#by outlining a swap au

[eternalfarnham]

Ideological swap AU:

Euphrasie, a former Housemaiden of Dormont's House of Change, hails originally from the island-nation of Ananke, north of Jouvente. On Ananke, she was in a terrible – largely-undefined, to the theoretical game camera's eye – relationship with an unknown man, a "cry-bullying tyrant," which made her suspicious, bitter and unkind – made her worse, she says.

Euphrasie left one day and found her way to Vaugarde, but wherever you go, there you are – Housemaiden or not, even desperately working to adapt, she was still unkind when she didn't want to be, still tormented by awful memories, still taking it out on others. She wished to be rid of the history that made her this way, using her old country's rituals, and gained the power of "Memory Craft" – the power to "scramble" information, such that no one could recall it existed in the first place.

And so – taking her favorite young Housemaiden as a companion – she left her country, styled herself "Faceless" after her god (misunderstanding the Change God's deal pretty badly) and set herself up in Ananke. There, she used "Joyeux" – monsters born from intense emotion – to drive away its residents, so they'd flee to Vaugarde through her one-way barrier. Once the island was properly vacated, she intended to erase it from history – to erase the context that made her so bitter, the society that enabled it just because her old someone was versed in the ways of the Universe, and to be properly and only a daughter of Change and Vaugarde.

Everyone, she says, can start again this way.

Siffrin, the Stargazer, fled the same cruel tyrant that Euphrasie did – albeit separately – and found himself blessed mysteriously with the power to remember everything, no matter what. They are... unlikely, as heroes go – accustomed to creeping around and leaving the charisma and earnestness to less disillusioned folks – but they care deeply about the people they love.

Odile, the Historian, is here with a vested interest in preserving the cultural history of a small, embattled people – particularly against a collaborateur trying to force-assimilate her entire homeland.

Bonnie, the Kid, is here on the strength of a mysterious series of notes they left themself, telling them that they've forgotten something important and that only defeating the Faceless will return those memories. They're a pretty lonely kid.

Isabeau, the Guardian, is... pretty similar, actually. Given Siffrin's limited social graces, he's taken on a bigger social role. Like a diplomat who hits stuff, basically.

And Mirabelle, the Turncoat... was a cool-ass rival character for most of the saviors' journey, out of loyalty to her Head Housemaiden and her House and a lack of anywhere else to go. She returned to the side that isn't trying to destroy a country out of guilt:

It's her rapier that took out Siffrin's eye.

She doesn't want to be that person. She's desperate to change – to be forgiven, by the end of this quest – but there's indelible proof of her rottenness, right on Siffrin's face. So, with the ritual that her faceless caretaker never quite let herself use, she wished that she could be someone different...

And there's nothing more formative – more self-destroying and -recreating – than intense, sustained time loop trauma, right?

(Her faithful guide Ring claims to be a success story: they became someone completely new, down to a new name and pronouns, and broke the cycle, but graciously returned to Ananke to guide weary, misguided, treacherous little Belle to a proper ending. The name "Ring" comes from their bonding earrings, prominently displayed and visible even through the corona of their head. After all, they say, changing – like they were supposed to – meant learning to love the right way, without distrust and fear.

Fucked up thing to say, Ring!)

[artoutoftheblue]

Swap!Solar and Swap!Eclipse anyone? :3c

[celestiall0tus]

Only the outline, but I present 🦊!Marinette for Paradise

Needs a few touchups still (ran out of time this morning before I needed to run off to work)

Anyways, this will be a fun use of powers. Marinette is able to use the power of illusions to assist her with life, to do what she couldn't anymore, including speak.

[palms-upturned]

I like the de swap au stuff bc like. What exactly is being swapped is so undefined. You could just be swapping the POV so that Kim is the protag and Harry is ur partner, and then on top of that maybe ur also swapping the skills for a set unique to Kim (and thereby swapping Harry and Kim’s neurotypes), or maybe you’re reworking the gameplay system entirely to fit how Kim’s mind works so that what’s swapped is the player’s experience. Maybe ur on the whole swapping their roles/personalities, or elements of their backstory. The possibilities are truly endless. U can do whatever u want (which is usually sexualizing Kim it seems). Love and peace on planet earth.

[brokenhardies]

The Butterfly Effect Chapter Nine

We're basically focusing on preparation for the time being. After all, we still don't have an official mission start... Yet ;).

@latenitewaffles, @inkwell1013, @mushroomfusion245 @rollthedice-playthecards @thehedgehogat221b @sterling-writes @wonderguards

[pyritewitch]

TGAA Role Swap AU DRABBLES 3

Part 1. Part 2

Ryunosuke Bits Part 1

So the original plan was to go thru wat would change in the series from chronological order, case by case, but well 1: I got bored and 2: I realized, especially in the 1st game, I don't have any real plans to change any major story beats in the 1st game. Like maybe in case 1-5, it's Kazume that ends up dragging the Skullkin Bros to jail and got shot in the process, but besides that, not much. Hopefully, that changes in the future, but for now, I'm gonna switch gear and talk about how our boy Ryuunosuke suffers in the meantime.

Realized real fucking quick that I wrote I lot more than I thought I did so... the Ryuunosuke bits will probably also be in multiple parts. Fuck me, let's see how long my hyper fixation will last this time!

So our boy wakes up in a coffin.

No name, no memories, just a pounding headache and a sense of dread as he tries to figure out why he's being buried alive. He pretty easily gets out of the coffin and realizes he's on a docked ship in Shanghai. Few memories start pouring in, he remembers being pushed, and hearing hushed, angry and scared voices talking over his body in Russian. He also remembers that he promised someone he would go Britian. After sneaking around the ship, Ryuu realizes that most of the crew on the ship is russian and fears that they may drag him back into the coffin, so he makes the decision to jump ship and see if he can survive in Shanghai and find a way to get to England.

During his time in Shanghai, he mainly takes on odd jobs, either manual labor or doing clerical work for cheap, just trying to get enough money to survive in England and stowaway in a ship traveling there. He gets caught and probably brought before Stronghart after Souseki's 2nd case, but before case 1-5, I'm too lazy right now to check the timeline. Stronghart sees the Yumei University Pin and puts 2 and 2 together and realizes he's probably the stowaway who "died."

Seeing an opportunity, Stronghart makes a proposal. It just so happens that he is in need of a legal secretary. In exchange for doing some legal grunt work (ie typing legal reports and filing paperwork) he'll provide Ryuunosuke with food, shelter, and payment (and also you know not get him deported or worse). Not really having any other option, Naruhodo agrees and does his best to fulfill his end of the bargain.

And he does so, as in a little less than a month, he exceeds Mael's expectations. He's able to pick up and learn Britain's legal system quickly, and his reports on past cases are impeccable. Stronghart then decides that instead of working for him personally, he will instead have Naruhodo work in Scotland Yard as The Reaper's legal assistant. Like Kazuma in the original timeline, Stronghart also forces him to wear a mask and hide his voice. The reason he gives Naruhodo, for the secrecy, is that not only is Van Zieks... adverse to his kind, but that he took on a lot of risk hiding a foreigner w/o any papers, and if someone were to find out, there would be grave consequences.

Again, with little choice, Naruhodo agrees with the terms. At first, everyone at Scotland Yard is a bit put off by the masked mute man, but the results he produces are undeniable. He adjusts quickly to crime scene investigation and has a knack for picking up what the other bobbies missed. He also shows off his skills in reading people during interrogations. Mind you, he's not the one doing the talking but gets around his limitations by writing down his thoughts and theories and having someone else read/ act-on them.

This has gotten him some praise from the higher-ups, even from the likes of Gregson and Van Zieks, but his rapid rise in the ranks has also earned him a lot of ire from others. Rumors concerning the reason he hides his face range from being Lord Stronghart's illegitimate son to a known crime lord that as a plea deal has to work for law enforcement and help capture other criminals. The mystery surrounding Naruhodo's identity reaches fever pitch when one day he is all but assaulted by a gang of the more disgruntled bobbies demanding he reveals his face. Van Zieks is able to interfere and stop them from revealing his face, but news of the incident makes it to Stronghart.

Almost immediately, a notice is put out, and those involved with the assault and their supervisors (whether they were involved in the incident or not) are immediately fired. This would have left The Yard severely understaffed, but "thankfully" Stronghart also quickly filled in the supervisor positions with some...friends of his. The whole fiasco left most of the workers feeling tense. The fact that such a punishment was handed out immediately and even affected people who had nothing to do with the incident made everyone realize that Naruhodo's place in Scotland Yard was a special one. Not wanting to risk getting caught in the crosshairs, most simply chose not to interact with Naruhodo unless absolutely necessary; some going so far as to ignore him entirely.

No memories, in a foreign land, and no company, this event leaves Ryuunosuke more isolated than ever. The only friendly relations he has right now are with Stronghart, Gregson, and Van Zieks. Even then, 2 of those relationships come with caveats. Gregson is friendly enough but won't really stick out his neck for him. He's developed a great banter/ friendly relationship with Van Zieks but is under no illusion that if Van Zieks were to find out about his origin, his attitude would immediately change for the worst. The only person Naruhodo feels like he can talk to face to face like a regular person is Lord Stronghart.

