#glad i was able to finish another frame before the day ended!

[vinestaff]

smile and please everybody :D

no text version:

[iamnotoriginalphil]

Hey! I love your writing. I’ve been wanting Kate Stewart fics for years now so I’m glad you started writing for her!

Could you write a Kate Stewart x Reader fic where the reader is insecure about how she looks and doesn’t feel like she’s good enough for Kate so she becomes distant and Kate gets worried, and it ends with Kate finding out why she’s been distant and ends up reassuring and comforting her?

How can I not write for her when I love her so much?

CW: self-esteem issues, boss/employee relationship, hurt/comfort, angst

You weren’t hiding. That would be childish. You’d just retreated into the quiet corner to get on with your paperwork. You had reports to write, and some labs to finish up. It was normal. Nothing odd. Nothing to raise concern.

It just also didn’t hurt that it was far enough from Kate that she couldn’t see you.

The feeling had been creeping up on you for a while now. Small things that led to the dread and anticipation sitting heavy in your stomach. Even before the entire thing had started, you’d known it was too good to be true. It was only a matter of time before Kate realised it too. 

The longer it went on, the worse it became. Every morning, rolling out of bed, staring in the mirror, the list of reasons for why Kate shouldn't be with you just grew longer. It was easy to forget when her lips turned your thoughts hazy and her hands made you forget your own name. But the cold harsh light of day just highlighted the truth.

“There you are.”

You looked up from your laptop. Kate was in the doorway, leaning one hip against the frame, arms crossed over her chest, backlit by the light in the hall. Her annoying habit of knowing every corner of the building seemed to have done you no favours. The soft glow made her look ethereal, like an angel come to save you. 

“Hi,” you said, turning your attention back to your work.

“What are you doing in here?” she asked.

“Darren kept humming and I needed some peace and quiet to get everything done,” you replied, still not looking at her.

It was only the sound of her heels clicking against the floor that let you know she was approaching you. Something soft brushed your elbow and you glanced over at her from the corner of her eye. She was sitting beside you, leaning back on the wall, legs straight out in front of her. 

“You couldn’t ask him to stop?” she asked.

“It was easier to just remove myself,” you replied, refusing to turn your head towards her.

“For who?” 

“Can we not do this right now?” you said, finally looking over to her. 

There was a grim smile on her face and she looked tired, shoulders slumped and shadows under her eyes. You sighed, pinching the bridge of your nose, not able to stop yourself. It was stupid, to so obviously show your frustration when she’d come looking for you, obviously tired, and you were only adding to her plate. And yet you couldn’t help it. 

“You’ve been working a lot of late nights lately,” she said.

“I’ve been catching up on stuff,” you said.

“You’ve been staying later than me,” she said, “I didn’t know that was possible.”

“Yeah, well, my boss is a real arse,” you said, turning back to your screen.

She chuckled, leaning towards you. Her shoulder pressed into yours more firmly and you wanted to shuffle away from her but knew she’d notice. There was no hiding it behind another excuse. Nothing else to blame it on. 

Still, she must have felt you freeze.

“I know you haven’t had weeks worth of work to catch up on,” she said, voice more quiet than before, but not soft. 

“I have,” you said, “you know how much work comes with the job.”

“I feel like I’ve barely seen you. You leave before I’m up and come home after I’m asleep. When I do see you it’s like you’re not really there with me. Or we’re not talking because your mouth is otherwise engaged,” she said with a sad little huff on the end, “I’ve been missing you.”

“You know where to find me,” you said, “clearly.”

“I’ve scoured the building for you. You hardly wanted to be found,” she said.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you said.

“You’re sitting in the dark.”

You sighed, closing your laptop, plunging you back into proper darkness. She took it from you, gentle as she lifted it off your lap. She put it to one side. You looked over to her, finding her already watching you. 

“Do you want to tell me what’s going on?” she asked.

“Nothing,” you sighed, “nothing is going on.”

“Surely you can’t expect me to believe that.”

You gritted your teeth, jaw clenching. Her fingers were soft as they brushed over the curve of your jaw, featherlight, as if she was scared to touch you. You took a deep shuddering breath in, surprised at the way your heart beat too hard, almost painfully, bruising against your ribcage. 

“Are you looking to end things with me?” she asked, voice soft as she clasped her hands in her lap again.

“What?” Your voice was sharp in the silence.

“You’ve been pushing me away for weeks now, avoiding me, hiding from me. It doesn’t take a genius to work out your issue is with me. So, will you be moving out?” she asked.

“My issue isn’t you,” you said, “you’re… perfect.”

“Well, now I know you’re lying,” she laughed.

“No, really. You’re amazing and beautiful and wonderful. I’m the one letting the side down,” you said.

“What do you mean?” she asked, shifting closer.

“I’m not amazing and beautiful and wonderful,” you said. 

“What on Earth are you talking about?” she asked, sounding a mixture of baffled and offended. Which was pretty much exactly what you didn’t want to happen. 

If you pointed out all the ways you weren't good enough for her you’d be signing your own marching orders. Once she realised there would be no chance she’d stick around with you. You had assumed she’d come to the realisation on her own. But to be the one to tell her…

You pressed the heels of your palms into your eyes until colours burst behind your eyelids. A strong grip grasped your wrists, pulling them away until you were looking into the warm brown eyes of the woman you loved.

“Talk to me, darling,” she requested, sounding heartbroken.

“You know, every morning I wake up and wonder if today will be the day you realise you can do better. If you’ll realise what I realised when we got started. That I lucked out and tricked you into thinking I was worth your time but of course I’m not. It was just a matter of you noticing too,” you said, pulling your legs up until your knees were under your chin and your arms could wrap around them. 

Her hands found yours again, ignoring the way you’d pulled out of her hold already. Her skin was warm against yours, her touch familiar. You knew the feeling of her hands better than anything else. It hurt, to be touched by her, in that moment.  

“There is nothing to notice.” Her voice was firm and it made you flinch, “or at least, not the kinds of things you’re implying.”

“You’re just saying that because you haven’t yet,” you whispered.

“Tell me.”

“Tell you what?” you asked.

“The things you think I should be noticing,” she said, keeping her voice soft, coaxing you, the way you’d seen her do in the field when she was dealing with a scared fugitive. 

“You want me to tell you all the reasons you should break up with me? Fine. Do you want them in alphabetical or chronological order?” 

“You’re being flippant,” she said, sounding less than impressed.

“Wouldn’t you be?” you demanded.

“Darling, tell me,” she requested, cupping both of your cheeks, refusing to let you out of answering.

“Look at me,” you said.

“I am,” she said.

“Then you can see it. I’m not beautiful like you. I’m not smart like you. I can’t do half of the things you can. You can do so much better than me. I’m nothing compared to you. And I think you’re so amazing and I know I can never measure up. And so yeah, maybe I’ve been a bit distant but it’s because I’m trying to make sure I’m not too hurt when you wake up and realise you can do better and end things with me.”

You watched in real time as understanding bloomed over her face. You braced, tensing with every muscle for the blow that you knew was coming. Only then her face was softening and you were sure she was going to try and be so nice about it. 

“Oh darling,” she sighed and there was the pity coming in strong.

You pushed against her shoulders, trying to get her away from you. Gasping for breath, feeling a sob bubble up in your chest, you needed room. It was too much with her right there, right in front of you, staring at you, watching you so closely there was no room for you to fall apart. 

“I wish you could see yourself through my eyes,” she sighed, her thumbs running along your cheekbones.

“Stop being nice to me,” you said, snapping if not for the broken moan of pain your words turned into. 

“Not until I know you’re hearing me,” she said, “because I happen to think you’re bloody brilliant.”

You scoffed but her hands were still on your cheeks, not letting you look away from her. 

“Darling, the first time I saw you, you stole my breath. You were, and continue to be, the most beautiful person in the room. And it’s only grown more true the longer I’ve known you because I know who you are now. I’ve never seen anything that I’ve found disappointing. Unless you’ve been lying to me or hiding things from me, I think I have a pretty good sense of who you are,” she said, her voice growing firmer, the kind of voice that didn’t allow for arguments, “are you listening to me?”

You nodded, a small thing, but with her hands on you and those eyes refusing to look away there was no chance of her missing it. She lent forward again, her grip tightening.

“You are what I want in every possible way. There is no part of you I don’t want. I am proud to have you by my side and more than that, I’m proud to love and be loved by you,” she said, “I apologise if my actions or words have ever made you believe otherwise. Hear me now. You are beautiful, and wonderful, and everything I have ever wanted.”

Her fingers brushed away the tears as they fell until they came too fast to catch them all. Your arms were still around your knees, a barrier from her body and yet the strong steady warmth of her palms was seeping in where they met your cheeks. Your chin dipped towards your chest, not wanting her to watch as you fell apart, spine pressed into the wall, shrinking back even as she stared at you, drinking in every moment. 

“You’re only saying that because you don’t realise-” you tried to say.

“I do. I do realise. I see you. All of you in your entirety. I have seen every single part of you including your flaws, and I still choose you. Every moment of every day I’m choosing you. You’re the one I want. The only one I want,” she said, interrupting you before you could begin again. 

Her hand slipped from your cheek and she pressed closer, her hand on your knees, pushing them down until she could get as close as possible without being in your lap. Your own hands were twisting together and you couldn’t look at her. If you did you were worried it would crack you open, leaving you a vulnerable mess in front of her, ripe for the hurting. 

“Darling, I can’t do better than you. You’re it,” she said.

You were slow to drag your gaze back up to her, finding her already broken open in front of you. Her own words had splayed her skin back, showing you her beating heart, waiting for your soft touch to stitch her back together. Reaching out, a trembling hand crossing the distance, your fingertips brushed over her lips, whisper soft. She caught your hand, pressing it more insistently to her mouth as she kissed your fingertips, your palm, the pulse point in your wrist. 

“I love you so much,” you whispered on broken breath.

“That’s a relief,” she said with a small smile, “I was hoping after my little speech you wouldn’t turn me away.”

“I could never,” you said.

And then you were falling forward into her arms, letting her catch you. Her arms curled around your body, gathering you close, surrounding you in every way. Your face pressed into her shoulder and she let the tears soak into the fabric of her blazer. Hand splayed between your shoulder blades, the other on the small of your back, she kept you pressed against her and a part of you wondered if she needed you to steady her as much as you needed her. 

“I love you, darling,” she murmured in your ear.

You sought out her lips, blind in your need. She sighed into your mouth, her hand coming up to cradle the back of your head, fingers threading through your hair. You did what she hadn’t and climbed into her lap, not caring you were at work or that someone could walk in. You just wanted to sink into her, to let her knit you back together into a person. 

“Please don’t pull away from me anymore,” she whispered, her lips brushing against yours, “please.”

“I won’t,” you promised, mumbling into her mouth, “I won’t.”

It was soft and slow, both of you taking your time now you knew you had the rest of your life. There was no hurry, just the feeling of needing to know she was with you and wasn’t leaving. She held you tight, keeping you pressed to her, as if trying to absorb you into her being. You would let her, if it was possible.

“We should go home, darling,” she said, drawing back just far enough to share breath, “I think you’ve put in enough late nights to make your boss happy.”

“Can we get a take away?” you asked.

“Of course we can,” she said, gently pushing some hair behind your ear, “as long as we can also take a long hot bath afterwards.”

“That sounds nice.”

You clambered off her lap, helping her to her feet. Her arm looped around your waist, keeping you close, as if worried you’d do a runner if she didn’t. You pressed yourself to her side, not wanting to stray too far from her either. 

You were never going to stray far from her again.

[cyandreamz]

✿ Iris and friends ✿

A few days ago I decided to do a one panel comic based off a head canon of mine, that being that Iris has naturally red hair but, after her sister goes to jail, she felt the need to distance herself from her sister even more and, began to dye her hair black. I mostly came up with this hc because as someone with dark brown hair (that's sometimes mistaken for black :/) I know how much work it is to bleach and maintain a light hair colour and, given she "dated" Phoenix for 8 months, that's going to damage her hair real bad if she's naturally got black hair and, dyed it red regularly in that time frame. Only other option would be that she didn't dye her hair and it's naturally black but Phoenix isn't an idiot, he'd notice if his gf was swapping between red and black hair (at least I think so, he can be oblivious sure but, he can also be hyper perceptive at times so I think it's likely he'd question it eventually in the 8 months time frame), so I decided to hc her as a red head, plus she looks identical to her sister aside from the black hair colour so, them being identical twins makes sense to me.

Also don't worry, Phoenix doesn't hold anything against Iris for being a red head after this scene I drew. I like to think he comforts her after her apology so she knows she hasn't done anything wrong (because having the same colour hair as your twin isn't something you can control!). He's just surprised because she's so good at makeup (another hc of mine) that her brows looked naturally black and, he somehow didn't register that her hair was naturally red in college when he first met her again or something like that :P. I also hc that Phoenix visits Iris every few months, as while I personally don't ship feeniris, I definitely can see them being good friends after case 3-5 as they probably have quite a bit in common, given they both seemed to like each other in college.

Than I felt like drawing more Iris art but with Lana Skye because I hc them as friends! Which might seem strange, given these two do not interact in the game but, not only do they end up in prison around same time (only a few years apart), they also have had to deal with being pawns for other's and probably were able to relate in some ways to each other as a result. Plus I like to hc that Phoenix and Ema talk about their respective prison friend/sibling to each other and, are both glad to hear their friend/sibling has a best friend, neither realising that the best friend is the other prisoner involved in the conversation until both girls are released from jail. cuz I of course hc they get released from prison some time after SOJ (or before, or during, still haven't finished SOJ) and at same time because, the chief prosecutor figured out they were friends and, was able to convince the right people to change one of the girls release date to match the other girl's so they can enjoy the release day together!

[alphabetatoes]

don't make me over (v. sanji x reader)

a.n.: ah shit here we go again! writing for my forever favorite blond man! it's a short one, but i liked the prompt (had the glee cover of don't make me over stuck in my head while writing hence the title.) summary: when you get frustrated doing your makeup, sanji lends a helping hand. c.w.: suggestive themes, language(?), not beta read (fuck it wii bowl), pet names, tEnSiOn, sanji is a little shit, reader and sanji are idiots obviously in love w each other, unspoken feelings come to light? w.c.: 621

“Oh, fuck me!”

Sanji nearly dropped the dishes he’d been cleaning when he heard your expletive from across the ship. The door to your room was ajar, and your current position was far less compromising than what he’d come to expect. You were sitting at your vanity, deep in concentration. The eyeliner on your lids seemed to not want to work with you, and you were removing it for the umpteenth time.

“Everything okay here?” He leaned against your door frame, arms crossed. 

“No,” Frustration was more than evident in your voice, “I need you.”

“You… need me?” It took everything in Sanji not to faint on the spot. He only dreamed of the day that he’d be able to service you on a more personal level. And you knew he liked you, saw the lingering looks he gave you when you’d leave a room. But it was no different on your end. He was attractive, yes, but he was also complex. Sanji would trek the world on his own if it meant providing you solace.

“Need your help with this.” You motion to the makeup both on your face and resting on your vanity. “Can you be my model? I’m going to lose it if I mess up anymore on my own face.” 

“‘Course.” Anything for you, he thinks to himself.  You motion him into the room, and let him take his spot at the edge of your bed.

You were able to get a good chunk of practice in, but your canvas seemed keen on meandering. 

“Listen blondie,” you warned, “ you move around one more time and I’m shutting this downt.” You raised a brow. You knew he was doing this on purpose, tempting you. Trying to see how far he could push you before you folded.

“That so, sweetheart?” He was testing you, seeing how far he could get you before you acted. But you knew this, and you also knew you were going to do something about his purposeful meandering. So you straddle him. His hands were like magnets, immediately reaching for your hips. “Much better. Just have the eyeliner left.” You grab his chin, providing extra support. “If you can handle it.”  Sanji let out a small chuckle, and you could feel his breath tickle your fingers. “You’re in charge. Do what needs to be done, doll.” His tone was sickly sweet, relishing in  the reduced proximity between the two of you. He was enjoying this, enjoying you.

Hell, you couldn’t say you minded it. Your current situation aside, you would have gone for him anyways. It was only a matter of time before unspoken feelings would come to light. 

The application was finished without a hitch, as Sanji succumbed to your wishes. You stretched to grab the hand mirror resting on your vanity. Sanji was quick to focus on how your shirt rode up as you reached, exposing your midriff. “So, what do you think?” You pose the mirror in front of him, allowing him to gauge your work for himself.

And Sanji was feeling forward. “I think some lipstick would be the perfect way to complete the look you’ve given me.” He raised his brow, hoping you’d pick up on his insinuation. 

“Good thinking, pretty boy.” You leaned in to kiss the cook, transferring some of the pigment on your lips to his. Once you pull away, you drag your thumb under his lips, cleaning up the excess color. You held him for a bit longer, running lines over his cheek with your thumb. Admiring your work. Admiring him. 

And Sanji brought his face close to yours, leaning in for another kiss. A soft one, gentle and sweet. 

“Glad I could help you, sweetheart.”

[jazz-miester]

Im in the mood to cry today so I’d like a Bayverse optimus prime x mech reader.. Who dies.

I WANNA CRY MY EYES OUTT. Author, give it all ya got. Make it hurt. Make it bleed. I KNOW I CANT HANDLE IT BUT IM A SUCKER FOR ANGSTTTT

IVE READ YOUR ANGST FICS AND IT HURTS SO BAD YET FEELS SO GOOD???😭😭😭

As always, FEEL FREE TO IGNORE. BAIIIII‼️‼️

Supernova

Pairing: Bayverse Optimus x Reader

Reader Type: Mech

Song: Mercury- Sleeping at last

Warnings: Angst. Character death.

An: I love the fact that this is like. The third bayverse Optimus request I got lol. And I'm glad that you like my stuff so much! Umm. I also lowkey cried while writing this. So uhh. Angst.

su·per·no·va

/ˈso͞opərˌnōvə/

noun

ASTRONOMY

a star that suddenly increases greatly in brightness because of a catastrophic explosion that ejects most of its mass.

It's the pain that hits him. Searing and all consuming that blooms over his frame. The it is gone just as quickly as it came. The feathered ends of the bond pulling away from his spark.

Optimus is sent reeling from the suddenness of it. An icy worry fill its empty place. This wasn't just the blocking of pain to keep the other from getting distracted. No.

No.

"Optimus! Y/n's been hit!" The Prime's frame moves before he even tells it to. There is a hollow ringing in his audio receptors. His mind here but not as he is running across the battlefield.

His men part and flood back into place behind him as he moves. The world nothing more than a blur around him in his desperatin to get to you.

"My spark. My spark please." Optimus calls out to you through the bond. Pushing back every bit of fear and worry just so he could hear you. He needs to hear you.

He needs you.

There is a frame on the metal earth. Energon spilled below it. Medics bow over the fallen frame. Calling and speaking to one another only the way another medic could.

It is Ironhide who lays a sprawling servo on his chassis. The old mech gently pushing back.

"Prime. Its." He could not finish. Didn't dare speak the words. He said nothing but gave Optimus a look that would haunt the Prime until the day he returned to the well. A look that did not suit the old war hardened mech.

Optimus was able to do little else but stare for the briefest of klicks. Unable to come to terms with what was about to be a devastating truth.

To lose ones sparkmate.

To lose the only other that knew your frame. Your mind. Your very soul and drive for life.

It meant a total loss of oneself when the other half passed. For when they were gone they took a piece of the livings ones spark with them. You are never truly whole after. And there will never be another who could fill its place.

Optimus stepped forward. Pushing away Ironhide's arm. He could see Chromia from the corner of his optic. The blue femme was shaking. Frame covered in energon not her own.

"Optimus. I. I'm sorry." Optimus turned towards her. "I tried but he,. He.he."

"That is all I could as for, my friend." Optimus was at your side now. The medics having moved away. Fluttering about your fallen frame and the Prime like a flock of startled cyber-birds.

"My spark." Optimus's voice was hollow. He fell to his knees beside you. Servo hovering over the wound on your chassis. Light from you spark was leaking through the jagged metal.

A cracked spark chamber. Fixable in any other circumstance. But to see another's light. Their very life. It.

"I am going to lose you My Spark." His voice strained. Broke. "I am going to lose you." Optimus drew you into his arms. One rested beneath your shoulders. His servo cradling your helm. Holding it close to his own bleeding spark.

"I am sorry." Optimus could barely hear you. Your normally tenor voice, nearly a sing song at time when you spoke, was gone. The life of it pulled away just as you were doing now.

"I didn't see them." Your servo followed a shaking arc to the one cradling your helm. "I didn't see them." You repeated. Curling your digits around Optimus's.

"There is no need. Do not apologize.I" For the first time in a long long while. Optimus was at a loss for words.

For what words could one speak as the one they loved laid dying in their arms?

There is none. And that is the grief of it all.

