#it affects most people in the situations the foxes were raised in

[hella1975]

the confirmation that andrew never heals sucks so bad but it's also funny as hell because i'm assuming this was on her blog mentioned at the back of the book. so. either she just, completely unprompted, felt the need to say this. which is hysterical on it's own. OR the even funnier option i'm picturing she got some sort of question from a fan like "hey i love your books! i just wanted to ask what you think andrew and neil's future looks like! does andrew ever heal?" and this fucking woman answering with something like "hi! this is such a lovely thing to say, i'm glad you enjoyed my books! as for your question,

no. andrew never heals. him and neil never learn to say 'i love you' to each other.

but they adopt two adorable cats and give them silly little names! one is grey and the other is orange :)"

literally she could have just shut the fuck up WHY did she feel the need to add all the shit she did. she so easily could have left this series alone after getting so much hate but instead she decided to make it objectively worse for herself. she amazes me

[hesztia16]

I hate bad parent or “failing at being a decent parent” Bruce for so many reasons. It’s sad, it’s infuriating, it’s unfair. But mostly because it makes no f’ing sense. Part of it is because I can’t see his character being a bad dad for a number of reasons, but mostly because that would mean that he wasn’t the only one who failed those kids.

Thomas and Martha failed (not as much as everyone else for obvious reasons but still) for not showing Bruce a better example, for not setting higher standards.

Alfred failed the most after Bruce if the latter was a bad father. Because he was right there. Because he partially raised that boy into the man he was (I always blamed Alfred for Bruce’s unwillingness for showing physical affection to a certain degree. I can’t imagine how Bruce must’ve felt growing up with an always professional butler as a sole remaining parental figure). He failed to sit them down and forcing them to talk when the situation warranted it. He failed to lecture them all on their short comings. He failed to save them from themselves and each other.

Commissioner Gordon failed because I know for a fact that he knew some of it from Barbara who had been Dick’s go to person to rant about Bruce. Especially if Bruce happened to be really abusive.

Lucius Fox failed because he was a close family friend and knew about their home situation.

Leslie Thompkins failed because she’s a doctor and probably a mandated reporter. She should’ve seen, she should’ve interfered.

Clark failed. He was supposed to be Uncle Clark, Superman. He of all people should’ve known and he could’ve acted.

Selina failed. She was on and off in a relationship with Bruce for years. She should have done something.

Every member of the Justice League, sometimes even Titans, when they were no longer children themselves, failed. They were meant to be heroes. Heroes don’t leave children suffer.

Sometimes, to an extent, Dick has failed. Jason has failed. Barbara, Tim, Steph, Duke, Cass has failed. For letting Bruce take in more children and treat them the way they were treated. (Damian is often too young to know better). They were never meant to be responsible for saving their siblings, and they should never be expected to do so, but they could’ve spoken up.

None of them are good people or deserve to be heroes if they let those kids suffer for the sake of friendship or respect.

(This goes for other heroes as well.)

[foxgirltoebeans]

WOE ASK BE UPON YE..

for ignazio........🍋🍎🍾🍕

for aewryn..........🍍🌽🍪🍒

Ignazio

🍋: What is your OC's most painful memory?

There are huge chunks of their backstory I still haven't touched but intend to get to at some point, but so far I think it would be whatever led to them being raised by a family friend. Maybe his family died of a preventable (if they had the money) illness and they were the only one spared? I'm not sure on that one yet, but I one thing set in stone that could be the answer to this question would be her memory with their childhood friend that they grew apart from. They were promised that they'd always be friends, but eventually said friend dumped him once he grew popular and eventually bullied them for being worse at singing than he was. Led to an inferiority complex which eventually they will heal from, with Aerwyn's help.

🍎: Do they share any features or traits with any family members?

Uhhh, her beautymark? Probably an affinity for stealth? Pessimistic outlook on life? Idk yet, haven't thought too much about what his family would be like... They had a sister, that's all I know.