This lonely existence continues for Ryuunosuke until about a month or so after case 1-5. An article about said case, with details of those involved, makes its way into his hand. As soon as he sees a photo of Kazuma (with his gloves ❤️) all his memories comes flooding back. His name, his relationship with Kazuma, and why he came to Britain in the first place. Naruhodos 1st thought is too ofcourse contact and meet up with Kazuma. So he goes to Stronghart to tell him that that is just he is about to do.

Except Mael Stronghart immediately disagrees. His reasoning is that Ryuunosuke can't afford to be distracted now. Stronghart claims that he has been interacting with a lot of London nobles, with powerful connections, and has been doing so for Naruhodo's sake. He got his name out there and raised his reputation. After all that he's done for him, he's heartbroken that at this crucial time, Naruhodo would even consider abandoning him. Ryuunosuke, feeling extremely indebted to Stronghart, concedes and agrees to delay his reunion with Kazuma for the time being.

At this point, Stronghart inquiries about his relationship with Kazuma and seeing no reason to hide that information (and still feeling guilty) tells Stronghart everything. From the fact that they had really only been friends for a little over a year to telling him about how Kazuma even risked his overseas program to defend him in court (ie case 1-1). Learning about this Stronghart makes a not so subtle suggestion that Kazuma may have had a more nefarious motive for defending him. Irked at the implication, but not really in a position to argue, Naruhodo simply keeps quiet and makes plans to try to convince Stronghart that whatever suspicions he has towards Kazuma is probably just a misunderstanding.

To be continued...

[eggs-can-draw]

komaeda anin: I CANT BELIEVE I MISSED KOMAEDA TALK

but no yeah oughghghhg i actually had this whole thing where komaeda, on impulse, runs away from Jabberwock (actually i have an idea for this au, what if thats how rantaro got to jabberwock, he followed komaeda, komaeda recognizes him as the kid who could withstand his bouts of bad luck but he doesn't say anything bc rantaro wont say anything and there's just rhis mutual understanding anyways—)

he expects to be caught, of course, no way he wouldn't be, he just needed time though, time to really look at the damage they've done and the healing Makoto and co have been doing, maybe do something to actively help instead of cause destruction

(and maybe that help was leading a lost kid to find a new home—)

but when he gets found, he didn't expect for the one to find him to be Peko and Fuyuhiko, he didn't expect to find a drone being controlled by Kazuichi, he didn't expect them to bring food that TeruTeru made specifically for him because he's on a strict diet because of his health

he didn't expect to find Akane and Nekomaru catching up to them, they're loud and they're big and yet they still managed to have sneaked out or got permission to head out despite the danger of being recognized

Sonia an Gundham come too, saying that he's one of them, that there's a darkness tainting all of us, we're all the same

it's Hajime who appears last, asking him, "want to go home?"

and.

and Komaeda wants to.

(actually i forgot what the title of the fic was, sobs, but there's this one fic where he went to his parents' graves for one last goodbye and what if thats where they all meet and the gang sees the shoddily cleaned grave bc Komaeda's still healing so they all help clean it up—)

You fool the komaeda talk never stops he is Nagito Komaeda on the Nintendo DS he is Nagito_Komaeda_Nonstop_Debate_Mugshot.png which my laptop auto corrects to every fucking time he is fingers in his ass guy HE CAN AND WILL COCONUT MALL YOU and there is no escaping him I love this. So fucking much. Just. AAAAAWAWA The THEMES esp if he’s visiting his parents cause like. He went steeped in his own past and quite literally led the future home. And just. AAAAGH.

Also just the thought of lil Rantaro Appearing on Jabberwock like maybe a week or two after Komaeda goes back and he just. He just has a moment of “….wait a fucking minute” (and just Little Rantaro seeing this disaster of a guy and going “yeah imma just follow him he looks like he knows what he’s doing”)

And wanting to actually SEE that the world is healing! He wants to see the new hope after the BIG BAD DESPAIR. He wants to see that things really do get better and mmmmmm that scratches the brain in all the best ways.

ALSO ALSO KOMAEDA BEING CONFRONTED WITH THE FACT THAT FUCK. HIS FRIENDS CARE ABOUT HIM AND WOULD MISS HIM IF HE DISAPPEARED. AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAOUGGH

[solisaureus]

if you don't mind me asking, how long do you think before your next story comes out, will it be released all at once or chapter by chapter?

It'll be chapter by chapter! I have just started working on the first chapter, i cant say how long it'll take me to finish it, but probably a week or two??

[spicymcbean]

Fic Idea where Twilight Link and Wild Link have swapped dynamics.

Aka; Twilight is real emo in the manga and it'd be very funny if Wild were to ever get a manga and be less dramatic than him.

Wild, making dinner: Twilight get down from there. You'll get hurt.

Twilight on the top of the castle like that one Korok: I SEE NO GOD UP HERE EXCEPT ME-

[yusuke-of-valla]

So like. Hypothetically.

You know how it’s an autistic thing to want things to be a Certain Way?

Does that apply to characters? And not in a “I don’t like certain headcanons” way, I mean in a “I have 10,000 bullshit stupid AUs that are as far from a canon scenario as possible but like even as a thought excercise my brain does not like straying too far from core characterization, entertaining the thought doesn’t even work”

Because if yea I need to add that to a list

[dramaticals]

following instructions

pairing: theodore nott x gryffindor reader

summary: enemies with benefits with theo where they're constantly insulting each other but they still can't get enough. smut. au where characters at hogwarts are aged up to be 19+. mdni. / requested by anonymous.

author's note: co-wrote this with lily (@softeliza) <3 we honestly wrote this as a theo x hermione, but swapped hermione for reader

✧ read part two: following instructions (headcanons) ✧

Theo's judging eyes watch as you dice the sopophorous bean before tossing it into your cauldron, your gaze shifting between your opened textbook and your cauldron. A bead of sweat drips from your forehead. You were meticulously following the directions, and yet something still didn't seem right about your potion.

Theo scoffs, shaking his head. What an idiot, he thinks.

"You're supposed to crush it." Theo says, demonstrating pointedly with a silver dagger and popping the squashed bean into his own cauldron. The cauldron bubbles, and the liquid shifts a shade darker.

"You're supposed to follow the instructions, which clearly say to cut it," you say through gritted teeth.

Potions was the one class Theo never followed the directions for, and yet he always seemed to be doing significantly better than you. You hated that.

"You know," you add with a huff, annoyance laced in your words. "Just because you don't respect the rules any other time doesn't mean you shouldn't follow a simple recipe."

There was something about pissing you off that gave Theo the right amount of joy to get him through the day. Hearing you huff at his words was like finding a jelly slug in a mountain of acid pops. It was glorious.

"Do you believe everything you read?" Theo asks mockingly, his eyes unmoving from the cauldron in front of him. He doesn't know why he was helping you—this was meant to be a competition for the coveted felix felicis. Maybe it was because Theo knew you weren't going to listen to him anyway. "Besides, I respect the rules." Theo says, but even he can't keep a straight face at his claim, his lips tugging into a smirk.

"I believe everything I read in a textbook," you say, your eyes narrowing and your mouth falling open in shock. Was he serious? "You know, that book of words that literally outlines how to make the potion? How else would you know how to brew it?" You hope he doesn't notice the genuine curiosity in your question. You actually wanted to know how Theo knew what to do all the time. It was so infuriating.

"Natural intelligence and charm." Theo says coolly.

In actuality, Theo had managed to find a textbook filled with inscriptions, correcting the printed text with tips and tricks on how to brew a potion every time. But he wasn't going to tell you that. Theo would gladly and happily let you believe he was gifted.

Theo peeks at your cauldron and has to hold a snort back. It looked just about ready to implode.

"This is a simple recipe, huh?" Theo muses. "Is that why your potion looks and smells like absolute shit?"

"Maybe I just thought I'd throw you a scrap with this one. I mean, we both know you're in desperate need of some luck, especially on the Quidditch pitch. If anyone needs this win, it's you."

"Oh, so you watch me on the pitch, do you?" Theo says with a smug grin.

You roll your eyes. Curse him.

Theo stirs counterclockwise a few times and then once again clockwise. The potion bubbles again. This time, it shifts into its final colour form. Bingo.

Theo, with an expression beaming with pride, calls over Professor Slughorn to inspect the potion. You zero in on Theo's cauldron and let out a small sigh. You didn't need confirmation from Slughorn to know that Theo did it. That bloody asshole did it.

Slughorn tosses a single leaf into the cauldron. The leaf disintegrates, and Slughorn clasps his hands together and announces, "We have a winner! Class dismissed!"

As Theo receives congratulations from all around, you begin to tidy your workspace, empty your cauldron, and pack your things. Anger boils in your stomach. As much as you tried to avert your gaze from Theo, your eyes are drawn to the tiny vile Slughorn passes to Theo. With a triumphant smirk thrown your way, he tucks the potion into his pocket before cleaning his workspace.