"I need you My Spark. I need you." The tears fell and around them the others moved. Turning their backs to give the Prime time to grieve. To keep them both safe as the war raged around them.

"I know my love. I know." You sputtere and energon fell past your lips. The light of your spark grew brighter.

Optimus sobbed. Grieved. Cried out to all those who would listen.

"You can not leave. I will not allow it." Optimus brushed away the energon at your lips. His chin trembling as he took in your flickering Optics. "I am Prime! You can't. You can't." Optimus rocked.

You took his servo. Pressed a kiss to his knuckles. Then cradled it above your chassis. Above your dying spark.

"Oh Optimus. You are Prime. But you are no god. No even you can pull back the strings of fate."Optimus's helm fell over your chassis. Desperate to feel the warmth of your spark one last time. He cried and rocked with you in his arms. Broken voice pleading for you to stay just a bit longer.

"My love let me rest. Return my frame to Cybertron." You pressed your helm to him. "But know that I will always be with you. My spark will always be with yours." Optimus turned his helm. Pressed his lips to the crown of your helm

"Optimus I will be with you in this life and the next. My soul will follow yours no matter where this life finds you." There was a surge of energy as your spark grew closer to failure. The volatile ball of energy searching for a way out. "And I will be waiting upon your return to the well. Promise me though. That you will life a long life. A happy one. And make memories for me."

There was the final surge of energy. Your optics over bright and your chassis glowed a brilliant hue. Blinding the Prime in your death.

You frame slackened. Helm spilling away from the Primes chassis. Wit it the final break in his spark. The total and complete loss. Torn smoothly and harshly away.

"I promise."

He felt nothingness without you there.

Optimus cried out. Yelling until his vocalizer broke and gave way to silence. Even then he grieved. Heml buried into you. Frame shaking and trembling as the bond dissipated. He cursed the name of Primus then Unicron.

Then spat on the name of Megatron for good measure.

Tenderly. Gently. Optimus lifted your frame for the last time. He laid your rapidly greying frame on a stretcher the medics supplied. Then turned towards Chromia.

"Who." It was curt. Hollow. Devoid of any feeling.

"Optimus." She spoke.

"Who, Chromia." The energon you spilled had not yet dried on his servos.

"Prime. We cannot, in any sensible-" Optimus cut Ironhide off.

"I do not care Ironhide. They took my sparkmate from me. And I will kill them all. "

[thehandworld]

Gift Drabble for the TYL!au

((As we both know, you can do as you please with this drabble. Thanks for requesting and sorry that it took a while. But I got it done! ))

-

This day was a special one, as it was the anniversary of Haru and Gokudera becoming tied to each other in matrimony. It would be a lie to say that life was easy and without trials and tribulations, but that’s what life was. It was a struggle, and she was glad that she wasn’t alone on that.

Her relationship with Gokudera was both simple and complicated. There were many things to worry about, especially with the death of Sawada Tsunayoshi. There were many complicated protocols, but not without reason. She always understood why she had to do certain things, or why she may suddenly be asked to go somewhere without asking too many questions.

At the end of the day, it had to do with safety. Her safety was a big cause of concern for Gokudera, and she appreciated it, but also felt guilty about it as well. He already had a lot to worry over, and he always had to worry about her as well. It would make sense to say that maybe he felt guilty towards her too, what with all the things she had to deal with.

She could’ve been an average civilian, she wasn’t born into the life of the Mafia, but because she loved him, she stayed with him. Unlike others, she had to worry about where she was going, who she could meet, and whether or not the person she faces across the corner is an enemy.

It would be a lie to say she didn’t feel even a sliver of regret, but she knew full well that if she were given another chance, she’d still make the same choices as she did in this life. Though perhaps she would have preferred to become more involved—despite what the others may have said.

As she finished setting the table, she could hear a sound coming from the front door. Excited, she rushed to the door to open it, expecting to see her husband. Sure, the Storm Guardian stood at the door, but it wasn’t quite like how she expected to see him. She gasps as she quickly moves to support him before he falls over. “Hayato!”

The weight of his body once more reminds her of the weight that mirrors the gravity of the situation at hand. Most couples may be able to enjoy a wedding anniversary with a cute date, or celebrate it in a romantic way, but she was probably going to be spending hers tending to her husband.

Worry and fear were the only two emotions she felt coursing through her veins, and as much as she wished she could beg for him to stop—she knew he wouldn’t listen. Just as he cared for the Vongola, so did she. She couldn’t in good faith ask him to forsake everything, and neither would she really want to, despite how much heart ache and worry this caused her on a nightly basis.

She held onto him tightly, trying to feel his heartbeat, allowing his body temperature to engulf her smaller frame. It reminded her that he was right with her, and he was alive. “Welcome home.” She speaks quietly, keeping her voice measured and calm, not allowing her fear to sound through her voice.

He did promise to do his best to return home early today because it was their wedding anniversary. Even when hurt like this, he did his best to hold true to his promise. Though it would nearly give her a heart attack, he did come back. “Welcome back, Hayato.” She whispers as she slowly starts to move him through the doorway and into their home. “Let’s get you looked at first.”

Seeing as he didn’t stop by the hospital first, his injuries shouldn’t be fatal. A quick cursory look showed that he had some cuts and bruises, and perhaps some burns? She bit her lower lip, almost hard enough to draw blood, but she stopped before her teeth broke through skin. A big rush of emotions swelled in her chest, but the pain in her lower lip always reminded her of what not to say.

Hayato was the one in pain, and he was beyond stressed out. The least of what he needed now was to feel guilty on top of that. To have to deal with her emotions. Even if it did feel unfair sometimes, this is what she signed up for the day she accepted his proposal. She knew this is the life she’d lead. Like a supportive wife should, she did her best not to show how upset she was. She could be calm and at least thank the stars that Hayato returned to her side—alive.

Making sure to get him situated on the couch first, she went deeper into their home in search of the first aid kit. She would hear of no complaints or assurances that he was ‘fine.’ She knew better than to simply trust his word for that.

Returning with the first aid kit, she had a quick though run through her mind, and it was the fact that the food was probably going to get cold by the time she was done tending to his injuries. Well, what else could she expect? Oh well, it was easy enough to reheat food, but it was difficult to have to come face to face with the concept of death.

Sitting next to him on the couch, she rested her forehead on his shoulder. “Thank you for coming back home.” She didn’t know what she’d do if she lost him too. For sure, the Vongola would fall apart if even he were to die, surely. “Alright, let’s get those injuries of yours tended to. Your wife will hear no complaints.” She said stubbornly.

Both of them knew that once Haru set her mind to something, it was difficult to ever convince her otherwise. “Arguing with me about this results in me ignoring you. We both don’t want that on our anniversary of all days, so be good.”

Wedding... The happiest day of his lip, he felt so luck to marry Haru, the reception, the party everything was a mix between Haru and his taste, he remember vividly as day, as his memories would bring that image again and again whenever he had to remember something nice.

The smell, the sounds, the taste, everything looked so vividly.

But right now the smell was of gunpowder and blood, the taste was of pure sweat and blood, and everything looked in smokes and fire, honestly, a surprise attack? There were a few cuts and a few minor bruises, yet he deemed himself good enough, it probably would ruin their celebration but he promised. Promised to be there early.

Calling the Vongola to clean and deal with the after, as he gets up and goes to his house... His home to the love of his life. That... He didn’t want to worry or anything but seems like it was impossible not to.

As he opens the door and greeted by her, he wanted to hug her, hold her and kiss her lips, they were celebrating their marriage, but instead all he could do was almost fall over. Having her supporting his weight, it was unfair and the difference too high. Yet she did.

Bringing him to the couch and starting to undress him to go tend to the wounds. The Thank you and welcome, made him smile as he moves slightly to take a star keychain.

In their marriage, Hayato gave her a chain with one star keychain in it, and since then, every celebration as a couple, he would bring a small start keychain different from another to her. During the marriage anniversary he would bring a larger one, to represent it, so it was his way of making everything more meaningful.

Your present... I’m sorry I was a little late. He smiles gently, as he now closes his eyes and let it rest, if he didn’t wake up for the next three days, it is because his body was healing and he needed the semi-coma state for it to do it quickly. But he was home, he made it, he was also able to give her the star gift. Everything... Would be okay. 

----------

Drabble submitted by Neo: May 9, 2021 2:50 pm

It’s been 3 years Neo, and honestly, I really want to take this time to express my love and sincere and honest, thank you. Thank you for be this amazing woman that wrote for me even when I was in Hiatus, not knowing if I would come back or not. Thank you for saying so many amazing things and keep answering threads that has been also YEARS since the start. Thank you for be my friend. Thank you very much. And I will keep saying thank you, and feeling grateful for the rest of the days. I love you dear.

Emi.

[bearsinpotatosacks]

In A Room Void of Colour - Whumptober2023

Would you lie with me and just forget the world?

In another universe, Nick Bradshaw didn't die during Hop 31. This doesn't automatically mean that Carole lives too.

For day 16 of @whumptober . Also on AO3

Words: 734

Nick had spent enough time in hospitals now to be sick of them. He hated the smell. The fact that there wasn't one, it was the absence of it that he hated. The absence of everything, smells, comfort, home. Life. It sapped everything away. It was why he’d wanted Carole to die at home. Comfortable, in her own clothes, her blanket on her body, their garden outside and their life they'd built together. Not here. In a room void of colour and joy. 

Not that there would be much joy if they were at home.

"Nick," she whispered from the hospital bed. "Nicky, I'm cold."

Bradley shifted up on the other side of the bed. He hadn’t slept well at all recently. They were both glad it was the summer though, he didn’t have to sit through classes, and Nick didn't have to argue with teachers about why he wasn't going to be in school. 

"Here honey, have my jacket,"

He shrugged off the big jumper he was wearing and laid it on her lithe frame. She already had the hospital sheet and a blanket. She'd lost so much weight these last few months, she almost didn't look like herself. Her hair all gone, skin yellow, jaundiced from where the cancer had spread to her liver. He hated it, hated it all.

She grabbed his hand and gestured for Bradley to come closer. "I love you, both of you."

His heart almost stopped beating. This was the end, wasn't it? He wasn't ready. He didn’t want to say goodbye to her yet. He wasn’t ready for his wife to die. 

"You've got to look after each other, you hear?" She said, tears began to run down her face, gaunt from sickness. "I'll be there, watching down on you, looking after you all I can but you two have got to do that too."

Bradley nodded. Tears made his face shine as he held her hand against his cheek. Nick held it like a lifeline, as if him holding it would keep her alive. If he could just perform a miracle then everything would be okay.

"I love you so much, honey, more than anything, okay?" She said to Goose. 

"I love you to the moon and back," he managed to say, his throat was clogged up from crying.

She then turned to Bradley, "And you, you'll always be my baby boy."

He nodded. There was too much emotion for him to reply. He was sobbing into her hand. They’d all kept this moment as a far off thing, something they would happen. Now it was here and none of them knew what to say.

"You remember that, my baby boy will always be there so you better look after yourself because I won't be able to."

"I don't want you to go," he sobbed.

"I don't wanna go either but it's just my-" she began to cough but forced herself to finish her sentence. "It's just my time."

She couldn’t hold back her coughing anymore. She sat up and the familiar sound of her hacking her lungs up took over. The sound still went through him, despite the fact that he'd heard it for months. 

"Just sit back for a second, okay?"

Nick lent her back and knew by the look in her eyes that this was it. Bradley stood up too, still holding her hand with white knuckles. Goose stroked her cheek as she struggled to catch her breath.

"It's okay," he choked. "Just focus on me honey, you can go now, I've got you."

Her breath wheezed as her eyes flicked between him and Bradley. Fear and calm washing and melting together. She kept panting, the tubes in her nose doing nothing for her as her eyes began to unfocus and her breath get soft enough that he could barely hear it. 

The heart monitor flatlined before he realised that her eyes had stopped on him, before he'd noticed the light go. Her last breath rattled against his face, cold. Her skin went dull and body limp as Bradley's knees gave way.

Nick moved around the bed to him and held him as the world ended. He grabbed his shirt as he sobbed into his shoulder, he felt it getting wetter with his tears and didn’t care. They were all they had now. He had to hold him while the world ended.

---

Sad :( . The last fic I'm doing for Whumptober is a follow on from this, and is equally sad. Also Bradley, my baby, he's just a sad, hurt kid in canon, all angry and I can imagine a hug from Carole would break all that anger and bravado and just make him cry. So here he is crying. Thanks for reading! @whumptober-archive

[zaruba-needslove]

Finally watched Paradise Regained.... and gotta say that I was right about not getting my hopes up too much. I mean like I know that some things are no longer possible (as in the fact that Izumi Masayuki-san had long left us) but yeah...

Interesting how I end up enjoying Core of Resurrection more than Paradise Regained.

While I can't say whether or not the movie could've been better if it had been a continuation of Paradise Lost, (it'll still boils down to writing) I still feel that they could've tried that route.

I actually already watched one half of the Murder Case SP before, so I was a bit meh at the forced addition of 913. I mean... why are YOU there? Why anyone tolerate that guy there? Tho ngl after finishing the movie I was glad that Keitaro wasn't really there (regardless of the reason why the actor can't be in it).

I kinda confused abt Rena/Muze like is she really an Orphnoch or what? Is Muze somewhat like Kaixa in that non-Orph can use it? Why she's like acting like ppl are going to stare at her stripping her clothes when she was just transforming--as if the gear works like the Takeshi oni transformation? Like I get the whole naked soul thing.... but it's not like normal people could see that!

Kinda disappointed that there wasn't any mention of the Orphenoch King as an explanation on how Smart Brain was able to maintain Takkun's body/stabilize his body's deterioration.

And considering how the cast had been sharing old 555 photos on their insta during the anniversary earlier... I thought they at least made more passing mention about Kiba, aside from that one old frame showing Izumi-san at the beginning. Like there's PLENTY of chances where they could've done that. Like the whole thing about hoping for a world where humans and Orphnochs can live together/co-exist was something Kiba used to strive for. Mari could have said that she was carrying on Kiba's wish for a better future. They can even bring back the clip where Kiba sacrificed himself so that Takumi can kill the Orphnoch King for all I care and reopen our wounds 😃 Like if not Mari... let Naoya say it, being the last surviving from the trio.

Ngl I find it a missed opportunity to have another Kiba tribute (even it's just a mention) when Mari tried to jump off a building to kill herself after learning that she's become an Orphnoch. Like what she did was exactly what Kiba used to do after finding out that he's no longer human (as well as becoming the monster that killed his ex-gf, cousin and uncle). Considering how Mari (and Takumi) used to have so many heart-to-heart talks with Kiba, either of them could've made that throwback and have another talk about what 'humanity' should mean to them now. Like now that she also had become an Orphnoch, perhaps she could better understand some of the complicated Kiba feelings in the past (but i get it... it's been 20 years, sometimes it's hard to dig back all the past issues...)

Also seriously I dun get what they tryna do with RenaTakumi being partners (since when?) and being close.

Also there's NO explanation as to how and why Kusaka was with the gang, considering that guy's always a big Orphnoch-hater and suddenly now he's so friendly with the Orph-kids (don't ANYONE find that sus?). Oh wait... I get the why, it's to infiltrate the gang etc.

There wasn't any explanation about why Keitaro was absent (but I don't mind) cos that means I can hc the reason being Keitaro not being able to tolerate seeing Kusaka every day, since Kusaka used to try to kill Yuka before and all the past history.

Gotta say that making both Kusaka and Kitazaki androids was a good explanation to why they're smh back with Kitazaki being much more mentally stable and Kusaka being ooc.

I wouldn't say that i totally hate the movie cos i like the part about Naoya taking care of the kids and Takumi going back to old school suit, but some of the stuff there was kinda.... is there a need for MariTaku pseudo porn? Takkun going 'pls fix me' and they went on a romp felt a bit... off. Like unless Mari's Orphnoch factor was tweaked with Orphnoch King's dna... I don't get why Takkun bonding with her could somehow... 'fix' him.

But don't take my word for it... since I'm still a MariKiba shipper. Also i miss the old Smart Lady..

Also yth 913 took over Smart Brain? Like rude?

[blueeyesspitfire]

Seguin Mail Run and the Crappening

The team and I went back up to Canada in late February to participate in this year’s Seguin Mail Run:

Every year since 1985, "sledvelopes" with letters prepared especially for this event, are gathered, loaded onto sleds and hauled by several dog teams to Rosseau, Ontario, 17 km through the bush on groomed trails. Teams gather and leave from the Village of Humphrey, Ontario, on Highway 141, to the cheers and good wishes from the many spectators and friends as the teams disappear in the bush on their way to Rosseau to be received by the Postmaster.

Seguin is a special, invite-only run and not an actual race. And since it’s a point to point trail, we had to bring a handler along to move the van to the finish. Thankfully, Sheridan was willing to fly out and join us in the frigid cold for his first ever dog sled event experience.

I love the hospitality these little Canadian communities show mushers, both at the Kearney race and at Seguin. We were given lodging, meals, framed artwork, a Canadian post backpack, and a goodie bag loaded with treats and mail run swag. Spectators were so excited to meet the dogs and see them run. Mushing faces a lot of criticism from Animal Rights Activists—it’s a relief to be embraced by those who came out to see us.

The Seguin trail had to be shortened from around 12 miles down to 8.5 due to this crummy winter, but it was still a fantastic experience. We were lucky enough to get a final burst of snow in the week before the event, and the dogs were more than ready to go the distance.

The event fell on the last truly cold days of this season (we saw a low of -2ºF). I was worried about the dogs sleeping in the van overnight, since they didn’t really acclimate to cold this season and half had blown their coats, but the combination of bedding, straw, and jackets kept them toasty. It was a relief to hit the trail in sub-freezing temperatures, which is much preferred over the warm runs we’ve had this season.

We flew through forests, wound around frozen marshes, and emerged into the vast expanse of a frozen lake. I had heard there were lakes on this trail, but I wasn’t sure we’d get to see them, given the shortened course. I’m so glad we had this moment and that the dogs loved it just as much as I did.

We had a few missteps: slight turns off the main trail following snowmobile tracks, climbing through a shrub to get back on the trail, some iffy road crossings. But, overall, the dogs (Willow, Hopper, Sagan, Atlas, Blitz, and Hubble) did great. I was stunned when we saw a sign for Rosseau. Sheridan barely had enough time to park and prep the drop lines when we came strolling into town. I can’t wait to go back and run the full 12.5 miles there.

A downside to traveling with a team of dogs is that sometimes you bring home unexpected guests in the bowels of one (or more) of them. That was the case after we got back from Canada. Denali was the first to come down with symptoms. Within three days, Blitz, Laika, and Faye were sick. Hopper and Atlas were hit the following weekend. Thankfully, my vet was able to get us in and I had 126 pills to administer to nine dogs over the course of seven days. Somehow, a few of the dogs never seemed to have symptoms, but everyone got dosed due to the contagious nature of this particular GI bug.

Thankfully, we’re now on the other end of it, and everyone is feeling much better. Our events and races are mostly done for the season, though I might try to squeeze one more dryland event in, if I can swing it. Once my home trails have dried out a bit (if they ever do), we’ll continue on with short spring training runs until it gets too warm. And just like that, another season is in the books.

[tomcalvinfilm]

CineHaiku Reflection

After finishing our cinehaiku I’m very pleased with the outcome of the final product. I was the editor for this project which seems very simple with it only being three shots spaced equally but I also had to quickly edit the projections that went on behind the actors in bed. This was tricky mainly because I had around an hour to quickly get the footage in and ready before we shot the scenes in bed. As it turns out we were able to shoot these scenes on another day so allowed me to breathe a little when trying to export the files. Some of the feedback with the footage in the background was that it doesn’t exactly show the awkwardness. The group noticed it was a lot more awkward in person rather than in footage a lot of it looked quite sweet. Quite a lot of the audience interpreted it this way which I am still very happy about, it was still the idea of they were both over thinking what had gone on during the day and then in the end came together, the sentiment was still there, and I was very happy with this. The other piece of advice we got was to do with the position of the projectors and how the harsh lines kind of take away from it, but others enjoyed it due to the sound design giving it an old film reel feel. I personally like the harsher edges rather than a soft edge just because it gave more of a sense of two frames within the one shot. Again, this was a small issue, the brain usually can only perceive one image at once and therefore some said they found it hard to look at both the frames. I think making the projection behind the actors would work better if it was simpler, therefore we can concentrate on what is happening in the bed. The film that stood out to me from the class was Rowen, Sam and Cals, when watching it, it creates a sense of wonder and I felt in awe at the shots. The grandeur of the shot and the amazing sound design all add towards this feeling, that is what I think good film should do, to evoke strong emotion and this did. Although we don’t have a story line as such we see a progression of time and a sense of place. The sound design in particular really made my heart swell hen listening, its as though something epic is coming to pass. It’s a hard feeling to describe but this is exactly what I want to strive for when making film. Over all I thought all the haikus were great and thought they all really showed what you can do with just thirty seconds, I’m happy with ours but like I said I would really love to strive to make the audience really feel full and powerful emotions with my work. But the group I worked with was incredible and I’m so glad I got to work with them and share this experience.

