#i wish i could take all those moments back and re-do them

[veltana]

Unleashed - Avengers!Bucky/Fem!Reader

✦ Pairing: Avengers!Bucky Barnes/Fem!Reader

✦ Word count: ~4,2k

✦ Rating: Explicit

✦ Warnings/tags: Sex pollen adjacent kinda, smut, a bit fluffy, one shot, possessive!Bucky, co-workers/friends to lovers, oral sex (fem receiving), unprotected sex, vaginal sex, multiple orgasms, forced orgasms, orgasm denial, dirty talk, praise, creampie, pet names (doll).

✦ Summary: During a mission, Bucky is exposed to something that removes his inhibitions and all he wants is you.

✦ Note: Previously posted on AO3 since I have basically no time or energy to write new stuff. It was titled You’re what I need before but I always hated that title so I decided to re-name it. Bucky is kind of an asshole in this, but it's just because he wants you! As always, reblogs, comments, and asks are very welcome ❤️

Masterlist | AO3

The worst part about watching from afar as a mission goes to shit is that you feel useless. Even as you dispatch medics for the team all you can do is tell them, "Help is on the way."

Captain America shouts orders that you hear through the comms. The wait feels endless until the crew of the quinjet declares that they have spotted the team and there's not much else for you to do but look at your monitors and wait for an update. When you get the call back that the team is secure you breathe a sigh of relief, but then the next message is to prepare the medical staff to receive multiple injuries and chemical exposure. You ask the crew to clarify, but they are too busy, so when you notify the medical center, they prepare a quarantine room.

Sometimes you wish you had a superpower and could be there with them instead of staring at your monitors and doing endless calculations on whatever the team needs. But then when they return they always compliment your work and tell you they don’t know how they managed without you. You try to remind yourself of those moments at times like this.

Once the quinjet is docked and everyone has been accounted for you push away from your desk and remove your headset, taking deep breaths and trying to calm your heart. A moment later a message pops up on your screen, probably because they couldn’t reach you through your comms. [Bucky wants you to come down here]

Your heart does a little flip in your chest, making you scowl. He is your friend and probably injured, you have no idea why he would be asking for you, but it’s not because he feels the same way you do. You grab your tablet and head to the MedBay.

When you get down you take stock of the situation. Nat and Steve have some scratches, Sam's arm is broken and Wanda has a few cracked ribs. Tony is bruised, his suit had taken most of the damage. You look around for Bucky but don’t see him anywhere and quickly deduce that he must be the person currently in quarantine.

When you get to the wing, you’re almost too scared to go in, afraid to see what could have happened to him. Inside, you find a team of medical personnel discussing Bucky's condition with him through a glass wall. His hair looks damp and he's wearing standard-issue quarantine clothing, soft black pants, and a black sweatshirt. When he sees you standing patiently at the side he says. "You can come back later. I need to talk to her more than I need to talk to you. Go away." His voice comes from speakers in the ceiling.

You're shocked by his behavior but smile apologetically as the white coats pass you on their way out. When you get up to the glass you hiss. "Bucky, what is wrong with you, don't be rude.” "You make it sound like I'm never rude otherwise," he laughs. "You're not rude to healthcare professionals, you know better." You glare at him as you wake your tablet. “Now what did you need me for?”

"Do you like me?" he asks. Your mouth falls open and your heart starts to beat faster. You’re happy your vitals aren’t monitored as you quickly collect yourself and try to deflect his question. "Of course I like you Bucky, you're my friend." But now it feels weird to look at him and you find a spot on the wall far behind him to focus on.

"What if I want more than friends?" is his next question and despite your best efforts, hope warms your chest. This is not happening. Of course you toyed with the idea of you and Bucky, he is always sweet to you, and if he has the chance he brings you gifts from the missions. But you’ve told yourself repeatedly that he needs someone stronger, who can keep up with him in the field and you’re not that person.

"Can we have this conversation when you are not high on some HYDRA drug?” you ask, trying to keep your voice from betraying you. They are monitoring everything in the room. And there is a sheet of unbreakable glass in between you both. If you're going to confess your feelings, it won't be like this.

"I'm not high," he huffs. "My mind has never been clearer." "I still think we should have this conversation later." "Doll, look at me." The command in his voice is so strong you don’t think, you snap your eyes to his and they are so blue and soft.

"I will feel the same tomorrow, and the day after, whenever this drug wears off but now is the only time I can't hold my tongue," he explains. You place your hand on the glass and he does the same on the other side. "It will be fine Bucky, I promise," you say just as the door opens and Steve walks in, making you pull your hand back to your side. He's showered, in a fresh pair of clothes and he swings his arm over your shoulder.

"Stop hogging her time Bucky, I know for a fact that she also needs to debrief," he smiles but Bucky looks as if he's seeing red. Through gritted teeth he presses out, "Get your fucking arm off her, punk. She's mine."

You and Steve burst into laughter because it has to be a joke, but then Bucky punches the barrier with his vibranium arm. The glass doesn't crack but both you and Steve stop short and step away in shock. Steve removes his arm and says, "I'll meet you upstairs." Before quickly heading out.

You turn to Bucky and point at him, anger rising in your chest. "What is wrong with you? Steve is your friend!" "That is what it’s like in here every day,” he points to his head. You're taken aback by his statement and his wide feral eyes. Clearly, whatever he was exposed to had messed with his head and he's not himself. “Bucky I need to go,” you tell him, and before he can protest you continue. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” You smile feebly at him and are out the door before he can say anything else.

After debriefing and having dinner you go to bed early. Your head is spinning with the day and most of all, Bucky.

It's way past midnight when you wake to the soft closing of your door. Since you always sleep with a night light the soft warm glow reflects off his left arm and leaves no doubt about who has entered your room. You blink at him but before you can ask a question he rasps out, pleading. "I need you. So bad. Please doll, help me." He moves closer to your bed.

You quickly remove your covers and get up, glad the giant t-shirt covers you to your thighs, ready to spring into action. "Anything Bucky, what do you need?" You stop an arm's length from him, but all he does is reach his hand out to cup your face, letting his thumb stroke your cheek. There is a wild look in his eyes but you keep calm. "I can't get you what you need if you don't tell me," you whisper, meeting his eyes and watching as his brow furrows.

"I need you. Right now. If I don't get to touch and taste every inch of your body I'm going to lose my mind," he confesses in a low voice. His words shock you and you hitch a breath. You’re not sure what you’re supposed to do. You have this great friendship. If things were different you would not have minded taking it to another level, but with the day in mind and the fact that he somehow got out of his containment room you say, "Bucky, you’re not yourself, you need to get back to-”

"Doll,” he interrupts with a hard voice. “For once, I feel more like myself than I have in a long time. The only thing the drug did, I think, was remove my inhibitions. For once I feel free. My mind isn't controlled by HYDRA or by fear that you'll reject me. All I know is that I crave you and I can't be quiet about it anymore.”

"Bucky… I…" your whole body is flushed with warmth from his words and you're not sure how to respond. "I dreamt about you and couldn't stop myself from going over here. I don't want to hurt you, doll, but I'm not sure this drug will let me leave. All I wanna do is move closer to you.” You swallow hard as he continues, thumb still stroking your cheek. “Ask FRIDAY to get Steve, or the Hulk if you want me to leave."

Instead, you step into him, making up your mind in an instant and resting your hands on his chest. "Stay, I'll be glad to help you with anything you need," you whisper honestly and by the way his eyes widen there was still some doubt in his mind that you would reject him.

Instead of saying anything his vibranium hand grasps your waist and pulls you closer. There is no escaping the smell and size of him and his hands on you got your pussy throbbing for him already.

"I hope you understand what you've agreed to," he whispers, leaning closer. "Once I have you I won't stop, you'll never be rid of me. I'll claim you against every surface of this fucking compound if I need to." That makes you whimper and press harder against him. "Fuck you'd like that huh? Are you a kinky little thing? Like getting fucked where people can see you and hear you moan, do you want people to see my hard dick spread you open?" "Fuck Bucky!" You exclaim and lean your forehead against his chest. Maybe that idea excites you or maybe it is just that the word ‘claim’ sounds so primal.

"You're going to tell me all your little secrets later, doll. But now, I'm going to take what's mine." And with that, he crushes his lips to yours. He backs you towards the bed, kissing you the whole time, letting his hands explore you. When you land on your back, he stands over you with eyes like a predator about to devour its prey.

You shuffle up until your head rests on the pillows, spreading your legs for him. Without taking off any clothes he crawls after you, settling on his knees between your legs and placing his hands on the headboard, crowding you with his large frame. "Mine," he whispers and it makes a shudder pass through you. He ruts his clothed cock against your core, slicking your underwear even more and making you whine, gripping the sheets under you.

"Yes," he almost hisses as the length of his dick presses on your clit and forces a mewl out of you. It's been a long time since you've gotten laid. "Bucky," you plead. "No doll, I'm going to enjoy every fucking second of claiming you, from the outside in. Did you think this would be hard and fast and that I would be gone before you knew what happened?"

He lets go of the headboard to put his elbows beside your head instead, his weight on you, pressing you down into the mattress. "When I leave you will long for me, spend every waking second wishing I was still inside you. I want your cunt to be permanently drenched so I can fuck you whenever I please." He kisses you forcefully and any coherent thought that was left in your head flees. "And when you're too sore to take more of my dick in your pussy I'm going to do the same thing to your mouth and ass."

He rids you off your t-shirt and instead of having to move from between your legs to pull off your underwear, he rips them apart. "Ah!" you exclaim when the force of his movements jolts you but he takes no notice, he just stares at you, letting his hands roam up and down your sides, up to your tits, cupping them and caressing your nipples with his thumbs.

Whimpers are coming from you with every pass of this touch. Then he moves down and lays on his stomach, not saying a word as he sweeps his tongue over your pussy before he starts devouring you with a throaty moan.

It doesn’t take long for the first orgasm to take you, his movements are precise and his words and actions have made you hornier than you’ve ever experienced. Or maybe it's because he is the hottest person you’ve ever laid eyes on and he only wants you.

When you’re finished and sensitive he dips his tongue into your hole to taste you and groans loudly, lapping up the wetness from your orgasm. "Better than I've dreamed of," he says when he pulls away. Now you’re the one that must be high because you can't help but giggle. "You seriously dream of me?" "All the time, doll. Every night when I go to bed I wish you were with me and then you plague my sleep with your soft curves and radiant smile."

You're about to tell him how his laugh makes you warm and fuzzy on the inside but at that moment he sucks your clit into his mouth, cutting out every thought in your brain. He's gentle but not hesitant, it's as if he's feeling you out and when you make a particularly loud sound he continues the same movement, making your whole body go hot.

The second orgasm is intense enough to send aftershocks through for a long while afterward. Bucky lays his head on your thigh as you tremble, caressing your skin and letting the fingers of his right hand skim over your opening.

Despite what he's already given you, you still crave more. His fingertips never come close to where you need them and when you whine at the back of your throat Bucky smiles up at you. "Don't worry, I'm not even close to done with you, but I don't want you to pass out on me.” One of his fingers glides inside, making you take a sharp breath just because it feels so good. Once again he is careful, moving slowly, listening to your breath and your body.

"Please Bucky, I need more.” "No need to beg, I'll give you everything you want… in time," he breathes and kisses the skin on the inside of your thigh. Slowly he moves his finger in and out. You're sure it's a form of torture. The sweetest kind there is. Your breathing is labored and when he finally adds a second, you start to quiver.

He nips at your skin and then kisses it before speaking. "You look like a goddess, doll, eyes filled with lust, your skin is gleaming. I'm going to worship you until you're tired of me.” "Never gonna happen," you whimper. Then his thumb lands on your clit, making you cry out. Everything is so sensitive and overstimulated.

"I don't- Bucky, I don't think I can again," you tell him even though his touches are causing your insides to melt. "Yes, you will," his voice is soft but the command is clear. So instead of trying to speak again, you sink further into the madness that is him playing with you. The third one takes its sweet time but you never feel rushed or stressed that it's taking too long. Bucky isn’t in a hurry.

Then it’s suddenly there, crashing through you. "Fuck Bucky, fuck you're gonna make me come." "So good for me, let me feel you come on my fingers," he urges. "I'm going to lick them clean afterward so make sure you get them nice and wet for me. I want as much as you'll give me." The climax reaches its peak and you come with a cry of his name, body convulsing and your hand shooting down to tangle in his hair.

"Just like that doll," he smiles up at you and holds your gaze when he pulls out his fingers and sucks them clean, moaning while he does. It's a filthy sound, but it turns you on as if he didn't just make you come for the third time. Then he dives in between your legs again, licking at your skin and your soaked hole. Letting go of his hair all you can do is just lie there, writhing, as he somehow coaxes a fourth orgasm out of you.

“Fuck me,” you plead when he pulls back. “I need you inside me Bucky.” This time he takes pity on you and moves away to take off his clothes. When he’s naked he kneels between your legs again and you spread them as wide as you can. "Want me, doll?" he asks with a smirk. He swipes his cock through your mess and then uses his hand to coat himself with you. "Yes," is all you can say. Both you and Bucky stare as he pushes his dick into you, filling you up completely. Of course, he takes it torturously slow this time too.

"This feels better than any dream I've ever had," he whispers almost in awe. You grip his biceps and arch into him, pushing him deeper, faster. That makes him tsk but smiles at the same time as he pushes the rest of the way, finally seating himself. Without giving you a chance to relax he starts fucking you, his cock pushes perfectly against your insides, pulling sounds from you that you haven't made in years.

He sits back on his heels lifting your ass effortlessly until your weight is resting on your shoulders and neck. It's like he is in a trance, pulling you onto his cock over and over again. Your body is his, your mind has fled, and all you see and feel is just him all around you. His eyes keep changing between his dick filling your cunt, your bouncing tits, and your half-lit eyes as if he is not sure where to look. "Mine," he rasps and thrusts hard to empathize the word. "All mine. Say it."

It takes some time for your brain to connect to your mouth and form the words but his gaze never leaves you. "Yours," you whimper. "I'm yours, Bucky." There is a familiar heat low in your belly that's steadily spreading through your limbs. It makes you wiggle and move because it's overwhelming. He is overwhelming in the best sense. Whining you reach down to rub yourself but he slaps your hand away. "I thought I told you, it's mine. I own this cunt. If you wanna touch yourself you have to ask permission." It's as close to a growl as is humanly possible and you don't understand how he can be so cognizant right now, because your brain is like putty. "Can I please rub my clit Bucky, I wanna come on your cock so bad," you cry.

"Good girl," he praises, and when he calls you that, your mouth falls open with a keening sound, gripping the sheets even harder, pulling at them because you want to come so bad. "Do it, show me how you get off when you're alone in bed without me." Everything is slippery and sensitive when you start with your fingers and you immediately know it's going to go fast. With his previous words in mind, you ask. "Can I come?" He meets your eyes with a wicked smile. "Fast learner. Yeah, you can come… when I tell you."

You rip your hand away, afraid you might fall over the edge at any second. The sound out of your throat is almost a sob. "Don't be like that, doll, I thought you said you couldn't do it more times?" "I can-I can! As many times as you want just please let me come." "Fuck, I like it when you beg with my cock in you." But he doesn't say anything else, just continues fucking you. He's not even winded while you're straining your entire body. Your hand wants to move back, anything to relieve the pressure inside you but Bucky was very clear and you don’t want to disobey him.

Then he pulls out and drops you onto the bed, but you don't get to relax because he flips you onto your stomach and pushes one of your knees up to the side before he presses in. His dick hits your G-spot dead on and you scream into the pillow under you. Bucky chuckles right by your ear. "Guess I found it." He's merciless, his hips hit your ass hard and if it weren't for his weight pressing you down you would soon hit the headboard.

"Bucky!" you wail because it's too much. You're losing the last pieces of your mind to the sheer force of the pleasure and you're scared you're never going to be able to come back to yourself. Then his hand presses in between you and the mattress. "Rub yourself on my fingers, make yourself cum. Fuck my cock and come all over me doll." You brace yourself as best you can and move your hips as he keeps almost completely still, just shallow thrusts in stark comparison to what he was doing to you just moments ago.

His fingers slide along your clit, his cock brushing your G-spot over and over again. You're breathless, sweat breaking out along your skin, but the climax you're chasing will be well worth it. You just know it.

"I can't fill you up until I’ve felt you come around me," he grunts, his voice tight with holding back. You whimper, the feeling of fire flushing your whole body, and building up to an eruption like no other. "Yes, yes, yes," he chants low in your ear. "That's it, come for me, make me proud. Fuck it feels so good." And he starts moving again "I'm going to fill you fucking full of my cum. That's it!"

The heat in you breaks and you come with a shout of his name, shaking under him. It gets even more intense when Bucky finishes right behind you, groaning your name. He collapses on top of you but his hips are still moving, slowly, as if he doesn’t want it to ever end. Neither would you but your body is wrecked.

When he finally rolls off, you're so close to falling asleep, but he picks you up and carries you to the bathroom. "Pee." He points and you want to tell him that you know the drill, this isn't your first time, but all that comes out is a grumble before he closes the door behind him and you sit down on the toilet.

When you're done, you stumble out and have a moment of panic, thinking he left. But then the door opens and Bucky returns with two bottles of water, handing you one before leading you to the bed and sitting you down on the edge. Gratefully you drink and lean against his shoulder before asking. "How do you feel?" "Better than I have in a long time," he answers, kissing your forehead. You chuckle. "Yeah I have a magical pussy, it can cure anything," you joke and it makes him laugh. "You should get back to quarantine," you comment. "Before anyone notices." He shakes his head. "No I'm staying here, I'm never leaving you again." He takes the bottle from your hand and places it on the bedside table together with his own. Then he crawls beneath the sheets and you go after him, letting him envelop you in a tight embrace before you fall asleep.

Alarms blare and you wake with a start. "FRIDAY what's going on?" you ask out into the room. “Sergeant Barnes has escaped his confinement.” The voice echoes through the room. You sigh and glare at Bucky grumbling beside you, like the loud signal is just a regular alarm clock. "FRIDAY please inform the team that Bucky is here and everything is fine."

A second later the sound dies and with a sigh you get up to pull on yesterday's discarded t-shirt and find a pair of pants. Right when you're done there is a knock on the door and Steve asks, "Everything okay in there?" You open the door enough to show yourself. "We're fine, he broke out during the night and came here." "Oh," Steve says and there is a hint of blush on his cheeks.

Then you feel a presence behind you and Bucky’s arm goes around your waist. "Mine," he says and you can't see him but he's probably glaring daggers at Steve who backs away. "We'll be okay, I'll alert FRIDAY if I need help," you tell Steve. When you close the door Bucky turns you before pushing you up against it and kissing you hard. "Mine," he mumbles against your lips. "Fucking caveman," you tell him. He grabs you around the waist and throws you over his shoulder. "I'll show you caveman," he says and carries you to the bed

[obae-me]

The Reunion We Deserved

I said I would do it and so I did, all in one night, one sitting, fueled by nothing but determination, random inspiration, and spite. I re-wrote and created my version of what I would've liked to see at the end of Nightbringer Season 2. Is this a bit dramatic? Yes? Is this the kind of thing I wanted anyway? Yes. I want sobbing, I want people being pathetic, I want emotion, I want it all. So, if that's what you were hoping to see for lesson 40, I hope this can ease some of that anger we had.

Spoilers ahead for Nightbringer since this is quite literally my "remaking" of the ending, which includes in-game references to later lessons!

TW: Blood mention, injury, angst.

Word Count: 4,391

Tears pricked your eyes as you looked upon the several smiling faces of the demons you had come to care for. At the beginning, all you could think of was returning to your home, your time-line, your brothers. You had coped thus far by constantly reminding yourself that these were not the same people you had come to know. But now… after delving into their souls, reforging the pacts, fleeing down the different circles of hell to save one only to nearly lose them all… they’d found their way into your heart once more. How could you? How could you leave them so easily? And tell them to their faces that you’d meet again soon when you knew it was a lie. It might be soon for you, but it would be nearly an eternity for them. Not to mention that the way Solomon and Barbatos described it, this was almost like another universe… Would another version of you show up for them? Or would you leave these particular brothers for good?…

Feet frozen in sorrow and anxiousness, you could only look at them and cry. What were you feeling in this very second, now that you were on the cusp of what you had worked so hard for? The way back home was right above you, the air and magic inches away from sucking you up into it’s mystical vacuum. Your precious family, your home was one step away. So why did it also feel like your heart was being torn from you? “I—“ Your words choked up in your throat. You were tempted to tell them everything right there and then, spill the burden you had been carrying on your shoulder this entire time.

“It’ll be alright,” Lucifer spoke up, seeing your worry, but exuding nothing but confidence himself. “I gave you my blessing after all.”

“Plus, with the Great Mammon’s pact, you’re hella lucky! You’ll get home with no problems, I’d bet on it! S-So you better not make me lose, got it? Get home safe…and happy.”

Levi shook his head a little. “You’d bet on anything wouldn’t you…” But then he turned his head back towards you, nearly just as bold as Lucifer in this one moment. “If someone like me can have courage, you can too. Don’t worry! You’re just like a Main Character! You have indestructible plot armor!”

“Did everyone already forget the white dragon I helped summon?” Satan scoffed. “Their safety and success is guaranteed. So don’t give us that face,” he addressed you.

“Besides!” Asmo perked up. “If anything happened we’d all come rushing to save you! Just like we did for Lucifer. If we can do that, we can do anything! Oo, I just said something real dashing just now! You better take that to heart, hun!”

Beel nodded several times. “You have Luke’s wish egg too. I also made wishes over my eggs at breakfast this morning. I wished for you to always feel healthy and full and loved. And that we’d get to see each other again soon.”

“Those eggs might’ve tasted magical Beel, but they weren’t really…” Belphie looked up his twin as he shook his head, but then he shrugged, coming to the conclusion that it wasn’t worth explaining. “Hey,” he stared at you. “Don’t waste your energy crying now. You’ll need all your strength for your journey. I won’t forgive you if you leave too sad.”

All their words ended up making you laugh, the smile across your face twitching as you worked to force out trembling words. “You all better be kind to one another.” Someone behind you was tugging on your arm. “And make sure you don’t tease Luke too hard.”

“Come on,” Solomon whispered softly to you, tugging you a little harder, making you take a few steps back. The rift in space-time started to roar, attempting to drown out your voice as you struggled for these last few seconds.

“And make sure you all remember to eat and sleep properly. A-and, tell the others at the ceremony that I love them. I… love you all so much.”

“We have to go…” Solomon’s voice sounded tense, like he was nearly ready to cry himself, only keeping himself strong for you. Wrapping an arm around your waist, he nearly hoisted you back himself. Before you left, you reached into the pocket of your pants, fishing out the letter that you had written alone in your old room, what seemed like forever ago now, the one still stained with old tears. You tossed it to the ground in front of you, hoping they would read it, hoping it would help…them live without you.

The last thing you heard was a chorus of cracking voices, getting cut off before they could tell you they loved you too…

And then you were gone. A harsh and forceful wind seemed to suck all the air from your breath. It was almost as if you were being plunged underwater, several forces of pressure from the thousands of years you were swirling past was threatening to crush you. The only sensation you were aware of was Solomon’s. His arms were holding onto you tightly, continuing to mutter spells over and over and over again to keep you safe, expending all of his waining power to push you both through the folds of reality and out on the other side.

Gravity. Disorientation. Falling. A heavy weight slammed against your chest so hard, you wondered if your ribs cracked. The back of your head hit something firm. Everything went black for a while.

After who knows how long, your eyes opened again, staring straight up into the Devildom sky, the shifted stars more familiar to you. Your head was splitting with pain, your breath a wheeze as you glanced down to see Solomon’s limp body keeping you pinned against the ground.

“S-Solomon?” It took a short while for the panic to settle in. “Solomon!” After a moment of struggling, you managed to get him off of you, setting him on his back in the grassy plane you had been spat back out onto. His face looked drained. A chant left the base of your throat, using the last scrap of magic you had to give him a spell to reinvigorate his body. His eyes shot open, coughing as he rolled over onto his side, pushing himself up onto his arms before he fell down again. “Take it easy!” Together, using each other as support, you both got back up to your feet.