"Try to use it for something other than trying to sleep with girls," you quip, clutching your books to your chest. The confident, holier-than-thou persona slips over you like a glove. It was a default shield whenever you felt threatened, especially academically. And Theo was often on the receiving end of it all. "I mean, I'm sure you could use some luck in that department, but I doubt that's what Zygmunt Budge had in mind."

"I'm doing quite well in that department, actually." Theo says. With looks and an attitude like his, girls were flocking to him like nifflers to gold. "Much like potions, really. They all just come to me."

Theo awaits your signature glare and snarky remark, but he was simply met with a silent shove to his shoulder as you headed to the door. His brows furrow, disappointed in the lack of repartee, before Theo's walking after you. He falls into step with you, following you through the dimly lit corridors of the dungeon.

"What's the rush, little lion? Can't stomach losing?"

"I'm not in a rush; I just don't want to be around you. Don't you have some dingy hole to crawl back into?" You fume, your grip on your textbooks tightens, and your pace quickens.

"You wound me." Theo simpers, clutching his chest in mock-hurt.

Being in Theo's presence was getting you more and more riled up. You felt like you were minutes away from becoming a human version of a Filibuster Firework. Theo loved when you got like this. He can't quite pinpoint the exact moment he realized why he liked seeing you so worked up, but he's quickly reminded by the staggered breathing and the rapid rise and fall of your chest.

Theo continues to stroll alongside you, an air of arrogance in each step he takes. You quickly realize you have no idea where you're headed. The echoing of both your steps, coupled with the hovering nuisance on your side, makes you let out a sharp, frustrated exhale. You turn to Theo, glaring daggers into his stormy eyes.

"Can you just go? You're so—ugh." You growl, unable to find the proper words.

Theo's brows perk upward. There's something familiar about the expression you give him. He'd seen it before. Last time he'd seen it, the two of you ended up christening the boy's change room after a Quidditch match—Slytherin should beat Gryffindor more often.

Before you can articulate your frustrations, Theo grabs you by the wrist and pulls you into a vacant classroom. The feeling of his fingers around your wrist sends a jolt of warmth straight through your body. Theo pins you against the door, your books falling to the floor with a sharp thud. He skillfully locks the door with a slight flick of his wand before muttering the muffliato charm and putting his wand away. Darkened eyes meet your gaze, a mixture of amusement and want in his eyes.

"I'm so what?" Theo demands. His hand caresses your cheek before roughly wrapping around the base of your throat. "Use your words."

Your mind goes hazy, as if you've been confunded, the moment you feel his hand on your throat. You'd never admit how much you loved when Theo did that.

With a shaky breath, you meet his intense gaze to say, "Infuriating."

The way you reacted to Theo's touch was unlike any other girl he had the pleasure of fucking at Hogwarts. You were just so obvious, and Theo had no shame in admitting that he found it all extremely arousing. Of course, your mouth would claim otherwise, but Theo always had a plan to occupy your pretty little mouth.

You bite down on your lip, stifling the whimper begging to escape. Your breathing is in sync with each other, and the sexual tension makes the air around you thick.

"Are you going to fix it? Or are you just going to stand there like an idiot?" You tempt, leaning up slightly, just to see if he'll close the gap between your lips and his.

"I don't know," Theo responds, keeping a fair distance—only enough for your lips to brush lightly against his. To keep you wanting. Theo leans into your neck, ghosting breathy, teasing kisses up until he's milimeters away from your ear. "Are you going to say please?"

"You've got to be kidding," you huff, shooting a glare at Theo as you try to keep your breathing steady.

You weren't exactly experienced, at least not like Theo. You had a few moments with others, but no one had ever gotten you to feel as good as Theo did. It enraged you that Theo knew how good he made you feel, but you also took pleasure in knowing that you must be riling him up just as equally because Theo always seemed to come crawling back.

You bring your free hand up, tangling your fingers in his lush, brown locks, before tugging his head back a bit so he could look at you. He groans at this. It was one of many acts that really got Theo going, and it just so happened to be where your hands gravitated to the most.

"Please," you say, the tiniest of smirks on your lips.

Anticipation runs through your veins. You didn't need to say anything else. By the way he was looking at you, his lustful eyes boring into your gaze, Theo knew you needed him right now.

"Good girl," he muses with a cocky grin.

The first time Theo had praised you like that, while laced with ridicule, it had elicited a whimper that had him reeling. Today was no different.

Theo moves his hand from your throat and down to your waist, expertly pulling you away from the door and onto the desks behind him. Theo wastes no time and captures your lips with his. One hand finds your thigh, teasing up your bare skin and under your skirt. Your hands find and tug at his belt. Theo unbuckles it and tosses it aside.

"Let's see if you can keep it up." Theo says hotly against your lips.

It was in your nature to be good. But with Theo, there was that bubbling voice inside you that beckoned you to misbehave—to get under his skin. To be bad, all so he could teach you a lesson. Which is why, as Theo plants nippy, wet kisses down your neck, you can't help the words that blurt out of your mouth.

"Let's see if you can make me shake, like—what was that bloke's name..." You trail off, pulling him up by the collar of his shirt for another kiss and wrapping your legs around his waist to keep him close.

There was no other guy, of course, but you wanted him to think otherwise. The mischievous glint in your eyes changes to amusement as Theo's eyes darken. His fingers drag possessively across the insides of your thighs. It was hard for Theo to imagine you with someone else. You two weren't exclusive by any means, but the way you'd whimper and dig your nails into his back had him feeling territorial.

"Shake?" Theo asks against your lips. There was a tinge of something in his tone, and, deep down, you wanted it to be jealousy. "I'll fucking make you shake."

Feverish kisses move down your neck, eliciting a whine out of you, his free hands taking residence on the base of your throat. He plants open-mouthed kisses down the sensitive spots along your neck, sucking softly on the skin, surely leaving a mark everyone would be able to see. Theo pulls back to admire his work. He's pleased. You, on the other hand, were equal parts excited and annoyed. Excited because the sensation made the blood rush to your cheeks and to your core, and annoyed because you had to explain the markings to your friends.

"Theo," you hiss. "You know better."

Theo doesn't listen, obviously. Instead, he moves down your body until he's crouched and face-to-cunt. Slender fingers reach under your skirt, hook onto your panties, and slide the garment off. In an instant, Theo's between your legs, lapping his tongue relentlessly over your clit.

"Oh my god," you gasp, one hand grasping onto the edge of the desk, your back arching instinctively to bring yourself closer to his tongue. Your free hand finds his hair again, your hips rolling to meet his movements.

Theo's smirks into your core, a low groan escaping his lips as he feels you roll onto his mouth. Strong hands position themselves on either leg, urging you to spread your legs wider. You try to obey his silent requests, but it's not enough. Impatience hits him hard, and he's repositioning your legs so they're slung over his shoulders, a firm hand pushing your hips down onto the wooden desk. The new position allowed him to be flush against you, his tongue circling your entrance and lapping up any arousal.

"Theo," you moan, louder than normal.

You could tell he was pissed. It'd always been your goal, especially in intimate settings, but Theo had never been like this. He buries his face between your legs, his nose rubbing against your clit as his tongue works on your opening. He dips a finger in and withdraws it out of you slowly, contrasting his unyielding tongue. Your eyes flutter shut with pleasure.

"More," you choke out. "Please, give me more."

Your moans were fueling the already raging fire in him. Fuck, he needed to hear more of that. Theo uses his free hand to hold you steady, his tongue and lips unrelenting. He adds another digit inside of you, curling his fingers against your spot. Theo wanted to make you cum now more than ever. He wanted you to remember that even if you were fucking someone else, he was the only one who could make you unravel like this.

"Sit fucking still then," he growled against your slit, stormy eyes shooting up to look at you.

You fight hard to listen to him, desperately trying not to squirm. Theo was cruel enough to stop and leave you high and dry, so it was in your best interest to do as instructed. You dig your nails into the edge of the desk in an attempt to keep your focus on something other than the pleasure growing inside of you.

"Th-Theo," you gasp. "I—"

You're close, and you know what Theo wants—what he always wants. Theo wanted you to ask for permission, and with the image of someone else messing with you fresh in his mind, Theo needed to know he had that control over you now more than ever. Breathy pants fill the room, and you fear you can't hold it back any longer.

"Fuck, please. Can I please..." You moan, throwing your head back against the desk.

"Please what?" Theo says roughly against you. If Theo's cock wasn't already erect, it would be now. Your moans and gasps of pleasure were truly something that needed to be studied. Who knew these delightfully ragged breaths could come out of someone so irritatingly uptight? "Words, Y/L/N."

The fog of pleasure Theo has you in has made it impossible for you to do the one thing you pride yourself on: following the instructions. Typically, Theo would remove himself and make you beg for contact. Today, though, his actions were ceaseless. Despite your strong will to be good, your body wouldn't cooperate.