[randomshyperson]

Rulers of The Multiverse - Wanda Maximoff x Reader - Chapter Eight

Summary: Strange’s faulty spell will cause a series of unexpected events, from your reunion with the love of your life in another world to the appearance of a child capable of traveling across the multiverse. This story follows the journey of a very tired Guardian alongside mischievous America Chavez and Scarlet Witch.

Warnings: (+18) explicit language and sexual content, violence, a lot of magic, found family, mentions of abusive past and trauma, mind control, use of illicit substances, mostly top!reader, soulmates analogies. || Words: 6.094k

A/N-> I have no idea what the upload frequency should be, so here's a new chapter. I finished writing the fic yesterday afternoon!! @abimess already read the end and cried so I think it must be a good thing. Let me know what you think so far, and good reading!

General Masterlist | AO3 | Wattpad | Series Masterlist

--//--

Chapter Eight - Old Friends, a Cube and a Tattoo

Wanda was in a very bad mood.

You knew it was Chthon's influence that made her easily irritable, impatient, and explosive, and it must have had something to do with Oshtur's blessing that you wanted to torment her so much in this state.

America was having a difficult day with both of you.

As Wanda was exploring your memories - and growing impatient by the minute, even though you were doing it the fast and safe way - you decided to stay in this universe for a while.

Carol assured you that the room was yours for as long as you wanted it, but made the mistake of completing it with a smile full of second thoughts to you, and America almost had to open a new portal when Wanda started a fight with a woman who was practically a star.

Fortunately, you were able to calm the tempers, even though you were now around town chasing a new shelter.

"I still vote we try a new world." Chavez suggested beside you, peeling the yellow fruit she got before you all left the inn.

"This universe is perfectly habitable, America." You retort looking around the tents. "You know the rules."

Wanda, who had her hands in her pockets a little forward, looked at you over her shoulder.

"What rules?" She asked, her accent half thick, and you figured it was because she was still irritated by the scene with Carol. Still, you were glad she was talking altogether, so you cleared your throat and America spoke before you:

"The rules of Multiverse Partners." She said taking a big bite of the fruit next. "No traveling without necessity-"

"Don't talk with your mouth full." You and Wanda warn together and America grimaces but doesn't insist. You smile at the redhead, and she gives you a strange look before refocusing on the road. You swallow dryly before continuing.

"Anyway, those were some rules I made up for her safety." You explain. "Since I don't know the extent of her abilities, I didn't want her to abuse the power. So, we only travel if necessary within a time frame. And we were on a mission to, well, find you, and America's mothers too, so we went from universe to universe, rested and ate something, and continued the journey."

"Didn't your rules include no stealing?" Wanda asks with a short smile, and you chuckle awkwardly.

"Well, sometimes I didn't have the currency of that world." You mutter. "And sometimes they didn't even pay with money, but with some kind of work. And I wasn't going to leave the child hungry."

"Lovely." Wanda muttered half uninterested, and you sighed in defeat, knowing she had gone back into her own head again.

Slipping an arm past America, you whispered to her:

"Do you have any idea how to get a girl's attention?"

Chavez laughed low, finishing chewing. "On my planet, you could buy a big, live plant."

"Alive?" You ask in shock, and America murmurs in agreement. "God, what a horror show."

"Hey, don't talk bad about my planet or the flirtatious customs there!" Says the girl in a fake serious tone, and you laugh lightly.

A few stalls further downtown, however, you take the advice, and mutter a "wish me luck" to Chavez before letting go of her and hurrying to pick one of the strange red flowers in front of you. They resemble roses enough, so you hide them behind your back and poke Wanda's shoulder.

"What, Y/N?" She asks half wearily, and you shift the weight of your feet before extending the flowers to her, who widens her eyes slightly in surprise. 

"They are for you. " You say with a smile. "A rose for another rose."

Wanda frowns slightly. "You see me as a flower with thorns?" She questions her tone so seriously it makes you hesitate. But she sighs and holds out a hand. "Thanks, I guess."

Before she takes it, however, the flower lets out a loud grunt and rots in your hand. Wanda raises an eyebrow.

"I'm a dead flower."

"N-no, I didn't mean-" You try but America is trying to hide her laughter at your disaster, and Wanda is turning around, and the angry salesman is cursing you in Galician and saying that that kind of flower dies if it's not taken off the branch properly.

You hoped that Wanda wouldn't talk to you the rest of the way to the nearest inn - of which the address you picked up from a guy in the bar - but shortly after the disastrous flower episode, when America was already checking other stalls from which she could get something to eat, Wanda slowed her pace to stand to your right side.

"In these universes that you've been to, did you ever get to.... um, hang out with any of the other Wandas?"

You frown in surprise. "Are you asking me if I had sex with your variants?"

America laughed, throwing her head back. You and Wanda turned red like tomatoes, and you grimaced, pulling the cap of Chavez's sweatshirt up to her head to make her shut up.

"It's just that the kid mentioned that you've met other Wandas." Murmured the redhead without meeting your eyes. "I would totally understand if it happened."

You scratch at the back of your neck. "Well, I guess, um, I'll always be in love with any version of you, and, um, attracted too, b-but we were on a mission! I wasn't going to just leave America alone to make out."

Your cheeks with certainty are burning, but you think you must have said the right thing because you get a smile and a look that makes your stomach fill with butterflies from Wanda. 

Chavez, on the other hand, chuckles shortly: "Hey, don't blame this on me. You're the one who's completely in love with the evil witch version of this girl."

"Hey, don't call her that!" You try, but Wanda has already licked her lips and went back to walk ahead. America shrugs her shoulders.

"It was just a joke." She tries, but you sigh. 

"Yeah, I know." You say passing your arm across her shoulder again. "But do you think you can be nice? I can torment her because she loves me, even if she won't admit it. You, well, need to grow into her first."

America laughs with a roll of her eyes. "Okay, Y/N, I'll be nice to your girlfriend."

"Wife." Wanda corrects at the same time as you, causing you to give America a "told you so" look to which the girl just laughs in disbelief.

Whenever you received an affectionate confirmation like this time, it was safe to torment Wanda.

So, America let out a loud grumble when you stepped aside to intertwine an arm with the witch a few minutes later, knowing from your expression, that you intended to mischief.

"My dear wife, what have you thought of this universe so far?" You asked casually, ignoring her look of doubt at the sudden touch. But Wanda pulled herself together quickly, continuing on her way and sighing softly.

"It's pretty, I guess." She commented. 

"You are pretty." You retorted and Wanda gave a weak laugh, ignoring your interruption although a faint pink appeared on her cheeks.

"I guess I was more surprised to learn that Bucky and Natasha were a thing in this world."

You frown. "Wait, they weren't in your world?" You ask.

"Not that I know of." Wanda retorts with a short laugh. "Natasha didn't talk much about the past, but I never knew of her and Bucky having anything. In fact, it seemed much more like he was in love with Steve."

"Um, I can see that." You comment thoughtfully and miss the way Wanda smiles tenderly at your expression. "But my Captain America actually ended up having something with Natasha afterward, so I guess that would be weird."

"Oh, that totally happened in mine but no one talks about it." Wanda completes getting a short laugh from you.

"The Avengers formed weird couples, but I definitely had a favorite." You comment, and Wanda raises a curious eyebrow.

"Which one was it?"

"Me and you." 

She smiles, rolling her eyes with amusement and trying not to trip on the way. The moment breaks shortly thereafter when America lets out an exclamation.

"Isn't that the grumpy guy from the other day?" She asks, pointing, and you look away from Wanda to the front, where Bucky Barnes is wearing jeans shorts, and a tank top, with a little boy on his shoulders as he puts oranges into a plastic bag. Natasha Romanoff in a floral dress and short hair is standing next to him. "And that's the creepy hunter who sold us out to killer robots."

"That was two universes ago, let's not get attached to the past. They look nice." You comment and when Bucky recognizes you in the crowd, you nod politely. "You two, please behave yourselves."

But Wanda and America didn't seem at all willing to trust another variant of Natasha Romanoff, even if this one is probably the most likable you've ever met.

It's kind of a hard image to get used to. You have never seen Bucky and Nat smile so much, but they look like a couple from a commercial. And little Stevie is simply the most adorable child in the world.

"[...] It's nice that you chose to stay, most hunters and gatherers leave the Forge for the rest of the country, where they have work." Bucky comments casually as he sets Stevie down, and gives him one of the fruits. 

"We won't be staying long though, we're just working out a few loose ends before we leave." You add trying to sound friendly but being sure that Wanda is reading both of their minds. Clearing your throat, you ask; "And you guys live around here?"

Bucky laughs softly, and it is Natasha who answers.

"Not at all, only travelers live in the Forge." She says. "It's too busy, and in high season it's impossible to move around here. We have an apartment in the capital, me and Stevie. James hasn't decided what he wants to do with his life yet."

Bucky forces a laugh. "I'm a hunter, Natalia, that's what I do for a living. If you don't like it, keep it to yourself."

"Don't tell me to keep anything-"

"Let's not argue in front of strangers-"

You widened your eyes at the scene, not quite knowing how to react to the discussion. Little Stevie approached Wanda and poked at the Scarlet Sorceress wimple that was hanging from a bag - which contained the washed costume, some food, and clean changes of clothes inside. 

"Are you a princess?" He asked with one hand holding a grapefruit, and the other trying to pull the item off the bag. Wanda hesitated, but uncrossed her arms and lowered herself to the child's height.

"No, that's not a tiara." She explained half-heartedly to Stevie's curious eyes, "Actually, it's called a Wimple. And well, I wear it because I'm a witch."

Against expectations, Stevie's eyes widen with wonder. "Wow, like a real one?"

Wanda chuckles. "Yeah, a real one." She says, and to prove it, she raises her hand in the air and forces a small scarlet ball, and the boy jumps for joy. But then, he sees the black on Wanda's fingers and drops the grapefruit to hold her finger.

"Does that hurt?" He asks innocently, and Wanda swallows dryly as she denies with her head. "Is it because you make sparkles?"

Wanda laughs softly. "No, darling. It's just like a little bruise, don't worry."

Stevie lets out a small exclamation. "Oh, Auntie Yelena knows how to heal bruises! She's a doctor, she told me. Mommy, the lady needs to get a bandage from Aunt Yelena!"

With the interruption, the couple stops arguing, and Nat blinks in confusion at her son's statement while Wanda stands again, half-hearted about what to say.

"Oh my, you touched some of those suspicious stalls didn't you!" Natasha comments as soon as she sees Wanda's fingers, who tries to hide her hands in her pockets again. "My sister works with interplanetary medicine, she can take a look at that for you guys. James, I guess I'll see you next weekend."

Bucky frowns slightly, but nods. And offers a short smile to the three of you, before hugging Stevie and saying goodbye.

"Come on, her office is on the path of the train to the Capital." Nat said before starting to lead the way with little Stevie holding her hand. America stood to the side, full of questions, and you slid your hand into Wanda's pocket until you pulled hers out.

You just looked, and let out a low grumble, letting go and grimacing. Wanda frowned.

"What?" she asked between teeth, half annoyed that you were acting so mysteriously.

"You think I won't notice if they get darker?" You retort looking at her for a moment. "After everything that happened, and what I showed you, you went back to reading that damn book, Wanda."

She turns her face away, guilt dripping down her chest. But she doesn't let on, and honestly, you can't even blame her. You're angrier at yourself for failing than you are at her.

"How long have you been reading in hiding?" You asked, and Wanda sighed impatiently.

"I just read it last night." She answers low so as not to attract the attention of America and Nat further on. "When you went to sleep."

"Fine, I'll never sleep again."

Wanda sighs again, stopping walking and holding you by your shirt. "I'm just trying to find a way to keep you and my children."

You soften your expression, one of your hands going to her face and caressing her cheek. "I'm going to destroy that book as soon as I can." You tell her with a smile and ignore the annoyed grunt she lets out as she pushes you by the shoulders and walks off ahead.

With a deep sigh, trying to think of how exactly you would do this without your magic, you follow them.

–//–

The Yelena Belova of this world didn't look much like the one you knew. For one thing, she was 'Auntie Yelena' and wore a white coat and not wrestling clothes, and she also seemed to be much closer to Natasha than yours ever were.

She greeted you at the reception, and little Stevie didn't want to say goodbye at all after he was picked up in her lap, but Yelena calmed him down by saying she was going to visit him soon and hugged Natasha tight before the redhead left with her son so she wouldn't miss the next train.

"Come, my office is this way." Yelena told the three of you, and Wanda averted her impressed eyes from what appeared to be a Cyborg - with practically its entire body made of metal except for its head - trying to hold on to the loose parts of its own arm as it waited for service. 

It was the weirdest doctor's office you had ever been in, and that included the half-machine patients, but it was more about the innumerable ultra-technological objects that you had never seen before and the projectors and models that looked more like they belonged in an astrology observatory than in a doctor's office.

Still, you and the girls stumbled behind Yelena in silence, and she asked who would like to go first, to which you and America immediately pointed Wanda, who rolled her eyes with a sigh but moved to her chair.

"And what is wrong with Miss...?"

"Wanda Maximoff." She introduced herself as she removed her jacket and placed it folded in her lap. "It's nothing, really, I'm a witch and I'm, um, having side effects from using a book."

You crossed your arms. "I think you forgot to mention that it's the book of the damned, dear." You mutter receiving an annoyed look from her, but Yelena gives a small giggle, moving to grab a magnifying glass and take a closer look at Wanda's fingers.

"Look, Miss Maximoff, I'd be honest with you. We don't have a lot of magical antidotes in this part of the country, most people who come to the Forge have some injury from northern beasts, or at most a burn from travel gone wrong between one portal and another." Yelena counters, analyzing her other hand. "But there are several Asgardian doctors in the capital, who are experts in magic, even dark magic. Maybe you guys can find better help over there."

Wanda nods in understanding, and Yelena just does a standard check-up on her before asking who would like to be next. America walks in front of you so quickly that you just laugh softly.

"I knew it was a waste of time." Wanda murmurs low to you grumpily, and you slip an arm around her waist only to whisper in her ear:

"No one told you not to behave darling." You tease and she rolls her eyes in irritation, but you don't miss the way she tensed and blushed at the closeness before you pulled away.

America finished the check-up very quickly and was even more excited to win a lollipop.

"In perfect condition, I can congratulate the moms on the care of Miss Chavez." Greeted Yelena, and neither of you corrected her, and that only seemed to increase the girl's smile. "Well, I guess that leaves only you, Miss...?"

"I am Y/N L/N." You started first, and Wanda lowered her eyes, but a small smile threatened to escape when you completed with 'Maximoff' before sitting down in the chair.

Yelena started the check-up, and unlike the other two, you were not well.

"Do you have any medical conditions, Miss?" Yelena asked with her eyes on the computer screen.

"No, not really."

"Your pressure is low, borderline actually." She comments with a frown, and you clear your throat, turning away from Wanda's gaze trying to meet yours. "Blood levels too. I assume you are magical like your wife, right? No human would be standing..."

You coughed lightly, pulling out the devices assessing you at once, and attracting Yelena's attention immediately.

"I'm fine!" You stated hesitantly and nervously, standing upright. "It's probably just the travel fatigue, thanks for your time, but we should go. Carol said these things are free in this world, right? Well, see you around." You said very quickly and were leaving the room - and ignoring Wanda's or America's gaze - within the next minute.

"I'm sorry about that." America told the doctor, and Wanda took her eyes off the door you had left through to look back at the blonde.

"Yes, I'm sorry. Thank you for your time."

Before they left, Yelena stood up. She waited for America to go after you, to tell Wanda:

"Look, Miss Maximoff, I don't know what kind of magical creature your wife is, but from what little I could assess, she's not doing well at all." Says the blonde seriously. "If she has healing powers, then there won't be any problems. But if she keeps getting worse..."

Wanda swallows dryly, forcing a smile. "Thank you for your concern, doctor. I will talk to her. It was a pleasure, thanks again."

Yelena smiled and hurried to hand over the card of a fellow Asgardian from the Capital who could help them before saying goodbye.

Wanda found you waiting at the entrance to the Medical Center outside, hugging America by the shoulders and whispering assurances that you were fine and that not all the doctors in the universe could read your magic correctly.

When Wanda met your eyes, she knew immediately that you were lying.

The way to the capital was really very tense between you and Wanda. America didn't seem to notice anything, because as soon as you finally managed to locate yourselves correctly in the huge Forge subway station - which had countless lines and destinations to at least two continents - and got on the train, America was fascinated by the views out the window, which ranged from colorful plant plains inhabited by strange animals and even mechanics to underwater cities and very interesting product markets.

She was kneeling in one of the forward seats, trying to get a better view of what looked like an aquatic park while you were twelve stations away from the Capital, and you were about to fall asleep against the window when Wanda put her arm around your shoulders. You smiled, figuring it was a sign of affection, but swallowed dryly when you met her reddening gaze.

"What are you doing?" 

"Don't try to block them from me." She warns with a neutral expression, her free hand moving up to your cheek, "I know you don't have the strength to do it."

You swallow dryly and frown slightly. "Why don't you ask me?"

"We've already tried that, haven't we?" She retorts with a certain irony. "I ask you things, you lie or hide them. I see your memories, and you reel me in with sad things from your childhood instead of telling me what's going to happen to us. And now you are dying, and I don't know how to help you."

"I'm not dying." You retort between teeth, trying to turn your head away but Wanda firms her grip.

"No, you're not." She assures you with a serious expression. "I'm not going to lose you too, Y/N. You can be sure of that."

You swallow dryly, but Wanda gives you a small smile, her fingers moving your hair away from your eyes.

"I think I found it." Wanda whispers with her eyes still glittering, and her smile falters when you block her before she can see the memory. She raises a brow at you, but all you do is lean your forehead against hers and take a deep breath, the closeness making her hesitate. "Let me see."

"Later." You whisper, brushing your lips together and feeling Wanda flinch, her fingers trembling against your cheeks. "When America is asleep and safe. I will tell you everything, I promise."

You say and kiss her cheek, before pulling away and rising to stand beside America and offer her amusing comments about the scenery.

Wanda is still trying to normalize her breathing, settling into the bench and biting her fingernail thoughtfully when Chthon's sighs return.

She's going to say she has to kill you, witch. And you will realize that this fantasy could never have gone anywhere.

Wanda brings her eyes to you again, and you, though you are hugging America, offer her a small smile and a wink, looking at her so affectionately before turning your attention to the landscape that Wanda can't believe the demon's whispers.

You're full of shit, Chthon. She tells him.

You'll see for yourself, and when you need my help, I'll have a good time.

–//–

Wanda had been to Wakanda once in her life, and it was immediately the place she remembered when they arrived in the capital.

America was hungry again, which wasn't at all surprising, and so were you, which for someone she had just found out was getting sick by the minute, wasn't either.

She, on the other hand, didn't think she would be able to eat anytime soon, the worry and stress taking away her hunger completely.

After you found a stall of what seemed to be a version of oriental food from that universe, you asked around for a place to sleep, and unlike the Forge, what you found most were lodging options, the station itself having 'temporary cubes' that were mini-apartments at every station for travelers to use between trips.

You - who were the only one who could speak Korean, or apparently any language - got the keys to a Medium Cube for them on the third floor of the station, and raced America to the place, leaving a rather impatient Wanda (who was pretending not to smile) behind.

The Cube lived up to its name, but it had a technological extension, and as soon as you finished adjusting the settings on the small monitor next to the door - which was made of glass - the place began to settle down inside.

A small kitchen, a bathroom, and two bunk beds, as well as a television on the wall and a rug with the station's symbol, decorated the place. There was also a strange microwave oven, and America let out an excited exclamation when she discovered that it was literally a food machine, where she only had to press the desired option and the necessary food would appear. You frowned slightly as you noticed the red threads forming the food inside.

"That's a good use for the Reality Stone." You muttered pointing to the microwave forming out of nowhere a delicious sweet dumpling on the inside. "It's pretty hard to believe they actually use the Infinity Stones for good in this universe."

Wanda sighed in agreement, walking past you to sit on the bottom bunk.

"Tell me about it." She murmurs massaging her neck. "In my universe, everyone had an idea of different weapons for those stones. It's refreshing to see other solutions."

You mutter in agreement, and start to take off your shoes, intending to take a shower.

"Hey, where did you learn to speak Korean?" Wanda asks casually, and you giggle.