“I’m sorry…I had meant to deliver us right in front of the House of Lamentation, but…”

“You did alright,” you assured him, rubbing his back to keep his dizzy mind conscious. “A bit of a rough landing, but we’re alive…” But then, the better question was… “Are we—“

“There you are.” A calm voice manifested itself as a demon in front of you. Barbatos stepped out of a portal, his expression nearly as neutral as ever, except there was something in his eyes that was shining, a strange tremor to his hand that was completely unnatural for someone as him. Then he frowned as he took in the state of both of you, his nostrils flaring as he took the both of you with him, each with one gloved hand. You were pulled into a much less chaotic rift this time. Although the jolt was still enough to nearly cause both you and the sorcerer to fall back to your knees. Before that could happen though, you were shoved into a bed.

The guest rooms of the castle appeared the same as always, but something in particular felt nostalgic, like you’d just returned to a childhood home. Solomon appeared to be ushered into a bed right by your side, both your minds too rattled to resist, as the butler threw open the guest room door from the inside and summoned nearly every Little D in the entire building. “I need human medication, bandages, two sets of pajamas, the herbal tea I set aside in the kitchen. I need the oven preheated, the counter prepared, two trays set, and need them all done within the next two minutes.” There was a very subtle raise to his voice, the seriousness of his tone sending a chill down your spine and sending every Little D scattering for their lives. Barbatos spent one second observing them flee before he dissipated once more, getting wisked away through another portal of his own making.

This all felt…so surreal. Perhaps it was the pain that you were in that was making it feel like a dream. Like you’d wake up in Cocytus Hall and be right back at square one. And yet, something in you was missing that place… that house that you had just started to get used to. The furniture and things both you and Solomon had bought to make it your shared home. But your real home was here. Well, hopefully here.

You wouldn’t get your hopes up over anything yet. Not until you got to see them.

Barbatos returned before you could even begin to ask Solomon about any of this. A whirl of varying shades of green caused your vision to do somersaults as you were quickly fretted over. Salves and bandages were wrapped around your torso and a damp cloth gently touched the back of your head. That splitting pain resurfaced, joining forces with an added stinging. Maybe it was your body going into shock, but you could’ve sworn you heard a shaky shush coming from your current caretaker as you were cleaned and patched up quickly. Luckily, it wasn’t too much longer after that till the aches went mostly away, your head clearing up again as a set of your own pajamas were settled at the foot of the bed, a silver tray stretched over your lap and propped up on two stands. A small plate with a single pastry sat in front of you, along with a bitter smelling dark-green tea that you could tell you’d rather avoid imbibing.

Swiveling your head to the side, you saw Solomon leaning back against the headrest and a few pillows, a bit more vibrancy in his eyes, although those intense dark circles were hard to miss. He was okay. Thank…everything.

“Eat. Drink. Both of you.” The butler stood between the beds, realizing he’d spoken quite against his normal demeanor, he cleared his throat, his palm pressed between his collarbones. “Phoenix’s Breath Tea. You’ll both need it to recover. I apologize for making you both consume something so distasteful, but I’ve found it goes down a bit smoother paired with something sweet.”

A single whiff of the hot beverage in your hand was enough to make you cough, some sense burning in your nose. You settled the cup back down, taking a deep breath, trying to get your head on straight. “Barbatos… Are we…?”

The butler’s eyelids fluttered slowly. “You are,” he stated, his voice quiet, almost in awe. “You’re home. Back in the world you belong.”

A lump immediately formed in your throat, pushing the tray forward and turning to get out of bed. “I need to go. I need to see them, I—“ Before you could get one foot touching the ground, you were wrangled back into bed.

“I’ll fetch them. I swear you won’t have to wait too much longer. But you must drink the tea and you must take a moment to recover. If the others were to know the state you both were in right now, the castle would be torn—“

A banging sound ripped through the room like a gunshot. The guest room door was busted completely off it’s hinges, the wood of the frame splintering, the door soaring across to the left and fully embedding itself into the wall like a dart stuck in a board. If it weren’t for Barbatos’ inhuman skills, you’ve spilled the tea and dessert all over yourself. The royal attendant audibly sighed, sweeping himself to his feet and holding his arms out, his demon form manifesting, wrestling back a writhing and screaming black mass.

Your eyes went wide.

The mass stopped fighting, going rigid, stepping back to form seven different individuals. Three more non-hostile forms stood back in the wrecked doorway, two white, one red.

The bottom of your lip trembled as an overwhelming surge of joy and despair and relief and guilt all flooded out of you in tears. Your fears were pushed away. Your soul seemed to click back into place, like you’d been the last puzzle piece just waiting to finish the picture. “I’m home…”

Chaos erupted in the castle guest room. A few cracking wails nearly burst your eardrums. Asmo’s arms were the first to wrap around you, mascara running down his cheeks in large inky trails, but he didn’t seemed concerned in the least. Kisses lined your face with each sharp intake of breath, too shaken to even speak, he could only address you in his cries as he clutched onto you, trembling. His hand stroked your head, his breathing stopping for a moment when he saw the damage the landing had caused. This only caused him to whimper and cry harder, his thumb running over the outline of your features, running the back of his fingernails over your cheeks.

Levi was stuttering incomprehensibly. As he fell to his knees, he clutched at his head, going through an entire panic attack. He clawed at his chest, tearing gashes into the front of his clothes, looking up at you behind large welling tears as his tail wrapped around his entire torso. Mist filled the entire room as he continued to shake and cry so fervently he couldn’t even stand.

Luke was quite a ways away, holding onto Simeon’s clothing as he screeched out painful genuine child-like cries. The Angel curled over him, shushing him, getting to his own knees to hold the fledgling to his chest, assuring both the little angel and himself that you were okay. You were alright. Miracles had brought you together again. They didn’t have to worry any longer. The sleepless nights, the endless nightmares, the never-ending cold grip of sorrow could go away. He spoke this mantra- this prayer- over and over again, taking deep breaths between the words, blinking rapidly as he had to sway him and his charge back and forth to keep themselves both at ease. The older angel took the occasional glance over Luke’s shoulder, muttering a thankful blessing on repeat every-time he locked with your eyes.

Satan was thrashing around the room, screaming wildly, out of control, ready to beat Barbatos and Solomon for making you arrive in this condition, for not bringing you sooner, for not telling them sooner, for— Eventually, after getting thrown around the room a little, he ran out of things to be angry for. All it took was one look at your face to calm him down. He approached carefully, angry at himself, angry at whoever it was that took you away, but trying to keep himself together. Satan gingerly pulled Asmo off of you, turning Lust over to Solomon. Clearly, he’d been worried about his other pact-mate, hugging the sorcerer and crying a little more softly into his shoulder. Meanwhile, Satan reached a hand out hesitantly, like you were a feral cat he was trying to pet, worried you’d run away. His hand brushed through your hair and settled at the side of your face. Once he realized you weren’t going anywhere, his arms pulled you to him, pressing your face against his shoulder. “You’re here. You’re here again. You’re—“ His voice went hoarse, like he was losing it, like he’d been doing nothing but screaming for the entirely of your absence. Soon his words were nothing but faded squeaks, trying to portray his words but unable to. He simply held you instead. Then he tore himself away from you, heading over to the back wall and punching holes into the structure till his knuckles turned bloody.

Someone crawled onto the bed. Belphegor peered at you with an almost blank expression. His hand reached out, touching your knee, flinching as soon as he made contact, like the very act of him doing so would hurt you further. You could tell that maybe he felt like some of this was his fault, like he’d deserved the pain of having you be sent away from him, like if he did anything wrong again, you’d vanish for real this time, How many times could you come back from the dead? How close was he to losing you entirely? For good? As soon as his warmth mixed with yours, he collapsed on the mattress, curling up at your feet. He gathered the blanket towards his face, the end of his tail twitching erratically. His sobs were silent but violent, the entire bed shifting and bouncing as his body convulsed, his chest pounding as he broke down. Every once and a while, he would become extremely frightened, needing to gasp and look up to ensure you were real. You weren’t a dream. He pinched himself, shook his head, even almost bit at his hands to snap him out of this vision. But you were really here. He would curl back up and continue to cry.

White hair bobbed in front of your vision, two hands going to your shoulders and shaking you, pinning you against the headboard, fingernails careful not to dig themselves into your skin as they gripped your body. “What the hell is wrong with you?! Huh? Huh?! Do you have any idea what you put us through?! What you put me through?!” Mammon growls and screams shocked you.

“Mammon.” Lucifer’s voice settled as a stern warning, but something about it seemed weaker than usual.

Greed ignored him, continuing his rant. “You were just gone. Gone! You know that?!” He shook you again, careful not to rattle you too much. “And what am I supposed to do about that, huh?! What did I say?! I said—“ His voice cracked, trails of moisture streaming from his eyes and over his lips. “I said,” he repeated, “if you’re ever in trouble, you have to let me save you. What part of that didn’t you understand?! How dare you get taken somewhere where I can’t reach you?! How dare you?! How dare you?!” His voice continued to raise in pitch, sounding more and more unstable with each accusing question. Then he slumped, his forehead pressing against your chest as his hands held onto your shoulders tighter, almost bruising them, fearful of letting you go. He began shaking you a few times more, each shake meeker than the last. “How dare you. How dare you… How… W- What was I supposed to do if you didn’t come back?… The world is nothin’… I’m nothin’…”

Beel came over and helped his older brother to his feet, allowing him to sit on the side of your bed as Mammon furiously used the back of his wrist to rub at his cheeks. Gluttony stood over you, looking down with a wide close-lipped smile. “Welcome back.” He leaned down, pressing his cheek against yours as his large arms wrapped around the back of your neck. He took in the scent of you, burying his face into the crook of your neck for a moment. His body didn’t shutter, didn’t make noise, but you felt a few warm tears of his drip onto your skin. He silently and secretly teared up for just a few moments before he stood back up straight, gesturing to the tray with your items on it. “Eat, please. It’ll make you feel better.” The sixth-born took a few steps back to let you breathe, and as he moved back, someone else moved forward.

Lucifer stood at your bedside for quite some time in silence, looking down on you with a rather unreadable expression. He had a frown, eyes squinting like he was upset at you. He scanned you over, his brows furrowing, his jaw clenching. He refused to move, refused to say anything, refused to look you directly in the eyes. You moved forward a little, grabbing his hand, holding it in yours. All the sudden, the tension released. His eyes widened before his eyelids lowered, glancing at you past the vulnerable shimmer past his irises. Wrinkles of stress deepened in his forehead as his whole face contorted in agony. He held your hand tightly, bringing the back of it up to his lips. After that, he pulled you against him, his forehead pressed up against yours, his wings in his demon form acting as some sort of visual blocker, as if he couldn’t stand to have the rest of the room see how he was acting right now. He rubbed his face against yours back and forth, one small touch away from cooing, his hands caressing the sides of your neck, feeling your pulse, hearing your breath, taking in every detail and confirming to himself that you were indeed in his arms again, alive and mostly well. “You’ve come back to us,” he whispered, the end of his nose touching yours as one of his hands cradled the back of your neck. “Back to me.” His breath was hot as he panted for a moment, taking a deep breath and speaking in a hushed tone. “I had nearly begun to entertain the thought that…”

You pulled him closer to you, letting his head rest on your chest as you reached around to his back, grasping the cloth of his clothes in your hands. “You know I would fight through all the layers of hell to get to you.”

That seemed to resonate with him, but you weren’t quite sure he remembered that you were speaking quite literally. All those adventures…the things you’d all learned. How lost were they?…

However, Lucifer simply smiled, laughing a little, squeezing you before laughing again. “Yes, if anyone would do such a thing, it would be you. I shouldn’t have doubted you.” He straighted, fixed his clothing, lowered his wings, and moved further back into the room, rubbing his eyes with his thumb and forefinger as he paced towards a back corner.

Levi had finally soothed himself enough to move, walking on his knees towards the bed. His hands were fidgeting with every part of his outfit. Eyes puffy from crying, throat raw from his collapse earlier, he kept himself from speaking. You managed to smile down at him and wipe away the last few of his tears. His lips shook again before he lowered his head into your lap. Face-down in the fabric of the blanket, he kept shaking his head. He didn’t stop until your fingers ran through his hair. With a forced gulp, he eventually vocalized words. “I missed you… I was- was- was so scared I would…”

“Lose you.” Belphie sat up in bed, ignoring the fact that his face was now a mess. He scooted closer towards your side on the bed. “We thought we lost you.”

The youngest was able to say what none of the others could. Full silence washed over the room as the reality of the situation fully seemed to hit them, their shock slowly starting to fade.

Diavolo strode in, everyone moving out of the way to allow him to have his own time with you. The corners of his eyes crunched in happiness. His tight and broad shoulders sagged. Both of his large hands scooped up one of yours, bringing your touch to the side of his face. He closed his eyes, almost appearing as if he might purr any second. As he opened his sight back at you, a fire of positivity and excitement lit within him. “A party! We must throw a party! A welcome home celebration! This is…this is… a joyous day.”

At first, the others seemed confused. Then, one-by-one, small determined smiles spread across their faces. The sorrow melted and gave way to pure uncontrollable elation. People hugged each other, danced around the room, cheered, bounced, came back to kiss you, came back to hug you, nearly passing you around the room till Barbatos barged back in and took your hand, bringing you back to bed.

For a while, you assumed he would shut the idea down entirely. But then, the butler grinned. “I figured you would all say as much. Some preparations are already being made. In the meantime, we should let these two rest. They’ve had all too much excitement today.” Barbatos pulled the blanket back over your legs, readjusting the tray and giving you a biting glare that told you you wouldn’t be able to get out of drinking that god-forsaken tea. “But after that, we will celebrate. We will take every day and night to cherish you, and make up for the time we lost.”

Most of the brothers tried clinging to you, demanding they get to stay, but Diavolo, Barbatos, Lucifer, and Simeon managed to corral the desperate demons and one small angel out of the room.

But before they all left, you shouted. “Wait!” They all turned, worried that something was wrong. However, you smiled, happy tears running down your face this time. “I love you all. So very much.”

“I cherish you with every fibre of my being.”

“There ain’t nothing more priceless than you.”

“E-Everything is so much more fun with you here with m-m- us…”

“I…don’t want to even try to imagine a world without you in it.”

“Nothing, and I mean nothing, hun, is as charming as you.”

“Our family isn’t complete without you in it.”

“You belong with us. End of story.”

“You are one of the most precious beings the three realms has ever known.”

“I find myself discovering new things to enjoy every moment I spend with you.”

“Listen, you are a shining beacon in the night. Know how special you are.”

“You teach me so much! If it weren’t for you, I might still be scare— I mean, dislike demons!”

“My dear apprentice… We couldn’t have gotten home without you. You deserve the world. I will stick by you no matter where you go. And you deserve to know—“

“How much we love you too.”

[castiwls]

tolerate it - a.s

Paring; anakin x reader

Prompt; 'If it's all in my head, tell me now. Tell me I've got it wrong somehow'

Requested; @simonsbluee

Notes;anakin version:) again all time fav cry song requests are open!

Masterlist | Taylor Swift masterlist

The sound of the door opening pulled your attention from the data pad on your lap. A small smile grew on your lips as you placed the pad beside you before standing from your seat. “Your back,” You grinned. “I didn’t think you were due back for another few days.”

Anakin pulled off his robe before turning to you, his grin just as bright. “We got back early.” He closed the distance between you both pulling you into a hug. You felt his arms squeeze tightly around your middle as you tucked your head into the crook of his neck. 

Taking a deep inhale you felt your body relax in his arms. He was safe. After weeks he was finally home again. After a moment you pulled back. His arms still wrapped around your waist. “I missed you.” He spoke quietly, his eyes slowly tracing your face. 

“I missed you too.” You smiled slowly rubbing a hand through the back of his head. “How come you’re back so early?” 

“Some sort of diplomatic thing.” He let out a breath, rolling his eyes causing you to laugh quietly. You knew how much he hated anything which involved politics. In all the time you’d known Anakin he’d never been one for anything which involved long boring conversations.

“The charity ball?” He nodded his thumb slowly rubbing circles on your waist. “Yeah. How did you know about it?” He frowned slightly, a look of confusion filling his features. “I got invited to,” You watched as a small smile grew on his lips at the idea of not being alone. “Well. That should make this slightly more bearable.” 

You nodded thinking for a moment. “We could…we could go…together.” Your voice came out as a whisper. The thought was something which had been sitting on your mind for a while. 

Every event you were invited to end up with you having to go alone. It was always the same questions asking when you were going to get into a relationship if you had anyone special in your life. By this point, you had mastered the act of politely brushing off anyone who brought up the topic, but that didn’t mean that it never hurt.

It hurt that you were unable to share your relationship with the other people in your life. That you had to act as if Anakin was nothing more than an acquaintance when you met him in public. You knew getting into this relationship that there would have to be sacrifices, you never expected anything less. But sometimes you wished that he would have enough trust in you to share your relationship with those closest to you.

Anakin let out a sigh, his gaze moving down to your feet. He pursed his lips slightly, looking back up. “Angel, you know we can’t…” He moved a hand to gently cup your check. “If the council found out about us…I don’t know what they’d do.” he frowned to himself as he spoke, his gaze seemingly growing distant for a moment before he re-focused back on you.

“I can’t risk them finding out.” He rubbed a thumb across your cheek. You kept your face passive as you stared at him. 

Sometimes your relationship felt almost one-sided. You felt committed to him in a way that he could never commit himself to you. While you knew Anakin was by no means in love with the order and their rules you knew he was still committed. You came second.

The thought had you swallowing, trying to push back the sudden rush of emotions that ran through you. “Fine.” You pulled back from his hold before walking back to the main room. Anakin sighed following closely behind you.

“Are you seriously gonna do this again? You know why we can’t do that. It would put my rank at risk!” He stopped as you turned to face him. You jabbed a finger into his chest. “You. You. You. That’s all it ever is. Do you ever think about what I want?”

“Of course, I think about what you want. You are the most important person in my life!” He reached out to grasp your hand. He lowered his voice as he spoke. “Which is why I can’t lose you.”

You rolled your eyes letting out a quiet breath. “You know, sometimes I feel…I feel like you don’t even love me anymore.” You felt your lips quiver slightly as you swallowed back tears. “Like you're only here out of obligation.” 

You watched his face drop slightly. “Of course I love you. You’re my wife.” He stepped closer, his thumb slowly rubbing circles over your palm. “Then why are you so scared of telling the people closest to us that we’re married,” You pulled your palm from his grasp feeling a tear slowly slip down your face. 

“There’s dinner on the table if you want it.” You whispered before walking towards the bedroom.

You could hear him calling after you but you simply ignored it slamming the door behind you. Slowly you sank to the ground, your body shaking slightly as sobs began to fall from your lips. 

You’d stopped feeling loved a long time ago. At first, you’d believed that the feeling was simply in your head that you were just having doubts about your relationship due to how new it was, yet those doubts never seemed to go away. 

And Anakin did nothing to quell those doubts. Taking a breath you placed your chin on your knees, staring at the bed. You never imagined the man who you were supposed to love unconditionally and who was supposed to love you back could leave you feeling so unseen in your own relationship.

[yourheart-inmyhands]

YOU HAVE A CAT?! ME TOO?!

She hates me tho :(

---------

Zhongli, Neuvillette and Dottore

With a fox!darling that is always with animals and isn't social at all due to heavy torture in her past and they discover it? 💀

Man I'm in need of some gore rn 💀💀

- Weird anon ✨

i'm so sorry but i just couldn't write neuvillette for this prompt, he's too precious DX

Warning: this post contains yandere-themes, including being held against will, delusional behaviors, torture, breaking of bones, and other potential topics. Please Read At Your Own Risk!

Yandere!Zhongli sympathizes with you, and since it’s clear that the animals bring you comfort, he allows you to keep a couple when he moves you in with him. He even goes the extra mile and builds a special enclosure so they’ll be just as content as you are, even if you aren’t receptive to his love yet. 

When he finds out about your past, which is inevitable with how overbearing he can be and how good he is at finding out things from the locals, it almost hurts his heart a little. But the more sickening side of him is thrilled because now he knows exactly how to get to you, exactly how to make you his perfect little spouse.

Whether it’s be reintroducing trauma through breaking bones, locking you in a cold, damp room with no lights for hours on end, or even things that border on torture, he’ll use it against you so long as it won’t entirely ruin you. While he wants you compliant to his whims and wishes, he doesn’t want you to be a shell, it would’ve been a waste of his time to break you to that point;

Zhongli would never stop as low as hurting your animal friends, but if need be he could certainly find ways to turn them against you. It’s almost amusing to him, the way you care so much for creatures who you’ll outlive. How you care so much for creatures who don’t even really know you, funny.

The sickening crunch of bone echoes through the room as Zhongli stands over you, the heel of his shoe digging into the freshly crushed bones in your leg. The makeshift gag, a towel from the kitchen, dug into the sides of your mouth as it muffled your screams and cries. The Geo Archon almost feels bad for using his strength in such a brutal manner, but it would all be worth it, at least that was how he justified it to himself. It wasn’t about the now, but rather what now would soon be bringing him. By breaking you down bit by bit, sending you spiraling back into some of the worst moments of your life, he could slowly rebuild your shattered pieces how he saw fit. What use was a puzzle if the pieces weren’t in the correct order, right?

Yandere!Dottore is sick, sick, twisted, and absolutely disgusting. If he wasn’t the cause of your original trauma, you could surely bet he’d be the driving force behind re-traumatizing you. 

Whether he chooses to reenact every step, or to simply do something far worse than what had previously done it all dependent on how he feels that day. Some days will be so similar to your past that you’ll truly feel like you were back there, all those years ago. Other days are so awful it almost makes what happened in your past seem insignificant as if that were a stone among boulders resting on the ocean floor. 

Dottore does think it’s funny though, using it as both amusement and research opportunities. It wasn’t often that animals such as yourself came across his table, so of course he’d taken the prime subject as soon as he’d laid eyes on you.

In his lab, you aren’t seen as anything but a thing that exists only for Dottore’s own gain. If you’re lucky one of his more sympathetic clones might take pity on you and actually give you a day to rest when he’s out of the Palace, but they’re expected to keep up the same treatment he inflicts in his absence.

It was almost sickening to the segments as the watched the fox-human endure soul shaking torture day in and day out. Everything from injections to straight up live surgery to see how much pain the body could take whilst awake had occurred on the cold, steel table. They were often left to clean up the mess, expected to stitch you up, administer antidotes to anything too harmful that had been administered today, and even sometimes bathe you due to the mess that had occurred. You’d been fed little since you arrived, given water only when necessary for your survival, and hadn’t seen sunlight in days- or months maybe? With the sickening way time seemed to pass, you couldn’t tell how long you’d been here. Your only reprieve would be when the doctor left for something more pressing, leaving you in the care of his segments that only sometimes took pity on you. Some seemed to hold a little more humanity than others.

[lime1991]

those mlp infection aus on tiktok have been alright but heres my idea to consider:

the main characters of the au are the cmc. theyre not the lone survivors, and heres why: the infection almost entirely affects adults. this is just like a book i read in 5th grade, thats where im stealing this from.

Applebloom is the self appointed leader, shes best at foraging for food and growing it as well as building re-enforcements for the shelter (which is the clubhouse. it's higher up so they dont have to worry about most infected ponies reaching them.)

Scootaloo is the defender of the base as well as the group in general. shes the one who handles the weapons and is first to sacrifice herself for her friends to get to safety. She says its because he doesnt want to hold them back due to her disability, they tell her she doesnt have to think like that. but its hard not to.

Sweetie Belle is... not all there. sometimes she forgets the apocalypse has happened and that most of her loved ones are dead. Scootaloo and Applebloom take turns sleeping during the night to make sure someone is always lookout. that, and they can't risk Sweetie Belle unknowingly walking into the dark trying to get home.

Partially inspired by one of the best animes ive ever seen: School Live, Scootaloo and Applebloom sometimes, when Sweetie is having an episode, pretend everything is normal. Is the most they can do for their friend, who is clearly so traumatized that her brain blocks out the reality of their situation. Sometimes, Applebloom wishes that could happen to her.

When the infection started, it slowly took over the elderly first. Granny Smith got sick, fast. Big Mac and Applejack took care of her, but only a few days later she would turn into some kid of monstrous creature. Big Mac did the unspeakable act of putting her out of her misery.

Sweetie Bell was sent to go live with Rarity while her mother was sick. Her father began to feel ill too, and didn't want her to get herself and her friends at school sick as well. She could hear over the phone the conversations her sister and father had. How mom was getting worse, how dad was getting worse. How they stopped calling altogether.