"Oh my god," you whimper, your back arching as an intense orgasm washes over you. Your body jerks—no, shakes—and your moans are broken up by desperate gasps as wave after wave hits you.

Theo curses under his breath. As pissed as he was that you didn't ask, Theo graciously allows you to release on his tongue, lapping up your sweet fluids. He'd reprimand you later. As you come down from your high, your body collapses onto the desk. You've never felt anything like that before.

Theo stands and slides his fingers out of you slowly. His darkened, lustful eyes are trained on yours. As much as he enjoyed the view, Theo wasn't happy.

"Don't," you breathe. "I know—I should have... I know."

"So much for following instructions," Theo says, disregarding your words. He licks your arousal off his fingers casually, and the sight makes you shift and clench your thighs together. He was the hottest irritant you've ever seen.

"Fuck off," you say with an exasperated huff. You prop yourself up by your elbows, slowly moving into a sitting position. "You didn't exactly help the situation."

So maybe Theo was being a bit of a prick. Not like he could help it—you squirming and moaning for him like that triggered something primal in him. Theo didn't want to stop; he wanted to make you scream for him. Still, it really shouldn't have been hard to ask.

By the way Theo was looking at you, you could tell it would take more than a crass brush-off to wipe the icy glare and pouted lips from his expression. Delicate fingers grip onto Theo's shirt, tugging him closer to you. You ghost your lips against his, meeting his steely gaze. "Will you let me make it up to you?"

You don't wait for a response. Instead, you nip at his bottom lip before pulling him in for a slow, deep kiss. Despite his annoyance, Theo kisses back, placing a strong hand behind your neck to keep you in place. The kiss is full of passion, anger, and need.

You maneuver yourself off the desk, unbreaking the hot kiss, as you reposition so that Theo's the one against the desk. He acknowledges you taking charge, and he allows it because, quite frankly, whenever you did take charge, Theo found it extremely intoxicating.

Only now do you break the kiss, peering up at Theo as your hands fumble with his pants. He kicks them off just as you remove your own top, making a point of leaving your bra intact. Theo's breath catches. God, he wanted to bury his face between the valley of your breasts.

"So?" You ask again, a devilish smirk on your lips, your fingers making progress on unbuttoning his collared shirt. "Will you?"

"Go on, then." Theo says. It's not lost on him how much leniency he gives you—not just in this moment. Any other girl who disobeyed his instructions would have been tossed aside so he could move on to the next. But with you, as vexing as you were, you also very much intrigued him.

At his permission, you lightly push him back so he's sitting on the desk, giving him a much comfortable position to watch as you slowly unhook your bra, letting the garment fall to the floor. You can sense his probing eyes on you, and you can't help the sly smile that appears as you straddle him, one leg on each side of him.

Theo's hands find your waist immediately, slowly sliding up your sides, to your bare back, and then to your front. He squeezes your breasts, eliciting a breathy moan from you. Your skin was soft under his rough hands.

"And I thought you were going to let that ego of yours make a horrible choice for the both of us." You tease.

Theo's too enamoured with this new position (and view) to respond to your jests. One hand rests firmly on your jaw as he pulls you in for a kiss, his teeth grazing your bottom lip. Meanwhile, your hand moves to stroke his length, feeling Theo grow even harder at your touch.

"Shit," Theo groans.

"Someone's missed me," you whisper against his lips. Your thumb teases the tip of his cock, evoking a slight twitch out of him.

"God, shut up."

Theo wanted nothing more than to wipe—no, fuck—that smug expression on your face. And he's just about ready to take matters into his own hands, but you beat him to it.

Still wet from your previous orgasm, you were beyond ready to have Theo inside you. You lift yourself up slightly, guiding him to your entrance. He bites back a groan, his hands gripping your waist. You lock gazes as you slowly lower yourself onto him, your mouth falling open in a glorious 'o' shape as you take all of him into you.

While this wasn't the first time you had Theodore Nott resting deeply in your cunt, you took a moment to adjust.

"Are you going to move, or what?" Theo growls impatiently, bucking his hips and roughly nipping at the soft skin on your neck.

His impatience makes you smirk.

"Hey," you say, with a wry smile. You snake your fingers up to his hair, tugging his head back slightly to give you room to trail a path of kisses along his neck. You were going to prolong this and make you both ache for more. You didn't want to be the only one who was a moaning mess today. "If I'm making it up to you, then it's my rules."

"You know I don't give a shit about rules."

"Too bad."

This makes Theo's jaw clench. Before he can utter another quip, you're rolling your hips, feeling him embedded inside you. The movement feels good, but you know it's not enough for either of you just yet.

"God, I'm thankful your ego isn't the only thing that's big," you moan against his ear.

This makes Theo's jaw clench. You hear a string of curse words in another language, something you've noticed Theo does in moments where his brain had short-circuited. Enough sense, it seems, is knocked back into him as you can understand the breathless words, "And you take me so fucking well."

Theo's lips find the top of your chest, kissing down feverishly. His tongue flicks expertly against your right nipple as his hand moves to grip your bare ass from under your skirt. You arch into him, letting out a sharp gasp at the dual sensation. Despite his sentiment about rules, Theo lets you control the pace. He holds back the strong desire to thrust upwards into you, to fuck you hard.

"Oh, Theo," you whine as you continue to roll your hips. You wrap your arms around his shoulders and lift yourself up, almost completely off his dick. Ghosting your lips against his, you push yourself back down—hard—feeling him go even deeper. You repeat these movements, your moans growing louder.

Theo can't stop the thoughts of how gorgeous you looked from clouding his mind. You weren't bad to look at normally, but seeing you fuck yourself with his cock had to be one of the wonders of the world. Only if that were a reality, Theo's not sure he could stand anyone else ogling you like this.

"Yes, that... that feels good." Theo groans, his cock throbbing from your movements.

You press your forehead against his, your eyes locking with his as you continue. One of the things Theo liked most about this little arrangement was your unnerving ability to keep eye contact—there was nothing more sexy than seeing the woman you were pleasuring crumble. Eyes can tell you everything.

"I'm trying to—" you breathe, rocking yourself against him. The movement wasn't nearly fast enough, but the way you were moving had him reaching depths you didn't know were attainable. "—to be good."

"Are you?" Theo asks between pants, squeezing your ass roughly. He leans into your lips. "Can you be a good girl for me now?"

You give him a small nod, your eyes fluttering shut for a moment. Your breath is quavering as you try to speak; your eyes re-lock onto his. "Am I not being good for you?"

This makes him chuckle darkly. Theo wasn't an idiot. He knew you practically yearned for his words of praise. The knowledge was something he took advantage of from time to time, withholding and dangling his praise in front of you just to see how far you'd go to make him say it.

To prove to Theo you were being good, you push yourself down onto him roughly, a whimper escaping your lips. You increase your speed, unable to hold out anymore, fucking yourself hard, deep, and fast on his cock.

"Fuck." Theo swears, and he can't help himself now. Hands keep you in place as he fucks up into you, cock hitting your spot repeatedly and mercilessly. He relishes the feeling of your wet core around him. Your clit presses against his pelvis at each thrust.

You took pleasure (literally and figuratively) in Theo's natural ability in knowing. He knew what to say, how to touch you so you were melting, and when to take back control. His hands digging into your hips told you everything you needed to know: Theo was going to fuck you senseless.

"I want to be good," you pant, your nails digging into his back, grasping for a release.

"Then you know what I want to hear."

He holds you flush against him, arms wrapping around you as he continues to thrust. He can feel his own pleasure grow. Your head falls onto his shoulder as you feel it building up in your stomach again. This time, you weren't going to wait until it was too late.

"Theo, please," you practically beg. Theo was the only person who'd ever make you feel like this, and you were past the point of caring whether he knew it too. "Can I cum, please? For you."

"Yes," Theo hisses. He was close too. "Cum for me. Now."

Your orgasm hits you hard and fast, your head falling back as you drag your nails into his skin. Theo continues to thrust up sharply, chasing the high for the both of you. You clench around his length, the sensation mixed with your moans pushing Theo over the edge.

"That's my good girl."

Theo's praise for you was not lost in the chorus of breathy moans and grunts of pleasure. His addition of the word 'my' made you shake even more as another wave of pleasure washes over you.

"Oh, God, yes, Theo."

His hand moves to the back of your neck desperately, guiding you into him for a passionate kiss as he spills into you with a moan.

Ragged breaths fill the room. There was always a moment of limbo after every encounter—a moment where the two of you stayed entangled and nestled with each other, savouring the proximity and stealing last, sweet kisses. You knew the moment you got up, the two of you would go back to despising each other again, until next time.

"So?" Theo asks after a moment, expectant of an answer, as if you could read his mind. "That dumb git you mentioned earlier. Was he better than me?"

His question makes you smirk, and you have to bite it back so as not to show how content you were that he had lingered on that thought.

"You don't want me to answer that," you say, giving him a small pat on the shoulder before getting up. You slip back into your clothes and adjust your hair.