🍾: Does your OC believe in luck? If so, do they have any charm or ritual they do before a stressful event?

He was a devout follower of Calistria before becoming Aerwyn's herald. Well, he still is, but obviously as Aerwyn's herald he's devoted more of his time now to them instead of Calistria.

In honor of both, he uh, spends some "alone time" with Aerwyn before a dangerous job. Calistria is a goddess of lust, after all. (Thanks for the idea, @ritunn! hehe)

🍕: How does an OC spend a lazy day?

Probably drinking and shooting the shit with Andrés, the guy who raised him after his family died. He's also the guild master of the Oilbird's Nest. That or loafing around in the forest with Aerwyn.

Aewryn

🍍: Where does your OC feel most comfortable?

In their dreamscape! While it can take whatever shape she wants it to, her favorite that she keeps coming back to is a tiny island in the middle of an ocean with white sand beaches, and the sort of buildings you would find in Santorini. She even has her own house in it with a combination bedroom/sensory room. It's really empty as Aerwyn just wants it all to herself and would rather not have to imagine what people living there with her would be like. It's like that first episode of the Twilight Zone where there's signs of people being there, just no actual people. She's usually the only one who gets to see it, but Ignazio gets special privilege access as her Herald. Also because he's a lucid dreamer and he gets to do what he wants in her dreams. The first time he stumbles into it (completely on accident) she chases him with a broom as she's spooked by the situation.

🌽: How does this OC feel about acts of affection? What's their favourite act of affection, physical or emotional?

Absolutely loves it!

Has always and will always love getting a head massage. A good ol' head scritch is nice, too!

🍪: What is something that's sentimental to your OC?

Aerwyn has a soft spot for foxes, and they love her, but she can't figure out why they give her such a nostalgic feeling.

If, by some miracle, they ever reunited with whoever Fia's soul reincarnated into...

"I may have been Caelyn then, but I'm someone entirely different now. That's Caelyn's love, not mine. ...I'm sorry."

🍒: Has Your OC had their first kiss yet? If so, with who?

Absolutely has. Both as Caelyn and in most, if not all, incarnations. Surprisingly Caelyn's first kiss was *not* Fia, Just some random character I don't care to ever establish.

[whitepolaris]

Bleeding Tombstones

One of the favorite items in folklore is a bloodstain that won’t go away. 

These stains remind the living of a terrible event in the past-usually a violent or sudden death, often a murder, and sometimes an unpunished crime. And there’s no more chilling place for this old legend to raise it heads than in a graveyard. 

The bleeding tombstone is a staple of local legend, but all too often it’s hard to find out exactly where the stones actually lie. Marbled or weathered tombstones can look awfully like bloodstained ones after a century or two, and the difficulty most people have navigating cemeteries often leads to false-positive identification of the stones in question. Nevertheless, here are some of the tales we’ve heard on the subject. See if you can find the stones. 

Thurmont Thanatophobia

There’s a tombstone near Thurmont that’s said to bleed at certain times of the year. A man named Tobias Matthews was in a terrible bad accident in the late 1800s. He was taken for dead, and buried. They say around here that he wasn’t really dead when he was buried and that’s why the stone bleeds. They say that he tried to scratch his way out of the casket and that he broke off fingernails and wore his fingers down to the bone and bled to death finally. They say the stone bleeds on the day that he died. I don’t know, but they say that there are dark stains on the stone all the time. -JT

Somerset Cemetery Shocker

Out in the woods between Princess Anne and Snow Hill in Somerset County, there used to be a little Nazarene church. This was right in the middle of the Pocomoke Forest, and the church house is not part of Iron Furnace village. But there’s still a graveyard on the old site, and tucked away in this woodland bone yard there’s a tombstone that they say is covered with bloodstains. It’s a popular haunt to visit at midnight on Halloween or the night of a full moon (or both if you can manage it). I’ve only been there at night, and I can tell what the stains are by flashlight, but they’re there alright. The story about the grave varies a lot depending on who’s telling it, but most of the stories involve murder. And they all say that the place is haunted. One of the creepiest stories I heard was that you’ll see the flashes of light that look like they’re being reflected off eyeglasses, but you can’t see who’s wearing the eyeglasses. -Quakerboots