A couple days into the widespread sickness, Scootaloo's aunts took a trip to the store to stock up on groceries just incase a quarantine was issued. They were gone for hours. They were gone for days. They never came back. Eventually, Scootaloo traveled outside of her home by herself, and could never return.

Once Big Mac and Applejack started showing signs of illness, Applejack spoke to cousins in other places wondering if they would be able to let Applebloom stay with them a while. But just like everyone in Ponyville, they were experiencing the same issue. At one point, Fluttershy agreed to watch Applebloom until AJ and Big Mac started to feel better.

After hearing that Fluttershy graciously took in Applebloom, Rarity sent Sweetie Belle off to her the moment she started to cough. She didn't want Sweetie to see her like that. She didn't want her to get sick either, and in fact, she probably transported it from their parents house and into Rarity's. That made Rarity angry. Her last words to Sweetie were about how upset she was that she'd brought the illness to her.

Scootaloo went to Fluttershy herself. She couldn't find Rainbow Dash, so she settled for the next best pony. She was shocked to see her friends had been there themselves the past few days. Scootaloo only managed to stay a few hours, because during the night the crusaders awoke to a crash in another room. Upon investigation they saw Fluttershy hunched over a broken glass. There was blood on the floor.

They went to comfort her, but she wasn't herself any longer. When she turned to face them it already looked like she'd been ravened by the infection. She was so hungry. Why couldn't the jar just open? She was so... hungry. Before she could even stand back up, the crusaders grabbed their things and fled to the only place they knew they'd be safe. The clubhouse.

[orikiys]

✿ ✿ 〞wish you back

✰ pairings: ex!han x fem!reader

✰ genre: romance + angst with comfort ending

✰ warning: mentions of insecurities, deep talks, indirect mentions of miscommunications and getting back together

✰ request: If you’re taking requests or would like some ideas for your future writings then could I suggest/request an angsty fight but with a comfort ending with prompts 1, 10 and 12 with skz Han or it could even be an ot8 whichever is comfortable for you :)

✰ note: hi hi love! i hope you like it >< i made it exes to lovers and it hope it suits to what you requested for! thanks to @planetkiimchi for beta reading this and helping me with it 🤍

✰ word count: 2k + words

meeting him was like listening to a song for the first time and knowing it would be your favourite. meeting him was like rewatching every movie you ever loved with your favourite flavour of popcorn. meeting him was truly beautiful.

then, suddenly, you didn’t like that song anymore. you hated those movies as well. and you didn’t even bother touching that last packet of popcorn kept in the cabinet of your kitchen. it had been a month precisely since you and jisung parted ways.

a month of half-heartedly listening to your best friend’s ‘not-getting-back-to-your-ex’ rules. you don’t even remember the last time you saw him. but all you could do was think of him. was he eating well? was his hair as long as before? or has he trimmed them? it was foolish, you knew that very well. but the way your heart belonged to him, you couldn’t help it.

your mind keeps replaying the evening of your breakup. that very evening, when the two of you would be completing two whole years as a couple. all of it—now shattered. it doesn’t matter what you do, or what he does, the deed is done. there’s no going back now. or is there?

you know you shouldn’t be doing this and instead sending someone else. despite this, you find yourself driving to his home. after his last text, which told you to go pick up your stuff. you nearly felt your heart burst out of your chest the moment you saw his name pop in your notifications, but all of it faded when you saw his text. you know it meant nothing, but you felt yourself tear apart when the thought that he's trying to erase you crosses your mind. that’s what the voices in your head said. he’s trying to remove you from his life. and you know it shouldn’t hurt that much– but it does.

you hated whenever he overworked himself. you hated the way he would always come home exhausted but would still manage to muster up a smile you knew was fake. and when the limit runs, it’s the two of you against each other– screaming at each other’s throats. the eyes that used to be filled with love and warmth, were replaced with tiredness and anger.

maybe it was just in the heat of the moment, but the words can’t be unsaid. the apartment that used to be filled with memories in each corner, just rests there in dust and dirt.

you lift your hand to knock on the door and not even a second later, the door opens wide allowing you to see the apartment once again, and jisung as well.

he looks almost the same, except for his hair that he has curled slightly. if it would’ve been a stranger, they wouldn’t have been able to pick on any difference. but knowing him for years, you know everything from the beat of his heart to the dip in his voice when he’s about to break down– you have lived it all as well.

“hi,” he manages to croak out when you enter the apartment. you let out a silent nod, but prevent yourself from getting into a long conversation with him. your friend advised you not to if you didn’t want to end up getting hurt.

“how have you been?” he asks, his voice no louder than a mutter.

“how do you expect me to be?” you chuckle dryly, rubbing salt onto his wounds without even sparing him a glance. you look around, eyes stopping on the fridge that has various fridge magnets which you stuck on. maybe it was just a you thing, but it marked as the evidence of your happy relationship. there’s a small magnet with a polaroid of you two sitting on a couch with a cake in your hand.

it almost makes you laugh, how quickly the memory rushes into your head. it was your birthday and jisung surprised you with homemade meals and handmade gifts. it was a simple meal with just the two of you, yet his sincerity never failed to amaze you.

“i’m trying to talk to you nicely,” he hisses back, frustration creeping its way into his tone. it makes you gulp. you pause to stare at him, for the second time of the day before sighing.

“where’s my stuff?” you whisper, not breaking eye contact, which makes him stare back at you just as fiercely.

there’s something in his expression that makes you want to run straight into his arms and embrace him, kiss him and tell him you love him. but you can’t. he was the main character in the movie called “you”, but now he seemed to play more of a side role. it seems discarded yet you will remember it forever.

he takes a long minute to reply and points to the bedroom, “it’s under the bed, in a box.”

you nod and make your way in the bedroom. the sight of the room itself makes your heart heavy. you look around, and where there used to be a brown heart couch, it’s now empty. the room takes you back to the days when the two of you first moved in. the two of you were so excited to bring in the new furniture and rearrange it according to your preference. it almost felt surreal at first. you still remember spending three weeks just to arrange the furniture. it was tiring, but you didn’t know that it was even more tiring to look at this now-almost-empty bedroom.

you crouch down and pull out a wooden box. it’s a bit dusty, so you carry it and keep it on the mattress. you blow away the dust as much as possible and open the box. it’s filled with photos, letters, gifts varying from sizes to colours and occasions. it’s a wonder how he kept all your stuff neatly arranged. even if there’s a few things missing, you don’t mention it when you return back to the living room.

he shoots up from his seat upon seeing you, and there’s a determined look on his face which you don’t quite like.

“can i know one thing before you go?” there’s fresh pain in his eyes which he no longer attempts to hide from you. when you take a look at him, you see the eyebags, the tiredness seeps through his eyes and it’s painful to see him that way.

when you don’t reply, he takes that as his cue to step towards you and hold both of your hands in his, the familiar warmth immediately soothing you and making you breathe in relief.

“do you still love me?” it’s just a question, you tell yourself. it’s just a normal question, just say no and you’ll be fine. instead, you stare down at your intertwined hands and slowly rub your thumb against his.

“what if i say yes? how would it change anything? remember, you left me first,” you look back at him with tears brimming your eyes. there’s a softness in his expression that almost makes you cry but you manage to hold it in.

“because you told me to! you told me how annoying i was and how i wasn’t giving you time. and i thought about it, i really did and i realised it was better for us this way.”

“you’ll decide that on your own? you could’ve talked to me once ji! i would have stopped you and told you just how much you mean to me!” you say while jabbing a finger at his chest in fury.

“how does that change it? you had that thought across your head. how could you even think of us separating? we were happy, weren’t we? and then suddenly you weren’t there when i returned. i didn’t call you because i thought… i thought that maybe you didn’t want me anymore,” he chuckles bitterly and runs a hand through his unruly hair, impatiently waiting for a response.

“i… you’re the only one i want, ji. there’s not been a single day where i didn’t think of you. if you would’ve called me even in the middle of the night, i’d run back to you without hesitation,” there’s raw pain reflecting in his eyes that flick to your continuously.

“then… why?” you squeeze your eyes shut at his question. was it the way he was too blunt with it? or was it the way you knew that the truth would hurt?

“it’s easy for you to ask that because you’re not the one constantly thinking about whether you’re being controlling or not. you’re not the one who has to constantly keep yourself in check, wondering whether or not you’re overthinking! do you know how hard it was for me to not ask you anything every hour just because it will make you look pushy? i didn’t want to be that kind of girlfriend that bugs you, or the one that has to call you a hundred times a day to remind you that i’ll be waiting! it’s a mess, jisung. i-i’m a mess.”

“do you trust me?” he asks, his eyes shining with determination with this new shift in him.

“no– don’t do this to me,” you shake your head and try to slip your hand out of his grasp, but he stays still.

“please don’t try to ignore me, my love. please don’t go… why do you keep shaking my whole world and then leaving like nothing ever happened? why? why are you so desperately trying to run away from me? did you forget that we promised to help each other with our problems? or do those promises mean nothing?”

“we broke up, jisung! we are not together anymore. there’s no us, it’s just you and i,” you look away to avoid his burning gaze.

“look at me, babe,” he whispers, his words are careful to not try and trigger you any more.

and when you do, he looks down at you with a soft gaze, “i want you to know one thing. there’s nothing in this world that will make me love you less. it’s okay to worry. you worry for the one you love and it’s normal. there is no such thing as worrying too much, okay? don’t you ever think that you are less or that you are more. you are just the perfect amount, like the sugar i need in my coffee,” he jokes a bit and it does indeed manage to make you chuckle through tears.

“there was a day where i almost knocked at your front door, but then i saw how happy you looked. and i feel like i was trying to snatch away your happiness, but then you told me how you felt and honestly, it just feels like we’re two dumb people who are scared to communicate. a talk was all we needed.”

“i’m sorry for hurting you that night, and for not even bothering to tell you that i’m was leaving.” after every word, he smiles wider, and it’s as if you’re seconds away from mending his broken heart along with yours. “is it too late to stop the shifting of the furniture?” he laughs, before shaking his head, and pulling you to his chest. his arms wrap around you and he embraces you tightly, cherishing every bit of you for as long as he can.

“don’t ever scare me like that again,” he mumbles and presses a kiss to the side of your head.

“i suppose i should call the guy before it gets too late,” he huffs in annoyance and you smile at his words.

“you should! it’s your fault you’re trying to give away our stuff,” you mock, with a playful smile dancing on your lips.

“putting the blame on me now?” he pouts before stealing a kiss from you and his fingers are already vigorously typing digits on his phone.

there’s something about this house that will never change; you and him. perhaps those magnets too.

PERM TAGLIST: @taeriffic 🥽 @hello-2-u-from-me 🥽 @ilychee08 🥽 @sleepyleeji 🥽 @spacegirlstuff

[sunnybeewriting]

peachy keen.

Hi guys! So I'm pretty new to writing and this is actually the biggest thing I’ve ever written. I watched The Way of Water when it came out and took an immediate interest in this guy, partially because I thought his character has a lot of potential, and partially because I also thought that he was really hot.

So I decided to set up a series of little works. This one is just sort of a beginning to the Reader’s character and Quaritch, and I do plan on writing more about them in the future with this fic as their base. Maybe do some AU’s, maybe just continue the story from here, maybe lead into the movie, who knows!

That all said, I really, really hope you like it! If you do, please give it a like or a comment!

WORDS: 15,000

WARNINGS: Adult themes and language

peachy keen. Part Two.

Jesus fucking Christ.

Your body jerks to a stop just before you can fully trip over your shoelace and faceplant onto the floor. Unfortunately, the leftover food on your plate could not say the same, jostled just enough that it went flying from your hands and onto the tiled floor of the mess hall.

You lean down quickly to clean it up, scooping the food with your fingers and back onto the plate as best you can. You succeed only halfway, goop just smearing across the floor and onto your hand.

You stare at the mess you made, ears and cheeks burning as you hear snickers of cruel amusement coming from some military meatheads a few feet behind you.

You jump up quickly, making sure to avoid your shoelace so you don’t trip on it again and embarrass yourself any further. You hurry to the counter holding the utensils, mugs, and paper towels, tugging several brown napkins out of the dispenser sitting on top. You take a deep breath to calm yourself.

Kneeling down so soon after sleeping for six years in a cyropod made the muscles in your legs and shoulders ache, but you do it anyways. You wipe up the mess as best you can, piling the dirty napkins onto the plate and dumping it all into a nearby trashcan. You wish the ground would swallow you up.

You aren’t usually so embarrassed by such a small mistake, but it had been a rough past couple of days for you. You had landed at Bridgehead City just a few days ago, and you had felt immediately overwhelmed by the extreme size of the fortress.

It took the RDA fifteen years to return to Pandora, but when they did, they made sure to put in roots. Bridgehead City was an enormous structure, constantly building upon itself and hosting thousands of military combatants, engineers, skel suits, construction robots, anything that was thought of to build and maintain humanity’s last stronghold. Every person of every imagined career was here, working as one like bees and ants had once done for their queens a hundred years ago, before they had both gone extinct. 

Bridgehead was terrifying to look at for the first time, seeing in person exactly how far humanity was willing to go to force itself onto another planet. You had noticed that it almost looked like a parasite, contrasting in color and material against the lively, glowing rainforest that surrounded it just past the barren land of the Kill Zone.

The wave of information that hit you the moment you stepped off the ship was almost enough to make your excitement to be on Pandora wither and die, but you held onto it with shaky, desperate hands.

Luckily for you, it wasn’t long before your enthusiasm bounced back and you met your new colleagues. Most of them had been just as nervous as you, clearly uncertain and overwhelmed. Knowing you weren’t alone made you relax just slightly. They were scientists hand-picked by the RDA as test subjects for re-opening the Avatar program, just like you.

None of you were really sure why the program had been stopped in the first place. The RDA was very quiet about what had happened all those years ago, when most of their military and scientists had been sent fleeing from Pandora with nothing but the clothes on their backs and tails between their legs. They refused to issue many statements, insisting that a minor misunderstanding had occurred with the ‘natives’ of the planet, and they’d be back soon enough to continue their mission.

The RDA had stated that the main reason for discounting the Avatar program was because the cost outweighed any benefit. The only reason they were allowing a few lucky souls to come to Pandora as Avatars was simply as a favor to the scientific community, and as a test to see if the Avatar program should be reinstated. Now the main purpose behind the program is to see if it’s worth it for people to be able to travel around Pandora without having to worry about the environmental protection systems, than a way to make peace with the Na’vi.

Most of the scientists in the base were only allowed restricted access to information regarding the past and current situation with the Na’vi, only knowing that The People were no longer accepting of humans on their planet and that the military is now on constant high alert. Most of the remaining records were classified to you, although you did try to learn as much as you could about what was happening on Pandora. Unfortunately, the RDA was very strict with that information, and you never found anything that mentioned the Na’vi or what happened fifteen years ago.  

The ten members of the new Avatar program had been divided into two parts of five, just to make the introductions and sessions easier. You had met your three new acquaintances, eager to make some friends. They had introduced themselves; Emma, a small, shy woman who preferred observing rather than participating; James, a sweet, handsome young man; and David, an older man in his late fifties who seemed a bit too haughty for his own good.

Your group was shown to your individual rooms over on the west side of Bridgehead, far away from the landing pads and ships you had arrived on. Your new room was small and gray with concrete walls and a thin layering of carpet covering the cold floors. You had a small desk that sat underneath a suction-locked window that let you glimpse into an enclosure full of construction robots, but at least the light it let in was nice. There was a simple cot in the corner and a mirror as the only piece of décor on the walls, but it was yours, a place you could call your own.

You had grinned tiredly and fallen face down on your bed without bothering to take off your shoes. You slept for fourteen hours, and when you awoke you felt as though you were rising from the dead, hair wild and mouth fuzzy. After you brushed your teeth, showered, got dressed in clean clothes, and ate food for the first time in six years, you felt like a brand-new person.

And here you are now, in the mess hall, already making a fool of yourself on your second week.

You quickly rush back to your table and plop your behind into the seat you had vacated to throw away your plate, sitting across from Emma and David. Emma is poking at her food, face pale and gloomy. David is almost done with his own dinner, glasses perched on his nose as he reads from a holotablet.

Geesh. These guys certainly weren’t known for being the life of the party back home.

Maybe they just need some more time to adjust? I know I certainly fucking do.

You take a moment to bend down and tie your shoelace, double knotting it, not wanting to cause any more scenes.

When you sit back up in your chair and make eye contact with Emma, your lopsided, embarrassed smile falls from your face when she simply stares back at you, clearly uneasy for some reason you can’t name.

“Jesus, you’re so fucking clumsy. And why the fuck does it look like you’re all attending a funeral over here?” The voice that chimes up behind you lifts your mood exponentially, and you turn around in your seat to greet the approaching form of the last member of your group and your best friend with a happy grin.

You had met Margot a few months before your trip to Pandora when you both attended a required conference that would discuss certain parts of living in Bridgehead. The second you struck up a conversation with her, it was like meeting your long-lost sister. You had instantly clicked, getting on like a house on fire and scarcely spending a day away from each other.

James arrives at the table with her, holding his own plate. He gives you a comforting look, clearly sympathetic to your embarrassment.

“Hey Margot, James! You saw that, huh?” you ask sheepishly, shoulders raising to your ears as you feel a hot flash of mortification all over again.

“Uh, yeah, honey, I saw. I’m pretty sure half the cafeteria watched you nearly eat shit. You need to learn to tie your shoes better, babe.” Margot’s voice is just as loud as ever, and her bright blonde hair and tall figure aren’t exactly subtle, either.

She was the type of person to grab someone’s attention and refuse to let it go, manicured nails digging in deep. Well, her nails used to be manicured. Now they were just as plain as everyone else’s.

She takes a seat in the empty chair next to you, setting her own plate down with a clatter. She untucks her cheap silverware from the napkin and digs into her dinner, eating hurriedly like someone is about to snatch the plate away from her. You had once asked her why she never slowed down to enjoy her food, and she said that with eight siblings if you wanted any food, you needed to eat it like an animal.  

James takes the other empty seat next to you, patting your shoulder twice before saying, “It’s okay, I don’t think that many people saw.”

You smile weakly at his attempt to make you feel better. It doesn’t help much, but you appreciate the thought, “Thanks, James.”

He nods and moves his attention to his plate.

Your table is silent for a few moments, everyone lost in their own thoughts and tasks.

You break the silence when you nervously ask, “So. Anybody else freaking out at the thought of linking up for the first time or is it just me?”

David looks up, paying attention to your words for the first time since you met him. “Well, I’m not nervous because I did all the pre-linking sessions and training years ago.” His nose is practically raised in the air.

You stare at him.

What a fucking douchebag. Who answers a question like that?

“That’s nice. What about you, Emma, are you nervous or excited? How are you feeling?” you ask gingerly, wanting to include her in the conversation. It would be nice to have another friend so that the next few years weren’t miserable.

Emma stares at you blankly, and then whispers a simple, “No.”

You lean back in your seat and deflate. “Oh.”

Fuck it, I tried.

Margot, the smug bitch, is watching you drown in social awkwardness as she happily munches away. You give her a look and a shrug, and she rolls her eyes before placing her fork down on the table. She dabs the corner of her mouth with her napkin, and then says to Emma, “Girl, I absolutely love that bracelet you’re wearing. Where did you get it?”

To your surprise, Emma perks up in her seat, right hand grazing the bracelet she wore on her left wrist. Her face softens, and she says, “It was my mom’s, actually.”

“Oh, that’s so sweet. Right?” Margot jabs her sharp elbow into your side, and you hiss but nod hurriedly.

“Yes, that is so sweet! I wear my mom’s wedding ring, actually.” You rub said ring with your hand. Your mood drops a little bit at the mention of your mother, but you shake your head to get back on track. “Makes me feel closer to her, I suppose.”

A small smile pulls on Emma’s cheeks, and she looks down, still rubbing the bracelet. “Yeah.”

You look at her, reconsidering your thoughts about her personality. 

Maybe it just takes a little time to connect, that’s all.

You fiddle with the small, emerald cut ring that you were on the ring finger of your right hand. It had been a piece of jewelry your mother had worn faithfully until the day she died.

When you were a child, around ten or eleven years old, you had asked her why your dad had chosen that specific ring to represent their marriage, out of the hundreds of others he could have.

She was still sick at the time, spending most of her days laying in a hospital bed while nurses bustled in and out. She had lost so much weight that her cheeks were gaunt, and her face and hands were so white they were almost transparent, pale blue veins clear through the skin.

Her lips were pale and chapped, and the dark circles around her eyes were deeply imprinted in her skin like bruises. She looked like a ghost, a fragile, terrifying imitation of the woman who had raised you, a woman who you had thought put the stars themselves into the sky. She was weak, and even before she passed away it was like she was already dead.  

She had gripped your hand as tightly as she could when you had asked that question, sweaty palm squeezing yours to the point of pain in a rare show of strength. She was usually so weak the nurses and you had to feed her by hand as she could barely lift up her arms. She looked you in the eye and pulled you close until your face was right next to hers.

In the croak that had now become her voice, she whispered, “I had asked the same question, years after he had proposed. I asked, ‘Jonathon, why this ring? Why this cut, why this color?’. And he had gripped me tightly and pulled me close and said, ‘Well, my love, it’s the breathtaking green color of your eyes. Your eyes and the ring match exactly, you see. And every time you look at it, you will see yourself the way I see you. Beautiful and bright.’

Tears had filled her glazed eyes, and she whispered to you, “No matter what, when you find the one you love, never let them go. Cherish every single second you have with them, never take them for granted, and make sure that they love you for everything that you are, the good and the bad. It is the purpose of our life. Love. Without it, we are nothing.” Against the tears and the agony that claimed her face and voice, your mother smiled for the first time in years.

Your father had passed away while your mother was still pregnant, killed in an easily avoidable accident. No matter how much your mother loved you before she had gotten sick, no matter how much joy you brought to her life, there was always a deep sorrow and grief inside her that consumed her soul every day.

She never got over your father, never dated or remarried or showed the barest hint of interest in anyone else. When asked why, she said that she had already had the love of her life, and there was no one who could ever compare to even the lingering ghost of your father that seemed to haunt her.

And when the sickness truly hit and reduced her to almost nothing, her anger and bitterness twisted her mind and her love for you into something cruel and abhorrent. 

Even years later you kept her whispered words locked away into the very muscles of your heart. Even though your mother had been sick and weak when she told you these things, it was one of your few beloved moments with her. It had shown you who your mother really was, past all the sickness and malice, who she really was deep in her soul. That she had once loved and been loved.

And now you wear her wedding ring as a reminder of your parent’s love for each other, and how regardless of your mother’s cruelty toward you during the last years of her life, your love for her would never fade.

You’re jerked out of your melancholy thoughts when Margot burps loudly and thumps a fist against her chest.

“Jesus Christ, Margot. Where the fuck did you learn your manners from?” James asks, recoiling in disgust.

“Sorry, sorry. I’m almost done, then we can go check out the linking center.”

You nod eagerly, so overwhelmed with anticipation and delight that your fingers tremor just slightly.

You are so ready to meet your Avatar and link up for the first time, but the thought of anything going wrong makes you restless. You wish you could just get it over with so you could stop agonizing over it.

Margot finally finishes her food and stands up to dump her plate. James does the same, and then all five of you are off, walking down a long hallway with lots of twists and turns. The fluorescent  lights shine brightly on the ceiling, and you can hear the distant sounds of never-ending construction.

Even with all five of you working together to get to your destination, the new buildings are too much for your group and you get lost in the labyrinth of hallways. James even has to ask a nearby custodian for directions once or twice. When you turn a corner, you spot a bathroom sign, and suddenly you have business to take care of. You pat Margot’s arm and point in that direction.

“Hey, guys, I’m going to head to the bathroom real quick. I’ll meet you there, okay?”

The rest of the group nods, but Margot decides to go with you. You do your business and you’re washing your hands in the sink when Margot makes eye contact with you through the mirror as she washes her own hands.

“I won’t lie, honey, I’m feeling pretty nervous about linking up as well. I know we’ve been through training simulations and have studied and practiced for years, but this is going to be different.” Her face and voice are uncharacteristically serious, and her hands shake just slightly as she pulls a towel out of the dispenser to dry her hands.

You feel a flash of sympathy for your friend, stopping your own drying. You walk around to her and put your hands on her shoulders, leaning your face close to hers.