The answer should have been obvious to Theo, but you weren't giving him the satisfaction of admitting it because it did nothing for your reality. This was as far as this would go. Theodore Nott was a pretentious asshole who just so happened to be a good fuck. There was never going to be more than that.

"You definitely exceeded expectations today, Theo," you say, gathering your books from the floor. "But you didn't do anything worth an outstanding."

With a swift flick of your wand, you unlock the door and leave Theo in the vacant classroom, already fantasizing about next time.

[esouliie]

AN ANGEL FLUNG OUT OF SPACE

(natasha romanoff x fem! reader)

– synopsis | falling in love with your childhood bestfriend might have been one of the best yet scariest things to happen to you. but what happened in the summer of ‘97? what happened to your darling natalia?

– warnings | little fluff & a lot of angst, kind of au (no avengers), child abuse, mentions of: attempted suicide, self harm, body mutilation, burn marks, severe malnourishment (18+)

– notes | this was supposed to be a oneshot but, as usual, i spiralled out of control and now it has two chapters… potentially three? merci, mon alice, for the header @wandasgf ♡

[ word count: 4.4k ] Chapter 1 | Chapter 2

JULY 1992

The sun had begun to set and yet the warmth of the day still lingered. The glow of the street lamps cast an amber hue on the pavement, outlining the familiar houses that lined the quiet street. The air was filled with the scent of summer, a blend of fresh grass and the distant fragrance of blooming flowers. In one of the houses on the street, a family gathered in their backyard for a summer evening barbecue. The smell of sizzling burgers and sweet barbecue sauce wafted through the air, and the faint laughter of children chasing each other echoed, while the adults lounged and swapped stories.

Meanwhile, across the field, two girls were beneath the sprawling branches of a willow tree. A patchwork quilt, covering a section of flattened grass, held a tea set long forgotten as they had rounded the thick trunk, the littlest one already perched on the wooden swing.

“Push me higher, Natty!” You exclaimed, voice full of glee. You were only a small girl with wild hair and a toothy grin, but your spirit was boundless.

Natalia smiled brightly, her own eyes sparkling with joy at her friend's excitement. “You’re already so high you could see the Empire State Building.” She teased, her laughter blending with the sound of chirping crickets amongst the long grass in the distance.

“I know!” The wind whipped against your face, and you couldn’t help but let out a joyous laugh.

Inseparable since Natalia moved in next door, your friendship blossomed under the protective branches of the willow tree across the street, where a swing hung proudly in the breeze. Its gentle leaves whispered secrets that only the two of you could hear, dreams of the future etched upon its bark, as unadulterated laughter rang true with its sway.

She whistled as your head swung back, the carefree spirit of the summer evening enveloping her in its warm embrace. And as she gazed up at the tree’s opening, she found twinkling stars above and the imaginary distant silhouette of the Empire State Building visible on the horizon. She couldn't help but feel a sense of wonder at the vastness of the world she had yet to see.

"Whoa, this is amazing." You shouted, feeling your stomach drop with each swoop. "Let’s swing all the way to the moon!"

“Maybe not the moon,” She pushed harder, her hands gripping the thick plank of wood beneath you, “But let’s try for the stars."

You shouted with as much euphemism as your little body could handle as the swing reached its peak. Weightless under its motion, you were suspended between the sky and the ground.

 An angel flung out of space.

 "I can almost touch the stars!"

She smiled. Despite her hands being rubbed red raw from rope burn, she was happy. She was always happy to be with you. While she had her younger sister, Yelena, whom she cared for deeply, it wasn't the same as having you. A friendship of her own creation. She yearned for the summer days when she could run around like a child with you.

“That’s good, that means you’re almost home, little star.” She shouted, her accent slipping out ever so subtly.

Carefully, your hand stretched toward the night sky – a poor attempt to touch the boiling balls of gas above.

You both were happy.

It’s sad what became of you both.

All too soon, reality intruded once more. The distant sound of a heavy door opening cut through the air, a gentle reminder that all good things must come to an end. With a final push, Nat stepped back and held onto the plank, commanding it to a halt. She knew what was coming.

At first, you didn’t notice her disappear around the wide trunk. But the gentle clink of pottery against one another told you enough as you followed in her footsteps.

“Natalia,” You whined, hands on your waist at the sight of the older girl cleaning up. “No, it’s your turn to swing.”

A whistle pierced the air, its familiar shrill sound gaining both of your attention. The sound of home time. “Natalia, come. Time to go.” Her mother’s voice carried just as loud, urging the redhead to leave playtime behind.

She turned to you, her expression softening as she looked down at your smaller frame. With a mixture of reluctance and understanding, she pulled you into a tight embrace, the warmth of her arms wrapped around you, the gentle press of her lips against your forehead lingered for a moment before she released you and ran off into the gathering dusk.

Alone now, you watched as the field fell silent, the only sound being of the insects hidden in the dark. The swing on the other side croaked gently in response to the light breeze and the redhead’s swift departure. For a moment, you considered sitting on it, perhaps pushing yourself back and forth on the points of your feet. Instead, you find yourself standing there: the absence of your best friend ever so palpable, a void that sunk deep into your bones.

Without Natalia by your side, the swing held little allure, and you decided to make your way back home. With your large basket in hand, you reached your own doorstep and paused, casting one last glance towards the girl’s house. The lights were on inside, casting a warm glow against the darkness outside.

You almost missed it, but a glimpse of red hair appeared out the window, followed by a hand waving at you. As soon as you waved back, she was gone. Window shut. Curtains drawn.

You went to bed with a cheesy grin plastered on your face.

You’ll see her again tomorrow.

--

AUGUST 1997

“Natalia, stop fighting me on this. You look like a popsicle.” You laughed and shoved the girl playfully from where you were sitting against the willow tree.

“It's cool.” She defended, as her hand tugged at her blue-dyed ends.

The years had rolled by, but the memories of that swing under the willow tree lingered on in your heart. As the seasons changed, so did your life. You made new friends, explored different interests, and navigated the tumultuous journey of adolescence. Being older than you, Natalia was already in high school, but she didn’t go to any in the district, as she was home-schooled and sometimes had to leave for a while. She never really told you why.

Even so, your bond deepened and an unspoken connection developed between you both. Under the tree's comforting shade, you discovered a warmth in your heart that went beyond friendship. Those lazy summer afternoons spent laughing, dreaming, and sharing secrets created a bond that you wanted to explore further.

You’d never felt like this before for anyone.

Only Natalia.

Life as a pre-teen was so confusing.

You snorted, “Yeah, okay, you leave for a month and come back with half of your hair a different colour.”

But it wasn't just the hair colour that captivated you. It was the way she carried herself - a wisdom wise beyond her years. She was the same goofy redhead of course - her eyes sparkled with mischief when she laughed at you, her hand held the same warmth in yours as you walked together. But there was something else lurking beneath, a sadness more notable than her usual melancholy. You noticed the slight furrow in her brow, the way her fingers tapped nervously against each other.

Something was weighing on her mind, something significant. So, you asked, “What’s wrong?”

She let out such a soft sigh that you almost missed it.

“I’m leaving.”

Dread washed over you, and a knot formed in your stomach. "Again?"

She had just returned the other day. Your mind raced with questions and uncertainty and the tears already clustered your lash line. You, a child with no need to mask her emotions, no need to hide her soul, unlike Natalia, who always seemed to carry the weight of the world on her shoulders, her laughter always accompanied by a subtle sadness, as if she were trying to conceal her true feelings behind a façade of cheerfulness. But today, as she sat you down with a gentle tug, her eyes betraying a mixture of resolve and sorrow, you sensed that she could no longer hide what she'd been keeping inside.

"It's for good this time," she murmured, her gaze fixed on the ground as if unable to meet your eyes. "My parents want to go back to Russia. They don’t like it here.”

Though unspoken, you sensed the weight of what she meant. They don't like you. It stung, a silent acknowledgement of the barriers you've fallen blind to. The odd glances from her mother, the subtle disapproval from her younger sister—all pieces of a puzzle you've tried to ignore.

Her admission hung heavy in the air, the reality of separation sinking in with each passing moment. She drew closer, her delicate fingers brushing away the tears that cascaded down your cheeks. You lifted your gaze to meet hers, noticing the weariness etched into her features, the telltale signs of tears already shed hours before.

“I’ll miss you.” She whispered, forehead flushed against yours, before leaning down to kiss the corner of your lips. An almost kiss. One of many shared underneath the cover of the willow tree.

You tasted saltiness and noticed the fresh tears that had now sprung from her eyes.

“I'll miss you too. Forever.”

The next morning, you stood outside her house, as the sun cast long shadows over their lawn. It was your last full day together so you arrived bright and early, not wanting to waste any time. You reached out to knock on the door, but your hand hovered, hesitant. The house remained still, as if holding its breath, waiting for something that would never come. You glanced around, searching for any sign of life, but the windows stared back at you blankly, revealing nothing but darkness within.

“Natty?”

 Nothing.

A sinking feeling gnawed at your stomach as you realized they must've left in the night, slipping away like shadows fleeing from the dawn. The same way they joined this neighbourhood.