Rocky Hill Horror

The legend behind the bleeding tombstone of Rocky Hill Cemetery in Woodsboro could have been ripped out of the pages of the Brothers Grimm. It has a widower, a cruel stepmother, and a mother who grieved from beyond the grave. The woman who is buried at the gravestone made her husband swear on her deathbed that if he remarried, their children would still be the most important thing in the world to him. Well, he remarried, and sooner or later, his new wife started to work on her husband so he would forget his promise to his first wife and transfer all his affections to her. The children were sidelined and eventually neglected, but not forgotten. Their mother grieved for their sad situation from The Other Side. The woman’s tombstone broke out in a sweat of dark beads of liquid that looked just like blood. They say that it still does. Rocky Hill Cemetery is on Coppermine Road in Woodsboro, Frederick County, and the tombstone is located three rows back in the middle of the row in the left hand corner of the yard. The stones adjacent to the bleeding stone bear the names of George and Mary Fox. I couldn’t read the name on the bleeding stone the time I went there. -Gracie

[jortsaaaaaaart]

To Be Forgotten Amongst Friends chp1

Omega! Reader x avengers

Hello all! I revamped my story "ikaros" and this is the new story! Also the name is long rip.

Trigger warnings (later chapters mostly)- ptsd, noncon, kidnapping, human experimentation, Stockholm and lima syndrome

The following chapters will be posted on- https://archiveofourown.org/works/33890977     (seriously- may not post here that often cause i hate the tagging system- go check out ao3)

It's a beautiful day in New York and you're a terrible, no good, thief. 

You were considered New York’s very own Robin Hood. Two hundred ATM robberies in two years, the money flying out of the machines and into the hands of people who needed it. The banks, collectively, had lost over $300,000 from the ATMs alone. But of course, it wasn't just the ATMs. A rash of robberies had spread over the East coast. Most were digital, companies funneling their own money to offshore accounts that wanted nothing to do with U.S. intervention. The FBI were notified, then the CIA, and eventually- after a daring cyber attack against the DOD- SHIELD itself turned it's one eyed gaze onto you.

Nick Fury saw something the other agencies didn't. You had certain gifts that made your line of work incredibly easy. Whether they were natural mutations or some sort of superpower, they allowed you to break into some of the most secure networks known to man. He had almost found you when SHIELD fell and his resources vanished. After the dust cleared he was forced to start from scratch. Hunting you and the remnants of Hydra down at the same time wasn't easy, but, in a strange twist of fate, he found someone else that was searching for you too.

+++

New York was filled with so many people. Most of them were good, in your opinion. (Well, maybe half, actually.) You spent most of your off time working on "projects" or walking around the city. You had become a fixture at the local Bodega. Single omegas were extremely  rare, marked single omegas were almost unheard of. The mark gave you certain freedoms other omegas, sadly, didn't have. It drove away most potential suitors and the ones who were particularly bold would be given a taste of your powers. Once the burrow had gotten used to your presence they saw you as a generous person, but a secretive one. Someone who took no shit even with their designation. You gave to the community and different Omega rights groups in the area. After years of watching you quietly go about helping people you had been welcomed into the burrow's heart with open arms.

You loved helping people in your own way. You loved it just as much as you hated corporations and the police, but when you could make an ATM spew it's contents out into the poorest streets of Brooklyn or make Fox News send a million dollars to Planned Parenthood, you could have the best of both worlds.

At least, for a time. All good things had to end, right? That's what you told yourself as the redhead picked her way through the crowd towards you. 