“It’ll be okay, Margot, we’ve both got this. We just need to do it, and then it’ll be as easy as breathing before we know it, okay?”

Margot nods and takes a deep breath, looking down for a moment. When she looks up she’s much calmer, and her usual peppy attitude is back and shining.

“Thanks, sugar.”

You nod understandingly, releasing her shoulders and knocking her hip with yours as you walk toward the bathroom door. You both step outside into the hallway and continue your way.

“Of course. And besides, I’m just so ready to finally see her, you know? We’ve seen pictures and videos, but actually being there in real life is going to feel so surreal. The Na’vi are just stunning to me. Ooh, I almost forgot!”

You stop walking as you talk, scientist-brain taking over. Margot moves to stand in front of you, crossing her arms over her chest with an amused expression. This was far from the first time you had gone on a tangent.

“I saw someone from the recombinant unit when I was walking around yesterday, and he was fucking huge!”

You’re so busy trying to organize your thought flow into something sensible that you completely miss the approaching footsteps coming from behind you, and the way Margot looks over your shoulder and turns white.

You continue on, oblivious.

“He must have been pretty high ranking because the people with him followed him around like little ducklings. And the blue pigment of his skin was so beautiful. The color contrast of his eyes versus his skin kind of reminded me of a Primula ‘Zebra Blue’, you know, that blue and golden flower that went extinct like a hundred years ago? It was just amazing to finally see in person, and I-”

“Well, aren’t you just a peach?”

The deep voice that comes from behind you nearly makes you jump out of your skin. You whirl around, expecting to come face to face with whomever just spoke. Instead, you come eye level with the belt buckle and zipper of a pair of navy green camo military pants.

Your heart drops to your shoes.

You tilt your head up, up, up, until it’s practically craning backward. The uncomfortable position hurts, but that’s the least of your problems.

Your biggest problem, literally and figuratively, is the cold eyes and carefully amused face of the man you were just talking about.

You open your mouth to speak but words refuse to leave.

Why does this shit always happen to me?

You clamp your mouth shut when no words appear and swallow nervously, and the man notices your tense expression.

He smirks down at you, almost sneering. From the way he towers over you closely, unconcerned with personal space, it’s clear that this man likes to have people’s attention on him, takes pleasure in scaring people with his massive height and muscles.

And his intimidation tactics completely work on you, that’s for sure.

Jesus, look at his hands. He could cover my entire face and upper torso with just one of them!

You want to put as much distance between this frightening man and yourself as possible. But there’s a little voice in the back of your head, a stupid, too-curious little voice, that want you to examine him all the way from the finger pads and palm lines of his hands to the tip of his tail.

He was terrifying, yes, but you are also stunned by the wonderful science and technology that made up his body.

Of course, you’d seen holographs and pictures of Avatars and the Na’vi people, but they could never hold a candle to the real thing.

The navy green tank top, tattoo, and dog tags were all familiar things, but his height and the bright, smooth blue color of his skin were brand-new to you, something you wanted to take a closer look at. His hair was shaved closer to his skull than any other you’d seen, Avatar and Na’vi alike.

His bright yellow eyes sear into yours, and it feels like he is trying to see into your fucking soul.

Your heart rate skyrockets, mortified and thrilled and fearful all at once. The pile of extreme emotions twists your stomach, making you queasy.

Do not fucking puke on his shoes.

The man takes a step back to make room for his massive arm before he lifts it up, clearly holding his hand between you for a handshake. It almost seems as though he is testing your nerve; you wonder how many people had chosen not to shake his hand, too frightened.

“The name’s Colonel Quaritch, pleasure to meet you. What’s your name.” It’s a demand more than a question.  

You look up at his face again before quickly wiping your hands on your lab coat to get rid of any sweat. You grab onto his hand as best as you can with your own, and holy shit.

His hand engulfs your own minuscule one and part of your forearm, his fingers reaching almost all the way to your elbow. And the skin of his hand is surprisingly soft; he doesn’t have as many calluses as you thought a marine would, but that might be because his Avatar body is fairly new. You tell him your name, and say,

“Uh, sorry, sir! I’m a xenobotanist from the science division, I got here about two weeks ago!” Your voice is squeaky and louder than you want it to be, making you cringe. You barely remember to shake his hand as you speak other than simply hold it in your own.

He continues to stare at you, wicked smile only growing when you say you’re a scientist.

“Ah, you tree-huggers are officially back, then. Part of the ‘newly instated Avatar program’, right?”

“Uh, y-yes, sir. That’s us.” You laugh weakly.

He barely twitches the fingers of the hand still holding your own, but the strength that comes from them is enough to make his grip almost painful.

“Hmmm. Well, I’m real curious to see how long you and your friend last before Pandora eats you alive. Just as a friendly warnin’, you should be real careful about what you say and who you say it about ‘round here. Guess I’ll be seein’ you. Peach.”

Your knees weaken and you nod hurriedly.

He finally releases your hand, gives you one last cold, golden look, and continues on his way. His bare arm brushes your shoulder as he passes you, and it’s enough to make you shiver.

He’s gone in just a few seconds, but you stay rooted in your spot, staring at the floor. You’re wondering if he’s going to come back and shank you with the wicked knife you’d seen strapped to his thigh when a hand gently presses against your shoulder.

You leap into the air for the second time that day, hand slamming into your chest and breath coming out in a gasp as you realize it’s just Margot. You’d completely forgotten she was even there, too consumed with the encompassing presence of Colonel Quaritch.

You look at her, eyes wide and mouth gaping. Margot returns your stunned look, face paler than you’ve ever seen it before.

“Holy. Fucking. Shit. You have the worst luck out of anyone I’ve ever met in my entire life. What the fuck just happened?”

You gulp. “I’m pretty sure that a terrifying man who wouldn’t hesitate to gut me overheard me practically gushing about him?”

She nods. “Yeah, that’s what I thought.”

You stand there, practically swaying on your feet. “Oh my god, he fucking hates me! Did you see the look on his face? Oh my god, why is this happening? I’m never going to able to leave my room again!”

You bury your face into your hands, suddenly exhausted. First the mess hall, now this? Why couldn’t you just not embarrass yourself for once?

Margot pats your shoulder as you groan. “There, there. It’s alright, all you have to do is avoid him for the rest of your life. If you don’t, I’m pretty sure the next time you see him he’ll either just ignore you or kill you for saying all that stuff about him, and then you won’t have to worry about it anymore!”

“But I didn’t even mean it in a bad way! I was just describing him, the same way I do with all unknown subjects.”

Margot winces. “Uh, yeah, I would definitely not tell him that.”

------

You feel like whining as you finally continue walking to the linking center. After all that, the excitement you had felt at meeting your Avatar had almost completely disappeared. Now, the only thing you wanted to do was crawl back to your room and hide underneath your blankets forever.

But Margot pulls on your hand and ignores your childish wishes. When you arrive, she practically has to push you into the room.

And then every single thing, all of your hard work, the training, the learning, even the awkwardness of that day, was suddenly all worth it when you saw her for the first time.

She was curled up in the tank, cords attached to her body and eyes moving behind her closed lids. She floated gently around in the liquid that surrounded her, sometimes twitching a limb as she slept on.

You approach the tank, mind blank and mouth dry. As you get closer, you can see the details of her face, your face, just shifted into the feline-like features of a Na’vi.

She stole the breath straight from your lungs.

And that was how you spent the next few weeks, gazing at her slash yourself. Eventually, the time came for the first linkup, and everything went well, just like you had told Margot.

You spent the next month linking into your Avatar and wandering around the facilities, checking your reflexes and consuming everything Pandora had to offer while still in the confined space of Bridgehead City.

The disorientation from linking was enough to make you lay in a cot for an half an hour each time, too dizzy to move much. It’s such a bizarre feeling, suddenly being so much taller than everything else, and you are so much stronger than you are as a human.

It took a long time to remember your strength, and you accidentally put dents into a metal door handle when you grabbed it, squeezing it much harder than you meant to. The tiny little humans helping you gave you a pretty wide berth after that, only approaching when necessary.

You practiced using your new body, walking around without sitting on your long-haired queue or stepping on your new tail, which flailed around with a mind of its own. You liked to press your tongue to your sharp canines and look at the swaying tendrils attached to your hair.

It was an exhausting, thrilling process, and you loved every second of it.

None of the new Avatars had yet to actually leave Bridgehead and go into the forest yet. It would probably take a few more weeks for that to happen, and even then, you would probably only be allowed into the tree line past the Kill Zone.

Still, you eagerly look forward to that day, barely able to contain yourself in your excitement. It’s all you can think of day and night, and even in your dreams. On that day, you would be accomplishing so much more than a lifelong goal.  

Now, your group is relaxing in one of the lounges used for breaks, discussing your experience with linking and Pandora. It was something you���d been talking about for the past few hours, the past few weeks, really. It wasn’t like any of you had very much in common with each other, other than your careers and education, but you were trying to dig a little deeper to learn more about these people.

The only problem was they were more antisocial than not, which was almost to be expected by a bunch of scientists. They were also hesitant to speak much about their past. You were the same way. They probably wouldn’t be here if they had a very pleasant past filled with lots of people they wanted to stay with back home.

You eat the small bag of crackers you’d snagged from one of the vending machines lining the gray walls of the room, hoping that the tiny treat will hold you until your next meal. The chair you are leaning back in creaks dangerously and wobbles, but you hold your precarious position, feet pulled up and crossed on the table in front of you.

Your mind wanders as the chatter of the group drifts in and out of your ears. You think of nothing in particular, dazing out of focus, simply relaxing for once.

That peace is shattered when James leaps from his chair further down the table where he and Emma sit. They’re playing an old-fashioned card game; one you’ve never heard of before. When you asked James where he learned it from, he said his great-grandfather had taught it to him. Something called ‘Go Fish’.

James raises his arms above his head in apparent victory, grinning fiercely.

“That’s round three for me, Emma!”

Emma is giggling behind her hand, cheeks flushed a bright pink. She keeps her eyes on James as he playfully postures at winning, and the sight of her joy makes you grin.

You look across the table at Margot and wiggle your eyebrows. She laughs quietly, nodding in agreement.

Sweet Emma and James. You’re almost surprised that they developed such an obvious, big fat crush on each other out of all people, given that their personalities are so different.

Maybe opposites really do attract?

Whatever the reason may be, you hope your friends find happiness in one another. The world could certainly do with more love.  

Margot scoffs in disgust and curls her lip at her empty plate, apparently already over the tooth-rotting sweetness that was Emma and James.

She throws down her silverware onto the table and leans back in her chair, pout firm on her face.

“The food here is ass! You’d think a multi-trillion-dollar company would be able to feed its employees with something other than more fucking oatmeal. I’m so damn tired of oatmeal! It’s been most of our meals for the past month!”

“The supply shipment is late, you know that.” Is all you say. There is nothing to gain from arguing with Margot when she gets into one of these hungry moods.

“Then they need to make it un-late and bring me my fucking muffins!”

“Yeah, I’m pretty sure that ‘un-late’ isn’t even a word, but I do agree with you. Oatmeal reserves are getting pretty old.”

Margot nods vigorously, leaning forward and placing her hands on the table.

“Coup? Coup? Anybody interested?”

You throw back your head and laugh, “Margot, we’re not going throw a coup just because there aren’t any muffins! I thought you had saved a bunch of snacks the last time this happened?”

Margot deflates. “I ate them all already and the vending machines are out of my favorites!”

“Oh, Margot.”

“I know! Somebody just put me out of my misery.” She plants her face into her crossed arms on the table, moping.

“You know, you always complain about the food here, Margot, but that never seems to stop you from scarfing it down,” James says, putting himself into your conversation. He sits in his chair still, shuffling the deck of cards as he smirks at Margot.

“I have to eat it, it’s the only thing they have here!”

You open your mouth to say something, only to pause when a big blue hand reaches around the curve of the open doorway like something out of a horror movie. You sit there, gaping, as Colonel Quaritch crouches down through the opening and steps into the break room.

Margot, James, and Emma see your startled face and turn to see what you’re looking at. When they see Quaritch, they all lurch out of their seats to stand up straight. The cards Emma and James were playing with go flying all over the table and the ground, and Margot nearly knocks her plate off the table.

Quaritch straightens up and stands, several feet taller than any of you. He rests his hand on the holster of the belt wrapped around his trim waistline and practically cocks his hip as he looks directly at you.

You’re still sitting, cracker packet now crushed to a pulp in your right hand. When he looks at you, you finally jolt up to your feet. You dust off the cracker crumbs from your shirt as best you can, anxiety filling you.

“S-Sir!”

What the hell is he doing here!?

He saunters into the room until he’s standing by the table, just a few feet from you. You crane your head up to look at him, baffled and worried.

“Is there…anything you need, sir?” You can’t help the way your eyebrows scrunch up as you ask, clearly confused.

He stares down at you, head tilting to the side as if pondering something. Eventually, he speaks.

“Walk with me.”

And then he turns on his heel and ducks out of the room as quickly as he had entered. You stand, frozen, turning a bewildered stare to your group of friends. They stare back at you, just as perplexed, until Margot urges you to follow him with a push of her hand on your back.

You get your limbs to move and start walking after him, exiting the break room and finding him waiting. Once he sees you’re following after him, he continues walking down the hallway without a word.

The silence is almost uncomfortable as you walk several hallway lengths away from the lounge to some unknown destination. You’re almost tempted to break it to ask where the hell he’s taking you, but fear of his biting words keeps your mouth shut.

His legs are so long that his stride is practically jogging for you, and you have to speed walk so you don’t get left behind. He notices you struggling but doesn’t slow down one bit. In fact, the bastard smirks meanly at your frustration and funny walking pace.

You scowl at his amusement but refuse to say a word.

Finally, Quaritch stops in front of an enormous metal door, and he takes a key from his pocket and twists it into the lock on the doorknob. He opens it and walks in, and then gestures for you to do the same with an impatient wave of his hand.

You hurriedly scuttle in, freaking out even more. If he’s taking you to his office then he must have something serious to talk about, right? Was he going to punish you for what you said, was he going to yell at you, threaten you? You’re practically sweating, fingers twisting as your imagination goes wild.

You take a moment to break out of your thoughts and look around.

You pause.

You stand in the middle of the room, eyes locked onto one thing and one thing only: the large bed laying flush up against the corner of the space.

Who keeps a bed in their office? Is the first thing that comes to your mind. Confusion rushes through you and you look around the room, taking in the closet doors, the large desk tucked into the corner across the room parallel to the bed, the empty walls just as barren as your own room.

Your own room.

Ohmygod I’m in his room. Why would he bring me to his room!?

You whirl around, and Quaritch is standing so close to you that your face nearly smacks into his crotch.

You leap backward with a yelp and jump when Quaritch barks out a loud, unfriendly laugh and then sneers at you.

“I would’ve taken you to my office before, but it seems I don’t have one of those anymore. So, this’ll have to do.”

Confusion layered with frustration comes back to you, and your eyebrows furrow. “Do for what, sir?” You barely remember to tack on the ‘sir’ at the end of your sentence.

His face suddenly breaks out into a sharp-toothed grin, and he leans back, smug once more. You were really starting to get tired of that expression.

“I have a… proposition, for you.”

You barely refrain from turning a wide-eyed, horrified look at the bed.

Under any other circumstance, if a man had taken you to his bedroom and said he was propositioning you, you would be real worried. Red flags would pop up in your brain, mind demanding you flee fast.

But these aren’t normal circumstances, given that one of his arms alone is almost as big as your body. And you didn’t really get the impression that was something he was looking for right now, so you shake your head to get rid of any crude thoughts. You refuse to lower your guard, though, still uneasy.

“Uh, a proposition, sir?”

“Yes. You see, I’m under the firm belief that to destroy your enemies, you have to think like ‘em, be like ‘em. Kill like ‘em, eat like ‘em, shit like ‘em, that sorta thing.”

He takes a step closer and you take one back.

“And if I want to have even a snowball’s chance in hell of finding Jake Sully and the rest of the natives, I’m going to need to put myself in their shoes, metaphorically speaking. But most of the people here are military, marines, people with no knowledge of the Na’vi except how best to kill ‘em.”

“So. Who best to teach me how to be Na’vi other than one of the soft-hearted, limp-dicked scientists who just eats up Na’vi shit like it’s Mamma’s home-baked cookies?”

His yellow eyes burn into yours.

“One specific little scientist came to mind, you see, when I was thinkin’.”

You knew it was coming, but that doesn’t stop you from blanching. You shove a finger in your chest and point at yourself like an idiot.

“Me?”

Quaritch finally leans back, rolling his eyes.

“Yes, you.”

You sputter, mind going a thousand miles per hour.

“But-but, I’m not even an anthropologist, sir! I study foreign plant and-and animal life! Emma, she is the one in anthropology, you should talk to her!”

Quaritch scoffs.

“Emma Rodrigo can barely string a sentence together without pissin’ her pants, let alone teach me to do anythin’.” He crosses his arms over his chest, muscles bulging. His wicked teeth glint in the fluorescent lighting as he grins.

“Nah, I think it outta be you. Peach.”

Shit, shit, shit!

I was right, I should have just gone to my room and never come out.

“But-”

“You can say no, ‘course. This ain’t an order.” The look in his eyes says otherwise. If you decline, you’re sure you’ll either be cleaning toilets for the rest of your life or found dead with his knife in your gut. There is no going easy with this guy.

You gape at him, dumbstruck by the bizarre turn your day had taken. You had hoped you would never have to see this terrifying man ever again, fully prepared to cower and duck out of every room you saw him in. Now, he was asking you, of all people on this base, to teach him?

While this guy had the height and look of a Na’vi, he seemed to utterly despise everything about them. Was it even possible for him to learn anything about the Na’vi, their culture and their language, for it to really make a difference in whether he found them or not?

You weren’t even good at teaching! You were far better at learning and observing than educating people, and you had never been interested in changing that. Could you really teach this guy anything? Was he even capable of learning?

Your face hardens as you realize you’re faced with no other choice but to accept.

I guess we’ll see.

“You know, if you’re too chicken-shit to help me out, I could always get-”

“I’ll do it.” Your voice comes out firm, as confidently as you dared to speak to him.

“…oh?” He raises an eyebrow, looking surprised. And skeptical, the asshole.

You nod your head, letting out a breath you didn’t know you were holding. You are nervous, yes, but it had been decided. There was no going back now.

In for a penny, in for a pound.

“Yes. I’ll teach you everything you want to know about the Na’vi. But I-I also want something in return.”

His eyebrow raises higher.

You muster all the courage and audacity you can find in your body. Admittedly, there isn’t much, but you scrounge up enough to say the next few words aloud,

“In exchange for teaching you, I want you to teach me how to fight. I need to be able to protect myself when I’m out in the forest collecting samples, and I would ask one of my friends, but they can barely handle butter knives. And you are obviously…”

You eye him from top to bottom, eyes lingering on his massive arms before you can stop yourself.

“…capable.” You finish lamely, swallowing. You refuse to back down though, tilting your chin up and keeping eye contact.

Quaritch grins slowly.

“Well, little Peach, you certainly have bigger balls than I thought! It’s a deal-”

You hold your hand out for a handshake, palm open.

“To make it official.”

Quaritch glances down at your hand and then at your face, expression unreadable. And then, slowly, he reaches to grasp your hand and most of your arm once more. He pumps your entire arm down three times, eyes never leaving yours.

If you dared to think it, you might have thought he looked almost…impressed.

You clear your throat, face on fire. “So. When would work best for you, for our lessons?”

“…0500 every day for the next two months outta do it.”

Your eyes widen in horror, mouth dropping open all over again in protest. You barely keep yourself from grasping your chest in shock.

These military guys, did they never learn how to fucking sleep in!? That’s so damn early!

His sneering smirk returns to his face at your reaction, “Come on, Peach! Where’s your sense of adventure? You’ll tell me everything I need to know about the tree-fuckers, and I’ll teach you how to take a fist to the face, that sound good? About two hours each, four hours in total every single god-damn day. Good? Good.”

You sputter, hardly believing your ears. “Four hours every day? Don’t you have better things to do!?”

“Nope. My entire purpose for existing is to capture the traitor Jake Sully and end this war once and for all. With your help, I might actually be able to do that, which means that your time is now my time. Got it?”

You nod, queasy. It seems like all of your bravado from earlier had fled, leaving you with only the shakes and a bad feeling in your stomach.

“Yes, sir.”

“Good girl, Peach. Knew you had it in ya’!”

He claps your shoulder, and even through your shirt you can feel the warmth leaching off his hand and into your own skin.

The grin he wears makes you shiver, and you suddenly feel like prey that had just been caught by a predator, sharp teeth sinking into your neck and bleeding you dry.

He leads you to the door of his bedroom and practically tosses you out, done with you now that he had gotten what he wanted. He barely gives himself a chance to say, “See you bright an’ early tomorrow morning, Peach!” before he is slamming the door in your gawking face.

You stood outside his door for a few moments, simply processing. Eventually, you’re able to make your feet unstick from the floor and you wander back to the break room in a daze, mind clouded.

I can’t fucking believe that just happened. This is going to change my entire schedule for the next few months! Jesus Christ.

You practically stumble through the hallways toward your destination. Once you reach the door to the break room, you lean your arm against it and press your forehead into your arm. Your eyes close, and your heart jackhammers in your chest.

I don’t there’s anyone in my entire life who has ever made me as nervous as that guy. Holy shit.

You take deep breaths, trying to relax your muscles and get some air into your lungs. It takes a few moments, but eventually you’re able to get your heart rate down to a steady pump.

You lick your lips, suddenly parched.

When you lean up from your perch against the door and open your eyes, you can see the faint form of your face shining up from the metal of the door. Your pupils are blown, eyes still wide, and your cheeks are red.

He is seriously the scariest motherfucker I’ve ever met. And now I’m going to have to teach him things! I don’t know how I’m going to do it without passing out a few times, ohmygod. This is going to be miserable.

You swallow as best you can with a dry throat and shakily reach up to fix your messy hair, smoothing down flyaways. You straighten your shirt, crack your neck, and plaster a calm smile onto your face.

There’s no reason to let them know how terrified I am.

You open the door to the break room and step inside, ready to answer any questions they must surely have, and…

The room is empty.

You deflate, hand rubbing down your face and feeling embarrassed.

Of course they wouldn’t wait, we have a linking session in thirty minutes…that I am now late for. Fantastic.

------

You spend the rest of the day completely distracted, too worried about what might happen the next morning. It even took longer than usual for you to link into your Avatar, and when you were finally able to get outside, you had to answer to the swarm of nosy scientists you called your friends.

They were just concerned, you knew, but you didn’t like having to relive the entire stressful event down to the last detail. Still, you gave in and spilled, telling them about Quaritch’s ‘proposition’ (ha!) and leaving out the part where he had taken you to his bedroom.  

They had all given you looks that ranged from horrified -Emma-, sympathetic -Margot and James-, and utterly uncaring -David-.

You start drinking from your water bottle franticly after you tell them everything, feeling anxious all over again.

“Well, maybe this won’t be such a bad thing,” Margot says, expression turning contemplative. All members of your group are sitting outside around a creaky wooden table in your Avatar forms, enjoying the fresh, sweet air and the bright light of Pandora as the rays warm your cyan skin. When you tilt your head back to let it shine on your face, it almost feels like home had been before the pollution clouded the sky.

Your hearing in this form is incredibly sensitive, and it hurts to hear the loud, never-ending beeping and rumbling of production taking place. It had taken you weeks to spend much time outside, and even then, you still sometimes have to put your hands over your big pointy ears when the sounds become too overwhelming.

Margot curls her large fingers underneath her chin and props her head up in her hand, “I mean, you’ll learn to protect yourself, so there’s that. Also, um…” She looks at the rest of the group mischievously, and they all get questioning looks on their faces.

She clears her throat and leans in closer to you. She puts a hand in front of her mouth, blocking it from the others, and whispers into your ear,

“I really, really wouldn’t mind getting to see how big his dick actually is and maybe you’ll get a chance.”

You choke on the water pouring into your mouth, spraying it all over the table you are sitting at. The liquid gets caught in your throat, causing you to cough painfully.

“Oh my god, Margot!” you screech, still coughing into your elbow and voice coming out scratchy. Your watery eyes glare at her over your arm.

Margot shrugs, “What, I was just saying what we were all thinking. He’s the biggest guy here, which has gotta mean something, right?” She wiggles her eyebrows and grins salaciously, and you bury your face into your arm.