With a heavy heart, you turned away from the empty house, feeling as if a piece of your soul had been torn away with their departure. The world already seemed colder, lonelier, devoid of her warmth and laughter that once filled it.

In the days that followed, you found yourself drawn to the tree – yours and Natalia’s safe haven. You sat there, surrounded by memories, as the rope swayed in the wind - empty and forlorn. Though still magical, the willow tree could no longer shield you from the loneliness that settled in your heart, as the summer months stretched on endlessly, a blur of empty hours filled with longing and regret.

That night, you slept with a permanent frown, a puddle of tears staining your pillow.

You won’t see her again tomorrow.

--

APRIL 2001

From afar, she looked different. Almost unrecognisable.

Eighteen years old and she was here: barely an adult yet taller and slimmer, with a cascade of auburn curls framing her face that replaced the short blue hair you remembered. The years had engraved themselves onto her, carving the once-round face into a pointed visage that spoke of both experience and loss.

Just as beautiful as you remembered.

You sat on the swing under the tree with a book in hand, lost in its pages until light danced between the branches and a flicker of movement caught your attention. Glancing up, you froze as you saw her across the street.

Natalia?

Your heart quickened its pace, memories flooding back in a torrent. But this woman was different. She’d changed. She’d grown.

She noticed you too, her gaze locking onto yours for a moment. There's a flicker of recognition, a spark of something in those eyes. For a heartbeat, it feels like time hasn't passed, like you're still the same two little girls taking on the world together. But then, just as quickly as the connection formed, she averted her gaze, choosing instead to continue on her journey. She walked with purpose, footsteps marching in a steady rhythm that both connected and distanced her from you. She couldn’t get caught up with you. She had a job to do.

Realising she was going to walk away, you pushed yourself off the swing, a mix of hope and nerves swirling inside you as you discarded the book somewhere in the grass.

None of that mattered. Natalia was here. She was back.

“Hey, wait!” You shouted, practically running after her. You reached out to grab her wrist, but she jerked away, shoving you back a few steps with surprising force.

Up close, the difference was unquestionable.

The once soft and kind Natalia had evolved into a hardened version of herself, sharpened by strong fists. Her eyes once filled with innocence, now harbour shadows of pain and resilience. She exuded an aura of toughness, and a guarded silence had replaced the laughter that used to be a melody in her voice.

“Natalia? What are you doing here?” You inquired, tentatively closing the gap between you both. You watched as she winced at her name falling from your lips.

And yet, this time, she didn’t evade your touch. Her hand trembled slightly as it met yours, eyes fluttering shut for a moment. In that fleeting silence, you took in the toll life has taken on her. Her arms bear the marks of countless scars, remnants of battles fought in shadows, and bruises of varying hues.

“What happened to your arms?” Your voice is gentle, a soft inquiry borne out of concern.

But, the sudden confrontation had her retreating into herself, defences rising once more like impenetrable walls. You mustn’t know. She could never do that to you. “Let go.” She demanded sharply, her tone cutting through the air like a knife.

Caught off guard, you hesitated for a moment, unsure of how to proceed, but that’s long enough for her to decide to rip her hand out of yours, sharp and abrupt.

“Are you okay?” Your voice was barely a whisper as you watched her practically flee, disappearing around the corner of the street.

 You don’t follow her.

--

OCTOBER 2012

Funny how throughout life, fate seemed to play a game with you, pulling Natalia in and out of your orbit like a cosmic dance.

At twenty-seven, you found yourself entrenched in the fast-paced world of trauma nursing. After the arduous journey through medical school, you packed your bags and set your sights on the East Coast. New York City welcomed you with open arms, its vibrant chaos becoming the backdrop to your new life. From your boss’s office window, the silhouette of the Empire State Building stood tall, a symbol of strength amidst the chaos below.

You thrived in this environment, relishing in the opportunity to connect with and assist people in their most vulnerable moments. The adrenaline rush of the emergency room, the delicate balance between life and death—it fuelled you in ways nothing else could. Not since that summer night. Not since you tried to touch the stars.

Today, however, the hospital was enveloped in an air of secrecy and quiet urgency. Paramedics had rushed in with a new patient a few hours ago, shrouded in mystery as they were rushed straight into surgery. Usually, you're first on-site with incoming patients but you had been busy working your rounds to be able to assist, and there were enough on the trauma team – with the security clearance - to handle such a situation.

Stopping by the bedside of your oldest patient, Mrs. Dinton, you smiled sweetly. “Hey, Mrs Dinton. How are we today?”

"Ah, there you are, dearie," she said, her voice crackling with age. "I was just telling Nurse Molly here about the delightful hospital pudding they serve on Wednesdays. It's simply divine, don't you think?"

You chuckled softly, waving a hello to your colleague. "I'm afraid I'm not much of a fan, Mrs. Dinton. But I'm glad to hear you're enjoying it."

She laughed, a sound like tinkling bells. "Oh, well, means more for me then."

Before you could continue the conversation – could reprimand the elderly woman about how she needs to watch her sugar intake - Dr. Cho appeared at your side, her expression serious. "Excuse me, ladies. But, Nurse Y/N, is needed elsewhere." She says kindly but with a hint of urgency, no room for questioning. You and Dr. Cho were great friends, having graduated med school together and now working at the same hospital.

“What is it, Helen?” You asked, following her footsteps out the ward, navigating the labyrinthine hallways of the hospital.

“I’ve been assigned postoperative care for the Jane Doe and I want you with me...” Your heart dropped at the mention of the mystery woman.

All day, the hushed tones and covert glances exchanged among your colleagues hinted at the gravity of the situation. Their whispers that followed you through the hospital corridors spoke of a failed suicide attempt. While the hospital had sadly seen its share of such cases, this one was different – a Jane Doe, requiring an unusual degree of privacy.

“…while I don’t know any more than you about what happened, I trust you the most to help me with her. So I got you clearance. Go grab us a pair of gloves, I’ll meet you inside.” Helen finished with a nod before entering the private wing.

You donned your own pair of latex and made your way back to the private wing, the click of your shoes echoing down the corridor. The atmosphere was thick with anticipation and concern. The weight of the unknown pressed upon you as you approached the room where the troubled soul awaited treatment. Few years being a trauma nurse, you had seen it all… but not a Jane Doe. Never a Jane Doe.

Upon entering, you found Helen already studying the patient's chart. The subdued lighting in the room cast a sombre mood, and the machines hummed softly in the background. The Jane Doe was laid on the hospital bed, head secured in a neck brace and a tube down her throat, a silent testament to the ordeal she had endured.

“Thanks,” Helen whispered, making her way over to retrieve her gloves. "I've gone through everything in the notes. The attempt was pretty severe."

You nodded, taking in the gravity of the situation. The silence was broken only by the soft beeping of the monitors as you both began your work. Each movement was deliberate, and each procedure executed with precision and empathy. You adjusted the IV drip, checked the vital signs, and made sure everything was in order.

Sometime later, Helen had left, her pager going off as her presence was needed with another incoming patient.  The room seemed to hold its breath, but it was only you. The machine to your right, making sure the woman was still breathing.

You read over her notes once more.

“Female, 5’7…” You ramble aimlessly to no one as you find yourself unable to voice the rest.

The laceration on her neck caught your attention. The wound stretched across her delicate skin, a jagged seam where the surgeons' skilled hands had meticulously stitched the deep gash closed. The edges of the cut were puckered slightly, evidence of the trauma dealt with by the knife paramedics found next to her unconscious body. Judging by the shape, it seemed like she plunged rather than sliced, the offending weapon, then, pulled out instead of left inside. She was quite malnourished, her cheeks hollowed out, collarbone visible as the gown drowned her thin figure. She lacked a sufficient amount of muscle. You wondered how someone could go unnoticed without eating for several days. It was as if she had become a ghost, fading away in plain sight.

The woman looked ill - eyes sunken with abnormally pale skin. Drifting down her body, you noticed her legs. A horrified gasp threatened to leave your lips.  Raised red lines covered the expanse of her legs, some scabbed up, some clear burn marks that had turned into blisters. Her arms were just as bad, marred with a history of wounds that ran from her wrists to her shoulders.

Behind all the equipment, her face was almost unrecognisable. Her hair was what stood out the most, the auburn curls matted with blood. A sense of familiarity washed over you, the red striking your curiosity.

You couldn't tear your gaze away as you watched her stir. Unsure if she was waking or simply moving unconsciously, you remained still, not wanting to startle her. But then her face contorted with pain, and her lashes began to flutter open.

The sheets rustled as she tried to turn, her discomfort evident from the way she struggled against the tubes and wires tethering her to the medical machinery. You couldn't help but feel a pang of sympathy for her, lying there in such a vulnerable state. No identity. No family to be there for her.

"Stay still, please.” You whispered softly, stepping closer to her bedside. “You're in the hospital. You’re safe."

Her eyes, clouded with pain and confusion, met yours for a fleeting moment before flickering away. She seemed to be trying to process where she was and what had happened.