Seeing an avenger in your neighborhood was an odd occurrence. It was a poorer part of town, untouched in the battle of New York, and too out of the way for any super villain origin stories. In fact, you seemed to be the only mutant in the entire block. You'd always thought, if someone was going to come for you, it would be a couple of FBI agents and not the fucking Black Widow. Your brain and heart went into overdrive as you tried to remember doing anything worth the avenger's time. But there was nothing. The DOD hack had been almost a year ago and all you did was release government files showing attacks on civilians overseas. It hardly seemed like an avengers worthy crime, especially when Black Widow herself had leaked government secrets before.

Any hope of her not not looking for you was dashed when her eyes locked onto yours. She tilted her head, asking a silent question. 

The burst of adrenaline sent you careening through the lunchtime crowds. You couldn't feel anyone on the rooftops but there was a large form blocking your path, trying to box you in. They were stronger and faster but you knew the environment. You ducked into Charlie's, your sneakers skidding on the asphalt as you took the sharp turn. The person behind the counter lazily looked up as you walked to the back. They knew you well enough to not care, they also weren't paid enough to care. The alley would open up into a busy side street. More people meant a better chance to blend in and get away. You were almost to the end when the door opened behind you. Black Widow and fucking Captain America stepped into the alley. For a moment the three of you stood in something akin to a standoff. 

You felt wildly undressed for this life-threatening situation.

"We just want to talk, (Y/N)" Captain America told you, hands raised. The unmistakable stink of an alpha radiated from the captain. You were momentarily thankful for your mark dulling its effect on you. Though, the blonde's scent was tinged with something hauntingly familiar. Something you didn't want to recognize.

Behind him, Black widow's free hand went to her ear. "Target is in the alley between 31st and 32nd," A twitch of your finger and the line went dead. Her hand dropped to the gun at her hip.

"I'm feeling pretty under equipped for this 'conversation'," You replied, slowly raising your hands as well, wondering if they could feel what you were doing. They didn't react and you slowly let your power seep from you.

Natasha was the first to react, drawing her gun and spinning around. Steve looked at her with confusion as her wide eyes scanned the alley as if she was seeing ghosts. She was afraid he realized, a cold feeling settling in his stomach. He moved towards her and you took off running. You felt him hesitate then take off after you, gaining on you with an embarrassingly low number of strides. You tried your powers again, stronger this time, but his focus was unwavering. He was almost to you now and you were running out of options. That’s when the alpha in him came out.

“Omega!” He snarled, “Stop!” Your feet slowed down immediately. It wasn’t as strong as your own alpha’s command would be, but the super soldier certainly commanded respect and obedience. You were forced to stand still, eyes burning holes in the asphalt, as the alpha’s footsteps grew closer. You really didn't want to do this but it looked like you had no choice. Your jaw clenched, and you spun around when his hand grabbed your arm. The blonde's eyes widened as you placed a palm to his chest. 

He barely had time to glance down at your hand before the electricity hit him.

The 1,000 volts you sent into him were supposed to stun him or send him flying, allowing you to escape. However, his muscles spasmed just a bit stronger than you intended. In an instant his grip crushed the bones in your arm and sent the two of you careening backwards into a brick wall. Natasha would find you a moment later, passed out on top of the super soldier, a sizable hole in the wall.

You woke up in an unfamiliar bed, a few blurry white shapes milled about in the corners of your vision. You couldn't remember how you got here, or where here was. All your senses seemed to be dulled. Your wrist was throbbing and each time you opened your eyes the room came in and out of focus. You closed your eyes, opting to ignore the funhouse effect and focus on the sounds around you. The beeping of the monitors, footsteps on concrete, and two low voices.

"She's alright, Buck, I promise." Steve's voice wavered in and out of your consciousness bringing with it the memory of how you got into this bed. "She did something to Nat and ran before I could explain. I wasn't expecting her powers to be so strong."

"I should have come with you," Another voice snarled. Your heart skipped a beat at the low growl. You knew that voice. It evoked a sickening combination of need and terror and you couldn't remember why. "She wouldn't have gotten hurt if I had. What idiot doesn't know omegas are fragile?!"