"I didn't learn, honey." You reply, and with one motion, pull your sweatshirt out. You offer Wanda a wink as you see her looking, before standing in front of her. You run your hand across your abdomen, and when you pull away, Wanda suddenly sees the runes appearing on your skin. "Magic always leaves traces, but it doesn't always have to be bad things." You say pointing to the drawings, and Wanda can't resist the temptation to trace the lines as well. "This one here was a healing spell when I was 14, and this one was one for running faster and cheating in a school race." You count with a guilty chuckle. And you turn suddenly so that Wanda can see your back, which is blank. "Go ahead and place your hand, and use your magic so that the runes are revealed, just the intention is enough, I didn't put any kind of complicated protection for that." 

Wanda frowns slightly but obeys. And watches the designs appear on her skin as she traces the extension. She smiles at the more random designs, giving a chuckle as a Unicorn begins to fly along your hip.

"These are not runes."  She murmurs and you smile, denying it before sitting down on the floor so she can get a better look at your back.

"No, I got magic tattoos too." You say. 

"Wow, can I get one too?" America asks as she takes her eyes off the finally ready cupcake. 

"When you’re 18." You and Wanda answer together, laughing despite the child's grimace as she goes back to eating.

You place your hand behind your neck and reveal a set of three small runes.

"Those are my study runes." You count, feeling Wanda trace them curiously with her fingertips. "One is a universal translator, the other is to detect the magical occult, like being able to see invisible barriers or hidden creatures. The latter makes me able to see-"

"Chaos Magic." Wanda completes unsurprisingly, tracing the circle around the rune, and recognizing all the symbols within the dark hold. "You can see through any illusion or alteration in reality that I create."

"Mm-hmm." You murmur resting your arms on your knees and feel Wanda trace her fingers downward, tensing slightly as you feel her magic, and give a soft chuckle. "It tickles."

"There's something here." She murmurs without laughing, and you frown when the itching sensation gets a little painful.

"Wands, what are you...?"

But suddenly you choke softly, as does Wanda, who watches another image appear on your skin. This one takes up almost your entire back. It is the same image that both DarkHold and the Vishanti book have of the Scarlet Witch Figure.

You wriggle uncomfortably, feeling your skin burn, and look at Wanda over your shoulder. "Hey, what happened?"

Wanda doesn't answer, pushing you to stand, and as soon as you do so with confusion, she drags you into the bathroom. America mutters something about "cool tattoo' but you don't quite understand.

Wanda is pleased to find a large mirror, and puts you on your back, telling you to look. Your eyes widen when you see the new design.

"Oh, shit! That's not good, that's not good..." You start muttering, spinning around to try to see better, and slapping your hands on your body to encourage the other runes and drawings to fade away. It works, but only with the ones you already had. "No, no, no...

"Y/N, what's going on?"

You don't answer, muttering to yourself that this wasn't happening, and moving forward to the bathroom cabinets, going through everything as if looking for something.

"Y/N, you're scaring me." Wanda mutters uncertainly, playing with her fingers nervously. "Darling, please..."

"That'll do." You say suddenly as you raise something that looked like a stiletto, causing Wanda to widen her eyes. "Okay, honey, go outside I'll-"

"Absolutely not!" Wanda warns seriously, taking the item from your hand and raising a finger in warning to you. "Tell me now what's going on!"

"I just want to make a blood rune!" You justify yourself with a nervous expression. "N-not a big deal!"

"Y/N! I swear to god that if you don't tell me what's going on I'm going to bewitch you!" Wanda exclaims angrily and you sigh loudly.

"I can't tell you! I don't want to, get out of the bathroom and let me sort my things out-"

"Why are you pushing me away? I'm just trying to-"

"I'm not, please, Wanda I just want to protect you."

America opened the bathroom door, interrupting the argument. "Sorry, but you were yelling and we got a noise warning." She said clumsily, and you sighed loudly, running a hand over your face as your back was turned. Wanda started to mumble a 'sorry, America, we were just talking' but was interrupted by the girl's surprised exclamation.

"Hey, I know those symbols!" She declared, pointing to your back, where the figure of the scarlet witch was visible. America reached up to poke at one of the runes drawn on the bow on top of the witch's head. "They are from my world, the same symbols that were on the gates."

You turned around with a frown in confusion, trying to get a better view of the mirror. "Um, no, America, these are the blessing symbols of the ancient gods, you see it starts with Gaea and goes all the way to Set..."

"No, Y/N." America interrupts with a short laugh, tracing her fingers across your skin. "Your translation spell must be incorrect, because, see here. You are supposed to read it in this direction, and from bottom to top. It's written in my language, and it translates to something like 'Demiurge blesses those who visit his realm, whether they are descended from Oshtur to Chthon,' and quotes the other gods in between. I think this name, Demiurge, is in Greek because we don't read it that way on my planet." America explains and you continue with a confused expression.

"Hey, Wands, what kind of magic did you use on my back?" You ask, but the witch doesn't answer, mumbling softly in pain, and putting a hand to her face. "Wands, hey what's wrong?" You ask worriedly as she leans on the sink. 

"Shut up." She mumbled with her eyes closed, clearly in pain from her expression, and you gave a confused little laugh.

"Sorry, I just-"

"Not you. Chthon" She says quickly, her breathing starting to become shallow. "Stop, stop showing me that." Wanda pressed her other hand to your face, and you swallowed dryly, passing your arms around her.

"America, give us two minutes." You said to the girl, who looked up hesitantly before nodding and leaving you. "Wanda, try to concentrate on me."

Wanda sniffled, and you felt your heart soar with worry. "I can't. It's too loud."

"Yes you can, I'll help you." You say, and even though you know you shouldn't, you bring one hand to your head, and the other to your back, at chest height. As soon as you begin to feel your magic on her, Wanda fights the tightness.

"N-no, Y/N, you're weak."

"Shush, I'm fine." You assure without letting go of her, and Wanda gasps softly as she feels the aura-cleansing spell improving her concentration, and causing Chthon's angry screams to subside, and the images he has placed in her head to dissipate. Wanda slips her arms around your waist and buries her face in your neck. 

But when she opens her eyes and finds the mirror, she frowns in confusion. 

The witch's tattoo is vibrating in gold, and it's only when you let out a grunt of pain, and your body heaved over hers that she realizes it's hurting. 

"Y/N?" She calls out with some hesitation. You gasp, your hands coming out of her body to lean on the cabinet behind her, before you bury your face in her neck, and sniffle lightly, making her worry. "Y/N, what happened?"

"I-I'm so sorry Wanda." You whimper against her skin. "I think Oshtur is demanding my oath."

Wanda frowns, stroking your back. “Detka, why are you apologizing for this?"

Part of Wanda already knows the answer, after all, she has seen, yet when you don't answer and squeeze her harder, she feels worse. 

"Baby, it's okay. I'm not angry." She assures you by hugging you back, but when her hands come in contact with the tattoo, you gasp against her, and Wanda pulls away immediately, but you break the embrace with a confused look. 

"What did you do?"

"N-nothing, I just touched-"

"Do it again." You ask, and Wanda swallows dryly at the intensity of your gaze, but moves closer, resting her forehead against yours and letting a hand land on your tattoo. You moan in satisfaction, and she feels her face warm to the sound, pulling her face away to rest on your shoulder so she can see what is happening. She frowns as she sees the tattoo’s golden slowly fading away, along with the black color of her fingers. 

"Detka what…?"

But you don't let her complete, pulling away to rest your forehead against hers again. "Thank you." You whisper and break the distance, making Wanda gasp in surprise. But she missed this so much, that she kisses you back in the next second, feeling a familiar twinge in her abdomen when you sigh in contentment and slide your tongue against hers.

The kiss gradually gains intensity, and your leg meets the middle of hers, pressing her against the cabinet, and Wanda's instinctive reaction is to dig her nails into your back, making you break the kiss with a moan mixed with pleasure and something else, opening your golden eyes at her.

"Sorry." Wanda murmurs in a husky voice, lips swollen from kissing hard and eyes completely darkened.

You shook your head, smiling at her with the worst of intentions. "It felt good." You whisper, shuddering as Wanda's nails scratch a path down to your hips. "So bad to stop."

"Why stop?" Wanda asks confused, chasing your mouth for a few instants, and making you use all mental and physical control to push away your face from her with a soft grunt.

"We're not alone, sweetheart. And we have business to attend to." You say with a casual that doesn't match the way you're feeling your body weak right now. Wanda is ready to insist, to say you could send America for a walk because she really wants you to kiss her again when you let out a weak sigh and sit down quickly in the tub with a pained expression.

"Y/N?" She asks worriedly kneeling down beside you. 

"I lied before." You grumble clamping a hand over your right eye. "I'm not fine."

Wanda sighs in concern bringing a hand to your cheek: "Tell me how to help you."

"I don't know sweetheart, but maybe the Asgardian doctor would be a good start." You whisper and Wanda nods, squeezing your hand.

"We'll figure it out." She says. "Together."

--//--

[haadeswrites]

Elysium

god this fic took forever i’m so sorry!! but hey, first fic on the new blog! <33 also y’all should really thank @iwaasfairy who listened to me complain about this fic for a solid month, she’s the reason it got finished

Cult leader Oikawa Tooru x female reader

tw: indoctrination, extremely dubious consent, blood, yandere themes, religious themes, minor character death, implied abuse & drug use, mild smut, nsfw

The island itself is breathtaking

Pristine beaches with gleaming white sand, vast swathes of lush, green rainforest and waterfalls that cascade into shimmering pools of crystal clear water. Untouched, undisturbed; a paradise. At least, that’s how Ryuji had described it. 

Paradise, but only in the sense that a gingerbread cottage in the middle of the woods is paradise to a lost and hungry child. 

He hadn’t been wrong. Bare feet sink into soft, white sand as you climb from the boat - the warmth just toeing the line between pleasant and burning. Gentle waves ebb and flow behind you, and there’s a light breeze that kisses your skin, the taste of seasalt carrying in the wind. Home, it seems to sing.

A laugh sounds somewhere in the distance, yet the only other figure on the beach is a man walking steadily towards you. He smiles when he sees you’ve noticed him; friendly, non-threatening. It’s a far cry from the swarming welcoming committee you’d been dreading, and you wonder if that’s somehow intentional as well. 

As the boat pushes back out to sea he comes to a stop before you, “I’m Makki,” he says, pushing the fringe of his hair back and giving you a not-so-subtle once over. Whatever he sees must meet approval, because his grin only widens, “Welcome to the Commune.”

Ryuji wasn’t wrong; the island is a beautiful, deadly thing.

—

You’d never heard of the Commune before the phone call. 

And maybe that shouldn’t be so surprising. You’ll be the first to admit you’re hardly an expert, but from what you do know, groups like the Commune – cults – don’t spring up out of thin air and start broadcasting their mistreatment and systematic abuse. 

They’re not the kind of people that have sweet old ladies clutching their pearls and mothers shepherding their children away – at least, not in the beginning. Not entirely. They’re not out to recruit extremists to further their cause, they choose to prey on the vulnerable, the lost and the disillusioned. Those easily manipulated. You suspect that’s why when you google the Commune, all you find is a website for what essentially looks like a long term luxury wellness retreat.

‘The Commune is about healing and harmony, about returning to nature, supporting one another to forge a brighter, more holistic future together… a self-sufficient community living apart from technology and other evils of modern society.’ 

You fight the urge to roll your eyes as you scroll through. There’s a whisper of philosophical teachings woven throughout, a page dedicated to their founder, Oikawa Tooru – smiling handsomely in every single picture, because what would a burgeoning cult be without a charismatic leader – but there’s not enough.

So here you are, on an island hundreds of miles away from home living amongst strangers; because Ryuji wouldn’t have sounded so terrified if this was just some alternate, free-loving bunch of hippies.

And even with all that he’d told you, everything you thought you’d be prepared for, the Commune is like nothing you could’ve imagined. 

Makki introduces you to Asuka, a woman only a few years older than yourself, dark haired and stunningly beautiful, and winks as he tells her to take you under her wing. She smiles brightly, eyes twinkling, and pulls you into a heartfelt hug – as if you’ve known each other your whole lives.

“We’re so glad you’re here!” she beams.

You’d like to hate her. 

It feels like you're supposed to, sometimes; when she gets that dreamy look in her eyes and starts talking about Oikawa and the Commune and how lucky everyone here on the island is. Yet there’s something about her – the genuine warmth she emanates maybe, or the kindness in her eyes – that makes it difficult for you not to like her.

“You should come to the gathering tomorrow,” she hums idly one afternoon, maybe a week or so after your arrival. The two of you are sitting on the edge of the pier, legs dangling down into the water, tangled fishing nets to be repaired strewn between you.

“I always go,” you reply.

She laughs, fixing you with a knowing look, “And sit right at the very back, all but running off the moment we finish?” 

And your traitorous heart skips a beat. 

“It’s okay to take things slowly,” she says. “We understand that being a part of the Commune is a big change from the life you knew, and that not everybody is able to see what we see and embrace those changes.” 

Asuka sets down the knot she’s working through and reaches for your hand, a gentle smile on her face, “But you shouldn’t be afraid. You’re meant to be here, I can feel it. You just need to stop fighting against it; surrender yourself to us, to the island, and everything’ll make sense, I promise.”

It’s dangerous territory. One wrong word could set off alarm bells, yet you can’t help pressing just a little.

“Do you ever miss it, then? Life outside the Commune?” 

Your family. Friends. The life you left behind before you came here to be brainwashed like all of the others.

“Why would I?” she answers without missing a beat, and it’s hard to ignore the bitter flicker of disappointment you feel at her answer. “The island provides for us, we don’t have to spend our days selling off tiny pieces of ourselves just to make ends meet. It’s paradise here, and we have Oikawa to thank for that. Why would I ever want to go back?”

Silence falls between you as you struggle to think of something to say to salvage the situation. Yet Asuka isn’t even looking at you, instead staring out at the water with a strangely pensive expression. 

“Did you know I was married once?” The words seemingly out of the blue, you can only shake your head. For a moment, she doesn’t reply, watching as the waves rise and crash offshore. And then;

“I was young, eighteen or so, fresh out of high school and he was a small town cop.” Her eyes flicker to yours, and your heart clenches at the sadness and pain echoing there. “I thought he was a good man, once upon a time.”

A chord strikes deep, your chest tightening involuntarily at her words. It’s not the same, of course it’s not the same, and yet… 

No. You stop the errant thought in its tracks. Groups like the Commune prey on the vulnerable, you know this. People like Ryuji, like Asuka, like–

Her fingers squeeze around yours, pulling you back to the present. “Come to the gathering tomorrow. Listen to Oikawa, it’ll help.”

—

She doesn’t give you a choice in the matter – dragging you by the hand to sit right at the front of the gathered crowd that very night.

Oikawa’s handsomer up close; tall and dark haired with pretty eyes and long, sweeping lashes that frame delicate cheekbones, it’s not hard for you to see how a man like him has amassed such an impassioned following. 

Once he starts actually speaking, however, you realise that his good looks and charming smile are just the tip of the iceberg. Oikawa’s utterly captivating as he preaches about the cycle of life and death and the paradise that awaits his faithful. Passionate and engaging, he speaks like he truly believes every word of the lies he’s spreading. 

And Asuka, her friends, the others gathered, they eat up every word like it’s gospel truth, resounding cheers and thunderous applause deafening around you. In the midst of the rapturous din, Oikawa’s eyes flit to yours.

Slowly, he smiles – a dazzling grin that makes your stomach flip – and everything; Asuka, the noise, the others swarming around you, it all fades away.

For one electrifying heartbeat, you’re frozen in place. Just you and Oikawa, trapped in the pull of each other’s gaze.

—

You can’t forget the reason you came.

But it’s… difficult, in a way you struggle to understand. You only have one purpose for being here, one goal; find Ryuji and bring him home. 

And yet, some days it’s like there’s a fog in your mind, and you have to focus to remember why you’re here at all. You catch yourself laughing with Asuka and her friends, the days passing by in a blur of endless, easy distractions. 

It barely feels like work when you’re sitting under the shade of the trees, eating the fruits you’ve picked by hand – ripe and sweet, unlike anything you’ve ever tasted – diving off waterfalls into the crystalline water and meandering down the shore collecting seashells. Even when you are working, mending clothes or cooking with the others, it fills you with a sense of contentment you can’t quite explain. 

Like you’re a part of something bigger. Like you’re doing something that matters.

Ryuji becomes a distant thought. A whisper in the back of your head, a niggling in your gut, easily brushed aside and ignored until there’s a moment of quiet. In the dead of night, the balmy summer night’s breeze kissing your bare skin, you lie awake, lost in memories of the last time you’d seen him. 

Fists angrily pounding at your door, the yelling that gave way to sobs and the hoarse, desperate pleas that followed. Ryuji’s face; pupils blown wide and eyes rimmed in red, darting restlessly around as he held you too tight and begged–

Rolling over in bed, you gaze out your window at the star flecked sky, the shadows of the forest that lie at your doorstep, and wonder what it is that scares you more; that you’ve lost track of the days you’ve been here, and saving Ryuji is starting to feel like an afterthought, or that you could so easily forget all of it, find a place here in the Commune and be happy.

‘The island, it–it fucks with your head.’

Ryuji’d told you that, and you’d brushed it off as paranoia. You need to find him. Find him and get the hell outta dodge.

You can deal with the fallout later.

—

Kiyoshi. 

He’d mentioned the name a few times amidst his rambling – a friend of his on the island. You’re annoyed with yourself for not thinking of it sooner, however much like Ryuji himself, trying to focus and remember the name is like wading through thick mud.

Once you do, though, finding him amongst the hundred and fifty or so inhabitants is the easy part. 

There’s no strict division between genders within the Commune, however Kyoshi, despite his somewhat lean stature, is among the builders of the island and his path doesn’t often cross with yours. 

From Asuka you find out that he’s been a part of the Commune for years now, before even she joined, and that he mostly sticks to himself, though you’ve seen him chatting quietly to a few of the other men, a perpetually angry looking blonde in particular.

It’s the last part that piques her interest, “Why’re you so curious, anyway?” she asks, her face lighting up as a sudden thought occurs. “Do you want me to introduce you two? To be honest, I didn’t think he’d be your type, if you’re interested, though…”

Cheeks aflame, you’re quick to shut her down. “No, no, nothing like that. I’ve just… seen him around and we’ve never really spoken, I guess.”

A lame excuse, though mercifully she lets the subject drop without too much prodding.

Therein, of course, lies the problem. Walking up to Kyoshi and casually trying to drop Ryuji into the conversation without raising red flags is risky, but what other options do you have? You’ve already spent too much time on this island.

Although, maybe Asuka has the right idea. 

While you hadn’t been lying when you said you weren’t interested in Kyoshi in that way, nobody else knew that. Who would really look twice at the shy newbie striking up a conversation with the quiet, easygoing man? He wasn’t unattractive per se, and from the brief interactions you’d seen of him, he seemed kind enough.

You have enough patience (barely) to wait for dusk the following night. There’s a celebration, something about the full moon and a blessing on the island and the Commune– you hadn’t really been paying attention when Oikawa had spoken about it. Still, it’s too good an opportunity to pass up. With the fire pits crackling, and the dancing and music and the sweet honey wine flowing freely, nobody will be paying too much attention to what you’ll be doing. Hopefully, the alcohol will also serve to lower Kiyoshi’s guard, and perhaps if you’re really, really lucky, loosen his tongue as well. 

Of course, you’re not banking on him telling you exactly where Ryu is or what happened to him– and that’s assuming he actually knows – but at this point you’ll take anything over the nothing you currently have. A tiny slip up, that’s all you’re asking for. 

As the sun descends beyond the horizon, you play your role well, laughing and chatting amongst friends, sipping carefully at the cup of wine in your hand as you wait for an opening. And perhaps it’s your nerves working against you, but you find that it’s not just Kiyoshi your attention is drawn to. 

Up on the shore, away from the rabble, Oikawa lounges back with a cup of the same honeyed wine you’re pretending to drink. For the most part he seems deep in conversation with Iwaizumi, his right hand, but every once in a while he glances up, letting his gaze roam over the crowd of his followers.

Every inch a king and his general.

And it would seem benevolent, if not for the strange smile he wears – the one that widens when his eyes catch yours.

Swallowing tightly, you force yourself not to dwell on it, to ignore the odd sensation curling in your gut and the way your skin prickles under his attention. Now is not the time to lose focus.

Pushing all thoughts of Oikawa aside, you subtly scan the beach once more, only to find that Kiyoshi’s moved, sitting now on a piece of old driftwood near the bonfire. Alone for the first time tonight. 

Your legs are moving before the thought even fully registers. 

“Do you mind if I sit?” you ask, gesturing to the empty space on the log beside him. 

Kiyoshi smiles, the laugh lines at corners of his eyes crinkling pleasantly, and shakes his head, “Not at all.”

“Thanks.”