“If he ever heard you saying anything like that, he would put his knife straight through your face without even hesitating!”

“I’ll let him put something else in my face if he wants.”

“Margot!”

It wasn’t like you hadn’t noticed that Colonel Miles Quaritch was a beautiful man. It would be impossible, really. Despite the sneer he always seemed to have on his face, the deep cyan of his skin, his wide, golden eyes, and his tall, broad frame were enough to make anybody swoon.

And his feline features weren’t the only thing that made him attractive. You could see his beauty in his long-fingered and broad hands, in his high cheekbones, in the curve of his lips even when they were curled up in disdain. 

It wouldn’t surprise you to learn that a lot of people thought he was attractive just because of his attitude, either. Back home it seemed that everyone was interested in the cocky, proud, manly posturing that Quaritch seemed to like to do.

But despite how pretty he may be, he was also absolutely, shit-your-pants terrifying, and an asshole, which was enough for you to keep it in your pants. That, and the fact that he hated your guts.

“Trust me, Margot, I’ll be too busy trying not to piss him off again to see how big anything is.”

Great, now I’m thinking about his dick.

Margot rolls her eyes but leans back in her seat and drops the subject, “Your loss, then.”

James strikes up a new topic, just as embarrassed as you, and you slouch gratefully back into your seat, glad that the interrogation is over.

It’s nearing darkness by the time you all finish your linking sessions, and the group shuffles their way back into the sleeping center for the Avatars. You move over to your assigned bed, crawling under the soft sheets and sighing deeply.

You lightly traced your right-hand index finger over the smooth skin of your left arm, causing goosebumps to rise. It was still so strange, being able to actually feel with a body that was yours but not, having so many new features that you still have to adjust to even weeks later. Having a whole-ass tail, being several feet taller than any human alive, having super strength, hell, even being blue was still just totally fucking weird.

You lay back into the cot and attempt to clear your mind from any thoughts, but it was just as hard as it had been when you had linked earlier. After a few minutes, you are finally able to silence your mind and drift off just enough for the link to become secure and for you to wake up in the gel link bed, back in your human body.

By the time you walk to your room, you are bone-wary, almost stumbling on your feet. You dread the coming morning, and the only thing you want to do now is turn off your brain and rest. Your shoulders hurt from the stress of the day, and when you finally unlock your bedroom door, take off your clothes, shower, and brush your teeth, you’re practically hunched over.

You shuffle under the covers once again, and you’re unconscious before your head can fully settle onto the pillow. 

------

Your eyes pop open, arms and legs flailing wildly in your sheets as you struggle to reach over to your alarm clock to silence its screaming. When you finally smack it, the crack of your hand connecting with its durable metal makes your palm sting angrily.

You let out a hoarse groan, cradling your hand to your chest as you flop down onto your bed. It had barely felt like you had gotten a wink of sleep last night, too busy thinking about your approaching morning with Quaritch. Scenarios ranging from you accidentally stabbing him to him purposefully stabbing you ran through your head, keeping you awake after only a few hours of rest.

Eventually, you stop your moping and reluctantly pull yourself out of your bed, eyes blearily glaring around your room.

It’s still a gray and sad little space, your room, but you had placed the small number of personal items you brought with you to Pandora throughout it. The one picture you had of your parents sits framed on your desk, along with your holotablet.  

The few items of clothing and the two pairs of shoes you owned were put up in your closet haphazardly, and your hygienic amenities were scattered across the small bathroom connected to your room.

Your room and areas beyond it are all so generic and boring, which is why you spend most of your time either with your group or outside in your Avatar, being able to run around and feel. And once you were finally able to leave Bridgehead, your life would start, and it wouldn’t matter what your room looked like.

You tiredly get dressed and brush your teeth and your wild hair, putting it up into a simple ponytail to keep it out of your face. Once you’re suitable, you head out and lock the door behind you, placing the key in the right pocket of your jeans.

The hallways are quiet for once, and even the incessant roaring of construction has stopped. You walk down the softly lit hallways to the mess hall, unreasonably jealous of the people who get to sleep in their beds.

Most of the lights are off when you walk in, but to your surprise, there are a few people sitting down at a table already eating their breakfast.

Guess my assumption about the military was right, they really don’t know how to sleep in.

To your delight, there is a light amount of muffins and bagels laid out on a table nearby, but the most important thing was the coffee pot next to them.

Looks like the shipment finally came in. Margot is going to piss her pants.

You gladly snag two muffins with napkins and two small cups of coffee, heading right back out the door to the hallway with a friendly smile to the person walking in. They look blankly back at you, but you don’t mind as you stuff a chocolate chip muffin into your mouth as you walk.

You shuffle the remaining muffin and cups into your left hand and elbow crook, grasping the cold metal handle of the glass door that leads into the center with your right hand. You can see a head of black curls poke out from the side of a monitor, followed quickly by a scowl and a pair of eyes glaring blearily at you as you walk in.

You wince. “Morning, Tom. Thanks again for doing this, I really appreciate it.”

Tom had been the unlucky soul you had asked to help link you into your Avatar every morning for the foreseeable future. He had balked when you had asked, saying “Hell no!” before the words were fully out of your mouth. You had leveled him with your best begging look and offered to pay for six of the ridiculously expensive books you know he liked to read coming in on the next supply shipment.

He grouchily agreed to the deal but demanded you bring him breakfast every morning. You had accepted with a pleased smile.

Tom rolls his eyes and snatches the cup of coffee from your hand when you offer it. You’re about to warn him about how hot it was when he gulps half of it down. You watch, halfway impressed and halfway feeling the pain for him in your own throat.

“Let’s get started, then.” His voice is even more crackly than yours is this early.

You nod hurriedly and take one last sip of your coffee before you reluctantly set it down on the table. You walk over to the link bed and crawl in, and Tom pulls the cover down over you. You settle in, closing your eyes to clear your mind.

------

“There ya’ are, Peach! I was startin’ to think you’d chickened out on me.” Quaritch’s loud voice startles you out of your sleepy trance, and your head snaps up from where it is laying against the metal table you are sitting at.

The asshole looks as awake and lucid as usual, not a hint of tiredness on his face. He grins nastily when he sees your sleepy expression.

“We didn’t agree on a place to meet up, sir.” You are barely able to cover your yawn with a hand, and you stand with a grimace.

“That is true. From now on, we’ll do our lessons in Courtyard Six. Try to keep up.”

He turns and walks away, clearly expecting you to follow. You hurry to catch up with his long stride, but it’s much easier to do in this form. He’s almost ten feet tall, but your Avatar is eight and a half feet tall, and you are able to lengthen your stride to match his pace. Your shoulder width and muscles are still much smaller than his, but you imagined most were.

As you step in close to him, your nose twitches, and you realize something that almost makes you trip.

Quaritch smells really, really good.

You lean in closer to him and inhale discreetly, deeper than before, and, yep, that scent is definitely coming from him.

It is such a rich scent, a strange combination of rainwater, black coffee, and something smoky, like a campfire.  

The smell is so strong that it feels like a physical mist floating its way through your nose and ears and into your head. Your mind goes fuzzy, as if suddenly stuffed with cotton. Your lips and fingertips tingle. And to your absolute horror, you can actually feel your mouth start to water.

It’s just such a lovely scent.

Do you think he’d be okay with it if I pressed my nose into his neck to smell him better-No!

You try to break out of the mist, shaking your head to get rid of the images of licking up his neck, tasting his skin, the way his head would tilt back and you would be able to feel his rumbling groan spread through his chest pressed up against your own and-

Stop it! Jesus Christ, don’t even think about it!

This is just a completely normal physical reaction, right? Maybe, but it wasn’t like this with the other guys!

In front of you, Quaritch’s footsteps stutter to a stop for a split second before resuming. It’s barely a pause, but it’s enough to make you snap out of your thoughts and look up at him. When you do, you notice the slight twitching of his own feline-like nose.

Is he smelling the same thing?

He turns his head around slightly to look at you, and you make eye contact with him just enough to notice his pupils are blown out, consuming most of his iris.

My eyes are probably no better, you think, before ducking your head to watch your feet as you walk.

Quaritch stares at you for a moment and then turns his attention back toward the path, and you do the same. You discreetly rub at your sensitive nose, trying to get his fantastic scent out of your head. A few moments after you do, Quaritch rubs at his own nose.

It doesn’t work, but by the time you reach the courtyard you’ve already gotten a little used to it. Thankfully you don’t feel as lightheaded anymore, but you have no idea if it is going to come back.

You notice that the sky has begun to lighten up as Quaritch unlocks the chain-link gate leading into the yard. Not that you really need any light, what with being able to see in the dark and all.

 He stops once you enter and closes the gate behind you, and you can immediately tell why he had chosen this courtyard out of all the others. It was hidden behind a big wall of concrete that had no windows, so nobody could see you from inside the building, and it was positioned all the way in the back of the court section, meaning it was far more remote and private than the others.

Probably doesn’t want his tough guy image to be hurt when people saw him learning about the Na’vi and chatting with a little scientist, the prick.

The enclosure is a simple little area with a small basketball court, a tetherball pole, and a metal table. Nothing special, but it would be perfect for your lessons. 

He turns around to meet your eyes, and you still have to tilt your head back to return his yellow gaze. The bioluminescent markings on his face glow brightly.  

“You wanna go first, Peach?”

You swallow nervously but nod, “I’ll go first. I thought a lot about what our first lesson was going to be last night.”

You drop down onto the soft faux grass that covered the courtyard, legs crisscross applesauce in front of you as you avoid sitting on your flicking tail. You look up at him expectantly when he continues to stand.

Quaritch looks at the table sitting just a few feet away and shrugs. He plops down onto the grass hesitantly and crosses his legs in front of him the same as you. Now that he’s actually here, all the plans you made completely leave your brain, and you mind turns blank as you struggle to come up with something to say. You both sit there in silence for a few moments before he says,

“So are you actually going to say anything in this lesson or what? Usually I can’t get you quacks to shut the fuck up-”

“Sorry, sorry! I’m just trying to figure out where to start. Um…” Your brain flashes to what Quaritch had said when he started this whole thing, wanting to learn more about the way the Na’vi think, what’s important to them, how they work.

“Okay. Well, I guess the first place to start would be at the very beginning. Millions of years ago, when-”

Quaritch interrupts you with a loud groan, throwing his head back in exasperation, “I’m not askin’ for a history lesson here, Peach. Just tell me about them now, how they operate now, in this time, not millions of years ago! Jesus Christ, you pretentious assholes always have to drag things out-”

“Okay, alright, I’m sorry! Um, so the most important thing to know about the Na’vi is their connection to nature, their connection to Eywa. You’ve heard about Her, right?”

You continue to speak when Quaritch nods. “Right, well, She protects the balance of life here on Pandora, and the Na’vi love Eywa, the Great Mother. All things on Pandora are connected to each other through Eywa; you, me, plants, animals, you name it. Life and the forest are sacred to them because it bonds them to Eywa. They can actually speak to Her, and there are places like the Tree of Souls and the Tree of Voices that are sacred to them. They connect all the Na’vi to Eywa and to their ancestors, and they can actually hear the voices of past living people, isn’t that amazing? Are you with me so far?”

Quaritch nods again, surprisingly quiet. In fact, it’s probably the longest you’ve ever seen him be silent. His face is carefully blank, eyebrows furrowed with some unnamed emotion as he listens to you speak.

And that’s how the next two hours go, you talking and Quaritch listening with rapt attention. You had no idea if what you were talking about was anything Quaritch wanted to hear, but he didn’t interrupt you other than to ask a rare question.  

About an hour in you stood up and stretched, bones popping and limbs aching from sitting on the ground for so long. Your ass was practically numb, and your left leg was stinging with pins and needles. You put your hands on your hips and looked down at Quaritch, who remained sitting on the grass.

For the first time ever, you were actually the one towering over him, and the thought made you grin as he looked up at you.

It seemed he could tell what you were thinking, because he scowled and pulled himself up on his feet, looming over you once more. He stretched his long arms above his head to get the blood flowing back in, groaning just like you had a moment ago.

You paused your own movement, gaze lingering on the way his strong muscles shifted underneath his pretty blue skin. They bunched up as his arms flexed, and your mouth turned dry.

Your eyes flickered over them for a few moments and then shifted to his face. Your stomach swooped low as you realized he had caught you looking, and you stared at him in mortification as his sneering, arrogant smile returned full force to his face. He looked so smug.

You had no idea your Avatar could even blush from embarrassment, but your cheeks burned all the same. You hurriedly turned your gaze away from him entirely, eyes squeezed shut.

He let out a low, unpleasant chuckle, clearly taking immense pleasure in your misery.

Asshole!

You stood for a few more minutes, back facing him as you pretended to examine the sky with incredible interest, waiting for your blush to fade and your stomach to settle. Eventually, you both sat on the grass once again, and you resumed your speech.

You talked about all things Na’vi related, from their connection to Eywa to what they wore, what they ate, their ceremonies, anything that popped into your head that you felt was important to mention.

In the grand scheme of things, you weren’t able to cover very much ground before your two hours were up and your lesson ended for the day.

By this time, Pandora’s light has returned from the eclipse, shining down brightly on both of you.

“So, how did I do?” you dare ask Quaritch.

“Well. Now I know what a Na’vi eats for breakfast, so. That’s something.”

You groan and bury your face in your hands, “I’m sorry, you said you wanted to know what they ate and everything! I promise we’ll eventually get into the more interesting and important things.”

Please don’t put me on toilet duty. I can do this!

Quaritch sighs, but says, “Don’t worry, Peach. We’ll get to the juicier parts someday. Learning to be one’s enemy is a long process, after all.”

He smacks his thighs, and the sound makes you jump, face moving away from your hands. Your nerves reignite in your stomach all over again as you realize it is now time for your lesson.

Why did I ever ask him to do this!? I should never have said anything, now I’m going to be Quaritch’s punching bag for the next few months! Idiot!

A sharp-toothed grin stretches over Quaritch’s face, and he leans in until he’s right in front of you, face close to yours. His yellow eyes bore into yours, and you can see your own terrified expression reflecting right back at you.

“Time for me to teach you, Peach.”

------

 “Alright, Peach. You know how to handle a knife?”

You think about it and shake your head.

“…Okay. Do you know how to throw a punch?”

Again, you shake your head.

Quaritch curses and takes a step back, squeezing his eyes shut and rubbing the middle finger of his right hand between them as if praying for patience.

Both of you are standing in the middle of the small basket court, facing one another. You refuse to feel embarrassed by Quaritch’s reaction to your fighting skills, or lack thereof.

Not everyone can be a terrifying killing machine, asshole!

Quaritch seems to get the patience he was asking for, straightening up with a sigh.

“Back to the basics, then. Jesus.”

He steps up to you and places his warm, large hands on the bare skin of your shoulders. He shuffles you over closer to him, and you go willingly, body tense.

“First step in learning to defend yourself is to not be a pussy.”

Wow. Wonderful advice.

“You need to be firm in your stance and your attack, else your opponent will just be able to knock you off your feet before you can even land a hit. And if your limbs are loose, you’ll lose your balance and go flying just from your own force. Keep your core tight.”

He places a large hand firmly against the bare skin of your stomach and you suck in a surprised breath. His touch tingles through you in a way you’ve never felt before, and you look up at him with wide eyes.

He jerks his hand back and clears his throat. He walks around toward your back, and you can see the veins in his arm shift when his hand flexes by his side.

“When you throw a punch, you need to keep your wrist straight and fully extend your arm each time. Make sure you step like this,” he demonstrates, “and pull your arm like this.”

“Keep your thumb behind your index and middle fingers but out of your fist, don’t stick your pinky out, and you want to hit your opponent with these knuckles right here. Got it?”

You nod slowly, making a fist following his instructions with your right hand. He nods once and then moves in front of you. He lifts his hands in the air, palms facing outward.

“Hit me.”

Already? But I barely even- alright, you know what, I don’t even care anymore.

You shake out your arms self-consciously and try to position your body in the way he had shown you. You pull your arms up, hands folding into fists, stance widening, and you lash your arm out at him with all the strength you can muster.

Your right fist smacks against his open palm with a satisfying thwack, and you grin, tossing your arms above your head at your success.

“Your form was good, Peach, but your fist felt like getting hit with a bug. You need to work on your strength, build up your muscles and your core. Try again.”

You nod, arm flying out and hitting his palm once more.

“No, you need to keep your arm tucked in, not flying out like an idiot bird with a broken wing. Again.”

You hit his hands over and over for the next half an hour as he corrects your form and stance. As he said, you need to build your strength up in this new body, but this was a good start. He has to get in pretty close once again to show you how to move your body, but other than he seems to keep his distance.

You know, this isn’t so bad!

You hit him again a few more times before he nods, satisfied, and drops his arms.

“Now you know how to hit somebody hard, Peach. Always go for sensitive places, like the nose, groin, ears, eyes, kidney, wherever you can reach. Got it?”

You lower your own arms, panting. Reaching out to punch him hadn’t taken much movement from your arms, but doing it over and over again for half an hour made them ache terribly. You struggle to catch your breath.

It had been embarrassing, admittedly, the first few times. You had felt shy and scared all at once, unsure of yourself and uneager to be anywhere near Quaritch, let alone close enough to touch him.

Then you’d lost most of the fear the second time he had lightly smacked your cheek when he got through your defensively positioned arms. They were pretty much love taps, practically pats, but it had lit an angry fire in your stomach. Your uneasiness turned to determination to land at least one hit on him, and you forgot all about your trepidation and that this was Quaritch you were tussling with.

From the way he had grinned and curled his fingers in a ‘come-hither’ gesture, that was probably what he had been trying to do.

He also probably just liked hitting you, the dickbag.

Quaritch nods, and you fully expect him to end the lesson early for the day. What you weren’t expecting was for him to reach down and pull a massive knife from its sheath on his right thigh, bringing it up toward the light for examination.

You lean back quickly, ears flicking to the sides of your head in alarm. You had thought your punching lesson had seemed tame for him! It really wouldn’t surprise you if he decided you needed a lesson on keeping your guard up and lunged at you.  

He won’t stab me, he won’t stab me, he won’t stab me, he won’t stab me-

“This here’s a bowie knife, seventeen inches of serrated steel strong enough to cut through bone.”

He waves it around carefully, smirking at your wide-eyed look of terror.

“And this…” he leans down to put the knife back in its sheath before pulling out something else from a different pocket on his right leg, “This is your knife.”

The little knife is comically small in his giant hand, more of a switchblade than anything else.

“That’ll be the knife you use for the next week at least, so don’t lose it.”

You pluck it from his hand gingerly, fingers folding around the base as you bring it up to your eyes for closer inspection. It looks bigger in your hand than it did in his, and you can see his initials, M.Q, engraved on its tiny metal handle.

Why the hell would a guy as big as Quaritch even need a knife this small? Does he use it as a toothpick?

Nonetheless, you’re glad he didn’t give you anything bigger to use for your first time. You weren’t sure you’d be able to handle it without stabbing yourself.

He shows you how to hold it, how to slash and stab, the proper way to stand and lunge with the little blade.

After another half an hour, he nods.

“Alright, now I want you to try me.” He says, pulling his arms up close to his chest and goading you on once again with a ‘come at me’ curled hand gesture, cocky smirk in place.

You balk. “You want me to charge at you with a knife already? We just got started!”

“Yep, sure did. What, you think you could actually touch me, let alone hurt me with that little thing? Ha!”

You wince. That’s a good point.

You do what he taught you to, adjusting your grip on the blade and positioning your body and feet into the dirt, tightening your core. You take a deep breath, strengthen your muscles, and then leap with a cry.

Quaritch shifts out of the way of your knife quicker than you had yet to see him move, simply stepping to the side with an unsurprised expression.

You go sailing past him, war cry turning panicked. You drop the knife and jerk up your arms to cover your face, turning away and squeezing your eyes shut.

Just as you start tilting toward the dirt, a hand grips the back of the collar of your shirt and pulls you upright before you can even realize you aren’t falling anymore. You remained positioned for impact, hands still in front of your face to cushion your fall even as you stand on your own two feet.

You open your eyes and blink, hands patting down your front as if to make sure no injury had been done to your person.

Quaritch lets go of your collar, knuckles brushing against the sensitive skin of your neck.

“That was fuckin’ pathetic! It was like a wet paper bag was throwin’ itself my way. And where the hell did you learn to cry out like that, ‘cause it was fuckin’ embarrassin’.”

You pay no attention to his harsh words, still stunned you hadn’t face-planted into the dirt for once.

You look up at him, starry-eyed.

“That was amazing, Quaritch! You moved so fast I could barely see you! Have you always been that quick or is it new? Could you teach me how to dodge like that?”

He stares down at you, ears flicking back against the sides of his head. An odd expression crosses his face, almost as though he was taken aback by your wonder.

He clears his throat awkwardly, turning to the side to avoid your strong eye contact.

“That doesn’t matter, not with that pathetic performance. You need ta’ be firm, like I said, and not throwin’ your weight ‘round like a pussy. Come on, do it again.”

You reach down into the dirt to pick up your little knife, and you lunge at him again. He dodges all the same, but you surprise the both of you when you don’t stop, turning around and slashing in his direction.

Of course, the blade doesn’t even touch him, but it’s the thought that counts.

He grins at you, “There you go, Peach! Way to show some initiative, I’ll make a fine soldier out of you yet. Let’s go again, come on.”

And that’s how you end your morning, trying to stab Colonel Miles Quaritch with a knife the size of one of his fingers. You’d have never thought this was where you would be when you met him all those weeks ago, but hey, if learning from him would one day save your life, you’d do it gladly.

By the time two hours have passed, you’re sweating and panting for breath, hands on your knees. Your body was still new, and you hadn’t been in it long enough for you to get past light jogging and reflex training. Honestly, the fact that you were able to do all that moving without collapsing was a god-damn miracle.

You were so much faster in this form, so much more flexible and stronger. Still, that held no comparison to the trained, experienced combat vet you were practically playing with. Because that’s what this would be called, not fighting or even training. It was like playing tag or a slapping game, cause that’s all that happened for the entire lesson.

Quaritch, the fucker, doesn’t have a drop of sweat on him. His chest rose and fell evenly, and he rested one of his hands on the gun holster he had wrapped around his hips.

“You good, Peach? Not going to puke, are ‘ya?” You’d be flattered by his concern for your well-being if it weren’t for the mean, amused tone layering his voice when he spoke.

You stay bent over for a few more moments as you struggle to catch your breath. Eventually, you’re able to rise fully upright. You answer his question, even though you know it was rhetorical,  

“I-I’m good, I think.”

Just as you finish your sentence, your stomach growls angrily, as though enraged at being denied sustenance.

Ugh.

If you weren’t exhausted and beyond caring about what Quaritch thought of you, with your floppy, sweaty form and shitty punches, you would have been embarrassed. Now, though, the only thing you do is pout. Now, you were just a little pissed and tired at getting your ass thoroughly kicked for two hours.

“I’m hungry, can we be finished for the day?”

Quaritch rolls his eyes, unimpressed, but relents.

“Yeah, Peach, we’re done. Let’s get goin’.”

You grin, relieved, and your energy returns just slightly at the thought of lunch. You bound to his side, and he leads the way out of the courtyard and into the space beyond.

The day is in full swing, scientists, soldiers, robots, and trucks all bustling around Bridgehead as you follow Quaritch close on his heels to the mess hall.

You pass by all the tiny little humans, most of whom don’t even spare either of you a glance. Either because they were used to seeing ten-foot-tall Avatars walking around or because they were too busy to give a shit. Probably both, really.

You both have to duck as you walk through the doorway, Quaritch much more than you. You walk over to the table where you had snagged the muffins for breakfast earlier that morning, grabbing three of the sandwiches that were there now instead.

Quaritch grabs six of them, piling them all onto his plate.

You’ve just started scarfing yours down when a large hand whips out across your back, slamming into you. You inhale instinctively and start choking on your food, struggling to breathe. You turn around, fully ready to smash your sandwiches into the face of whichever fucker did that when you see Quaritch’s walking away, waving the spare hand not holding his food up behind him.

“See you ‘round, Peach.”

Oh. Well, at least he said goodbye.

You drink from the water bottle you’d snagged from the mass hall and eat your sandwiches as you walk to the showering station for Avatars. You stay under the pounding warm water longer than you probably should, enjoying the way it soothes the ache in your tense arms and shoulders.