"It was an accident!" His voice raised slightly before sighing. "I know you're worried, but she's fine."

The scent you had smelled on Steve earlier swirled around the room. Metal and burning pine, it affected you just like the voice had, triggering both panic and yearning. You knew it somehow. The memory was there somewhere, tucked away where it couldn’t hurt you. Where it should have been forgotten.

The scent grew unbearably strong as he leaned over you, placing a gentle kiss on your forehead. When he pulled back he wasn't expecting his eyes to catch yours. 

His expression softened as soon as he realized you were awake. "Omega," Bucky whispered reverently. Stormy blue eyes stared down at you with love and adoration, watching the color drain from your face. "Doll?" 

Somewhere in the back of your mind you could hear the panicked beeping of the machines and Steve trying to calm you down. But it didn't matter. All that you could feel was the need to get far, far, away from this man. You didn't know how you knew him but you knew he was dangerous. You knew he had hurt you. That's why, as he reached out to gently cup your face, you slapped his hand away. 

"Get away from me!" You gasped, voice breaking. You scooted back and tried to back up as far as possible. Your shaky legs barely held your weight as you slid off the bed. Pure terror coursed through your veins, it was the only thing keeping you on your feet. You found yourself pressed into the corner of the room while the men stared at you in shock. Steve and Bucky gaped like you had just told them the Germans had actually won WWII. Eyebrows knit together, blue eyes wide and frantic, Bucky looked like he was in emotional turmoil.

“(Y/N), doll, it’s okay. It’s me. It’s your alpha.” Bucky reached out to you carefully as a low purr rumbled from his chest.

You felt the purr relax you and dull your senses even more. It was nauseating. “I don’t have an alpha! And I don’t know who the hell you are!” You tried to shout and grit your teeth but the words came out in broken sobs, betraying your weakness. Who was this? Why was he the most terrifying thing you had ever seen?

Your teeth were bared at this point but the man kept coming towards you. The tunnel vision and rapid shallow breaths were the only warnings your body gave you as it reverted to its animalistic omega framework. Bucky watched as, in slow motion, your eyes went blank as your body gave out. 

+++

Your alpha held your body to his chest in disbelief. He had expected some shock at seeing him but this went far beyond his expectations. It had been over three years since he'd last seen you. Since he'd last been able to drink in your scent. He'd figured you might not recognize him at first. He had changed a lot over the years. No longer under Hydra's control his physical appearance, demeanor, and scent had changed. But your body should've known your alpha. 

"What was that?" Steve asked. "Why did she react like that when she has your mark?" The two alphas were on edge. Seeing a vulnerable omega drop triggered their protective instincts. Steve desperately wanted to take you and hold you close, ease you out of the drop. If the alpha holding you was anyone other than his closest friend and packmate he would have ripped you out of his grasp immediately. For now he'd have to hold himself back.

"She didn't remember me." Bucky nuzzled his head into your neck, nursing your mark softly. After a moment he pulled back and gazed at your unchanged features. He couldn't wake you from this drop that easily. He pressed in harder this time, teeth lining up with the scar perfectly, but there was still no change. No purr, command, or bite was waking you up.

"We should let her rest, Buck. The pain meds will wear off soon and we'll try again. . . Bring her to the den. She'll need to get used to everyone's scents sooner or later." Steve laid a hand on his friend's shoulder. It was a gentle but firm suggestion. He knew tensions were high, the den, with it's heavy curtains and plush blankets, would calm down his friend and the omega. With little argument the brunette lifted you up and carried you to the den. It was aptly named and extremely well constructed thanks to Stark. Curtains blocked off all light from the windows, mattresses were inlaid into the ground, and the temperature was always cool. It was one good thing about being in a pack with that narcissist, Bucky thought dryly.

Steve led them into a cozy corner of the room. The captain hummed happily as they moved the pillows and blankets, creating a makeshift nest for the three of them. The feeling of the omega pressing into his chest was addictive. He couldn't wait for you to remember your alpha.