Taking another sip of your wine, you will your shoulders to relax, your racing pulse to slow. This has to seem natural, and so you force yourself to hold your tongue, let your head loll back and breathe deep, soaking it all in. You can hear the others in the distance, the music and the dancing, the happy laughter and shouts that beckon – you want to go join them. Even your blood seems to hum, a call of something other pulsing through your veins.

But you pay it no mind. There are more important things to worry about tonight. 

Indeed, steel blue eyes have been appraising you curiously for a while now. “This is your first Lunar blessing, isn’t it?” Kiyoshi asks after a moment.

You nod, humming in agreement. Less than a month; you’ve been here less than a month. Is that a good thing?

“Are you enjoying yourself?”

A harmless enough question, and again you nod your head. “Yeah, it’s…” you pause, searching for words that won’t sound hollow. “It’s paradise. I feel like I need to pinch myself just to make sure it’s real.”

He smiles gently. “But?” he probes.

Grimly, you wonder whether Kiyoshi’s usually this perceptive, or if you’re just a really terrible actor. In a way, you suppose it really doesn’t make a difference; you’ve come too far to turn back now – at least not without raising suspicion. 

So you lie with a truth, and pray that it works.

“I had a friend I was supposed to meet here,” you confess quietly, gazing not at him but the crackling flames of the bonfire, the burning embers carried off into the night. “He was the one who said I should come, but now I’m here and he’s not and every time I catch myself enjoying this–”

“You feel guilty,” he surmises, cutting you off. “Because he’s not here to enjoy it with you.”

Wordlessly, you nod – and maybe it isn’t so much of an act when your eyes begin to glisten, your smile wavering. 

Kiyoshi’s silent for a moment, and you take another sip of the honey wine to hide your nerves. “You shouldn’t, you know,” he says eventually. “Feel guilty, I mean. You belong here, with the Commune. You’re happy here. Paradise… isn’t for everybody.”

He doesn’t say it to be cruel, more like he’s simply stating a fact, and somehow that makes it all the more unnerving. And it’s nothing you haven’t listened to Oikawa preach about time and time again. The Commune is for the devoted, the faithful – the lucky few – and you’ve never thought too hard about what he’d meant by that.

The Commune’s small, maybe a hundred and fifty or so people on the island. There’d been no initiation, no test of faith or trial period you’d had to pass when you arrived – at least, none that you’d been aware of. You simply stepped off the boat and they’d welcomed you with open arms. 

An uneasy sensation settles into your gut, goosebumps prickling at your skin despite the heat of the midsummer night. 

That… doesn’t make sense. It can’t. Absolute control’s too important in groups like this, they couldn’t just let anyone–

Kiyoshi speaks again, his calm voice pulling you from your thoughts. “What was his name?” 

You blink at him slowly – stupidly. “Sorry?”

“Your friend,” he clarifies. “What was his name?”

“Oh, um- Ryuji.”

Kiyoshi’s brow furrows in thought for a moment, but he merely shakes his head, “Doesn’t ring a bell, but like I said, not everyone who arrives stays with us for long.”

He looks you right in the eye as he says it.

You don’t understand the cold, foreboding that seeps through your veins, because he’s lying. He has to be. 

Ryuji was here. They were friends, Ryu’d told you that–

Why did you think this stupid plan would work anyway? That he’d tell you anything, much less the truth when this whole fucked up island is full of liars and those too indoctrinated to know the difference?

“You alright?” he asks when abruptly, you shoot to your feet beside him.

And it takes every ounce of willpower you have left to force an easy smile to your lips, raising your cup just a fraction, “Yeah, just gonna go get a refill. Thanks for the talk, Kiyoshi.”

Whether he notices that your wine’s barely touched or not, you don’t care – not as you turn on your heel without another word and head back up the beach. 

Your head is pounding, your body trembling – you don’t hear the call of your name until a hand reaches out and grasps at your wrist, spinning you around.

Asuka greets you with a wide grin, Makki and a tall, broad shouldered man you think is called Mattsun standing either side of her – the former’s arm slung casually over her shoulder. “There you are! I’ve been looking for you,” she says. “Come on, we’re gonna go swimming, it’s so pretty out there!”

You glance out towards the ocean. Moonlight bathes the inky blue water, light shimmering off the rippling tide; some of the others are already out there, splashing amongst the waves. 

“Clothing optional, of course,” Makki laughs, and Asuka tugs on your wrist once more. 

“C’mon, it’ll be fun!”

But you shake your head, slowly pulling your hand from her grip, “I’m not feeling great, I think I’m gonna head back.”

Asuka frowns, concern marring her pretty features. “Are you okay? Do you need us to call Mizo–”

“No,” you say, cutting her off. Healer Mizoguchi is the last person you need to see right now. “I just– I just need to go lie down for a bit. You guys go have fun – enjoy the blessing, I’ll be fine.”

Makki and Asuka share a fleeting look, but it’s Mattsun who interjects before either one of them can speak, “I’ll walk you back, then.”

Your stomach churns. It doesn’t sound like a suggestion.

And the smart thing to do would be to accept his help; the walk from the beach to your villa isn’t far, and while you’re not as familiar with Mattsun as you are with Makki or Asuka, it’s not like he’s going to hurt you or anything, but–

“Really– you don’t need to, it’s fine,” you smile weakly, shuffling back as he reaches to offer you his arm. “Go swim, I’ll see you guys in the morning.”

Mattsun shrugs easily enough, falling back into line with the other two – yet there’s something in the way he grins and holds your gaze for a beat longer. A glimmer of amusement, as if there’s some joke you're not a part of. “I’ll hold you to it, sweetheart.”

The heat that floods your cheeks clashes uncomfortably with the cloying heaviness in your stomach, but somehow you manage to stutter out one last goodbye before turning back to scamper off in the direction of your room.

–But not to lie down.

There’s not a cloud in the sky, and the full moon’s bright. No need for a torch, not unless you decide to venture into the heart of the forest.

You’ve been a fool. Kiyoshi, Asuka, Makki, Mattsun; you can’t trust any of them to help you, even unwittingly. Ryuji’s here on the island – somewhere – and every second that slips away, every second that you allow yourself to forget puts him in further danger.

And so you cling to your discomfort, ground yourself in it. The prickling sensation at the back of your neck, the tightness in your chest as you slip past your villa, keeping low and quiet – they’re a reminder that there is something insidious here on the island, that you have to get out.

You and Ryuji.

He’s here. Away from the others, kept under lock and key as punishment, or maybe being forced to undergo whatever kind of glorified brainwashing they’ve got going on, but here. You need to be smart about this, because while you don’t intend to stop until you find him, tonight will be your best shot – while everyone’s distracted down on the beach. 

For the first time in a long time, it feels like you have a clear head. 

Creeping through the underbrush, you steer clear of the well trod pathways that lead towards habitation. You’ve been there, and to the docks, and the river. 

If they’re still keeping him here (and they are, you refuse to entertain the possibility that it could be otherwise) then it’s not somewhere out in the open. A bird cries out in the distance shattering the calm of the night, and you flinch – but it only serves as another reminder that your time tonight is limited; you cannot afford to delay. You wrack your brain, trying to dredge up memories of the last few weeks, surely you must have seen something–

“Lost?”

The single word, spoken in a deep, gruff voice has your blood running cold.

Slowly, you turn. 

Iwa stands behind you in the thicket, his face utterly impassive. Briefly, you contemplate whether it’s worth trying to bluff your way out of this, but Iwa’s eyes narrow, flashing in the dim light and you think better of it.

A sigh escapes you, your shoulders deflating. “Where is he– Ryuji?” you ask; a whisper rather than a demand.

Iwa’s expression gives nothing away. Did he know, or have you handed him the smoking gun of a crime that’d fallen through the cracks? Does it even matter anymore? You’re just–

You’re tired. 

Exhausted. In the space of a few moments all of that shining determination and resolve; it fled, leaving a gaping hole in its wake. This has to end, you can’t keep fighting against them forever. You can’t keep drowning in this guilt, feeling torn every second that you spend here on this stupid island. You just want to find Ryuji and go home.

… Right?

A tense beat passes as Iwa appraises you, and then; “Come with me.”

The hand he places on your shoulder doesn’t give you much choice. His grip isn’t what you’d describe as gentle, yet he’s careful enough to make sure you don’t trip or stumble as he marches you north. 

In the thick of the forest away from the beach, it’s eerily quiet. Every twig that snaps underfoot, every ragged breath you draw; it feels too loud. Out of place amongst the stillness of the midsummer night. 

And isn’t it ironic, that for the first time since you set foot in this paradise, you feel like you’re trespassing?

A bead of sweat trickles down from your temple and your mind unwittingly drifts back to Mattsun and Makki. Are they still swimming with Asuka? Probably, you reason. It’s hard to pinpoint exactly how long it’s been since you left them on the beach, but surely no more than an hour.

And strangely, like water drawn from the depths of a well, an image comes to mind; the four of you standing in the waves, you perched atop Mattsun’s shoulders, screaming and giggling in delight as Asuka tries to knock you down again, two sets of eyes watching from the shore… 

You should have stayed on the beach.

“Can I ask you something?” 

“You can ask,” he replies drily – humouring you, you suppose.

Your lips quirk upwards for the briefest of moments. “What happens on the Lunar blessing? Asuka, the others– no one told me what it was.” 

Iwaizumi doesn’t answer you immediately, but you feel his fingers reflexively tighten on your shoulder. Likely it wasn’t the question he was expecting; surely there were others that you could have asked – but you don’t really want the answers to those.

If you’re being led like a lamb to proverbial slaughter, what good would it do you to know it? 

And yet as the seconds pass and no answer seems forthcoming from your captor, you resign yourself to the fact that your curiosity will remain unsated. You don’t even know what prompted you to ask in the first place; knowing Oikawa it’s probably some grand, meaningless spectacle. Pretty, hollow words spoken only to–

A heavy sigh draws you from your thoughts, and you falter in your step, almost tripping over your own feet in the process. Iwa’s quick to right you, urging you forward with a less than gentle nudge. “Walk straight,” he grunts, yet it lacks any true heat. Anticipation flutters through your veins, and he mutters a soft curse behind you. “Fine. It… it’s an exchange.” 

An exchange? What the hell was that supposed to mean? Your eyebrows draw together, mouth opening to press the matter, but Iwa beats you to the punch.

“You’ll find out for yourself soon enough, now shut up.”

You have no response to that, so you do.

—

The two of you walk in silence for what feels like hours. Eventually, the terrain becomes steeper, the worn path you’re treading twisting and winding, and you realise you must be close to the mountains at the heart of the island. 

As your breath comes in heavy pants, your legs beginning to ache, you can’t help but be lost in the beauty of it all.

The flora’s different here, unlike any you’ve seen before. Flowers bursting from the bark of towering trees, blooms of vibrant hues; reds and purples and soft, baby pinks. Even the vines at your feet curl amongst pretty white buds that gleam invitingly under the moonlight. Your jaw falls open as you gaze around in wonderment. 

You forget why you’re walking, where it is that you’re heading. Iwa’s grip relaxes as a quiet gasp escapes you, and he doesn’t stop you when you stray from the path to take a closer look. You can’t resist reaching out to touch the silken petals, leaning in to smell their perfume. Soft and light and sweet, your eyes flutter shut, a smile creeping across your visage. 

It reminds you of home. Not your actual home – the rundown, tiny shoebox apartment you gave up before you came here – but something deeper.

Home, like the long summer days spent playing in your parents’ backyard. Home, like afternoons curled up by the window, watching the rain come down in sheets outside. 

Home, like the comfort of arms wrapped around you; two hearts beating in sync.

“C’mon,” Iwa interrupts after a minute or so, his voice a touch less gruff. “We’re almost there.”

Dazed, you find yourself nodding, allowing him to guide you back to the path. This time, he doesn’t grab you by the shoulder, seemingly content enough to walk by your side. 

True to his word, it’s only another few minutes before you see it; a wooden villa, four times the size of your own and far, far grander, set amongst a clearing of trees on the mountainside. Confused, your eyes flicker from the villa to Iwa and back again. Gossamer curtains billow lightly in the breeze, a warm, inviting glow spilling from the open windows. Surely this cannot be where he meant to lead you… and yet he merely stands at your side, arms folded across his broad chest, watching you expectantly. 

“You gonna make me carry you up there?” he asks, not unkindly.

Swallowing tightly, you shake your head. 

Another glance, and you catch a shadow lingering by the window. Your heart skips a beat, apprehension curling in your gut as you begin to walk, every step feels less steady than the last. You’re almost glad when Iwa takes you by the arm; if only so that you have something to focus on other than the growing tightness in your chest. The villa, with its pretty flowers and airy, elegant grandeur is far from the isolated cell you’d been afraid of, yet the uncertainty of what you’re walking into eats at you all the same.

Is this where they’ve been keeping Ryu, or has he brought you here for another reason?

Nothing, however, can prepare you for what you find inside. Warm light emanates from lanterns that bathe the room, and your eyes widen as you stare around you.

Strange, gold carvings inlaid with mother of pearl decorate the thick, woodens support beams, a pot of incense burns on a table overflowing with fresh fruit. There’s a jug of the same honeyed wine you’d drank earlier in the night and two cups set on an ornate stand nearby – just within arms reach of one of the chaise lounges.

Iwa affords you little time to gape, drawing you further in. Silken tapestries hang from the walls – you’re pulled along too quickly to truly take note, but the brief glimpses you get hint at a story; a divine being cast from his home, lost and wandering.

It tugs at something buried within you, and uncomfortable, you tear your eyes away.

The two of you reach a closed door at the end of the hall, and Iwa pulls you to a stop, knocking once.

“Come,” a familiar voice calls.

You stiffen, though perhaps you should have foreseen this outcome. Who else would Iwa bring you to but to him? Distantly, you register his grip relaxing, the sound of the door sweeping open and his voice at your ear.

“Go on.”

And it’s funny, you think, how two halves of yourself can be so at odds with each other. Because while your stomach twists itself into knots, goosebumps prickling at your skin, your legs stumble forward of their own accord.

Two steps forward, and your breath catches in your throat.

It’s a bedroom, that much you can deduce from the decor, but that’s not what captures your attention. Nor is it Oikawa, leaning against the bureau with a genial smile – at least not at first. 

No. In place of a back wall, there’s open space, not so much as a panel of glass obstructing the view before you. And what a view it is; from this height you can see the sprawling forest below, the coastline dotted with bonfires and the moonlit ocean shimmering beyond. Where the floorboards end, there are steps, you realise as you unwittingly inch closer, leading to a cascading spring – likely fed from the waterfall you can hear rushing nearby.

How easy it would be to brush aside your worries, you think, to shed your clothes, slip into the cool, calm water and lose yourself entirely. Even amongst all you’ve seen and experienced on the island so far, this is incomparable. 

“Stunning, isn’t it?” Oikawa murmurs, coming up behind you.

His voice startles you, yet when you turn, you find him not gazing out at the scenery but rather at you, that same strange, knowing smile curling at his lips.

“Some days, I admit, it’s hard to tear myself away,” he continues, unbothered by your stunned silence. “But even I can’t neglect my duties for too long.”

You swallow, tongue darting out to wet your lips. Confusion twists through you at the conversational tone, surely he hasn’t brought you here just to chat about the impressive views, yet there’s no hint of disapproval on his face, no indication that he’s anything less than pleased with you.

It’s unnerving to say the least, but you’ll play along with his game if that’s what Oikawa wants.

“Beautiful,” you say, though the words feel woefully inadequate even as you speak them.

He hums in agreement, something akin to pride flickers in his eyes at your assessment, “A labour of love, I suppose. But… everything you see here, everything I’ve built, it comes with a price. You understand that, don’t you?”

“I-I’m sorry?” you stutter.

“Paradise,” he elaborates, his smile widening. “There’s no give without take. Those people down there,” he nods down at the beach, the tiny, ant-like figures still milling about, “the lost, the beaten, the abused – I gave them what they so desperately sought; a sanctuary. A life without struggle, without suffering.” He pauses for a moment, reaching forward to take your hand. You almost flinch, almost skitter across the room to put as much distance between you as you can, but you don’t–

His palm is warm as it envelops yours, a pleasant heat that seems to spread through your veins, easing your tense muscles. There’s nothing to fear from him, you’re safe with Oikawa.

“Aren’t you happy here?”

Yes.

“What about the price?” you ask instead, though it takes more concentration than it should to force the words out. 

Oikawa’s thumb sweeps along the back of your hand. “I never said it was your price to pay,” he soothes. 

There’s something wrong with that sentence, but another sharp knock at the door draws your attention before you can think too hard about it. You turn out of instinct, barely aware of the way his hand tightens fractionally around your own.  

A single finger at your jaw coaxes your attention back to him. “If you built a paradise, wouldn’t you give whatever necessary to ensure it flourished?”

Oikawa stares at you expectantly, deep brown eyes searching your face as he waits for an answer. Agreement would be the logical choice – the one he seems to want from you – but even as your lips part, the only sound that escapes is a breathless, confused noise. 

When you were a kid, maybe six or seven, your parents took you to the beach one day and you waded too far out into the water. The waves were bigger than you expected; all it took was one mistimed jump and you were dragged under.

It wasn’t for long, probably only seconds, and ultimately you were fine – but you remember those few seconds so vividly. The feeling of helplessly tumbling through the water, fighting to break the surface but not knowing which way was up. Your lungs crying out for oxygen, the disorientation and dizziness, the panic.

It feels like that now – like the floor’s dropped out from beneath you and you’re just hurtling through empty air, desperately trying to slow yourself down with nothing to grab onto.

None of this makes any sense. Your emotions are shot to pieces, too many parts of yourself being pulled in different directions and you’re not sure which ones you can trust anymore. How can you be? Oikawa’s still holding your hand, smiling at you, and you just want everything to stop for a second so you can right yourself and breathe–

The door opens.

Iwaizumi appears in your field of vision, dragging a bound, hooded figure behind him. And because this is all some big, cosmic joke, you get your wish. Both of them, actually. 

Time slows. 

Even with a burlap sack pulled over his head, you recognise the man Iwa shoves to the floor and sneers at. 

Hundreds of miles, weeks of uselessly traipsing around this fucking island, and finally– 

Finally, you’ve found Ryu.

There should be relief. Fear, considering his current state, yes, but Ryuji’s here and he’s alive and as the hood is ripped off his head Oikawa squeezes your hand and the only thing you feel is… anger.

Not a heated flash that surges through your blood. It’s slow and seething, insipid. You look at him, locked in place as empty, pleading eyes meet yours and all you can think is that all of this – everything – is his fault.

“Asuka told you why she came to me, didn’t she?” Oikawa asks.

Your brow furrows, why–why is he asking you that now, how did he even–

He slips closer behind you, letting your hand go in favour of your shoulder, his spare dragging lightly along the bare skin of your arm. “She was lost, in so much pain. The physical wounds, they heal after a while,” his voice is right in your ear, a low murmur that sends a shiver rippling down your spine.

It isn’t an unpleasant feeling.

“But the scars inside, well… sometimes those fester.”

Gagged and bound, kneeling at your feet, Ryu doesn’t even try to make a sound. 

He’s thinner than you remember. Face gaunt and bruised; there’s a half healed, mottled yellow one painted across the left side of his jaw, one eye purple and swollen. You glance at Iwa, standing stoically behind him, muscular arms folded across his chest. His work, you wonder, or others as well? You notice the tear tracks running down his face, catching the light of the lanterns, but it’s as if you’re seeing it all through a thick pane of glass. None of it reaches you, there’s nothing but that simmering, ugly feeling in your gut.

Oikawa hums, “I told you that Paradise wasn’t for everyone. It’s a haven, yes, but there are those who simply… don’t belong.”

His body’s so warm, pressed up against yours. Fingertips graze along your side, and this time you don’t bother biting back that tiny, breathless moan. Iwa briefly smirks at it, but there’s no embarrassment. Why should there be? Your eyes flit back to Ryu, bowed on the wooden floor.

Another memory resurfaces; A sharp crack and a ringing in your ears, Ryuji, eyes bloodshot and glazed, falling to his knees, clutching frantically at the leg of your pants as endless apologies spill from his lips. 

It wasn’t him. It was never him. 

“He hurt you,” Oikawa purrs. “He kept hurting you, I saw it.”

The words wash over you like waves breaking on the shore, but you find yourself nodding anyway. It was the truth, wasn’t it? A thousand tiny hurts, piled up on one another until you finally broke.

And you’d still come when he’d called.

Listened to him when he’d begged you not to hang up the phone.

“Iwa.” 

The brunet moves towards a grand chest of drawers pushed up against the western wall. An ornate dagger sits atop, strange and beautiful; the blade isn’t steel or any metal you’ve seen before, but some kind of black stone, the handle intricately carved ivory. You hadn’t even noticed it before, Oikawa’s room filled to the brim with odd trinkets and treasures, but now that you have, it’s hard to tear your eyes away.

Iwa takes it and carries it over towards the two of you, holding it with the utmost care. 