After you’re done washing away the sweat and grime, you head back to the Avatar resting area, ready to be in your own body.

It had taken you a while to learn how to hold onto the brain link connecting your bodies; the first few weeks were the worst when you were learning to hold it longer and longer. Sometimes it would break, and you would slam back into your human body with a gasp, disoriented and head pounding.

Now, though, you were much better at holding onto the link for longer periods, even if it still gave you a headache.

You settle back into the pillows, closing your eyes and letting your mind go blank.

------

When you wake up in your human body, it always feels stuffy, not right, like you’re being squeezed into a tube. Your mouth is always cottony, too, and even though your body was simply laying down like you were asleep, your bones always ache when you get up as if you’ve been doing jumping jacks for however long you were in there.

You step out of the link bed, stretching your arms above your head and groaning. Tom is no longer in the linking center, but you didn’t expect him to be when there were others milling about who could watch over you.

You stand up and wobble a little bit, dizzy. Once it passes and you’re sure you can walk without smacking into anything, you make your way back toward your room, fully intent on sleeping for the rest of the afternoon before the conference in the evening.

Just as you leave the linking center, Margot runs into you, hair wild and eyes a little bit crazy. She grabs onto your shoulders, shaking you back and forth lightly. You let her do whatever she wants, beyond caring.

“How did it go? Did he yell at you, did he flirt any? Ooh, did he smack your ass-? Hey!”

You shake her hands off, walking past her with a roll of your eyes.

“Jesus Christ Margot, you really need to get laid.”

She groans, following after you with quick steps, waving her arms around as she says, “I know! There’s just no one I’ve seen that I’m interested in, so I have to live through you and your sexy romance with Colonel Quaritch-”

You halt, turning around to grab her shoulders. You’re the one shaking her back and forth this time.

“Listen, Margot, there is nothing going on with Quaritch and me at all, nothing sexy, nothing flirty! We literally just met like two days ago, and he’s hated me ever since! Now stop saying stuff like that, or he’s going to overhear us, again, and kill us both. Okay? Okay.”

Margot whines, “Oh, but maybe there could be! If you were just a little less uptight and he was a little less homicidal, you guys could totally get together. I mean, you can’t deny that he might be interested, right? I totally saw the way he was looking at you yesterday!”

“Yeah, he was looking at me like he wanted to wrap his hands around my throat.”

“Kinky.”

“No, Margot, not kinky! More like murderous! You’re starting to sound crazy, Margot, you’ve gotta do something before you start humping anything that moves.”

Margot blushes, finally feeling some sort of shame, and she nods, “Yeah, you’re right, I’m sorry. I’m just so pent-up, honey. Ugh! Okay, I’m going to try to relax somewhere, get outta my head for a little bit. I’ll see you tonight, okay?”

You pat her shoulder and say, “See you then, Margot.”

She gives you one last smile before she’s off, bounding down the hallway. You shake your head in fond exasperation, now even more tired than before, and walk back to your room. You adored Margot, loved her, but sometimes her exuberance made your head pound.

You unlock your door, kick off your shoes, and toss yourself onto the unmade sheets of your bed. One last thought floats through your mind just before you drift off to sleep.  

Maybe mornings with Quaritch won’t be as bad as I thought.

peachy keen. Part Two

[scarletwinterxx]

I choose you and me religiously - joshua hong imagine

istg every love song i hear, he's the only one i can think of. i'm in my joshua brain rot era and i'm loving every second of it😭😭

for my other joshua fics, check them here

if you want, u can buy me coffee(totally optional but any donation is very much appreciated!) thank you🥺💛

All works are copyrighted ©scarletwinterxx 2024 . Do not repost, re-write without the permission of author.

(gif not mine, credits to rightful owner)

"This is so not fair"

"What?" your boyfriend blinks back at you with his doe eyes, knowing full well what this does to you

"You can't use that every time you're trying to win, Josh" you grumble, hitting him playfully with a pillow. He blocks it with his arm, laughing at your annoyed but cute expression, clearly he's having more fun than you.

There are so many things Joshua does that makes your knees go weak. The moment you met him you knew you were in deep deep trouble. It was hard not to get swayed while staring in his eyes when they say so much.

Even before, you can never keep eye contact with him because if you do you'd end up a blushing mess. His eyes confessed to you first, and you stared right back getting lost along side him.

Your relationship with him is like those cliche movies and cute scenes in books you only dreamt of happening to you, then along came him and made those into reality.

Like how can you not think he's the cutest human ever when he made a beaded bracelet with his number on it and gave it to you because he was too shy and too much of a gentleman to ask, how he held pinkies with you on your first date while walking around the park, or how he giggled (yes, this man straight up giggled) the first time you kissed.

Every thing he does is an arrow shot straight to your heart. He might not be aware of it but he got you on the palm of his hand. You can't even argue with him because the moment you see his sad eyes and pouty lips, you're already waiving the white flag.

You thought it would be scary for someone to have this much power over you, but not Joshua. He's honest, gentle and kind through and through. In a world of boys, he really is the gentleman.

He never did anything to make you feel uncomfortable or angry or upset, sure there are little arguments here and there but he will never let a day end without making sure you two are okay.

Most often you would say he's too kind for this world, all you get is a shake of his head and a smile. It's just who is he is. Not a single mean bone in his body. You would fight the world for him, always his number one defender and he loves that about you.

Why would he care if the world was mean to him when he got you on his side?

That's all that matters to him anyways.

"Do you ever get angry?" you ask

"Of course, I do" he answer with a chuckle, prompting you to raise your brow at him

"I've never seen you angry, is that a bad sign? They say you should see your partner angry to see that side of them or whatnot"

"I just never find any reason to be. I feel upset, I do. But then I resolve it. It takes too much energy to be angry, life's too short for that don't you think"

"Okay but like what if someone insults you?" you prod

"Do they know me?" he asks back "Just hypothetically"

"But like what's the scenario" "Oh come on, indulge me for a moment will you" you say, getting annoyed at your boyfriend but he just laughs. You always look cute when he annoys you, wishing he could keep you in his pocket all the time.

"Okay let's change it then, let's say we're walking out at night and someone says something about me-" "Well that's different, darling. They won't even finish the sentence, I'm already walking up to them" he cuts you off, even though it's just a made up scenario he already feels a bit mad at the thought of someone disrespecting you

"And what? Fight them?"

He doesn't say anything for a while, staring back at you like he's making you read his mind. Then he pulls you by the arm until you're cuddled against him.

"They can hurt me any way they want, I can handle that. But you, I'd lose my mind if anything happens to you. I can't even imagine it, it's making me mad"

Looking up at him, you see the change in his expression "Oh love, I didn't mean to upset you. Sorry" you mumble, smoothing the crease in between his brows

"No need to be sorry, it's the truth. I treat you with nothing but love and respect, I can't have some stranger treat you any less"

Your lips immediately form a pout when you hear his words. Your sweet sweet boy.

"You really love me huh" you whisper

He looks down at you, his expression quickly changes when he sees your cheeks squished against his chest and the cute pout on your lips. Like a little cute dumpling.

Leaning down to give your cheek a few pecks, "A little bit more than how much you love me"

You laugh at that, you never doubted your feelings about him. You know you love him so much, every single cell in your body knows that. "Sounds impossble"

"Oh you disagree? Lovely, we can sit here all day and talk about all the things I love about you. I can go on and on and on"

"Okay okay fine I get it, I thought you don't like arguing" you tease him

"I like arguing with you like this because I know I'll win"

"Okay Mr. Confident"

"I'm only telling the truth. Look me in the eyes and tell me I'm wrong" this time he's he one teasing, knowing full well you're weak for his stare

"Not fair, you can look at me and I'd say yes to anything"

"Anything?"

You pinch his side, earning a yelp and a laugh from your boyfriend. Then he hugs you again, holding your hand his time so you don't get any ideas.

"Want to know something? I feel the same, the moment you looked at me I knew I was going to be yours for the rest of this lifetime" he whispers

He tucks your hair behind your ears to see you eyes more, leaning down again to give your nose a peck "You had me the moment we met"

You smile at him before stretching your head to meet your lips with his, feeling him smile during the kiss. You don't say anything, you just let him feel all the emotions that are too big for any word in any language.

Exchanging I love you's through kisses.

[barleyo]

Hii! Merry Christmas<3 Can I request some nsfw for sir nighteye please? He works late and doesn’t get home until really late at night and the reader is kinda sad because they’re lonely without him. Ty :))

All I Want For Christmas.

Sir Nighteye x F! Reader (smut)

A/N: As you can probably tell, I got the request last year during Christmas. Shame on me for taking so long, I truly apologize. You can beat me up if you wish, anon, I wouldn't blame you </3 (also if you noticed re-used writing of mine from other fics in this... mind your business)

Word Count: 1.4k

Tags: Nighteye's real name used, smut, p, handjobs, oral (f receiving), established relationship

The holidays were always hard. Mirai was dedicated to his job, being Sir Nighteye and all, even as the winter months approached. He never forgot about them, per se, but he never made much room for them. He tried to get off of work earlier when he met you, making sure that he would at least see you before you went to bed every night. A call, a text, anything. He did his best, but no matter how hard he tried, work was his driving force in life.

You tried to not let it bother you, you knew the hardships that came with being with a pro hero. You kept that thought in your head as you stood near the oven, bending down to shove your last batch of cookies in. 

You had been baking the whole day in preparation for Christmas. Hoping that Mirai would join you, you had an apron sitting on the dining room table for him, but that hope had faded out at around 9:30 P.M. when you realized it would be another late night of work for him. Your hands trembled a bit, the heat of the pans seeping through your old, worn oven mitts as you transferred a hot tray to your makeshift cookie decoration station.

You slapped icing on the warm cookies, blowing on them as the sweet frosting melted off of the tops. Your table had become cluttered and messy, with icing, sprinkles, flour, and crumbs dusting the tablecloth. 

“Damn it,” you mumbled, slipping your thumb into your mouth after catching a scoop of icing on it. You took a whole cookie, hands fidgeting at its warmth as you struggled to hold it, and took a bite, trying to enjoy yourself as much as you could, despite your husband's absence.

“They look nice.”

“Hmph?" You spun around quickly, hand wiping quickly at the crumbs on your lips. Your eyes relaxed when you noticed the familiar green tufts of hair and golden eyes before you. “Yeah, I’ve been making them all day.” She held back from adding 'no thanks to you' at the end of her sentence.

“Do you need any help? I don’t have to go into the office tomorrow. I can help out for as long as you need me to tonight.” Mirai offered his hand out to you, but let it fall down to his side when you coldly turned away from him.

“Most of the work is done already, I don’t think I need your help.” You winced at her own words, feeling the venom they were laced with. “I think you should just head to bed. I can handle this."

His stoney face didn’t budge, he clearly wasn’t satisfied with your answer. “I’m sure you can, but I’d like to help you. I enjoy spending time with you, doing things that you enjoy.” Rolling up his sleeves, he began clearing the table of the cookie cutters and mixing bowls, placing them softly in the sink. “I will wash those later, do not worry.” 

You ignored his words and tried to urge him away again. “Aren’t you tired from work? I really think you should go to sleep. Working for so long just to come home and do more work can't be healthy.”

“Is that what this is about then? Me working so long?”

“No, it’s not. And there is no ‘this,’ nothing is going on,” you scoffed, dripping more red icing onto a stray cookie.

There was silence for a moment before you felt arms wrap around your waist, firm but gentle. You placed the icing bag down on the table and tried to look, but your neck couldn’t crane far enough to see him. He slouched down, resting his head on your shoulder.

“I have been neglecting you, haven’t I?”

“Mirai, no, it’s not like that, I know your job is Important. I can’t imagine how hard it is to be a hero, but I just wish…” your voice fizzled out a bit when his large hands started to travel up and down your body, stopping at your chest momentarily.

“That I’d make more time for you? I hear you, dear. I’m not being fair, am I? Here you are, doing all of this alone, and during the holidays. Leaving you alone at a time like this isn’t considerate. Leaving you alone at all isn’t right on my part.”

He licked a stripe over your neck, sucking on the spot softly. His teeth edged the skin, leaving a small purple mark on it. After examining it once more, he let go of you and spun your body around to face him.

“I know you’ve missed me,” Mirai said softly, “I’ve missed you too. Being with you, feeling you, all of it. Can I show you how much I’ve missed you?” 

You nodded, wrapping your arms around his neck. “Please.”

He used his long, thin fingers to untie the knot at the back of your apron, shooting it down to the floor. He made quick work of your pants too, leaving only your shirt on.

Before he touched you, you quickly made your move and unbuckled his belt, slipping his cock out swiftly.

Giving a few, testing strokes, you held as much of his cock that she could manage in your fist. You went fast, tip to base, knowing he would want to stop to please you instead. He shuttered a bit, hips threatening to snap into your hand. 

“You spoil me," he said softly into your ear, jaw tensing with each stroke, "but right now is not about me. I want to apologize to you, to make you feel good. Let me.” 

You didn't let go, instead you focused on the head of his cock, rolling it in your hands. “Not until you cum. I've waited too long for this."

Mirai took a breath through his nose and huffed at you. "Fine." 

He stopped holding his composure and let himself sink into the pleasure that your hand provided. He could cum quite quick if he let himself go, but his tense nature let him last quite a while in other circumstances. 

His breathing went ragged and sharp. He brought his hips back and forth, fucking into your hand desperately. He pulled your hand off of his dick before he could cum, not honoring your little agreement.

"Hey, you promised," you whined, frustration crossing your face while you looked up at him.

"I know. I am such a liar, aren't I?" His breathy laugh fanned your face, and the small smile he flashed was enough to erase any anger you had in that moment.

He placed his hand gently on your face, tipping your head to look up at him.  "Do you want my mouth, or do you want me to fuck you?"

"Your mouth." You felt his hands manhandle you upwards, placing your body on the table behind you.

"Good. I always like when you choose that option."

His mouth made quick work, tongue already gliding small circles around your clit. 

"Stop moving," he said, pressing his tongue flatly on your mound. Your legs kept pressing together, as if you were trying to push him away. He slipped one hand between your thighs and forcefully held them apart. 

His large tongue slid through your wet folds, slowly teasing through, from your entrance to her pulsing clit. He stopped at your clit again and clasped his lips around it, sucking on the tender bud. He let  dribbles of spit fall from his mouth onto your cunt, only slurp it back up again to keep you wet and messy.

Not hesitating, you reached your hand down and gripped his hair, holding him in place, and rolled your hips onto his face. 

He didn't mind, simply letting a soft laugh escape his lips. It was cute, the way you took what you wanted from him. 

Your legs stuttered as you moved, twitching while moans caught in your throat. Your hands still pushed his face into your cunt. The feeling of his nose nudging your clit sent you over the edge. A sweet wave crashed over you, making you practically vibrate with pleasure.

After your grip on his hair loosened, your husband stood up and looked down at you, eyes peeking past his fogged up glasses.

"So, do you think you can forgive me now?" 

You rolled your eyes at the smirk that played on his lips and shook your head. Rolling over, you pushed your ass up against the tent in his boxers. 

"Not yet."

[stardancerluv]

What the Emperor Wants

Part Two

Notes/Warnings: We’ll see this where it goes. Did a few re-writes…

Mentions of ownership, nudity, dominate behavior

You trembled as the footfalls drew closer. You mumbled a prayer almost as fast heart thudded in your chest.

They had cleared out the room of the other girls you shared the space with. You wished on some level at least Atilia was there. She is the eldest out of all of them, very supportive. She had taught you what had been needed to serve the brother emperors. The last year had felt like several.

With a ramble of voices, the door creaked and groaned open. You kept your head down cast and hands behind your back.

“There you are.” Rasped a voice.

You inhaled but didn’t look up. You were utterly at a loss of how to react to your emperor.

His chuckle bounced off the walls.

“Despite slipping glances at me during the gladiators combating or I dare say during fights of beasts and yet now, you don’t look at me now.”

“May I look at you sire?” You whispered.

“No.” He chuckled louder.”

You bit the inside of your cheek.

“No, you can. I need to watch you.”

You blinking you finally looked up at him.

“As you wish.”

With the candle light flickering on his crown that sat on top of his curls to the folds of the soft fabrics that wound and hung off his strong frame he looked far taller here then ever before. You swallowed.

“Hold out your hands.”

You did as he said.

“Turn them over.” He nodded. “Have you washed today?”

“Yes. Twice.”

His eyes grew. “Twice?”

“Once upon waking since I would serve you and Carcalla today. And some moments ago, since I heard you would be arriving.”

A small smile crept up one side of his face. “That’s good.” He paused. His eyes moving across you. He gestured to your robes. “Take those off.”

Your heart stilled.

“Do not make me ask again.”

You pressed your lips together. Soon you undid the knots that held the fabrics together.

“There you are. As nude as goddess Venus.”

You could feel a soft breeze around you as he moved around you. He cast you in and out of the candle light.

“I am sure she is pleased with your form as am I.” He said he stood before you once again.

You bowed your head at his kind words.

As soft warmth filled you, your eyes watered. Never would you have ever expected that you would receive a compliment from your emperor.

“Thank you, sire.”

“Have you ever been with a man?”

Blinking, your tears clung to your lashes. “Sire?”

“Have you allowed a man to penetrate you?”

His mouth took a thin line, his face tight.

You took a step back, a chill ran down your back. You shook your head.

A startled scream remained in your throat so you could only gasp as a cool hand took a hold of your jaw. He tilted your face up.

“Answer me. I do not like waiting.”

A tear that lingered from the warmth he had just created in you fell from an eye.

“No sire. I have not.”

His hand just as quickly slipped free of you.

“Good.” He gestured to your clothes. “Put those on.”

You hastily slipped them around your form. Just before you could tie the fabric he stopped you. With a quick work of his rather nimble, slender fingers he fastened a broach. His initials were engraved on it.

“You are now mine, you belong to me.”

You swallowed.

@amethyst-serenade

[joeyalohadream]

I was rereading the cooler fic last night (for the 1000th time) and i was wondering if there was a line or a few lines u could share from part 2 and how its coming along! (No intention to put pressure or anything at all) I adore ur writing 🩷🩷🩷🩷

Hi, anon!

Endlessly flattered that you've re-read it so many times!

Small WIP update: I threw out my back at work yesterday and am laid up for a few days. I'm feeling motivated and hoping to use the fact that I can't move much as an opportunity to write a lot!

But here's a small snippet from Part Two to wet your whistle while you wait for me to finish:

“What is it?” He watches as Gale picks at the cuticles around his thumbnail. It strikes him suddenly that the grime under Gale’s nails has been there for a while. It was there when he’d held those trembling fingers in his own the night before, which means it had probably been there since he’d been in isolation. Gale, who has been meticulous about cleanliness, about order and neatness since the moment he met him, is looking down at his dirty hands and he’s not bothered by them. The subtle changes Bucky has been noticing in his demeanor over the last twenty-four hours are starting to pile up.  He’d poked fun at Gale about his almost obsessive need to be hygienic a few months into their confinement. In one of his darker moments, it had made him angry watching Gale act as if such an unimportant thing mattered when they were suspended in such a meaningless state of inactivity. It hurts to remember the way Gale had shrugged off his harsh admonishment of this aspect of his character, not pushing back, just accepting the new normalcy of Bucky being subtly cruel. Right now, he wishes he could go back in time to their moment in the washroom and scrub the dirt from under each of Gale’s fingernails. Wishes he could help give him back something that seems to have been stolen from him in the recent weeks. He takes advantage of their solitude and reaches over the table to grasp Gale’s cold fingers, halting the abuse he had been dolling out on his delicate skin. “Talk to me, Buck. Something’s bothering you.” Red-rimmed blue eyes meet his and a small smirk plays over his lips. “A lots bothering me today, Bucky.” He gives the fingers in his a slight squeeze and the man they belong to a small smile. Between the cold and the hunger and the pain and the sickness, he knows that. But he also knows that there is something else, something maybe he could fix faster than those other ailments. “It’s stupid.” Gale sighs and shakes his head. “Let me be the judge of that.” “It’s selfish,” Gale shifts his gaze to their hands and hunches down in his chair. Bucky frowns at the top of his head. “You don’t have a selfish bone in your body, Buck.” Bucky wishes he did sometimes, because maybe then Gale wouldn’t feel the need to sacrifice his well-being so often. Gale stays silent but Bucky can see his jaw working, knows he’s contemplating his words and deciding whether or not he’s going to share them. “Please,” he leans over the table at the same time he pulls on Gale’s hand, lets his lips brush the cold skin over his knuckles. He smiles again, keeping his face open when those beautiful eyes rise to meet his again. “Before I went in,” Gale starts, voice low, pained. “You weren’t doing well.” Bucky winces internally at the understatement but stays silent, willing Gale to continue. “I tried to give you space and keep you close at the same time. But the only times I felt like you were really with me were when we were in our bunk. And some nights not even then.” Guilt is a vice around Bucky’s heart at the hurt in Gale’s voice. “You wouldn’t talk to the guys or help out or even get outta bed somedays.” Gale pauses, takes a shuddering breath that turns into a harsh cough that he turns into his own shoulder. Bucky looks on, helpless and feeling raw. It takes a minute for Gale to gain his composure and catch his breath enough to continue. “But now, you’re like the old you,” Gale clears his throat and looks back down at the table. “The way the guys were talking to you last night and this morning, I can tell you’ve been like that for a while now.” Bucky thinks back to the slow crawl he made through the metaphorical muck in his mind to get back to himself, to be what the men needed, to be what Gale would need when he finally came back to him. “It’s like I went away, and you got better,” Gale practically grinds the words out, voice whisper soft and Bucky’s heart breaks.

[marchsfreakshow]

Blood and Organs, For You [James Patrick March]

Angst.

What a life. For a Repo man. Such anger and hatred he holds for the one he misses.

Dead reader. I practically ripped off Repo! The Genetic Opera for this fic, because I thought it would suit James.

I re-watched and re-listened to Repo! A lot for this but it's fine cause I love it.

No one's perspective

⊹˚.⋆ ₊꒷ᘏᘏ︶ଓ︶꒷꒦⊹˚ᗢ₊꒷︶ଓ︶꒷

What a living job, only to never be thanked.

Never have the correct payment for his work. Never for his face to be recognised. Never to be known. Never. Oh if only you could come back to him. If only he made the correct choice.

What a stupid man James was.

Picking his unborn child over you. A rash decision which haunted him for 17 years. She was a pretty girl, stuck in her room while her father did nothing but cut up bodies and repossess organs for those who couldn't pay their debts. She didn't know. She couldn't know. James wouldn't live with himself if she knew his true job. She rarely strayed from her bedroom window, watching seasons and stars flow by.

He couldn't bring himself to hate his daughter. He couldn't. In the moment he thought he made the correct choice. Leaving you for dead; his bride and the sweetest one by his side. Stupid man! James needed you now more than ever. He prayed to an unloving and uncaring god for you to be brought back to him, in any way possible. His daughter was only half you, barely even you. He blinked and she was smiling sweetly at him as a little girl, taking her medicine. He blinked and she was a 17-year-old wishing for freedom outside of her little bubble in her room.

His money was only ever worth so much when his real payment should've been going back to when you got sick. Going back to refusing to take that 'cure'. Oh, James was a fool. You were perfect. You were wonderful, you were his. His wonderful wife, and an ideal lady next to his side. Watching him do his job as a doctor. If only he had known. If only he had known the cure was poison from his friend. It was a harsh memory. A harsh thrust into the memories of your screams, and your cries. "Darling..." His voice was weak as he whispered out for no one. Right now, this repo man couldn't face his daughter. He couldn't call for anyone else.

Those holograms of your, gorgeous, beautiful face. Always around the house. So he could pray to your beauty every moment he could. Yet his daughter never felt the same. She resented you. Only slightly. You gave her this blood disease! You caused her to be isolated from the world! Your damn blood. Why'd James have to be so stupid? Why'd he have to pick incorrectly?

Oh right.

You were half dead anyway.

You were practically done for. But James told them all she died with you. He wanted so desperately to be a hero. That's all he wanted. To save you, make you and your child live.

He couldn't do this anymore.

But he had to. He had to continue. Faking a search for a cure.

It was all fruitless in the end. It was just proven worthless. He was baited by his work to find someone behind on their payments. Yet, the one behind the door was...his daughter. That wasn't right. It couldn't've been right. Oh god.

If only he had made the right choice...

