. “I can’t believe we’re in the same art class. How’s everything been with you?”

“About the same,” Cadenza replies, tucking her hair behind an ear. She then shakes her head with a sigh. “Wow, I knew you were coming, but seeing you walk in just now was crazy.”

You chuckled. “Yeah, Laurance was just as surprised.”

“Ah, you ran into him already?” She raises her eyebrows at you. “You know, you really need to come over for dinner. I think ever since my parents found out about the move, they’ve been ready to set the table all fancy.”

The pair of you reminisce all the way to the end of passing period. It seems that thoughts of your previous interaction strangely linger, but you’re not positive you’ll see him around anytime soon. With how many other students attended, it couldn’t be likely.

The moment you’d gotten home, you’d flopped back onto your bed. You stared at your ceiling with sunlight strewn across your stomach. You needed a nap.

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