“Obsidian,” Oikawa informs you as he accepts the blade from his friend, bringing it in front of you both to show it off. “Pretty, isn’t it?” And while you can’t see his face, you can hear the smile in his tone.

He isn’t wrong though. 

Ever so carefully you reach out, the soft pads of your fingertips running along the obsidian surface, surprisingly cool to the touch. The razor sharp edges – wavy and asymmetrical, leading to a tapered point – you’re careful to avoid, almost positive you’d draw blood with the slightest touch. 

“Take it,” he urges, his breath ghosting over the shell of your ear. 

Obediently, you turn your hand over, your fingers wrapping around the hilt when he presses it against your palm. And as long fingers curl around yours, you idly wonder how old the dagger is – there’s not so much as a scratch on it, yet there’s something about the weapon in your hand that feels ancient. It thrums under your combined touch.

Oikawa jerks his chin at Iwa, and with a short nod and one last, lingering glance cast your way, the latter exits once again. 

Leaving you and Oikawa alone with Ryuji.

“It’s almost time,” he remarks – though time for what, you’re not entirely sure. His lips press against your hair, his arm dropping from your shoulder to your waist, drawing you flush against him. “I know why you came to me, the lies that led you here.”

Both of you turn your attention back to Ryuji at that, the bound man now shaking with the force of his muffled sobs, snot dripping from his nose. That bitter resentment rears its ugly head again, soothed only by Oikawa’s pacifying hum, his thumb now rubbing slow circles at your side. “Shh, I’m not angry – none of that matters now. You’ve found a home here, no? You want to stay on the island with me.”

You swallow, nodding your head rapidly. The thought of having to leave now, of being forced out after everything you’ve seen and felt and experienced here, you– you can’t fathom it. You don’t want to. 

Ryuji’d wrought so much damage, but even before he’d swept through your life… had you ever been happy? Were you ever truly accepted – or loved, for that matter?

You can’t go back to that life. You won’t; he’ll have to drag you kicking and screaming from the shore. The Commune is your home, this is where you belong. Here, with Oikawa.

“Good girl,” he croons, another kiss pressed to the crown of your head. You beam at the praise and Ryuji crumples a little further. “Death begets life, you understand now, don’t you?”

You glance at the obsidian dagger in your hand and then at Ryu, beaten and bruised, bowed in forced supplication before you, and nod.

His fingers tighten around yours, “Then do it.”

Leaning forward, you reach for Ryu, fingers lightly trailing down his ruined cheek, curling at his chin to coax his head upwards. He squeezes his eyes shut, pain and regret etched over every inch of his face, but he doesn’t fight you. 

Baring his throat to your dagger, Ryuji’s pleas take the shape of your name.

Muffled, thanks to the gag, but unmistakable. And for one single moment, you falter. 

This… this is wrong; for all his faults, and god knows there were plenty, Ryu didn’t des–

A wave of calm washes over you, allaying your fears, your doubts. Your breath leaves you in a heavy gust, taking with it the tension in your shoulders, and Oikawa’s voice, smooth and honeyed, reaches your ears once more, “Nothing comes without a price, doesn’t he deserve to be the one to pay it?”

With your hand still tucked inside of his, your arm moves with a will of its own; slashing with inhuman grace.

The dagger cuts deep, Ryuji’s eyes snapping open in shock as a spray of warm blood hits you both. He chokes – a horrid, wet, gurgling sound – wide, pleading eyes frantically shifting between you and Oikawa. Every beat of his failing heart sends fresh blood spurting from the gaping wound. It drenches his front, splatters across your dress, your face, crimson pooling at the wooden floorboards at his knees. His mouth falls open and shut, trying and failing to form coherent sounds and you just stand there and watch, the dagger hanging limply at your side.

It doesn’t take long; seconds at the most. 

Ryuji’s slumps to the floor, his body finally growing still as the light fades from his eyes. There’s a beat of absolute silence, and then–

Oikawa shudders behind you, a strangled, drawn out moan leaving his lips. You try to turn, but his arms lock around you, every muscle tensing, his back arching. The dagger in your hand grows hot, burning the soft skin of your palm, but with his fingers still tightly entwined with yours you can only whimper and endure it.

With a hoarse, guttural roar, a pulse of pure energy surges through the room like a shockwave. Every cell in your body lights up, electrified, buzzing; a dizzying euphoria unlike any you’ve felt before coursing through your blood. 

Across the island, voices cry out in delight, a symphony of life. The trees tremble and shake, invigorated and renewed, fresh buds bursting from the forest floor, blooming under the light of the full moon.

The harvests flourish, even the river swells in response to the call.

Death begets life, just as he promised.

And with every inch of your body alight and singing with pleasure, you can barely think much less protest (and why would you want to?) as Oikawa roughly yanks you around, hungry lips crashing against your own as his fingers pull and tear at your bloodstained dress. He wastes no time with foreplay, and you suspect only begrudgingly takes a moment to hoist you up against him and carry you to his bed.

There’s nothing gentle about the way he hauls your hips to his, sheathing his cock inside of your warm, tight cunt with one savage thrust, but you don’t care.

Not as you cling to him, fingernails raking along his shoulders as he presses your thighs further apart so he can fuck you deeper. It’s hard and rough and brutal, yet you moan for him all the same, his name a prayer swallowed up by feverish, claiming kisses.

Tonight, bathed in blood and the soft glow of moonlight, you offer your god everything.

—

“Look, look!” 

A small hand tugs at your skirt, and you glance down to find a little girl with pretty, dark curls holding up a crown of woven flowers.

“Do you like it?” she asks. 

Carefully, you take it from her, bringing it closer to examine. She watches you intently as you study it, lifting it this way and that to appraise her work, humming thoughtfully for good measure. “I think it’s beautiful work,” you tell her after a long enough pause, and you can’t help but smile at the way she lights up, preening under your praise. “Why don’t you go show your mama? I’m sure she’ll be very impressed.”

The girl nods rapidly, thanking you before skipping off in the direction of her parents. The sun’s hanging low in the sky, the fires already being readied for the night ahead. You’re not unaware of the watchful gaze that carefully monitors your every move, and the moves of anyone who ventures too close by. Soon enough, you’ll return home to the heart of the island – anticipation fluttering in your belly at the thought of what awaits you – but for now, you let your feet sink further into the sand, closing your eyes as you bask in the lingering warmth of the setting sun.

At least until the sound of your name being called draws you back to the present. Yet it’s not Iwaizumi approaching, but rather Makki, two strangers trailing along behind him. 

“Thought I’d find you here,” he grins, throwing a casual arm over your shoulders. “This is Kaneo,” he gestures to the man, “and his wife Manaka. They arrived this morning, I’ve been showing ‘em round.”

You turn to the couple, smiling sweetly as you extend a hand, “Welcome to the Commune.”

[koqabear]

hit me with your killshot, baby (C.YJ)

Summary:

It was a small, quiet town you had decided to move into. One that you could help with any healing or magical needs. What you didn’t expect, however, was to face a demon too powerful for your own good. The worst part? Seems like he’s gotten attached.

Yeonjun x reader/ demon!yeonjun x witch!reader

Genre: fantasy, enemies to ?? thriller(?), angst if you squint me thinks

Word count: 3.0K

Warnings: general physical fighting/violence, mentions of scars, burns, bones breaking, knives, blood, fire, descriptions of pain (let me know if I should add anything!)

a/n: This might get another part if it gets a good response <3 Writing fantasy is rlly fun for me as well, I’m so glad that this is the story that got me out of my writers block lmao

comments and reblogs are always welcome and much appreciated, hope you guys enjoy! <3

Disclaimer!! Absolutely nothing about this story is accurate or real, anything and everything that mc the witch does is made up!

It was about three in the morning when you got the call.

“Hello?” You said, eyes squinted as you had just been woken up from your sleep. The line remained silent for a moment, leaving you to wonder if this was a scam caller. You spoke again, only to hear hasty footsteps becoming louder, presumably running towards the phone.

“Hello?!” The voice called out, the loud exclamation causing you to jolt awake. “Oh my god, oh my god!” Their exasperated voice rang through your line, and you stood to get properly dressed, already anticipating their request.

“Where do you live?” You asked sharply, grabbing the keys to your car and waiting for their answer. They stuttered out their address, the sounds of the rain coming into your ear. They were now outside.

“Please come quick, this spirit has been bothering me for weeks now, I could have sworn they were harmless-“ they cried into the phone, only to get cut off by your stern command.

“Leave your home. I’ll be there in about ten minutes.”

They agreed, their voice quiet and shaky, and you hung up, beginning to drive to your new task.

It was no secret your town had a problem with the supernatural. That was the whole reason you lived here.

‘The town witch’ was what they called you. You remember moving to this small town the moment you turned eighteen, the rumors of the paranormal town beckoning you to help. With potions and incantations by your side, you were the best damn thing this place had ever gotten. But that was six years ago, and you were young and naive. The scars and burns that riddled your body only served to prove your progress, marking your place in this town permanently.

You sighed, your grip on your steering wheel weak. You were, after all, the only help these people had. Late night calls like this were beginning to become much too common recently, leading you to wonder if something, or someone, new was beginning to pester this poor town.

You arrived at the house, the thunderstorm only helping to provide a stereotypical atmosphere for you to work in. You got out your car, pulling your coat tightly against your body, the wind around you strong enough to hinder your footsteps.

The two story home before you rattled in protest, the front door swinging open the moment you got close enough. You felt your heart begin to race, beginning to question if this was truly worth it. It seems that whatever had been pestering the homeowner was no small ghost. Walking inside, you were met with the dark and empty home, the hardwood floor beneath you creaking in protest as you carefully walked around, the house seemingly calming the moment you entered.

You breathed in slowly, attempting to steady your mind as you surveyed the house, recalling what the homeowner told you before hanging up. This had been going on for a while, but it seems that it only recently became too much for them. Whatever was in this home really liked the attention.

Before you were able to take another step forward, you were thrown off your feet, slamming into the wall to your left, the many picture frames and decorations falling before you with a loud crash. The door slammed shut, and you covered your head, bracing yourself as you felt the glass shards begin to be directed towards you.

It’s here, and it’s angry.

Just as the chaos around you finally dulled down, you were met with the sight of the trophy shelf in front of you beginning to shake, your eyes widening as you began to run. You muttered a quick incantation to help shield you, the dull sounds of impact that began to pound against your shield only serving to make you run faster.

The hallway in front of you suddenly seemed never-ending, it’s violet wallpaper becoming harder to see the more you ran. Was the house layout always like this? The hallway suddenly ended, leading you to an open room, quickly recognizing it as the living room. The lights suddenly flickered on, disturbing your concentration as you noticed a shadow walk past one of the doorways.

Seemingly knowing you perfectly, the spirit took this small wavering to throw a book in your direction, narrowly missing your face as you ducked to the side, only to get knocked to your knees as you felt a kick to your back, your disturbed concentration causing your spell to be broken.

You turned around in a haste, summoning your shield once more as you unsheathed the knife you had in your coat pockets.

“Show yourself!” You barked out, standing up as you surveyed the room. “I know you’re here.”

Silence.

The howling wind outside stopped, the flickering lights suddenly still at the sound of your voice. You gripped the handle of the knife harder, trying to not let the exhaustion seep into you. The lights began to slowly dim, a lit ember flickering in front of you, only to be followed by many more, swirling into a raging fire directly in front of you. You jumped back at the heat, the familiar sight making you frown in anticipation.

“You look tired,” the voice said, as smooth and elegant as you first remembered it, “Maybe I could fix that.”

Standing in front of you was no other than Yeonjun. Clad in black, his dark eyes stared into yours as he towered over you, his platform boots shining underneath the dull lights, his hair slicked back and pushed away from his face save for a few strands that hung to frame his face.

“Yeonjun.” You said, a feeling of anger stirring inside you the longer you stared at him

“It’s so nice to hear my name come from you again,” he sighed, taking a step toward you, only for you to step back in retaliation.

Yeonjun was none other than the first demon you tried to expel when you first came here. You had fought with every single potion and spell you spent years perfecting, only to leave hospitalized and unsure that he would return. However, as the years passed and no sign of him appeared, you had assumed that you had succeeded in your battle against him, any signs of hauntings or poltergeists disappearing after that day.

“You,” you snapped, everything finally piecing everything together. “You’re behind everything that’s been happening recently, aren’t you?” You took another step back as he began to laugh, throwing his head back as if you had just told him the funniest thing in the world. Slowly, he calmed himself down, his eyes playful as he took his sweet time responding to you.

“Maybe, why?” He said, beginning to walk towards you slowly. You held your ground, concentrating on keeping your shield steady, they grip on your knife tightening. He stopped centimeters away from it, the aura of the shield humming as his clothes grazed the perimeter, shocks emitting on impact.

“I missed you, you know,” He muttered, head leaning towards you teasingly as he stood just far enough to not be blasted away from your shield. “It wasn’t fun hopping from town to town, trying to mess with other witches that resided there. They were just too…”

“Weak.”

You were barely given a moment before the sight of Yeonjun’s bright eyes filled your vision, the feeling of a scorching heat overtaking your senses.

Yeonjun had trapped you in a ring of fire.

A pretty small one, too.

Slightly panicked, you looked around for any place you could escape, the memories of the last time you got so close to Yeonjun warning you to get as far from him as you could, only to find that it was just you and him, trapped in a space that wouldn’t even allow you to shift backwards.

“What’s wrong?” He asked, his voice taunting as he waited for your next move, “Claustrophobic?”

The weapon in your hand began to heat up, your mind working its hardest to form a plan that would work and let you come out alive. You already knew what this fire around you would do; It wasn’t a simple flame, and the scar on your chest that throbbed painfully in this demonic presence was enough proof of that.

The moment you had healed from your first encounter with Yeonjun, you had put all of the knowledge you had acquired from experience and older, more experienced witches into putting a weapon that would help you with violent demonic problems like him. It had taken you weeks of pure isolation and meditation to engrave the correct energy into the weapon, afraid to make any mistake that could lead to something drastic. By the time you were finished putting the last few touches on the weapon, (a protective incation; the words engraving themselves in fine print letter by letter as you poured the last of your energy into it,) you could barely stand, landing yourself at the house of a medic that specialized with witches.

“You’re lucky that you managed to come out of this with just drained energy,” He had told you one day, standing next to your cot and handing you a homemade medicine; its taste was horrendous, but it did the job.

“I’ve dealt with witches, succeeding or not, that had come out in a much worse condition. You’re very powerful, that much I can tell.” He confessed, his face sobering as he remembered why it was that you were there, “Whatever it is that you’re dealing with, I wish you luck.”

And now here you stand, the results of all your hard work and patience vibrating the more you concentrate on defeating the demon in front of you.

“Don’t tell me you’re going to try and hurt me with that,” Yeonjun laughed, watching the way your grip tightened the moment he landed his eyes on it, your knuckles turning white with the force, “You know your little knife can’t hurt me, right?”

While it was true that regular knives were nothing more but toys to him, you knew that what you were holding was not a regular knife.

But he didn’t.

You remained silent as you stared at him, quirking a brow to silently challenge him. He scoffed, rolling his eyes at your demeanor.

“Giving me the silent treatment now?” He said, pausing for a moment before looking back at you, “Fine. You think you can hurt me with that little kitchen knife?” With a single movement of his hands, the fire dwindled, going down until it was no more,

“Go ahead. Give it your best shot.”

You suppressed a smile.

Yeonjun was a lot of things. Strong, powerful, smart, hell, he was a bit attractive too.

But above all, he was cocky.

Slowly, and as subtly as you could, you adjusted your stance, your eyes never leaving his, ready to let your shield down to attack him.

“No games?”

His lips quirked up, his hands coming up to his sides to show you his full vulnerability.

“Fair and square. Here, I’ll even let you make the first move.” His pitch black eyes twinkled with his signature playfulness, his thoughts displaying to you loud and clear;

I thought you were smarter than this.

You fought the urge to scoff, and instead surveyed him for a moment, stepping back to give yourself a bit more room. He watched intently, his body language open and relaxed, clearly not threatened by you.

You lunged forward.

Before Yeonjun could move away, you swung your knife towards him, your stomach sinking as you missed your target, his neck, and sliced at his face instead. His head turned to the side, a hiss emitting from him as he turned back to you, the slash on his cheek burning into his skin, going deeper into his face as he began to bleed.

Except that wasn’t blood that came out of his face.

A thin liquid, pure black and mixed with the poison of your blade, trickled down his face. Slowly, he brought up a hand to his cheek, touching tentatively at his wound, observing the black substance that poured out of him, before turning back to you.

“Come on, you little vixen,” he groaned, the nickname that he called you from your first meeting rolling off his tongue smoothly, “Not the face!”

Cocky bastard.

But now that your first move was over, Yeonjun took a minute to crack his neck, the black liquid trailing down to his neck as he slowly rolled his head back, pausing for a second before straightening up, smiling at you sweetly.

“My turn.”

Right as you were going to activate your shield once more, Yeonjun ran to you, landing a solid punch to your stomach, sending you flying to the wall behind you, the wind being knocked out of you on impact as you crumbled to the floor. Looking up, you saw him lunge at you once more, mumbling your incantation for your shield, successfully knocking him back at the last second. Tumbling backward, Yeonjun layed on the floor as you slowly got back up, using the wall behind you as support, the wild and unhinged sound of Yeonjun’s laugh echoing off the walls.

“Oh, my little vixen,” he began, sitting up as he watched you regain your composure. “I missed this. I must admit, you have gotten stronger.” Standing back up slowly, you felt the room slowly heat up. You shifted, knowing what it was that he was about to do next.

“It’s exciting.”

Running towards him, you did your best to avoid the trail of fire that was now after you, ready to swing your knife at him as you got closer. Just as you were close enough to him, you swung towards his neck once more, the predictable movement allowing Yeonjun to step aside, only to get a kick to his chest, successfully knocking him down and allowing you to dive down, the fire that was about to pierce the center of your back flying instead to the wall in front of you, the loud boom barely covering Yeonjun’s scream as you dug your knife into his shoulder.

“Fuck!”

You towered over him, straddling his waist and putting as much weight as you could to keep him down. His hands immediately reached up to clasp over yours, attempting to pull the weapon out, only to have you retaliate by digging it into his skin more, his cursing filling up your ears as he struggled against you.

Your jaw clenched and you felt yourself begin to sweat, the same ring of fire from before beginning to enclose around you slowly with no signs of stopping. Your hands began to burn underneath Yeonjun’s touch, obviously his doing as he seemed to concentrate on attempting to scare you off with the same fire that landed you on the brink of death from your first encounter.

But you refused.

You refused to allow the demon to live any longer, to continue to terrorize innocent and defenseless people in your town, or in this world at all. And now that you had him under your grip, your hands struggling to successfully behead him, you weren’t going to let a little bit of pain scare you away.

Your hands began to numb under the heat of his skin, popping noises emitting from under his iron grip. He was attempting to break your hands, to render them useless, but with the adrenaline coursing through your veins, you pushed on, biting back your own groans of pain and trying to concentrate on your current task, and nothing else.

“Come on my vixen, give it up,” he said, his voice laced with pain and false confidence that he attempted to use in order to make you believe that he remained unaffected. But as your knife inched towards his neck, piercing through his skin and emitting a loud sizzling sound, you knew that it was all a bluff by the way he winced, a low grunt of pain escaping him.

“I really don’t want to hurt you, you know,” he confessed, the ring of fire snapping angrily at your legs, the heat making you want to faint from overexertion. But you continued to push on, much to Yeonjun’s annoyance. “Fine, you asked for it.”

He screwed his eyes shut, the ring of fire slightly calming down, along with his iron grip on your hands. Just as you were about to take this chance and behead him, you felt something coming.

You turned around.

A ball of pitch black fire, resembling a pure void, flew towards you.

It all happened so fast. Throwing you off of him, Yeonjun staggered away from you, watching silently as the void of black washed over you, your screams of agony causing him to look away, the slightest bit of pity washing over him.

This was it, wasn’t it?

You couldn’t move as this void of fire washed over you, a feeling as though every bone in your body was being broken and you were being turned inside out coarsed through your system, your screams ripping through your throat, the wish for death appearing in your heart.

But right as you felt as though you were going to black out, it stopped.

And Yeonjun stood over you.

He watched as you lay there, completely paralyzed with pain. It took a bit before you began to breathe again, your chest barely rising, the air flowing into you causing you pain. Slowly, you opened your eyes, Yeonjun’s face inches from yours, the dark liquid from his wounds dripping onto you.

“I almost feel sorry,” he whispered, his lips grazing yours. You tried to hold on, to finish your job, but the very effort of having to breathe exhausted you beyond belief. Slowly, he pressed his lips to yours, the kiss more of a half hearted apology as he lingered there for a second, his lips still against yours. His mind reeled at the feeling, and he pulled away, a soft smile on his face as he slowly brought his hand down, hesitating before caressing your exhausted face slowly, spreading his own blood on your face.