⊹˚.⋆ ₊꒷ᘏᘏ︶ଓ︶꒷꒦⊹˚ᗢ₊꒷︶ଓ︶꒷

Tag: @babygorewhore @taintandviolent @oceanblvd111 / @nahoyasboyfriend @slutforgarlogan @briaroftheroses / @am3ricanh0rrorwh0re @evanpeterspeter @feefymo / @starry-eyed-wild-child @fear-is-truth

[kayann9]

Hope is a dangerous game

Thank you so much to anyone who read the last one shot! I really appreciate anyone who took the time to read, like or re-blog!

This is mainly from Gale's P.O.V just before Shadow-cursed Lands and his confession. Nothing explicit; just fluff. Tav (f -Serena) X Gale. 1057 words and I do not own anything other than Serena :)

Gods she was beautiful.

Gale’s brain let the thought roam free, the urge he’d had to reign it in when the dark magic coursing through his veins heaved had vanished. He watched her train with abandon and revelled in the fact he could glance in her direction without the guilt and concern that doing so would end their lives.

He had noted that beauty when she’d dragged him out of the portal.

The type of grace that elves possessed was a magic unto itself, but she was spectacular. The others had made the same eyes at her that he had; his incessant babbling about his life in Waterdeep and tales of misbegotten adventures as a youth had been his weapons in the war for her attention.

“Your flank. It’s always the flank!” Karlach’s voice boomed as it broke his silent reverie. “You know, I will always watch your back Ren but sooner or later you’re going to feel the point of a sword there.”

“I’m left-handed! It’s hard.”

Serena was left-handed. Of course, she was. Gale had spent his time studying her since he’d decided he’d have to keep away from her, since the night of magic happened, and he’d seen that thought whirring in her brain. He’d worked out that she liked the outdoors, that she enjoyed the sound of water, she was better at cards than she told anyone – often faking poor hands and bluffs - and that when she was happy, genuinely so, she smiled with her whole face. This was one of those times and far from the usually clench of agony in his chest, it was just his heartbeat throbbing away at the sight of the brightness in her eyes.

It was a different kind of feeling.

There was no anxiety around her. There were no knots in his stomach when he looked at her; just the feeling of warmth. The feeling of not wanting to wait until she spoke to him or looked at him again. He didn’t question that she was fond of him, whilst their relationship had not been spoken out loud, their glances and touches were the most intimate he’d ever felt.

He was falling in love with her.

He was in love with her.

And wasn’t that the cruellest joke of them all.

His Mother would have been thrilled if he’d spoken to her and told her of Serena; intelligent, brave, beautiful, good. She’d been no fan of his special relationship with Mystra; no fan of his designs of wanting more than mortality. This, this she would have been ecstatic about.

And he wouldn’t ever be able to tell her.

Because it wouldn’t be anything more than a blip in time; maybe a moment before his destruction. His Mother would never know about how he’d met someone who made his heart sing; who laughed at his stories, genuinely and with heart; who made fun out of him with a soft glance.

He supposed the real question was would he even be able to tell Serena?

Would it be fair?

One part of him screamed to do it; to take her away to a secluded spot, show her the heavens and then some, tell her how if it were the real world and if he were at home, in his cluttered tower, he would’ve taken all the time in the world to do this right. He’d have taken her out, showed her any realm she wished to see, taken her to any place she had wished to visit.

Then there was the other part. The part that couldn’t forget the orb despite its silence. The part that reminded him how selfish that would be when he knew what the outcome was: oblivion.

And that was if she was even receptive to the whole idea. It hadn’t been lost on him that they were from different worlds; hers filled with blood and steel, his filled with mysticism and power. It was possible he’d read the whole thing wrong. That her glances were that of sympathy and pity not wanting and compassion.

He groaned and pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes.

It was all so complex.

It was all so human.

“You look a million miles away.” He startled as she sat beside him. “I’m tired of my flank being told off so I am having a break.”

Sweat beaded along her brow, her skin flushed with the heat. She glowed. “Just lost in thought. Your flank looked good to me.” As the words left his mouth, his brain caught up.

“I am very glad to have you watching my flank.” Her shoulder knocked into his, that familiar teasing tone had been slowly creeping back since Elminster’s visit. “Maybe you should go and spar with her, I can watch your flank too.”

He didn’t flush, for that he was grateful.

“I’m not sure sword fighting is my forte. A wise man knows him limitations and using an executioner’s axe is most definitely mine, especially if you want me to keep my hands. Very difficult to cast the array of spells at my arsenal without them.”

“I am almost positive they have much better uses than simply casting spells.”

Gale’s heart stuttered. This was definitely a flirtation. It was one of her more obvious ones. While he had tormented himself about all the outcomes, the more impulsive part of him couldn’t help but lean into her: messy hair sitting on her damp skin, rosy glow of her face in the evening light.

“Oh, really?”

Serena was so fast that he barely had chance to register, entwining her fingers in his. “Oh, most definitely.” Her voice lowered to a whisper and he couldn’t help but glance around the wide space, checking to make sure he had not actually succumbed to death, and this was some sordid fantasy he’d spent weeks pushing away.

Her breath tickled his cheek, her lips close to his ear.

“You… are also an excellent cook.” The giggle brought him back to reality and before he could register his disappointment, she planted the lightest kiss on his cheek before dancing away.

His skin tingled with the faintest ghost of her lips.

His soul tingled with faintest glimmer of hope.

For the first time, in what felt like an eternity, the tiniest gleam of a new voice in his head whispered: maybe she will find another way.

[coffeeghoulie]

got a feeling inside that i can't domesticate

surprise! secret sixth chapter/epilogue of Eternal Heatstroke! (though you don't have to have read that to read this lol)

3.2k of Swiss and Aeon getting their well-earned rest after the end of the Re-Imperatour, with bonus fire ghoul courting rituals, mild miscommunication, and Aether and Dew giving each other Looks about the new lovebugs.

Title from Bishops Knife Trick by Fall Out Boy

this one goes out to @ghuleh-recs, wishing her a very happy birthday!

Aeon's not quite sure what day it is.

They had come home after months and months on the road, the Re-Imperatour done some time ago. Dew had barreled off of the bus, nearly tackling a waiting Aether to the ground, Sunny had been successfully tackled by the three other ghoulettes, and Mountain and Rain had greeted their packmates, giving them tight hugs before promptly retreating to the forest and the lake respectively.

Swiss and Aeon had stepped off the bus together, fingers still laced together, heading straight for the ghoul dorms through the marble hallways of the Abbey. The soles of their boots echoed through the empty halls, the clergy and siblings gone to celebrate Papa's return and the end of a successful tour.

"I'm a ghoul of my word, bug," Swiss leaned down to whisper in their good ear. "Straight to bed with us. I'm going to make you the best nest you've ever slept in, I swear to Belial."

Aeon laughed, fishing in their jeans pocket for the key Aether gave them on their very first day Up Top six and a half months ago. "That's not a high bar," they cackled, checking him with their shoulder.

"Still," he grinned. "You wanna grab your bedding from your room or do you just want to use mine?"

They pulled out their key, readjusting the strap of their duffle bag on their shoulder with a shrug. "I'll grab mine too." Swiss lit up, grin sun-bright

The two stopped in front of the plain door that leads to the room Aether had showed them to that first night. Aeon took a moment to fumble with the lock, refusing to let go of Swiss's hand. The door swung open, hinges creaky with months of disuse. The room was just as plain as it was before they left, and Aeon itched to rearrange the furniture, make it a little more theirs now that they were confident that this wasn't a temporary thing.

Reluctantly, Aeon let go of Swiss's hand, but instead of going to their bed, they felt Swiss's gaze on their back as they ducked under their desk, scooping up all of their sheets and blankets and pillows. "Baby," the multighoul said, and Aeon straightened, barely able to see over the pile of bedding in their arms. His tone was devastating, soft and almost sad.

"Yeah?"

"Were you sleeping under your desk?"

Aeon shifted the pile of fabric and took a step back as they took in Swiss's expression. His eyes went soft, but a deep frown lined his face. They cocked their head. "Yeah?"

"Oh, baby," he said again with that same sad tone. "Sweetheart."

"What?" Aeon said, kicking their door shut as they came back to him.

Swiss shook his head, taking a deep breath. "You need help locking up? Or help carrying that?"

"I got it, thanks," they said, shuffling their bedding into one arm as they fit the key in the lock again. They couldn't take Swiss's hand again, but they stood as close as they could to make up for it as they headed down the hall to his room.

Swiss had a much easier time getting his door unlocked, holding it open for Aeon as he ushered them inside. "Just dump those on my bed, alright, baby?"

Aeon nodded, setting the sheets down on his neatly made bed. Without the pile of fabric blocking their view, Aeon took a look at Swiss's room as the multghoul flicked on a string of soft lights, dropping his duffle bag on his desk chair.

It's much more lived in that Aeon's, which made sense, Aeon supposed. He'd been Up Top for far longer than they had. There were shelves of books and records that lined his walls, a guitar not unlike the one he played on tour mounted above his desk. There was a hanging plant near the window, curtains open and letting in the light, illuminating the dust particles floating in the air.

Swiss sighed as he kicked off his boots. "Finally. Home at fucking last."

Aeon carefully followed suit, taking off their own boots and tucking their duffle bag in the corner.

The multighoul opened his dresser, rummaging through it until he hummed victoriously, pulling out two pairs of sweatpants and a pair of shirts. "I'm gonna change and get you a nest made," he said. "If you want to shower, feel free."

Aeon nodded, eyes suddenly incredibly heavy. They wandered over to the wingback chair by the window, curling up against the cushion as Swiss handed them one of the shirts and pairs of pants. They thought about showering, blinking slowly as they felt the soft, worn fabric in their hands. Aeon shook their head, standing and changing into the offered clothes. They smelled like him.

Swiss's lips quirked up in a smile as he quickly changed, turning to arrange his and Aeon's bedding into, as promised, the best nest. He straightened, a satisfied smile on his face. "You wanna shut the curtains for me, baby?" he asked.

They nodded, pulling the black out curtains shut, casting the room in darkness with the exception of the string lights above Swiss's double bed. He settled into the nest, patting the space next to him. "As promised, buggy," he said, teeth glinting as he grinned in the low light.

Aeon returned his grin, crawling into Swiss's nest, plastering themself to his side between him and the wall. The nest was softer than anything Aeon had ever felt before, sinking into a carefully arranged pile of sheets and blankets and pillows. Swiss curled his hands around their biceps, pulling them flush against him.

They let out a little "oof" when their chests collided, both of them staring in silence for a moment before they burst into laughter.

"So," Swiss crooned, nosing at their cheek as they laughed. "Is this the best nest you've ever had or what?"

Aeon's nose crinkled up, cheeks dimpling with their laughter. "Oh yeah," they laughed. "'S really soft." They noticed their words beginning to slur, eyes growing heavy.

"And there's the crash," Swiss said, yawning. He carded his fingers through their hair, Aeon keening at the touch. "Sleep as long as you need."

It's warm, and soft, and now that they'd finally stopped moving, Aeon realized that Swiss was right, drifting off to sleep.

They don't leave the nest for hours. Or it could be days. With the curtains drawn, Aeon's not sure. Sometimes they wake, still held fast against Swiss's form. Their hands settle on the back of his neck, playing with the ends of his locs subconsciously. Sometimes Swiss wakes, and even in their sleep, Aeon can feel his blunt, glamoured fingertips carding through their hair, tracing patterns against their spine.

And sometimes they wake together, only getting up to use the bathroom, to raid the ghoul kitchen for snacks and water, dried fruit and nuts and the single serving bags of Dew's favorite spicy chips, before retreating back to the nest. They'll pay for that particular transgression later, but Aether and Dew's door hasn't opened once since the band returned to the Abbey, so they're not particularly worried.

For now, Aeon lets Swiss keep his word, keeping them in his bed, safe in his nest, and Aeon drinks it up. The smell of him is much stronger here, and Aeon spends long moments with their face buried in his chest, his shirt, his bedding.

"Can you even breathe like that, bug?" Swiss laughs, hand caressing the back of their neck. Aeon doesn't raise their head to answer, mumbling into his chest. Swiss hums, ducking down to press a kiss between their horns, and Aeon chuffs happily, if not half-asleep.

"There we go, sweetheart," he whispers, shifting until he's on his back, Aeon curled up on his broad chest. They chuff again, already slipping back into sleep, their body making up for all of the sleepless nights they spent on the road.

The creak of the door handle startles them awake next. Aeon pushes themself upright, lips peeled back in a terrified snarl as the door pushes open slowly. The sudden movement and noise wakes Swiss, as light from the hallway pools into his room, lighting the dim space.

It barely takes half of a second for Swiss to register the open door, the budding tinge of terror on Aeon's scent, before he's shoving them off of him, sitting up between them and the door. He reaches behind him, fingers curling in the fabric of Aeon's borrowed shirt. A deep growl bubbles up in his chest, and Aeon's never heard him make a sound quite like that.

But Aeon sees the glowing pairs of purple and copper eyes silhouetted by the hall light, and Dew clears his throat as he and Aether look in. "Quit fucking growling, asshole, s'just us," he says, scoffing, even though Aeon can hear the worry seeping through his tone.

Swiss has the wherewithal to at least look sheepish, padding his tail against the mattress. "Sorry," he says, but the tone of his voice says he isn't.

"We just wanted to say hello," Aether says, smiling easily like one of his packmates hadn't just been growling at them. "Haven't seen hide nor hair of either of you in the last three days. Got a glimpse when you came off of the bus, but to be fair, we ran off pretty quick." He chuckles, looking at Dew with a softness in his eyes, an arm around his waist.

Aeon whistles under their breath. They'd been in Swiss's nest for three days.

"We've been out," Swiss says, and Aeon feels how tense he is still, his back against their chest. It's just their packmates, one of whom they've only had a few glimpses of in the last several months. They don't know why he's so worked up. "We went to the kitchen."

"Yeah, to steal my chips," Dew scoffs, but he's laughing as he toes at an abandoned foil package that didn't quite make it to the trash can, but neither of them had been assed to get up and actually throw away.

"Invite yourselves in, why don't you?" Swiss laughs, but he's still tense. Aeon sits up straighter behind him, hooking their chin over his shoulder.

"Hi, Aeth," Aeon says, voice heavy with sleep and, apparently, three whole days' worth of disuse. "Missed you."

Aether grins, opening the curtains, much to Swiss and Aeon's dismay. They both hiss, squinting in the bright afternoon light. "Missed you too, pup. You too, Swiss."

Dew stares as the room brightens, and Aeon watches his mouth fall open, eyes brightening with a disbelief and a delight. "Swiss," the fire ghoul says slowly. "Satanas, you didn't-" He gestures loosely at the nest, where Aeon's light grey sheets mix with the dark burgundy of Swiss's own bedding.

Swiss tenses further, tail wrapping around his own thigh, spade thudding nervously against the meat of it. "Spitfire."

"Aeth, look at his bed," Dew says, and Swiss covers his face with his hands, groaning. "Tell me that's not what I think it is."

Aether turns from opening the window, bringing in a waft of fresh autumn air, and Aeon watches his clever eyes dart back and forth between the nest, Swiss, Dew, over to Aeon, and back again. A grin slowly grows on the older quint's face, baring his gold fang.

"Belial, Swiss," Dew throws his head back, crowing with laughter. "You made them a hearth, didn't know it was that serious!"

"Shut up," Swiss says, muffled into his hands.

Dew ignores him, still laughing. "Waited all of a week to get them into your bed, huh?" He crows. Aether's still grinning at Aeon. "We walked in on a fucking hearth. No wonder you were growling like you were feral, you spent the last three days fucking in a hearth-"

Swiss's head snaps up, growling again. He almost clips the back of his skull against Aeon's horn. "Shut the fuck up, Dewdrop," he snaps, voice rumbling dangerously around the edges of the ghoulish words.

All three of the other ghouls freeze, Aeon squeaking softly under their breath. Swiss hears it, their mouth practically against his ear, and sighs, shoulders slumping as he presses his cheek against their temple. "I'm sorry. Nothing like that happened. We've just been sleeping. Please just drop it."

Dew holds his hands up, palms facing the nest. "Didn't mean to insinuate," he says, still leaning against the doorframe, grinning. "Didn't know you were the hearth type, Swiss."

Swiss grunts, staring at Dew with grit teeth.

"Well, darling," Aether butts in, a similar smug look on his face. "You didn't seem the type either."

"Oh, shut up," Dew rolls his eyes. "It worked on you."

Aeon's eyes dart from ghoul to ghoul, brow furrowed. "Um," they breathe, not exactly liking the way all three of the older ghouls turn to face them. "I don't wanna interrupt, but what do you mean? What's a hearth?"

"Oh, no," Aether breathes. Swiss buries his face in his hands.

"Oh, Lord Below, of course you didn't tell them," Dew laughs. "I'm gonna let Swiss explain this one to you, voidling, seeing as you're in one." The fire ghoul jabs a thumb towards his mate. "This guy didn't know what a hearth was the first time I made him one either."

"Of course I didn't know," Aether argues. "I wasn't raised with fire pack customs."

"Exactly," Dew stresses, leveling a look at Aether. "Neither were they."

Swiss hasn't moved, breathing so shallow that Aeon can't feel it from where they're pressed up against his back. They chirrup, trying to be comforting, but still questioning. Swiss groans, tilts his head back until their cheeks are pressed together. "I'll tell you, bug, but will the two of you leave us alone?"

Dew nods, suddenly incredibly solemn, hand over his chest. "Of course. Aeth?"

Aether nods, stepping closer to the bed to run a hand over Swiss's locs, finger trailing along the ridge of his horn. "I'm glad you're home, spark."

Swiss hums, leaning into Aether's touch for just a moment, flashing him with the brightness of his smile for a second. "Glad to be home too, big guy."

He grins, turning to his fellow quintessence ghoul, running blunt fingers through their hair. "Congratulations on finishing your first tour, pup."

Aeon smiles, not as bright as they would have, the uneasy tension sour on the air, but they press into the touch like a pleased cat. "Thanks, Aeth."

The pair of them step out, Dew flashing Swiss a mischievous grin before shutting the door behind them.

Swiss sighs again, running a hand through his locs, eyes squeezed shut. He shifts until he's sitting straight and cross legged, and Aeon props themself up to sit next to him, their thighs pressed together. "Did Caldera, did she ever make nests? Specifically, did she ever make one for Oasis?"

Aeon cocks their head, curiosity washing over and dampening the sting of their names on his lips. "No," they tell him. "We were moving constantly, didn't have somewhere secure for a nest like that. He'd give her stones all the time, though. He said it was a water ghoul thing."

Swiss's ears pin back to his skull and he tenses again, fingers flexing, hands in his lap. "Shit."

Aeon darts out, grabs one of his hands, seeking contact. He melts, eagerly taking theirs. His thumb traces over the back of their hand, and his eyes track the movement. "Can you tell me what Dew meant?" Aeon breathes. "About it being a fire thing?"

He nods and squeezes their hand.

"We- No," Swiss winces. He starts again. "Fire ghouls come from the coldest circles of the Pits. They're the only ghouls that can survive there, because the fire in them keeps them alive." He rests his other hand over his heart. "But sometimes, in the longest, darkest nights, one fire wouldn't be enough. You could go to sleep fine, and your flame would freeze and go out by morning. So, most fire ghouls tended to sleep together with partners or big family piles."

Aeon listens intently, resting their head on his shoulder. "You said that was something you missed from your birth pack, right?"

Swiss snorts, turning to nose at the crown of their head. He takes a deep breath, letting his eyes shut as their scent hits him. "I did say that. My family was from the City, so we weren't exactly worrying about freezing to death, it was more a comfort thing. But this isn't quite like that."

They wait for Swiss to continue. "What's it like, then?" they ask, yawning.

"A hearth is-" He nuzzles into their hair again, hot breath blowing the strands as he hums. "If you were single, and looking for a partner, you'd offer to build your potential partner a hearth, a nest of your own bedding, to prove you could provide and protect each other's flames. And if they offered their own bedding in return, you had been accepted, and they were interested too. I know I didn't ask, and I asked you for your bedding instead of you offering, but that's what Dew saw. He made a hearth for Aether before he asked him to be his mate."

Aeon cocks their head, sleepily blinking up at him. "It's a mates thing?"

"Yeah," Swiss shuts his eyes and heaves a breath. "It's like a courting nest. I'm sorry, bug. Haven't thought of myself as fire for so long, I didn't realize what I was doing, didn't ask if it was okay. Didn't put a name to what I was doing."

They straighten, shift to look at him dead on. Their hands come up to his face, smoothing over the three day's worth of unshaved stubble. It scratches their palms just right, and Aeon watches the little furrow in his brow smooth out.

"You don't have to apologize," they say, entranced by the shift in the gold of his eyes. "Did you mean it?"

He hums curiously, the little furrow back on his brow. "Did I mean it?"

"Nobody's ever been interested in me like that," they admit in a little voice. Swiss's hands curl around their own, just touching. "Are you? Do you mean it?"

Swiss thinks, and Aeon feels a pit growing in their stomach the longer he doesn't answer.

"Aeon," he says, smoothing his thumbs over the back of their hands. They look up, catching his eye. "Of course I mean it. I love you, bug."

"Then I accept," Aeon says, as easy as breathing. "I want that. I love you too."

He grins, bright and golden, just as warm as the nest they've spent the last half a week in, and Aeon grabs his hands tighter, nose crinkling up in laughter.

"I'm glad we got you, Aeon," Swiss says, smile softening. He kisses their cheek, warm and flushed deep violet.

"I'm glad it was me too," they whisper, leaning forward to shove their face in Swiss's throat.

He embraces them, rubbing up and down their spine, and Swiss's heart jumps when he realizes he can't feel the knobs of their spine. "I hate to say it, lovebug, but we should probably go have something real to eat, see the others."

Aeon whines, but their stomach chooses that moment to growl, and both ghouls burst into laughter at the timing. They stand, begrudgingly leaving the warmth of their hearth to rejoin the rest of their pack.

[that-ari-blogger]

"Eda, do you have kids?" (Eda's Requiem)

The Owl House is a series about identity and the freedom to express oneself the way they wish. It explores the ways in which that affects relationships with others and oneself. Self-image, mental health, love, all fall under this bracket. This is partly why I would refer to The Owl House as a queer story rather than just a story with a queer protagonist. It engages with the concept in a nuanced way that I think is interesting.

The Owl House is also about family. The theme was present at the beginning, but it was very much a background thought. However, season two examined this idea in a ton more detail, through the Golden Guard, through Amity, and even through the side characters.

But the single best part of The Owl House is its ability to weave themes together. Family and identity are parts of each other. A family is a group of people with a shared identity, and a persons sense of self is usually defined by their experiences with their family. That is why found family is a part of family, it’s not about blood, it’s about connection.

This duality is directly the cause of my two favourite episodes in the show, Reaching Out, and Eda’s Requiem, the latter of which deals with a crisis of identity and a juxtaposition of past and future.

Let me explain.

SPOILERS AHEAD (The Owl House)

How does Eda define herself?

That is a question that grows more complicated over time. She is the Owl Lady, the most powerful witch in the Boiling Isles, which is a neat thing have while it remains true. However, she stops being that at the end of season one, and still clings to the moniker, why?

“How did you become the Owl Lady with your stage fright?”

It’s a persona, an act that she puts on to impress everyone, including herself. It is an identity that she wears like a mask, and who would know more about wearing masks than Raine Whispers.

I’m going to take a brief moment to talk about my favourite little detail in the series, and I give all credit to @Idlescreee’s video, Names in The Owl House: Breakdown and Analysis, which pointed this out to me.

I am one of those people for whom silence makes my skin crawl, and so I like to put on music or white noise while I work. One of my go to sounds is that of rain, I am literally listening to it as I write this post.

So Raine Whispers is a quiet name about the beauty of nature and the quietness of a natural sound. Perfect for a bard, right?

Well, not exactly. Context gives meaning more than anything else, and Raine’s context is the Boiling Isles, in which the rain is acid, making a hissing sound as it destroys everything in its path. Raine Whispers is a name that refers to the fury of nature. It is quaint at first glance but could destroy you if given the chance. A fitting name for a spy.

In any case, the purpose of Raine in this episode is to provide a contrast to Eda, they are someone from their past who has changed a lot since the two last met. Raine is unconditionally the wisest character in the series, and their ability to read people is unrivalled. So, they can see through any illusion she throws up.