“Paramedics found you unconscious and rushed you in.” You explained gently, hoping to offer some semblance of clarity amidst the chaos of her thoughts. “You had a wound to the neck. We’ve managed to close it, so don’t move around too much. Otherwise, you might open the stitches.”

Her gaze drifted back to you, and for a moment there was a flicker of recognition in her eyes. It was fleeting, gone almost as quickly as it had appeared, but it was enough to make your heart skip a beat.

You saw as she went to speak, only to find pain and a heavy weight against her tongue. “Careful. You shouldn’t try to speak yet. We’re not sure how much damage has been done to your vocal cords.”

As if she didn’t hear you, she continued fidgeting, fighting against the intrusion in her mouth, panic overriding.

“Hey, listen to me,” you coaxed, voice soft but firm, your hand reaching out to settle over hers, the glove long forgotten. “I need you to calm down, please. You’re going to be okay. You just need to rest your voice.”

Her eyes darted to you, wide with fear and frustration, and you squeezed her hand gently, offering what little comfort you could.

“It’s going to be alright, just take slow breaths. Focus on that.” You started to breathe deeply, deliberately, hoping she'd follow your lead. Inhale... exhale... in a steady rhythm, like waves lapping against the shore

As you continued to focus on stabilising her breathing, your eyes inadvertently met hers, and in that moment, you were drawn into the depths of those vibrant green orbs. They held a world of pain, swirling like a tempestuous storm beneath the surface. Yet, amidst the turmoil, there's a glimmer of familiarity that tugged at the corners of your memory.

There’s something about her you can’t make sense of.

 Why does she look so familiar? Who is she?

“Do I know you?” You almost asked, but then suddenly, the door to the waiting room clicked open, and Helen strode in, her expression wavering as she noticed the woman awake. “She’s awake already?!” Shock and bewilderment visible on her face.

She advanced, quickly spewing off questions in your direction, as her eyes narrowed in on the woman, assessing her condition with a quick, practised glance.

"She's awake, a little panicked about being in a hospital, but also a bit disoriented," you explained, voice calm despite the urgency of the situation. "Vitals are stable for now.”

With that, you stepped away, dropping her hand you had forgotten you were still holding, as Helen went to introduce herself. Your lunch break was coming up and before you could turn to leave the room, Helen stopped you. "Thank you for staying with her," she said softly, "There was a car accident. Two little girls rushed in for surgery. They needed me."

You nodded in understanding. You couldn’t fault her. Every day seemed to bring a new challenge, a new story, and today was no different. This Jane Doe was no different.

Before you could delve deeper into your thoughts, she interrupted, “Anyways, I’m here now and pager is off,” she drew your attention to the device in her pocket, “Boss’s order...  now go take your lunch break.”

With a small smile, you left the room, the door softly closing behind you. Walking down the hallways, your mind buzzed with curiosity about the woman. Her face – those eyes - nagged at the edges of your memory, like a puzzle waiting to be solved.

Where do I know you from, Jane Doe?

[nevertheless-moving]

STORMLIGHT ARCHIVE AU MASTERLIST

List will be updated with links if/when AUs develop For my Star Wars AU Masterlist: Please See Here As always, people are more than welcome to play with any of these ideas! just please link back to me so I can see! Seriously if you want to write stuff in any form with ideas from any of these aus I will love you forever! 1 to 20: Words of Radiance AUS 21 to 30: Non Words of Radiance AUs (note: these might also be WOR AUs) 31 to 40: Post Winds and Truth Wild Speculation (that may or may not also be a WOR AU)

1 to 20 Words of Radiance AUS

[EDIT, Previous #1 Now #28]

2. High oath Hesina willshaper aus. This is actually many many AUs because the "Mom??" Reveal is great in all contexts. Concept, WOK Era Outline

3. Renarin asks Kaladin for help with radiant stuff during WOR. Secret training. Everyone thinks they're fucking. Chapter 1 and Outline/Meta

4. Elhokar drunk orders kaladin to bedchambers, begs for help keeping away nighmare creatures. Kaladin nearly kills him before scary spren realization, then goes into serious radiant mode when syl gets ambiguously concerned. Everyone thinks they're fucking.[Note: I might be too easily entertained by this trope]. Kaladin is deeply pained by this but also has  people saving thing and really doesnt want to reveal the radiant thing to the whole camp. Earlier third oath. Eventual fucking optional, see above au, except with a bit more pity than vibeing for option a.

5. Crack. AUs 3, 4, and 9 at same time so people just think Kaladin is the Kholin Rhysadium. Bridge 4 offers government overthrow if he's being pressured. kaladin assures them that's not it. Now people keep trying to high five him. Kaladin with head in hands while Moash snarks over his shoulder "you know when i said fuck the lighteyed i didn't -" Kaladin definitely asexual in this one.

6. Hessenia and lirin come to shattered planes, shocked/thrilled/emotional to find kaladin. Bridge 4 desperately trying to get approval of [bugs bunny meme our] parents. Lirin reluctantly adopting renarin who wants to learn about healing now for some reason. Blackthorn surgeon mutual loathing/ jealousy son swap hilarity. Lirin is having a time. 

7. Kaladin wasn’t on guard duty the night of szeth arrival. Still warned by syl about assassin, but has to dead sprint while glowing to get across camp fast enough, soft reveal to anyone outside. Only barely figures out wall running on the way over to crash in window just in time. Szeth freaks out and runs away after very short, mildly anticlimatic interaction. And now Kaladin has to deal with Everyone.

8. Kaladin further along in powers during initial szeth fight. Battle of champions degrading to slap fight when they run out of stormlight and get stuck on the plains. Concept/ Ask, Funny Severed Leg

9. Manufactured rumors about adolin/ kaladin. Effective political mudslinging for most of WOR. Shallan plays up things about her relationship with Jasnah to be a more appealing beard. [Previous #9 Is Now #33]

10. Kaladin has a meltdown in prison, breaks out of his cell. Just a little bit more stormlight...Shouts of alarm. Aaah glowing Assassin in white! Kaladin panics more. Adolin handles the situation like a champ. Kaladin maybe briefly kidnaps him.

11. Nale goes after kaladin instead of lift. Ohhh so many thoughts for parallels.

12. Syl immediately dive bombs pattern when kaladin and shallan meet. Really early radiant reveal but just to each other. Kaladin does not trust her but doesn't want to reveal his own status so just watches her super intensely...since she's also constantly watching him too, yes, this gets misinterpreted. See au 3 through 5 but more discreet. Veil is the one draggng him from the barracks for late night 'training sessions' [these are actually training sessions but veil flirts outrageously with kaladin when anyones in earshot. So.] that distracts things a bit.

13. Adolin, suspicious after the Assassin in White fight, was secretly following kaladin at night. Sees him step off a ledge into a chasm (I just reread the section and was like?! You glanced over your shoulder once?!). Adolin spends the whole night stewing in regret, anger, grief, guilt (I was there. I could have yelled. Should have done something. I didn't realize...I didn't know. I didn't know anything). Next morning Kaladin is on guard duty and adolin flips his shit, suddenly remembering that the whole reason he was suspicious of this guy was because he inexplicably survived a several hundred foot drop.

14. Kaladin barely manages to hold it together just long enough to out himself as radiant right after prison. Part One, Part two

15. Kaladin does NOT hold it together after getting arrested.

16. Kaladin swears third oath early. Next few weeks involve a lot of hiding glowing bridgeman squire antics and gaslighting people about kaladin's intermittently light eyes.

17. In the initial confrontation with Szeth, Kaladin pushes a bit harder about the radiants being back, Szeth spirals a bit more, crashing realization that he isn't truthless...

17a.  Earlier radiant reveal: szeth surrenders the honor blade and then immediately collapses into the ground. Kaladin drags him and the blade upstairs. Has to reveal himself now because 1) kaladin what the fuck how and 2) the assassin is mumbling about radiants. 17b ANGST: szeth surrenders the honor blade and immediately kills himself with kaladin's weapons. Kaladin takes honorblade, collapses on way back because it's draining his stormlight, maybe messing with sylbond. When he wakes up hes injured, surrounded by lighteyes and a handful of his men...handles it badly because Very Specific Shardblade Winning Trauma. Crazy two nickles moment. Downside: cries a lot in front of people he'd rather not have cried in front of. Upside: dalinar believes him about amaram now. Public windrunner powers, but obscured Radiant reveal because glowing assassin sword is very clearly granting magic powers. Weird interactions of honorblade bond and nahel bond. Lot of interesting fallout from Dalinar having his very own Mystical Assassin now.

18. Kaladin sends Syl to spy on the 'horneater princess', one sided radiant discovery. When she sends pattern to spy on bridgeboy, he somehow notices. Shallan does not handle it well. 

19. Something something people put together all the impossible stuff Kaladin's done with all the impossible stuff the Blackthorn did as a youth, combined with one of bridge four drunkenly talking about their best theories for the Captains 'mysterious backstory,' combined with Dalinar literally calling Kaladin son and seemingly overnight the warcamps are convinced that Kaladin is Dalinar's bastard child.