He grinned.

“I look forward to our next battle.”

And he was gone.

Tears pricked at your eyes, and you collapsed.

[mywritingonlyfans]

Angst fic with Damiano David

prompt: a angsty about reader being sad (dami bff) 'cause damiano doesn't feel the same way romantically. ps. there's a lot of victoria de angelis being a angel in this fic, and it's basically about reader going through it.

warnings: none? it's just a bit sad and longer than usual.

 All the soft touches still tingled all over your body. His scent was until now stuck to you, you never thought you’d feel happy to have woody essence along with cigarette smoke on you. 

 Folding the sleeve of his sweater, you put your tea in one of the cups you always use when you were there. His cotton piece was comfortable, making you didn't regret wearing it in the morning; it was cold and wearing your tank top from the night before didn't feel right. The shorts from yesterday, that were making your legs freeze were enough trouble for you to handle. The remnants of your clothes and belongings were collected from the floor of his room and placed carefully on his headboard, you made sure you were being quiet. Damiano has always been a heavy sleeper, but your counscious prevented you from risking disturbing him when he looks so peaceful. You had already spent much time at his place so you memorized where every thing in his kitchen - and others rooms - was; baking eggs and making tea wasn’t a mystery for you. You had even separated a Tylenol tablet for Damiano, so he could have it with his tea when he woke up with a wicked hangover. He wasn't the type to get drunk and forget what he did, nor were you. Since when you were teenagers, you have gone out and been drunk together a lot of times, and although your feelings were already present, nothing never happened. This time, however, alcohol helped injecting a dose of courage on him. Being honest with yourself, you didn't remember who started it; but the kiss in the midst of the loud music, his hand on the back of your neck, the exchanging glances while dancing and the moment he took you home, they were pretty vividly in your mind. You still felt relaxed, as if his sweaty body was still over yours. Minutes with your eyes closed was enough to feel his eyes roaming your body all over again.

“Hi,” he said in a slurred voice, cutting off your line of thoughts. You jumped, briefly scared but soon turned your attention to reality; a tired Damiano scratching his eyes in front of you.

He was dressed, wearing sweatpants and sweatshirt, duly comfortable according to the weather. 

 “Headache?” You knew he was. He was always a good drinker, he put up with it a lot, but he was never one to get rid of the effects of alcohol on the next day. You, on the other hand, got on better with this issue; fortunately from the night before, only the good moments remained with you.

“Yeah, a bit,” he giggled. “What a night, I’d say.” He added, in a lower tone. What was acceptable, you also felt a bit weird to be in front of him.

“I got you some pills,” you pointed it out to him on the counter, trying to maintain a normal behavior; with no shacking voice or sweaty hands. Quite impossible. “I made tea too.”

“Dear God, you’re a life saver!” He smiled at you, eyes crinkled and all of his perfect teeth on display. Contagious.

You grinned, feeling your body getting lighter. “No worries. I’m glad to help.”

“Y’know, when I woke up and saw that you weren't there I thought you were gone. You know? Friendship destroyed and that whole thing. I’m happy to see you; relieved.” He took a sip of his tea, and maybe a bit of your heart with it. You were an explosion of feeling when it comes to him, you always have been. “That sweater looks good on you, you can keep it if you want. You know that’s my fave one.” And, yeah, you knew.

The tension on you was no longer intense, comforting you to let out the breath you were holding. “It’s good to hear that,” Your genuine smile managed to say many things, you wished Damiano had noticed you earlier on other occasions. “Do you remember that one time, when we were younger, that you were a bit crazy about a girl; Alice was his name.” You stopped; in need of air - nervous - and watched Dami's attentive face. “She was the first person to whom you dedicated a song, you played it to her at school break. The cutest thing I had ever seen. I think it was there that I realized, a little jealous—“

“Y/N,” his voice had been almost inaudible, causing no effect. Had he really tried?

“How in love I was with you.”

His face was paler than usual, he was paralyzed; speechless. You had never seen Damiano like this, the men was always all over the place in a sweet talkative mess.

It took a few minutes for you to be able to read his expressions and realize how fucked up you were. The dose of happiness in your blood had been able to manipulate you to believe in what you most wanted to happen.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know,” your blood had gone up to your ears, all you could pay attention to was the pressure in your head. How had you thought that after one specific night he would suddenly decide that he was in love with you? After all of this time that you were just a good friend for him? “I’m truly sorry but I’m don’t—“

“Feel the same way?” You finished. He nodded, apprehensively. You have never felt so stupid. It was a mixture of shame, fear and insecurity. You were unable to look directly at him, you knew that there was no change in following a friendship after what you just said, much less after the night before. You had never been so screwed.

“I’m the one who should be apologizing, I shouldn’t have said a thing.” You whispered, realizing that the lump in your throat had turned into tears that you didn't even know were running down your face.

“Come here,” he opened his arms, walking towards your emotionless frame. You allowed yourself to melt in his grip. 

 Your tears fell freely; you could even try to hold it back but there was no strength left for you to think about it. Your crying was silent, as was the kitchen room. Your head was full of questions and cursing at yourself. Suddenly you wished Damiano had yelled at you, asked you to get out of there or said he wouldn't never speak to you again. It seemed easier to deal with it in this alternative way than to have him comforting you for loving him. “Shh, it’ll alright. I could never be mad at you.”

He talked about your friendship, but you knew that nothing would end up well. Maybe for him. But for you? It’d not be that easy. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. I should have known better, you were so loving with me last night that I thought— Fuck, we slept together. Which I know isn’t your fault because I don’t even remember who—“

“Stop, Y/N. Look at me,” He was being careful. You were making a person like Damiano calculate his words, that made you feel like pure shit. You stopped talking, looking at him was still difficult. He understood that you wouldn’t be doing so. “That’s fine. I don’t feel bad about you liking me in that way, you’re wonderful. I don't regret anything, last night was great, but I just... don't feel the same. I’d never do anything to hurt you. I can't even imagine how hard it’s being for you right now.” His words sounded sweet and sincere. He had tears in his eyes as well. His ability to be so empathetic to everyone was something you loved the most about him. He was probably killing himself on the inside for breaking you.

You nodded, leaning on the counter. You wanted to ask him if he remembered that he was your first kiss at the age of seven or all the times he sent you vinyl records with some message - that he had written himself - inside the cover. How did he not feel the same, shouldn't you be everything he wanted?

“Dami?” You sighed. Your eyes were red, your face probably swollen. You then looked straight at him; that surprisingly wasn’t much better than you. “Have you ever looked at me and seen me in another way? Something more than just your best friend?”

He didn’t say a thing, just look at you standing there. You get it.

“I think I should go,” You broke the silence that had been formed. You thought about taking his sweater off, but since you weren't wearing anything underneath, you thought it was better not; you’d have to go to his room to change, and then pick up your things only to delay your leaving.

“I can drive you home,” he said in a hush, looking for his car keys.

“It’s okay, a walk will be fine.”

“It’s fucking freezing outside, I can't let you walk over there like that.”

You ignored what he said, walking around the house to the front exit. He tried to grab your arm just for you to step back.

“I know you're just trying to help, but I need to be alone right now, without you near me.” You tried to say it in the most normal way possible, you didn't want to be mean, you only wanted to be fair to yourself.

“Sure.” It was the last thing you heard him say before you left, feeling the cold wind on your body. You didn't know if he had entered his house again or if he was watching you hug yourself as walking slowly to somewhere. You wouldn't dare to look back.

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

“C’mon girl, get up here,” Upon hearing the husky, strong voice, you were relieved. 

 Victoria wasn’t wearing her usual jewelry and looked like she had just been woken up by force. You weren’t as close to her as you were with the other boys, however, you had never been so happy to see her.

You got in her car. “Thank you,”

“God, you look terrible. You’re fine?” You looked at your reflection in the rearview mirror and well, fine was definitely something you didn't look like.

“Dami asked you to come and get me?” Your throat was scratching, it was difficult to speak.

“Yeah,” she looked at you quickly, but due to your discomfort she backed off. More tears would come. “He didn't say why though, he just said he needed someone to come to you before you froze to death.” She said it in a way that made you laugh, even with your eyes filled with tears. “Did the two of you have a disagreement? You don't have to answer me if you don't want to.”

“Something similar.” You said shakily; due to your crying and chilly. Inside the car was heated, but your body was so cold that it didn't seem to be enough. You tried to snuggle in the passenger seat, letting your head rest against the window like in a sad film. Maybe that’d help.

“Here,” she handed you a coat, without hesitation you took it. “I brought it to you in case you needed it.”

You nodded slowly. “Thank you, Victoria,”

“You can call me Vic, just like everyone else,” she laughed.

You gave her a half smile. “Okay then, thank you very much, Vic,”

The rest of the day would be crying while you curled up in your bed, you’d let yourself feel at your worst; promising that you would try and change that the next day.

———----------------------------------------------

You expected the first few days to be the hardest, but it seemed to get worse with each passing day. Damiano had tried to call you a few times and in all of them you responded dryly, using short words, pretending it’d be okay. You truly tried, but you needed time to process what happened. You told him that, and then time he gave you.

After completing a month of the incident, you noticed how 'dependent' you had become on him. He was always around since you were kids, any problem you had you would look for him to talk to, now you felt like you had nothing. Your friends were friends of his, too, more of his friends than yours. You missed having Thomas failing on teaching you how to play guitar on your couch and besides you thought about calling him - just to distract yourself - you remembered that he was more a friend of Damiano than yours. It’d be weird. None of them contacted you at that time, not even Thomas. You couldn't figure it out if Dami had told them what happened and they decided to give you space or if they just didn't care about you when you wasn’t around Damiano.

Basically, where Dami was you would be and vice versa. It had always been like that.

When you saw that just time wasn’t solving anything, you programmed yourself to live in a way that you were busy all the time. Your routine became work, home and most of the time taking the work to be done also in your home. You didn't feel energized to make new friends, and going out on dates could help momentarily but it wouldn't be fair to go out with someone in the ‘mood’ you were in; then these ideas were soon discarded. Sleeping was impossible, you spent hours rolling over in bed; both for the flashbacks that plagued your mind, but also for the fact that you missed him. The nights were worse when you visit your mother or when she called and said, "Dami never came to see me again." or something like. “Are you still talking to each other? We don't let someone like Damiano leave our lives.”

Deep down, you knew there was no way you could be in love with him forever and that no matter how much it hurt at that moment it would pass. You started to repeat it to yourself as much as you could, so when the boys got in touch with you again you didn't hesitate to answer. Nothing bad would happen, you just need to pretend to be fine. The first to send you a message was Thomas, with simple questions, he acted like nothing had happened, you liked it. Even though it was obvious that Thomas, as one of his boys, would know this in more detail than you did (which was a lie, but at least he knew how Damiano was feeling about it, which you wouldn't know). He updated you about Dami, who was great as always, and you said you were doing well when he asked. You answering him made Ethan talk to you too, although they were all polite and delicate, they seemed more to be sorry than to miss you. Pity wasn’t something you were expecting.

After five months, you still felt like crap. You had tried to stop counting the days that had passed since you last saw Damiano, but it was almost impossible. You could still remember that night vividly, but you were still trying your best to move on; leave it behind. Mysteriously, you wanted to see him, see how he was doing and find out if he had anything else to say but you were afraid to see him, go back to your place as his best friend just to realize that your feelings for him had not abated at all.

“...I haven't seen you in a while. I wonder if you're alright,” you heard when answering your phone. Your head hurt, your eyes stung. You had slept on spreadsheets that you brought home from your work.

“I’m sorry, what?”

“Shit,” she murmured.

You looked at the phone screen. “Sorry Vic, I just woke up I'm still trying to copy.” You laughed to calm her down.

“I thought I didn't have my number,” her voice became softer, as if she was relieved that you had saved it. “I didn't want to wake you up, I'm sorry about that. I just wanted to know how you‘re doing, since I used to see you almost every day, y’know?”

You thought about saying that you saved her number the day Dami called to pick him up at a bar since his phone battery was dead and he was in no condition to drive, but Victoria clearly knew that. “Is Dami with you?”

“No,” her tone matched yours; Dami had told her, now she was being careful with her words. “I saved your number the day Dami needed to call you, in case I needed to call you again.”

“That’s alright, thanks for checking on me then.”

“But he would love to talk to you. He always asks the boys about you or comments on you so that someone can bring you up to the convo. He seems a bit lost when you not ‘round to be honest.”

Somehow hearing that made you happy. Still, the image of discomfort whenever you thought of talking to him scared you. The phone line was filled with silence, until Victoria's husky voice filled the line.

“Anyway, I didn't call you to talk about Damiano. We finally finished the album and decided to have a small celebration at my house,” you giggle at the formality. “We thought you should go, since you were present in more than half of the process. I‘d like you to come. We’d all like you to come.”

———

Your heart accelerated with each step you took as you entered Victoria's house. The rooms had a glow of being calm and the music that was playing helped to make the place cozy. The instrumental of the band reminded you of Fleetwood Mac, and for the little that you knew Vic you would say that the type of sound reminded you of her. 

 Her house wasn’t crowded, there were only a few people around; some you’ve seen before, some you haven’t. You thundered your fingers over some vinyl that were arranged in a corner, pretending to read them. You were looking for familiar faces, honestly even for Damiano, but for some unknown reason you didn't want to make that obvious. Your eyes captured Thomas talking to some girls, and soon you felt relieved to be dressed according to the occasion; or at least according to the girls who were close to Thomas. It didn't take long until he noticed you standing there, you waved and he came to you. He looked surprised, still he didn't wait for you to say anything else, just wrapped you in his arms so tight you had to ask him to let go in between muffled laughter.

“Vic working miracles! Come, I'll take you to the others.” He said in his cute form, holding your hand as guiding you through the house. “So, how's our best girl?”

Your lips parted in a smile. “I’m alright, pretty much the same to be honest,” there was no time for him to ask another question because you soon spotted Ethan and Victoria with their beers in hands. They seemed to be shocked to see you as well; and it was starting to irritate you for reasons you couldn't explain. Thomas put you behind him, hiding you from the two of them as if they hadn't seen you already. He was being such a sweetheart that he had even managed to soften the anxious butterflies in your stomach; but not enough to keep your mind free of worries and Damiano David. Thomas made a funny noise with his hands as Ethan ignored his attempt to be amusing, pulling you into a hug. Who would have thought you would have missed them so much.

“How long without seeing you, I force you not to do that again. Without you we are just another disorganized mess.” You laughed at his nonsense. Your smile was sincere, like it hadn't been for months, still you were forcing yourself a bit more to appear to be actually 'fine'. You’d like to know if they noticed, even though you were appreciating that they didn’t.

“No worries, I‘m not planning on leaving you guys alone.”

 Ethan and Thomas started to discuss about something, Ethan was already under the effect of alcohol, and from time to time they asked for your opinion on how Victoria had been strangely quiet. Atypical of her, but she didn't seem to be out of place or uncomfortable, just quiet.

“Did a cat eat the tongue of my newest attractive friend?”

“Not this time,” she showed you her tongue, and then smirked. Her eyes shone in differently way under your gaze and her make up was making her look more mature. “Are you feelin’ good? Thank you for coming.” Victoria was happy to see you, you could feel that. She might be curious, but pity wasn’t something possible to see in her; different from the other boys. “You must be tired of hearing that question, I'm sorry. It‘ll no longer be asked.”

Her voice was soft, comfortable to hear. “I appreciate that. I really have heard a lot of that, but despite everything, I feel good ‘bout bein’ here.”

“I feel even happier that you came then,” she put her hand gently on your waist. The other two didn't even remember you and Vic were there. “Let's get you something to drink, we bought that red drink Damiano always says you love.”

“No way, it’s bishop cocktail?” You looked at her, a big grin on your face, even though you remembered that this was the drink you were drinking when the universe decided it would be a good idea for you and Dami to have a one-night stand. Just a lovely reminder. “Have you mixed everything up? like the rum with the red wine? or with red drink you just want to say you bought wine?” You asked, ignoring your internal conflicts. Everything would be fine, you ket repeating to yourself.

“In fact, I remember once hearing you comment you didn't mind it being mixed up in a random bottle.”

She pulled a glass bottle out of a bucket full of ice and you couldn't believe she remembered that; given that you could count on your fingers the times that you had actually spoken to her. You didn’t avoid each other, just didn’t have much of the opportunities.

“Oh my god, that’s so fuckin’ lovely.” You whispered. She was quick to pick up a glass and hand it to you, filling it with the so well remembered liquid. You took a sip, and the taste - or alcohol - made your butterflies calmer. “Thanks for that, tastes like heaven.” She took a glass for herself, by her expression she thought it was a waste of rum. “C’mon, it’s not that bad.”

“If you think so, who am I to deny.”

“Don’t be a bummer,” you bumped your shoulder with hers, eliciting a cute sound from her that made you laugh as well.

You wish that sensation had lasted longer, even so when a random girl approached you to ask something, you felt heavy; like a sign. Her hair was golden in perfect waves and her face was angelic in an almost divine way. You might have been overreacting, but she was the type to catch all the attention to herself.

“You’re Y/N, right? I was startin’ to think that I’d never get to know you.” She hugged you tight and you wondered if she really didn't know you. When she released you, you felt your heart breaking right there in front of her. She was wearing Dami's sweater; the same one from that night, the same one that you wore. You wanted to be wrong, but you’d know that sweater from a distance even after years. “He talks so much about you. Can you believe we never met?” She asked, alternating her gaze between you and Victoria. She had been silent, you had forgotten that she was still there. Your head was miles away in thoughts, making you dizzy.

“Hi, Bella,” Victoria said. You remembered that name. Damiano talked about her on a few occasions, anyways he didn't seem to be in love - or you just didn’t want to see that. Maybe you haven’t been able to read him due to your stupid passion. “How’s everything?”

She started talking to Victoria and you couldn't concentrate on listening; all the alcohol in the world would not ease what you were feeling. How long have they been together? What was so special about her that Damiano gives her his favorite sweater? Were they together when you slept together? How did she end up with the same sweater you slept in that day?

She held the cup that was in your hands and handed it to Victoria. “Are you okay, hon’? You look a lil’ unwell. Do you want me to get you some water?”

“No need, I’m alright,” she patted your arm, and then checked your temperature. She was being nice, yet you couldn't pretend to be interested in being there anymore.

Thankfully, Victoria put an arm around your shoulders, asking if you want to join her to have a smoke. “It’ll be good, fresh air will do good to you.”

You agreed. Bella was worried and you felt bad about having to run away from her. She looked like an incredible person, sure Damiano was lucky to have her, that was just too much for you.

“Do this, you will feel better. We can talk later and so you can tell me everything about you and Dami, I’d love to hear you, since you’ve known each other for so long.” You looked for some irony in her voice, but you didn't found it. She was interested in you; after all, you were her boyfriend's best friend. It made sense.

Victoria guided you to the balcony, or at least halfway to it. Midway, someone stopped to talk to her, she tried to dismiss the person, however, as it was a thing related to the album, she would have no way out. “Victoria, it’s fine, I need some time alone.” You whispered to her, patting on her arm. She looked at you reluctantly, but understand. There wouldn't be much she could do for you.

Entering the balcony you felt an absurd urge to cry, your eyes itched and your legs were trembling. Was being in love meant to hurt this much, or was it just a game of chance?

You tried to take a deep breath, ease your heartbeats, telling yourself it was okay. You just needed to calm down. You leaned your body against the wall and watched the place. The plants near the fence - which you didn't know how Victoria had time to take care of them - the streets, and then the sky. Starry and moist, made for good memories that wouldn't come to you. When you felt ready enough to go out and face the party again, you ran into the one you were trying to avoid, Dami. Minutes ago you were anxious with the possibility to see him to know how he was, now you just wanted to run away and wipe these last months out of your mind.

“Y/N,” his body collided with yours while his arms wrapped around you, it was supposed to be a good thing, that you‘d feel safe as the same way you used to feel, except that was uncomfortable now. You couldn't even respond to his hug, for a second you thought you would escape without having to see him. He noticed and gave you space. “I swore that you wouldn't come. My god, it's so good to see you.” He ran his hands through his hair and you remained paralyzed in front of him.

You tried to focus on your breathing so that your voice came out without too many complications. “Yeah... It's good to see you, you look great.” It didn't work, your voice was shaky making your lie sound even worse. He looks great, you didn't lie, he seemed even happier and well rested. You wondered if it was because the album was ready or because now he had Bella.

You forced a smile, but unlike the others, Damiano knew you were acting. He didn’t judge or question, his face became tense, apprehensive. He knew that nothing was right.

“I thought about callin’ you more, goin’ to see you or something. The boys convinced me that it‘d be better not, that it could be even hard for you. I wonder if I shouldn't have done something different to help you because I know I fucked up too.” His hands were undecided between running through his hair and staying inside his pockets. He was nervous, at the same relieved to have spoken to you.