They are also the first named non-binary character in the series, and it is a neat piece of storytelling that a character who’s sense of identity involves not being confined by binary gender would be against a villain who runs on categorising people. It’s not dwelled on, which is a strength of the show’s normalisation, but it’s cool, none the less.

The mirroring of Eda means that the audience can notice the two’s similarities more easily. Most importantly, Eda has also changed, although not as much as she thinks.

I am going to bring back the concept of a lowest common denominator style of character analysis. Essentially, a character can be boiled down to a single concept that cannot be changed for the character to stay the same person. The character can switch up their entire identity, allegiance, or even body in some cases, but it is this attribute that keeps them recognisable.

For example, Hunter is brave. He switches up characterisation almost entirely over the series, going from the Golden Guard to the most precious boi over the course of two seasons, but he keeps the fact that he is, at all times, bone numbingly terrified, and still able to persevere. Hunter is brave.

Eda, meanwhile, is complicated. She is an agent of chaos, but she brings stability to the lives of everyone she is close to. She is against authority, but that is an allegiance rather than a descriptor. So, with the full understanding that this is inaccurate, I will say that Eda is free.

Again, this is inaccurate, and oversimplifying, but it’s the best I can come up with. Eda is unabashedly herself, and the primary conflict of this episode is trying to work out who that is. So… Eda is Eda? That’s unhelpful but hold onto it for a moment.

The episode itself follows an opportunity to live the good old life with an old friend, and Eda jumps on it. She is growing distant from Luz and King, and she doesn’t quite understand why this upsets her as much as it does. She has become a parent without even realising it.

So, she takes the chance to go with Raine, chasing the high of connection and creating the persona of Mama Eda, although that is where the analysis gets weird.

Maternal and paternal behaviours are different across cultures, but they are usually not specifically necessarily reliant on gender. Yes, they are linked by association (it’s part of the words), but it’s not intrinsic.

Case and point, in the culture that I read this story from, Eda is absolutely terrible at being maternal. So she doesn’t try to be, instead, she fills a ton of paternal roles in the lives of those around her. But it’s also inaccurate to read her as entirely paternal. Instead, she fits both roles, leaning further into one, but not entirely.

Essentially, Eda parents in her own way, and struggles when trying to live up to “the right method” of doing things. Eda is Eda. She excels at doing her own thing. Trying to define her as one archetype is reductive and misses the nuance of her character.

What I think is really interesting, is that Eda realises she has become a parent when the story essentially threatens to take her family away, and she is surprised by how she feels.

While I have my opinions on the fake out, it is an effective way to see what the fear of loss does to a person, or rather, the fear of unimportance.

Being a parent is about guiding your children, but its also about letting go. Eventually, every bird will eventually leave the nest. However, that doesn’t mean the relationship is over. People still need guidance, even as adults.

Eda is willing to throw her life away as a last-ditch effort to help her family without having to say goodbye. She doesn’t think they need her anymore, so she is willing to go out with a bang. But she is wrong.

Eda clings to the instrument, even as it kills her. She thinks that love means dying for the people she cares about, but that's not entirely true. You have to live for them as well. I wonder who else in the series could learn that lesson.

A rhapsody is a musical piece associated with strong, enthusiastic emotions. A requiem is about remembrance. Raine’s song is about hope, and the joy of a future yet to be. Eda’s is about a past well lived, and the memory of that love. If you put the two together, you get a song that can bring down a mountain.

“Eda, do you have kids?” “Uh, they're not mine-mine. Well, it doesn't matter. They both have real families to return to.” “I don't know what you're running from, but a great witch once told me... something about punching fears in the face? What I'm trying to say is don't give up so easily. They probably need you more than you realize. We can find another way to stop Belos together.”

Remember what I said about Raine being wise? This is that.

Raine teaches Eda that she is still needed. She lets Eda know that her purpose isn’t gone, its just different. You are different people all throughout your life, you just need to remember what you have seen, and change with the times.

Why is the line read of this girl realising she's back in the conformatorium so heartbreaking?

I also want to point out the fear of insignificance from a found family perspective. Eda thinks that her relationship with Luz is less valuable than their blood relations, but I don’t really believe that. Eda has taught Luz magic and sheltered her from a literal dictator. She has raised King from childhood. I think those are pretty important things for a family member to do, whether through direct relation or not.

In the resolution of this episode, King changes his name to be an official part of Eda’s family, which, sure, that’s how things work in the Boiling Isles.

“Surprise, Eda! Now we're connected for life, and there's nothing you can do about it!”

She’s a parent now, and that relationship is as important to king as finding out who his biological father is. In other words, Eda still has a purpose, and the fact this surprises her means that she has a lot to learn, but she is better at it than she thinks.

One last thing I want to talk about before I go is that Raine is a unique rebel. Usually, in stories about fighting an authoritarian regime, the cost of rebellion comes up. This is the conceit of Andor, but also part of Wicked, and She-Ra and the Princesses of Power. In these stories, the idea that one person must use the tools of their enemy. Not as bad as their opponents by any stretch of the imagination, but sacrificing their own morality in a small way for future generations.

Raine doesn’t do that. Raine is fighting for a better world, and at all times, they will sacrifice their plans to save the individual. Raine has plans in motion that can counteract any single “failure”, but crucially, preserving the world they want to protect is never a failure to them.

So, in summary, found family is just as important as blood family. More important in some cases. Eda has built her identity around being a parent without realising that is what she has been doing, this episode is her confronting that. Raine is cool. Defining people is difficult and takes away from who they are as people. The Owl House is a good show.

A Kikimora is a creature associated with sleep paralysis. So her ability to paralyse people is a neat thing, as well as that "night night" line.

Final Thoughts

This season has a string of episodes that are determined to break me, but I will stay strong. Through The Looking Glass Ruins, Hunting Palismen, and now this. But I’m fine, I’ve got this.

Eda’s Requiem is one of my two favourite episodes in the series. I can’t gush enough about the music, the pacing, the purpose seeking. This is so compelling, and it really works as a piece of storytelling.

The episode does have one flaw, in my opinion, and to me, this is an example of how one weird piece of direction can mess with my suspension of disbelief. The extended syllable whenever anyone says “legally” in this episode is so… off putting. It’s like King is expecting to be cut off, and it’s asking for Eda to misunderstand him. It’s such a small detail, but the episode is almost perfect otherwise, and this sticks out to me like a sore thumb.

The episode is still phenomenal though, and so to balance out my criticism, here’s a small detail I really liked. When Eda punches the guard, his head spins around 360 degrees. First up, the casual worldbuilding that this guy can do that but also the fact that the outfit doesn’t react that much to it means that it has been made especially to fit his anatomy. That’s a cool detail.

Anyway, next week I’ll be looking at Knock, Knock, Knockin’ on Hooty’s Door, which is a Hooty episode. Something fun, and entertaining. I’m sure nothing plot relevant will happen then, right? Right?

Stick around if you want to see my analysis of that chaos.

Previous - Next

[emeraldenha]

SAY MY NAME.

pairing: han yujin x gn!reader | genre: high school au, opposites attract trope, fluff | w/c: +3.9k words | warnings: nothing but fluff <3

for years han yujin has been harboring a crush on his childhood friend

from the day he first met them as seat mates in middle school to the day they moved away to now, those gradually blossoming feelings have never wilted out like the dying flowers he thought they’d become

transitioning to high school was tough without them, but when he finally learnt to open up to others, he thrived

he made new friends, became more popular among his classmates, all while still being the cute and shy boy he’d always been

though in the back of his mind, he’d be up at night wondering if he’d ever run into his childhood friend again

maybe it was wishful thinking, but he missed having someone in his life who he saw so much of himself in

someone with similar interests, quirks, and heart

a person that’s… the complete opposite of you

ever since he first saw you walk into the classroom with your nose held high in your textbooks, the cold and studious first impression has yet to wash away

you didn’t answer to anyone unless it was school related, not a care in the world about what people thought of you

yujin could never relate to that

your only goal was to be the top student, and secondary to that was anything else that’d make a pretty addition to your résumé

the day your two paths crossed was on your first day as second years

that morning, yujin was talking to his best friend, park gunwook, in the hallway

“yujin, did you hear we’re getting a new transfer student?”

the boy shakes his head

“hopefully they’re nice. I’ll probably have to show them around, help them adjust, all that stuff,” gunwook continues, which spirals into a ramble of all the responsibilities he’ll have when he’s inevitably re-elected as class president

yujin just hums in agreement, twisting the cap off his plastic water bottle and taking a sip

the two eventually reach their classroom

and sitting in one of the seats is a face he’d recognize anywhere

it’s none other than his childhood friend… they’re back

he chokes on his water and bursts into a fit of coughs that draws everyone’s attention, including their’s

the new transfer student is his childhood friend… how is he supposed to approach them, speak to them, act around them…

he gets so flustered that he turns around to leave and run out of the room

not noticing you were already walking in through the propped open door with your eyes down in the midst of reading a book

one thing leads to another, and before yujin can prevent himself from the mess he’s about to cause, his hand is already squeezing around the open water bottle out of shock and water splashes onto your uniform and the fresh pages of your book

you’re scarily still for the first few seconds, so much that yujin feels a chill run down his spine

it’s like his life just flashed before his eyes

“are you serious?” you say through gritted teeth, your glare burning into his skull like flames

yujin doesn’t have the guts to say anything, which only makes you more aggravated

you take a step forward and open your mouth to chew him out but gunwook wedges himself between the two of you

“come on, y/n, don’t be too harsh on him. he didn’t mean for this to happen,” gunwook says, trying to remedy the situation

you’re not pleased by that in the slightest

gunwook quickly takes off his blazer and hands it out to you as a peace offering

but you only scoff at it and shake your head. “I don’t need your help, park.”

you push him out of the way and stand face to face with yujin

“don’t you owe me an apology?”

he hesitates for a moment, still in panic mode, but you shut him down before he can even get a word in

“forget it. you’re not worth my time.”

tossing the damp book into the trash can, you storm out of the classroom and not once do you look back

and yujin thinks to himself, from that day on, he’ll avoid you at all costs

in the months following the incident, yujin does just that

if he sees you, he’ll walk in the opposite direction

if you so much as turn your head his way, he’ll steer clear of all eye contact

instead, he concentrates on mustering up the courage to confess to his long term crush, his reunited friend from his middle school years

though in all honesty, a lot has changed even in the short time they’ve been gone

they haven’t exactly reconnected like he anticipated, but it’s not like they’re total strangers either

he understands that they’re no longer in the same social circles, no longer attached to the hip, no longer conversing over the same talking points like they used to

but he still wants to give himself a chance to confess before it’s too late

with both the help and motivation from gunwook, yujin comes up with the perfect plan

he retrieves a carton of chocolate milk—their favorite—from the cafeteria and writes a note in the pink origami heart he learned how to make the night prior

meet me by the field after school! -h.yj

time feels painfully longer when having to wait for it to pass

yujin rocks his heels back and forth on the ground, checking the notifications on his phone that he’s already been scrolling through for the past five minutes

he wanted to be the one to arrive at the field first, but his nerves were only amplifying in an echo chamber of anxiety

“what do you want?”

he jumps from the abruptness of your voice but gets even more surprised when he realizes it’s you

he lets out an awkward cough and quietly says, “oh, sorry, I’m waiting for someone.”

you pull out the unfolded origami heart from your pocket

“so this wasn’t you?”

yujin does a double take, eyes widening as his mistake was staring at him straight in the face

he had somehow set the chocolate milk and the note on the wrong desk

“no, it was me. you’re the one I was waiting for,” he lies, attempting to make it seem as if he was joking earlier

he has to hold himself back from grimacing

why was it always so hard for him to own up to his feelings? shout out to the world that he has a crush and is currently messing that up?

you quirk an eyebrow. “what is it then?”

yujin falls silent and he can already tell your patience is running thin

he doesn’t know how to respond, other than with the truth, and blurts out the first excuse that comes to mind as you say

“look, I’m not interested—”

“can you tutor me?”

“you want me to tutor you?” you repeat

“yes, of course, you’re the smartest one in our class.”

“what subject?”

“umm… everything?”

“are you seriously failing all your classes?”

“yes…?”

“why do you sound so unsure of yourself?”

yujin gulps. “it’s just a little embarrassing to admit, I guess.”

“well, I was planning to take a break from tutoring this year, but if you’re really in need of help, I can make an exception.” you pull out a business card from the front pocket of your bag. “this has all my contact information and tutoring rates. we can figure out whatever meeting times are convenient for the both of us later. sound good?”

he gives you a wordless nod of affirmation, and with that, his fate is sealed

you turn around to leave

however, unlike the last encounter, you look back

“hey, what’s your name again?”

“yujin, han yujin,” he nearly stutters out his own name

you curtly nod, walking away while quietly mumbling his name as a reminder to remember it

yujin closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, wonder what he just got himself into

the first meet is on a monday at the library after school

to put it shortly, it’s a disaster

“weren’t you the one that asked me to tutor you? I wouldn’t have agreed if I knew you’d get this distracted.”

yujin couldn’t focus in the slightest

he didn’t want to be there, which was unfortunate since he could’ve used this as an actual opportunity to boost up his class rank

yet he wanted to be living his life, putting off his studies until the last minute like he normally does

he tells himself to put up with all your complaints and scoldings just to appease you, but it only leads to him reaching his breaking point about a whopping three meetings later

“I lied.”

“great, now finish your practice questions.”

yujin grunts in a fit of frustration. “aren’t you curious as to what I lied about?”

“not really. you can tell me after you finish your practice questions.”

you won’t hear him out otherwise, so he does as told

you check the worksheet, marking all the incorrect answers before setting down your red pen and resting your chin in the palm of your hand with boredom

“I’m listening.”

“the note I gave you to meet me at the field that day… it was actually meant for someone else.”

“so you were planning to confess to someone.”

“yes,” yujin confirms before a wave of confusion hits his face. “wait, what? you knew?”

you shrug. “it was more of a heavy suspicion with the heart and the chocolate milk. but you were the one that asked for tutoring so I couldn’t say no to a client.”

“but you practically knew I was lying! I thought you hated people wasting your time.”

“I do. it’s what I hate more than anything. I only accepted because I need the money.” you stand up and begin to pack your belongings. “now that everything’s all cleared up, we can go our separate ways, right?”

“no!” yujin shouts, garnering weird looks from everyone in the library

feeling embarrassed with all the eyes drawn to you, you decide to leave anyways

and yujin finds himself chasing after you

at first, there’s not much rhyme or reason as to why, just a lingering ambiguity of regret and general instinct

though as he catches up to you towards the front of the school, he starts to piece together what it is that he’s feeling

the thing about yujin is that he never goes out of his way to make things right

if he makes a mistake, then he’ll ignore the entire situation all together until the remorse and responsibility fade away

that’s what he’s always been doing with you, cowardly entering and exiting your personal space without permission and then having nothing to make up for it

he yells for you to wait up, but you don’t stop in your tracks until he runs faster and blocks your path

you roll your eyes. “what?”

yujin catches his breath. “look, I’m sorry for being a nuisance. I want to apologize by working harder. I’ll pay more attention this time and get my grades up.”

“you don’t have to pity me. I’ll still survive with or without the tutoring money.”

“I’m not pitying you! I know I didn’t come into this with the best intentions, but I’ll make your time worth it, I promise.”

to you, his words may not bear much weight, but you decide to give him one last chance. if things started going south, then hopefully he’d get the hint and you could drop him for good

“we start again the day after tomorrow. don’t be late.”

while your doubt initially overtook any faith you had in the boy, yujin turns out to be better than you thought he was

you figure out he’s not failing all his classes like he had exaggeratedly claimed before

he’s more of a decent student that could use a good push, and once you help him tap into his potential, yujin actually begins to see an improvement in his grades

little by little, you even find other aspects of your life seeping into his too

such as eating lunch together

it wasn’t a daily must, but yujin felt bad constantly seeing you eat lunch by yourself, despite your protests of enjoying the solitude

it started with him calling you over to ask questions on the class material, and then slowly evolved into him inviting you over with no particular reason at all

as his best friend, gunwook would be there as well

“park.”

“hello to you too, l/n.”

yujin can’t help but snort, eating his lunch in amusement. “you guys are still so formal with each other.”

“competition is competition. I’m going to outrank you someday, l/n,” gunwook declares with a playful smirk

you only rest your head on the desk, using your arms as a cushion

“try me, park. try me.”

“you’re not going to eat?” yujin points out

“forgot to bring anything. was too tired from work last night.”

yujin takes a snack from his lunch bag and taps your arm with it before placing it on the desk

reluctantly, you accept the offering

“how do you do it?” gunwook queries. “my parents don’t allow me to have a part-time job, because they want my main priority to be school and the debate team.”

you sigh. “I work hard because if I don’t, then what else do I have? making friends and going out doing nonsense is for the people who have the time and money to afford it.”

albeit a bit hurt, yujin appears more puzzled than disappointed by your answer

“doing nonsense? you mean having fun?”

you continue on explaining, ignoring his comment, “I used to do my regular tutoring schedule and my part-time job last year, but it became too exhausting. some students are just a piece of work.”

“except me, right?”

you give him a small nod, lips curling upward just a fraction, but even that makes yujin’s heart skip a beat. “thankfully, you’re one of the better ones.”

for the majority of the lunch period, gunwook’s the one to actually keep you entertained, the two of you casually engaging in an academic conversation that has yujin lost in his own thoughts

“but seriously, y/n, you need to relax sometimes. you’ll get burnt out if you keep going like this,” gunwook says, tapping below his eye to refer to your dark circles

yujin begins to notice just how tired you are, the layers of fatigue sewn into your skin

and it’s in that moment a lightbulb goes off in his head

“oh, I have a good idea! y/n, can we cancel our tutoring session later today?”

“no,” you instantly shut him down, resulting in him childishly sulking

“can we do something after then? it’ll be a surprise!”

‘I hate surprises’ is what you want to say, but his pleading eyes oddly have an effect on you

and that’s how he lures you into a rare afternoon detour

“an arcade?”

“yeah!” he cheers, then studies your wary reaction. “you’ve never been?”

you give him a pointed look. “what do you think the answer to that question is?”

yujin pouts, rambling on and on about how he knew this wasn’t exactly your scene but was still baffled to the fact you’ve never stepped foot into an arcade in your life

he brings this up when you majorly lose to him in air hockey, dance dance revolution, and every game under the sun

your reflexes are some of the worse he’s ever seen

however, you still let him explain the rules each time and don’t get upset when you crash and burn, so he appreciates your efforts to try and understand the experience

then lastly, he guides you towards the line of claw machines, peering at the prizes inside each one

he asks if there’s anything you’re interested in, but you just let him choose

he goes with one filled with pastel colored stuff animals, aiming for a baby blue bunny that he ends up completely missing

“do you want to give it a try?” he asks but inserts the cash and ushers you forward before you’ve even decided yet

toying with the buttons experimentally, you give it your best shot

“ah, that was so close!” yujin’s hands shoot up to weave through his hair as you almost had it

“stupid machine,” you mutter, kicking the bottom of it with your sneaker. “aren’t these things just money suckers? what’s so fun about them?”

“you’re just saying that because you didn’t win.”

“oh, I’ll win,” you say with determination, your competitive side finally taking over

yujin goes around analyzing the side angles and directing you where to move the claw, and while you don’t verbal respond, he can see by the claw movements that you’re listening to him

once it’s aligned to your liking, you watch as it drops and barely latches onto the bunny’s ear, miraculously holding on enough to release it right into the prize box in the corner

yujin audibly celebrates the success more than you do, but there’s prominent sense of accomplishment you throughly enjoy

you retrieve the stuffed bunny and shove it in his hand. “here.”

he tries to give it back but you stubbornly refuse to take it from him

“don’t you want to keep it? you won it, after all,” he says

“I don’t really care for stuffed animals. it kind of looks like you though, so consider it yours. think of it as a gift for improving your test scores.”

he innocently holds the stuffed bunny up to his face. “it looks like me?”

you laugh, and yujin thinks it’s the most beautiful laugh he’s ever heard

you teasingly tilt your head and put a finger on your chin, an action so out of character that he’s almost memorized by it

“hmm… maybe the bunny’s a little cuter.”

a chuckle escapes from yujin’s lips and his eyes refuse to leave the ground

but when he looks back up again, he’s met by your warm and comforting expression, a side he’s never seen of you before

and while the moment passes and the day comes to an end, you’re the last thing on his mind that night and the first thing the next morning

then in the following weeks, thinking of you becomes routine

it makes him reflect on why he held onto his previous crush for so long, because you’re nothing like them yet the way he feels about you is stronger than anything he’s ever felt before

his entire life, yujin’s always been stuck in his comfort zone

and he thought that to like someone, the more things they have in common, the better

yujin thinks about how you both have opposite upbringings, opposite hobbies, opposite personalities, and how none of that really matters to him

in fact, it’s one of the main reasons he’s grown to like you so much

he likes letting you into his world, and his heart flutters when you let him into yours

whether it’s you telling him about your favorite books or the kind of music you listen to when you study, he wants to know it all

one day, he searches his room for the book he had bought all those months ago

it ignites a sense of nostalgia in him when he finds it, the memory now feeling so distant considering how far your relationship has developed since

though when he gifts it to you, he doesn’t quite get the reaction he’s expecting

“oh, thanks. how did you know I needed a new copy?”

yujin’s almost dumbfounded by the question

“because… I was the one that ruined the original… I got water all over it, remember? I actually bought the new one not too long after everything happened, but I was too scared to give it to you.”

“oh, that was you?” there’s a small glimpse of guilt in your eyes for not remembering. “sorry, I’ve never been good with names and faces.”

“but you remembered gunwook’s name back then. you called him park.”

“because he’s class president and a high ranking student. you know what they say, keep your friends close and your enemies closer,” you say half-jokingly

“are you only interested in people like gunwook?”

“well, I wouldn’t say that. I like you, don’t I?”

yujin’s face can’t help but glow a bright red

he knows you don’t mean it as a confession, though a part of him wishes he could’ve poured his heart out right then and there nonetheless

and that’s not the only instance where he gets that inclination

it’s the very thing that eats away at him until he finally plans to act on it

he waits until the end of the semester for final exams to be over so he doesn’t accidentally overwhelm or burden you while you’re already stressed out

“is it just me or am I getting déjà vu?” is the first thing you say when you meet him in the familiar location by the field

his stance is awkward, smile crooked, and his hands are stiffly hidden behind his back

there’s a brief pause in the air as he mentally prepares himself again and again with what he had practiced beforehand

firstly, an icebreaker

“so, what are you doing over break?”

you rack your brain for a second. “probably just picking up more shifts at work. nothing interesting.”

“I’ll be able to visit you though, right?”

“sure,” you say with an airy laugh at his eager tone, “I mean, we can just hang out whenever too, but I’m guessing that’s not what you brought me here to talk about.”

you’re about to confront him on his weird posture, but he abruptly beats you to the punch

“close your eyes and hold your hand out,” he instructs

“why?”

“just do it.”

yujin nervously places a small item in the center of your palm and covers it up by folding your fingers to form a fist around it

when he tells you to open your eyes again, you curiously unravel your fingers and look at it with a blank expression

“why are you giving me your name tag?”

“you really don’t know what it means?” yujin slowly asks, scratching the nape of his neck. “then it means nothing, sorry for bothering you!”

he tries to to end the conversation at that, but you hook a hand around his wrist to prevent him from walking away

“yujin,” you call out his name softly, “just be honest with me.”

he freezes, and it feels like an eternity has passed until—with a sudden splurge of confidence—he holds your hand that was originally on his wrist and takes a step closer to you

“when someone gives a person their name tag, it means that they like them.”

it’s right there he realizes he’ll remember this moment forever, because it’s the first time he’s ever made you speechless

he uses the hand not intertwined with yours to point at your cheeks

“y/n, are you blushing?”

you immediately swat his hand away. “no, I’m not.”

he stares at you patiently for a proper response to his confession, an annoying grin plastered on his face like he’s taunting the answer out of you

silently, you remove the name tag from your blazer and place it in his palm

“can I hear your answer aloud?”

that makes you snap your head up and gently push him by the shoulder. “hey, you technically didn’t say it outright either!”

yujin bursts out into laughter, but once the atmosphere becomes quiet again, it’s his turn to blush

“I like you, y/n. I really, really like you.”

you give his hand a light squeeze. “and I really, really like you too, han yujin.”

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