20. (COLLABORATIVE with @gnecrognomicon) Instead of being thrown in prison, Elhokar orders Kaladin be strung up for the Stormfather's judgement. Part One, Part Two

21 to 30 Non Words of Radiance AUs

22. Way of kings au where the beggars of alethkar are rounded up for the war effort. Jezrian, of course, ends up on bridge four.

23. Kaladin time travel au to way of kings only the transition is a bit like a spren going through the cognitive to material realm transfer. Not all there. Heartwarming bridge four bonding slightly to the left - sure the mans crazy but he just looks so...disappointed when we dont help with the injured, and he shares his food like an idiot. How does someone seven foot tall and stronger than a chull make axehound pup eyes. We're not following him though. He's not our lead - holy heralds balls is he glowing??  Bit more of a symbol than a friend, but a symbol that you take turns holding at night because he has such bad nightmares and also hes clingy. 

24. COLLABORATIVE / stone soup with @sweetteaanddragons : adolin and kaladin time travel to way of kings. Kaldin brooding about how to escape AND save all his men AND the world until adolin barges in and buys everyone. 

'Thank the almighty,' Kaladin thought with almost painful relief, watching Adolin argue haughtily with a growing swarm of Thadeus's lighteyes. 'I never thought I'd actually appreciate having a rich friend.' He would, of course, rather die than admit this. "I had it handled," he growled, when the two finally managed to speak inconspicuously, each weaving amongst a thousand confused former bridgeman, speaking quietly with several, until they were able to meet in the middle with reasonable subtlety, all things considered. "That's great, Kal," Adolin said cheerfully, clearly not buying a word. "Say, how would you feel about doing some, you know..." He waved a hand, earning a raised eyebrow from Kaladin. "Glowy stuff for my Father," his voice dropped from a subtle hush to a slightly conspicuous whisper. "So he doesn't disinherit me. I did not have permission for this."  Both pairs of eyes flicked to the side, the Blackthorn's towering figure approaching like a Stormwall. "Uh. Sooner rather than later perhaps."

26. Oathbringer/row au. Adolin doesn’t kill sadeus. Mostly just excuse to dunk on Sadeus for trading one (1) shardblade for mythical warrior who can make his own shardblade. oh look more of your former slaves are glowing now. and THEY make shardblades too!

27. Elhokar and Kaladin time travel from Elhokar's death in oathbringer to way of kings. Part one, Part Two

27B. Elhokar solo time travels back from Oathbringer death to Way of Kings

28. Moash tells kaladin about beef with elokhar early. This derails the entire plot of the series. [EDIT, This au was previously #1, before I abruptly realized it was WOK, Not WOR]

31 to 40 Post Winds and Truth Wild Speculation

31. Szeth kaladin pity fuck time travel au words of radiance. Bridge four roasts the shit out of kaladin. Kaladin is doing everything in his power to avoid implying "knowledge of future" which makes the timeline of their relationship deeply confusing.

32. Szeth kaladin time travel au post book 5, they get their memories back in the high storm right before canon first meeting. Szeth sort of stumbles in, halfheartedly attempting a confused assassination.

33. [EDIT: Previously AU Number 9] Kaladin time travel back to wor, book 5 gone wrong. Deeply terrifying from outsider pov. Captain of the Kholin guard, bridgefour leader, is suddenly Full fourth oath windrunner talking about how humans are the voidbringers, they actually need to support the parshendi in bringing one last controlled desolation, and then kill the heralds and also god. Don't worry not our god. Different god. Our god is already dead. If someone else travels back with him then it swings around to a lil bit funny.

34. Post winds and truth, pre sunlit man, crossover with the twilight of mistborn era 2 (i think the cosmere timeline could make sense but if not, oh well). Kaladin gets a boon from his god(s). Requests to learn more about mental health. Has to go to another planet to do so, because mental health research on Roshar sucks. Scadrial's god seems (relatively) friendly and their planet has developed antidepressants AND wellness seminars. Shenanigans with Very Old Wax and the gang.

35. Jasnah, Dalinar, and Renarin (surviving Kholin Radiants) travel from End of World to right after Gavilar's death. Crack. Outline

All of the above (plus other fandoms if you keep scrolling back) will be tagged with 'my au' The above, plus my canon stormlight and other cosmere meta, technically canon compliant fanfic drabbles, or other things that i've written but don't fit in an au will be tagged 'nevertheless cosmere'

[floaties-for-arsene]

wake up babe ryomina swap au just dropped

more context below hehe :)

I’m gonna try to not go too crazy explaining the AU, so here’s my attempt at a “condensed” outline of the AU!

So the story of Persona 3 happens normally.. up until Ryoji’s revelation. After Ryoji explains the Fall to SEES and presents them with the option to kill him, Minato is insistent that there has to be another way. Eventually he settles on the idea of removing Ryoji’s status as the harbinger of the Fall, and to do so, make Ryoji human.. the problem is, in this act, Ryoji’s powers would transfer to Minato. Hence the swap part of the AU :)

At first everyone is really hesitant about this, especially Ryoji; he’d much rather put himself at risk than Minato. But he persists and eventually the team agrees to trust him. Ryoji and Minato relentlessly plan to ensure that things go as well as they can. On New Year’s, Ryoji initiates a sort of sharing of powers between the two; since the two exist within each other, I’m really leaning into their out of body connection for this.. if that makes any sense. When the swap happens, Minato disappears, and Ryoji blacks out.

When Ryoji recovers, SEES seeks out Minato in the Dark Hour. Ryoji is distressed that he can no longer sense Minato’s presence and begins to worry that things went terribly wrong. Ryoji is still weak and it’s soon apparent that he’s unable to summon a persona… and being in such danger, as well as being separated from Minato and dealing with a potential massive failure to protect someone so dear to him, he begins an existential crisis. This conflict eventually leads to Ryoji’s awakening, accepting his mortality and strengthening his resolve to fulfill his end of the plan and have faith in Minato… and when Ryoji awakens to his persona, he feels a familiar, comforting presence :)

So tldr, Minato becomes Ryoji’s persona, and the team work to beat Nyx after taking away her little pawn. I have waaaayyy more I could write about the rest of the AU and I even have epilogue stuff planned but I’ve already rambled enough and I mostly just wanted to put these designs out here since I’m super proud of them lol

[brokenhardies]

Foolsuke AU - The Hamburgulars

made in this dollmaker

Yusuke Kitagawa - The Fool

Makoto Niijima - The Chariot

Futaba Isshiki - The Lovers

Akira Kurusu - The Emperor

Goro Yoshida - The High Priestess

Ryuji Ohya - The Hermit

Ann Takamaki - The Empress

Haru Okumura - The Justice

Satoru Yoshizawa - The Faith

(not featured; Violet - The Magician)

@latenitewaffles, @inkwell1013, @mushroomfusion245 @rollthedice-playthecards @thehedgehogat221b @sterling-writes @wonderguards

[raydays-swap-au]

Rayday's Swap AU ~ Valentino

Sorry for disappearing for like uh over a week??? I was busy moving and such. Anyway, here's my swap Valentino design so yeah we ball. Not sure if I like it, but when do I like anything I create?

More information about the design + "sprites" under the cut

Why no wings - Firstly I decided to get rid of the wings since regular Angel Dust's design barely resembles the animal he's based of ( apart from his multiple limbs, and the multiple eyes I only realized was eyes on my second rewatch during that one scene. ) On top of that I also gave my swap Angel Dust more spider characteristics, so I thought it'd make sense to dial down Valentino's moth motifs ( though I think the moth motif is still pretty prominent in the design still. )

The star motif - Since Valentino will be in the role of Angel Dust aka he's pretty much a pornstar, I thought adding a star motif into it all would be fitting. I still kept the hearts though as they're a part of his physical body rather than his clothing.

Leg warmers and gloves - Yes, the fur on his legs are leg warmers. It's more obvious in the lineart, but whatever, you can't really see that. Either way, I decided to make both his leg warmers and gloves striped to reference the fur/fuzzy outline of regular Valentino's design.

Clothing style - I took inspiration from fashion styles such as gyaru and similar styles. While I didn't stick to the styles 100% they def played a role in the clothing designs. ( please forgive me if the clothing designs are bad I have no idea what I'm doing )

The little tufts of hair/fluff on his head - It looked wrong to leave him bald. That's it. Hate me for it or not, but these are my designs, so yeah.

Why I didn't use Angel Dust's colors in the design - Technically I did since the white is an off-white like Angel's rather than the pure white from Valentino's design, but still. The simple reason is imo that the soft pinks just didn't go well with the dusty indigo that is Valentino's skin. Maybe I'm just bad at designing characters, but I whatever.

The jewelry - It just felt right to add it. Also, the second pair of arms didn't get any bracelets to call back to how regular Angel Dust has different colored gloves ( and totally not just because I'm lazy )

As always, here's the sprites ( both with- and without the second pair of arms )