“It wasn't your fault, I’d never blame you for that,” you sighed, smiling slightly. It felt terrible to make him feel that way about it, but there wasn't much you could do. “I'm glad you gave me space when I asked, it's still hard to see you or think about talkin’ to you. It is as if everything that is tormenting me comes all at once.” It was good to say that to him. He nodded and you looked at each other for a while. It wasn't as uncomfortable as you thought it would be.

He was a few feet away from you while you were admiring the night, with your back against the wall. You wanted to leave, maybe go cry in your bed until you fell asleep, still you wanted things to work out with Dami, you wanted that tension and fear of seeing him to get out of your head. Despite that, if it was necessary to suffer in that process, it would not be worth it.

“She’s amazing,” it hurt to say that, but it was the truth. “Bella’s amazing, lucky girl.” You smiled sadly. Saying her name and seeing Dami smiling at that made you thank God for not seeing the two of them together, hugging or kissing. He‘d probably put his hand on her waist while she was talking to one of his friends or giving lightly kisses to her temple, just because he felt like it. Damiano was the cute type, you've seen it before.

“She is, an amazing person. She was all happy to have spoken to you. I told her all about our teenage years and how you always supported the band,” He had told her about you, would he have told her about you being in love with him? You thought to ask, soon giving up. It’d be shameful if so. “If I knew you would be here I’d not have come with her.” It made you think that he had told her.

“What would you do? Would you hide me from her for the rest of your life?” You sighed. it was supposed to sound like a joke, regrettably your voice sounded too cruel for that.

“It’s not like that,” he mumbled. “I was just tryin’ to think of you and—“

“I think I need to go Dami, it’s being too much. I’m sorry.” You needed to get out of there, you couldn't stop the tears anymore and you knew it was a bad idea to talk about her with him.

You took a few steps back just for Damiano to grab at your arm, without putting strength, just like a few months ago, to stop you in front of him. You turned your face away from looking at his eyes, feeling as the tears run down your cheek. You'd never be able to face him, this situation was only proving that to you even more.

“Please, Y/N. Just tell me what I need to do. I will do anything for you to talk to me again. I need you, you know that. The past few weeks have been a mess without you around. Even little my mom misses you. I’d do anything to have you back like before.” He was about to cry, his eyes shone with tears and it was painful to watch. He could do anything for you to stay; except what would make you stay. Unfortunately, it didn't depend only on his good will.

“I’m sorry, but I can’t do this,” you said in a lack of air, signaling the space around you with your finger. “But this, this is too much. It kills me to have to be close to you or to be close to things or people that remind me of you, seeing someone else with you doesn't help at all. I still think about the fact that we slept together... I can’t just forget it ‘cause it meant so much to me and to you, to you? it was nothing.” You were out of breath, you just wanted to cry in peace, put everything out until there was nothing left. 

 He released his hands of you, his face red and damp. It wasn't going to be easy for either of you. Time wouldn't matter; it wouldn’t change a thing because whenever you looked at him you’d wonder about how things could have been like if he had chosen you.

He whispered one more time that he was sorry, then let you go. He could have stopped you, but it's not like he knew what to do anymore. 

He watched as you walk out without even looking back.

——-

You went through the party walking fast, avoiding acquaintances and questions about why you were like that. Your body was heavy as well as your conscience. Outside the house the street was empty, the streetlights illuminated the sidewalk and along with the silence of the street you felt invited to sit there. You brought your knees close to your body, trying to breathe calmly. Pulling the air in, and then releasing it in a normal way. Your heart was beating so fast that your whole body was agitated. You tried to stay still. You squeezed your eyes shut, feeling a little dizzy when you saw someone walk out the front door of the house. You dropped your knees, trying to look decent, but gave up as soon as the person came closer to you and you saw that it was Victoria. She sat next to you, pulling you into a hug. You were happy that she went to you.

“I’m fine,” you murmured, hugging her waist and hiding your face in the fabric of her shirt.

“Stop saying that you’re fine when you’re far from being fine, I won’t judge you sweetheart,” she comforted you, giving you a extra squeezing. You were far from being alright, but it helped, having someone there helped.

She placed her chin on top of your head, soothing you until your crying softened. She rubbed your back and whispered that it’d be okay.

“Did Damiano send you here?”

“No, darlin’. He said that you had talked, and then you had to leave, he didn't look well, I thought you wouldn't be either.”

“And then you decided to look out for me?” You laughed, still tucked in her warm arms.

“Yep, sounds like you need me, don’t you think?” She laughed too, causing the vibration of her chest next to yours make you feel taken in.

“Why’s love so painful?”

Victoria didn't answer, she was thoughtful for a few minutes, and then she stood up, holding out her hand for you.

“What?”

“I won’t be taking no as an answer, you’ll get in the car with me and we will do something, anything, drink milk shakes, fill up our bellies with pizza ‘til we can't take it anymore, or even rob a bank.” She held you by the waist, lifting you up for her. “Please,”

You didn't see why not to accept. There was nothing worse that could get even worse at the moment, maybe going somewhere would do you good. “Even rob a bank?” She nodded, pointing to where her car was.

A smile spreading across her lovely face as you realized you’d go anywhere she wanted with her. “Yes, even robbing a bank.”

[vanillanaps]

What Once Was | Steve Rogers

Prompt - “He’s gone now and he died wondering where the hell you were.”

A/N - Thank you to the anon who sent this prompt in 😭 this isn’t my best but I still hope y’all enjoy :)

Category - fem!reader, angst

Warnings - Endgame!Steve, language, a funeral.

Word Count - 1.2k

♡♡♡♡

You could remember the last conversation you had with him as clear as day, almost as if it happened yesterday. Watching the large group of people wearing black amongst others wearing their respective uniforms to give him a proper send off, you thought back to that day. You sulked in your thoughts of feelings, thinking of how he could have been so for what he did, then be so bold to call and ask for you.

The sun had just settled and the moonlight was shining bright through the windows of the small Brooklyn apartment, being its only source of light. Steve stood across the room from you, leaning against the wall frame and his arms crossed over his chest and you sat broken on the couch that you both put in a ridiculous amount of money for. He didn’t have the courage for his eyes to reach yours and honestly, you didn’t know if you wanted them to. Not after what he just told you.

That lump in your throat was thick, stopping you from speaking because you knew the moment you did the tears that you were desperately holding back with fly loose.

“Please say something..” Steve spoke, eyes still glued to the floor.

You scoffed, clearing your throat as hard as you could, “What do you want me to say, Steve?”

“Something, anything?” He asked.

Taking a deep breath, you finally allowed your eyes to fall upon him, “Why? Did—did these last five years mean nothing to you? Are you not happy with me? All this shit we went through together and-and you just decide to leave?”

After the fight with Thanos and Tony returned to earth, you and Steve found comfort in one another. Confided in each other as you both felt useless, defeated and unworthy. And that comfort soon blossomed into what you would know as love. The way he looked at you, the way he held you, the way he’d kiss your lips with so much passion as he told you how much he loved you. How you were currently his world and if anything, he was glad to have you by his side.

But it wasn’t love, you came to realize in this very moment. His words sunk in. It was grief. Half of the universe had been dusted away and he used you to cope with the loss. The way he looked at you? You were the one of the only people he had left. The way he held you? To console himself in his failure. The way he kissed your lips? To give himself a distraction with the world falling apart at his cost. When he told you he loved you? Well he did, but not in the way you loved him.

“Of course it meant something to me!” Steve sighed, growing the courage to meet your eyes, “But, I have a chance..A chance to set things right.. A chance to do things the way it should’ve been in the first place.”

“And that means leaving everyone you love behind? Your friends, your family. Your best friend that you fought so hard for.” You were exasperated. You knew you were being selfish, but screw that. You had a right to be. You deserve an explanation, “What about me?”

Steve sighed, his head dropping once again, “I love you. I love all of you, I swear I do.” He started, chewing on his lip before finishing his sentence, “But Peggy’s the love of my life. I deserve a chance to be happy and I want it with her.” The tone in his voice was assertive. It was his ‘Captain America’ tone. He was serious and there was nothing that you could do or say to change his mind.

After a moment of silence, his boots clacked against the hardwood floors as he made his way over to you, bending down so his lips could be even to your ear, “Thank you for helping me these past five years, I’ll never forget them, I’ll never forget you. But my mind is set.” He spoke softly before placing a tender kiss on your temple, “I hope one day you can forgive me.”

Wiping the tears from your eyes as you pushed away the memory. You didn’t come here to reminisce. Hell, you didn’t want to come here. It had been months since you last saw them all. The moment Steve left your apartment that night, you packed a bag and got the hell out of town. Not being able to stay in an apartment that you’ve spent countless nights with him in. Not wanting to stay in a town that reminded you of him on every corner. You abandoned your duties, you abandoned your friends. Much like he did, but fuck how could you not? Steve Rogers ruined the scenery of New York, killed the connection you felt for Brooklyn. Now, it was just one big grey area that you never wanted to step foot in again. And after today, you wouldn’t.

You waited a little down the road in your car until the crowd of people in black clothes cleared out before you got out. Keeping your hands shoved into your jacket pockets to shield them from the surrounding cold air as you crossed the graveyard. Your heart thumping faster with every step you took before you finally got to the edge of the grave. The freshly covered up grave with a tombstone at the head of it.

Steven Grant Rogers. A friend, brother, husband and a Captain.

“Didn’t expect to see you here.” An all too familiar voice rang through your ears.

“Didn’t expect to come here.” You replied, eyes not moving from the sight before you.

“I’ve been calling you for months.” Sam spoke as he settled next to you, his eyes also glued to the grave. He couldn’t believe Steve was gone either. He couldn’t believe that he had passed the shield onto him, “He wanted to see you.”

You scoffed and sniffled, shaking your head at Sam’s words, “I’m sure he did.”

He sighed, “I get why you’re upset. What Steve did hurt you, he hurt us all. Holding this grudge against him isn’t helping anybody. Steve deserved his happy ending.” You grimaced at his words, wondering if Steve ever even told Sam the reason you left that night, disappeared for months and been dodging everyone’s phone calls ever since. Did he tell Sam that he practically ripped your heart out of your chest and stomped on it or did Sam just think you were just sad that one of your best friends decided to leave you, “He’s gone now and he died wondering where the hell you were.”

Sam glanced over at you when he heard you sniffle. His eyebrows furrowed at the tears rolling down your cheeks, “No, he knew where I was. He just didn’t care enough to stay.”

“Y/n..” He called out.

But you stopped him, shaking your head, “It was good to see you, Sam.” You didn’t give him a chance to respond before you turned on your heels and headed back to your car. He was right, Steve did deserve his happy ending. Now it’s time for you to get yours.

[lemonhobgoblin]

Softer than the Summer Night

Mothman X (gender neutral) Reader

Length: 2k

Genre: Slight NSFW & Fluff

___________________________________________________

"Stay don't move please," you wearily voiced into the dark.

When you spoke it worsened the strain you were feeling, your face contorted in discomfort. Even the thought of being moved was enough to get you squirming and whining. On your aching knees, hunched over, knuckles turning lighter in color, and eyes fixed ahead.

The sounds of the city outside your home were overshadowed by your ragged breath. All you could hear was breath and beating heart. You couldn't endure this any longer. You knew you couldn’t stay like this forever. You desperately wanted to move and finish what you started, and backing out now was far from being a feasible option.

"Fuck." Feeling a slight slip up on the other end. You physically couldn't take much more of this.

Your grip on the material you had bunched in your hands was loosening, and your reign on things was beginning to drastically falter.

"O fuck me" you breathed out frustrated, resting your head against a wooden frame. You could feel yourself getting tuckered out from this ordeal, feeling yourself becoming flushed with a light layer of sweat coating your skin. This was a good time as any now and fully let go. Knees and thighs sore from holding your still form, you began to move, releasing yourself of this hold.

"Ahhhh," you moaned out, watching in disbelief as the blanket slipped off the chair. Frustrated you threw yourself back onto the cool floor. You wasted your time doing that for nothing.

Heated at how the fabric refused to stay in place no matter how much you adjusted it. You flopped onto the hard floor to cool down. The cool ground felt refreshing on your steamy body. You didn't even want to look at it at the fort at the moment. Knowing you would just give up if you tried again immediately. You decided to rest your eyes and give yourself some time to collect yourself. Giving yourself some time before getting back to work on it.

Why wouldn’t it stay when you wanted it to stay.

Perhaps you should've just waited for your partner to bring you the supplies and figure out what to do from there. Of course, you being you, you got a little impatient eager.

It wasn’t a minute till you felt a presence hovering over you- watching.

Cracking open your eyes, you saw standing over you was a large humanoid moth-like creature looking down upon your disheveled form. Holding a batch of items in his arms, curiously staring at you. Tilting his head, confused as to why you were on the floor and.. sweaty?

"Hey, you grabbed the stuff I asked for?" You asked. Not wanting to get into the details as to why you were down on the ground defeated.

He nodded.

"Cool, well just give me a minute more. I'm almost done here. I still need to fix some things." Launching yourself back into a sitting position, getting back to work on keeping the blanket in place, only for it to slip off the wooden dining chair again.

Groaning over the fact that you were making a fool of yourself- especially in front of Mothman. He shouldn’t have to see in all your shame. Meantime, Mothman was just standing there completely unaware of what's going on still, but content to be part of it.

Internally wallowing to yourself, unsure whether you should continue or throw yourself into your half-done structure and call it a night.

Then it hit you.

Recalling that you asked for Mothman to bring duct tape. Looking back, scanning through the items within his arms. You successfully spotted the tape that was cradled within his right arm.

"Can you pass me that duct tape in your arms?" you pointed.

"No, not that"

"it's right there. That's not it."

Redirecting him and pointing out what you wanted, only to end up playing a guessing game. Sifting through each item, and saying no to everything he held out. How he was able to get the supplies you asked for? You'll never know.

After the first ten items, Mothman dropped all the material onto the floor with a thud. Thinking it would be easier to get what you wanted. Unsurprised, you stared at the pile straight lip. “No problem that is just as effective."

Crawling to the pile in the middle living room of your home, to grab the roll of tape.

What started as a calm night alone, became a little date night-with Mothman coming over uninvited. This wasn't uncommon he did this quite often, but you never turned him down always glad to welcome him in. That and also the fact you didn't want a seven-foot monster outside your window scratching at your window like a stray cat begging to be let in and draw attention to himself.

Bringing you up to speed now, putting together a fort. Clearly, rusty, it's been some time since you made a blanket fort. It wasn't your fault, you were always busy to do anything like this. Even if you did have the time, it just never occurred to you to do so after a long day of work. Usually, the closest thing to this, is you grabbing a throw blanket and pillow onto the floor with maybe some plushies and calling it a day.

But with Mothman in the picture, you had to get creative with things to do at home. Meaning you coming up with indoor activities and not go out in public at all. So no causal stroll by the park, or popping into a nice establishment and chat. As amusing it would be going out, you couldn’t do that for Mothman’s safety and especially those around. Leaving you both to see each other deep in the wilderness at night, in the abandoned TNT facility where the Cryptid resided and here in your home.

And you both managed to keep each other occupied- getting into ridiculous shenanigans. There wasn’t a day you were bored of one another’s company, even when you both had nothing to do. It was always a good time. And today was any different.

Tapping down the blanket against stile of the chair and now the moment of truth. Removing your hands and...

It didn’t move. It stayed.

“Finally!” throwing your arms up in triumph. Behind you, Mothman watched your mini victory pose. Unsure what you were doing with your arms in the air he mimicked your gesture.

“Alright, just a few more things.” Walking back to the heap on the ground, pushing and gathering all of it into the fort to do some final touch-ups. Leaving Mothman to awkwardly put his arms down as you disappeared inside.

Decorating and organizing the interior of the fort, striving to make it as pleasant and comfy as possible. Knowing that Mothman probably hasn't experienced this before. You wanted this to be perfect. Well as perfect as you could, given that you already used tape.

Amid you’re scrambling, a curious and impatient Mothman wanted a quick glimpse, to get a clue to what you were doing. He figured it was shelter, but why make another within your home.

As quiet as he could, he tried to lower himself onto all fours - to sneakily get a peek inside. Unfortunately, due to his large stature mixed with the old floorboard, you were alerted of him snooping by the sound of squeaky floorboards.

“Not yet." You said, popping, catching him off guard, in the act.

Surprised he just looked down, pretending he was looking at something interesting. Squinting your eyes, you went back inside.

Once you were back inside, he was back to his antics, and once more you heard his attempt. "Not yet" you reminded, poking out once more before going back in.

Of course, that didn't stop. He tried his hand again and you knew him too well, you were quick to scold him from inside without having to peer out.

Startled, his antennas and the fur on his body puffed out. How do you see him? Looking around to see if you were behind him or somewhere else in the room. Are you still in there? A valid reason for him to look inside now, he chirped eagerly. “Nice, try. I’m still in here and you can’t come in yet,” you announced.

Defeated, he deflated and resigned himself to sitting on the floor picking at the rug. Fortunately, he didn't have too long.

"Okay, you can come in" you called out.

You were content with the work you did both inside and out; well mostly inside. A couple of plush blankets laid on the ground with pillows lined against the walls of the interior and little something extra strung around. But there was still a good amount of space, that even Mothman could probably fit inside. Reaching for the electric lantern, to illuminate the area. You heard shuffling behind you- figuring it was the Cryptid making himself comfortable.

Lantern in hand you turned right around, the light flicking on, and was greeted with misjudgment.

Guess not you thought.

Seated smack dab in the middle, Mothman had unceremoniously become a support beam for the structure. His head pitching up the sinking portion of the blanket up. Clearly, this wasn’t large enough.

"I thought this would be big enough." You huffed to yourself.

You felt positive this was big enough, thinking to yourself - trying to see how you could fix this. Whereas Mothman just did his own thing and took matters into his own hands.

"Maybe if you-“You trailed off, watching him crawl further inside before rolling onto his back, laying his head against a pillow you set near the walls of the fort - stretching his legs across the entire interior and his feet simply hanging out from the entrance. “Or that. That's fine too."

Inching closer to him, you noted his pleasant demeanor, his chest rising steadily as he breathed in deeply, his fur ruffling up and flattening back as he exhaled. His limbs going completely slack, his muscles loosened. He was completely at ease.

“Comfy?” you teased.

He chirped in response.

"Well, I'm about to up the ante," you crawled over across his torso, reaching for a switch just near him.

"1,2,3" with a click, the interior light up with a soft warm golden glow of fairy lights strewn about all over. Though it may be cheap lighting, its beautifully sparkling bulbs filled the area with a warm, cozy atmosphere as well giving you a sense of awe just as it did for Mothman.

"Do you like it?" You asked.

Sitting up with wide eyes, Mothman gazed on with the utmost sense of wonder, transfixed on the lights and nothing else. As if he was in a world of his own. This wasn’t anything new, honestly, this was one of the first things you noticed when you first met him. And you’ve seen his habit time and time again. But you could never grow tired of it. It was quite adorable.

"I’m assuming so.” You chuckled.

Your laugh snaked its way into his enraptured mind, knocking him out of his trance. He stared at you, nearly forgetting you were there. As luminous and beautiful as the light was, there was something missing.

It didn't take long for you to catch Mothman's sudden change in behavior-still as statue and eyes locked on you.

"Mothman?"

Without giving you a chance to ask, he moved toward you, lifting you from your spot like some common house cat with ease; body slack and no resistance. He placed you right in his lap, before laying back with you laying on top of him-your back against his chest.

This was a surprise but not an unwelcome one. You shifted into a more comfortable position, Flipping over onto your stomach, propping your head up with one hand while the other lightly stroke at his chest- you peered down at him. "Better?"

Mothman sunk further in his spot, completely in bliss, and if that wasn't proof enough Mothman purred even louder in pure content. Now it was perfect. Wrapping his arms around you, hugging you closer to him-making you rest your head on him. You smiled, digging your head further into his plush chest.

He finally realized what you made, it was a nest for the both of you. Thats why you were so eager to make this. He couldn't wait to put this fort to good use. But seeing how hard you work on this, he could only guess how tired you were after put this together. So he'll let you rest.

The strong vibration from his purring perforated through your body. Whatever tension or stress you had melted away. It was enough to slowly lull into a nice slumber.

Well there go your movie plans in here. But that was okay because this was better.

Together you both laid there in silence. The beat of his heart keeping in rhythm with yours along with the ambiance of the city outside your home. The feeling of his chest rising and falling with you. Sheltered under a flimsy but cushiony fort. You eventually succumbing to sleep while Mothman stayed up to keep watch - enjoying whatever time he had left with you till heading out before dawn. Until the next night, when you could see each other again. So for now, you both held each other in each other's arms on this soft summer night.

............

A/N: Thanks for Reading!! <3