The sooner you remembered your bond with Bucky the sooner the rest of the pack, Steve included, could court you.

[boop-le-snoot]

main masterlist ☀️ taglist & faq

hot wheels | natasha romanoff x reader

explicit, 5,2k words, f/f. meet-ugly but still very much wholesome. we love a girlboss. natasha catches some random woman keying her brand new car but decides to be the better person for once and hear the woman out. turns out, being the better person can even get one laid! warnings: singular use of the d-slur, references to an abusive ex, lesbian sex.

[no y/n, no "you", nickname only, no reader description - race/age/body type neutral, she/her pronouns]

Natasha gave the tall, lanky boy an unimpressed look as she side-stepped the arguing couple to avoid colliding with the annoyed, teary-eyed woman the boy was groveling to. It was nearing rush hour and there was shopping to be done before the heavy NYC traffic could steer her already busy schedule down into an unmanageable chaos.

"But, Foxy, you know I didn't mean it! I love you, more than anything!"

The items on the spy's list were checked off methodically, item after item landing in the cart with a quiet thud as the redhead maneuvered through the isles with tactical precision. The usual afternoon crowd began to fill the store, taking up the so-needed breathing space; Natasha's shopping trip wasn't a moment of leisure and with her neverending to-do list full, she hurried to the self-check-out register, flying through the motions mindlessly.

Scan, place, beep, boop, pay, load up the bags, make way to the car, load up and pedal to the metal.

Scratch that. No, scratch - Natasha's eyes bulged as she neared her shiny, brand new Charger, seeing the obvious defects even from a mile away: the paint, previously cherry red and gleaming in the sun, ruined by a series of thin, gray lines, standing out unpleasantly on the otherwise pristine vehicle.

And the culprit, who's tuft of hair peeked over the hood of the car on the other side of the Charger, almost fully hidden between her car and the large Chevrolet in the next parking spot over.

Natasha's fingers clenched around the handle of the cart as she fought the urge to reach for her knife safely holstered under her leather jacket. "Excuse me?" Tone quiet and deadly, the spy prepared herself to fight or at least slightly shake up the hooligan.

The figure froze, vaguely familiar clothing and a puffy, tear-stained face slowly rising from behind Natasha's car. "In my defense, he deserves it," the girl - Foxy - the one that was arguing in front of the store earlier, declared through a stream of angry tears. "Call the cops if you want, I don't care." It was unclear if the girl recognised her, the Black Widow, as she made no move to run for the hills, just pathetically sniffled, pocketing the keys she used to scratch Natasha's car.

"That's my car," The spy responded flatly, a great deal of amusement crawling into her face as Foxy's eyes bulged, jaw fell slack, horror plain and evident overshadowing the waterworks. Natasha quickly pieced two and two together but patiently waited for the initial shock to subside before popping a question. "A word of advice, if I may?"

Foxy nodded, dumbfounded, frantically scrambling for the contents of her pockets, searching for something with the agility of a panicking cat, more than half of the contents spilling out onto the ground.

Natasha unlocked the car, popping the trunk and loading in her bags as she raised her voice to be heard over the noise of a busy parking lot. "Don't mess with the paint, the insurance will cover it. Slash three tires - not four - or take a swing at the front bumper and the headlights," the trunk slid shut with a quiet click as the spy inspected the damages close-up. Her Charger looked like it was attacked by a pack of aggressive, feral cats with nails of steel. "And always check the number plates before committing acts of vandalism to make sure you're enacting revenge on the right person." The last part was said with a smirk.

As the spy stepped closer to Foxy, she noted the excessive puffiness of her cheeks and the shaking fingers that held a checkbook and a pen. The woman looked torn between terrified and apologetic, worrying her lip between her teeth. "I'm so, so sorry. Todd just got his new car, it's identical to yours and I didn't get the chance to memorize the number plate yet," the offending man's name was said with a pitiful growl. "How much?" She weakly motioned to the ruined bodywork.

"What'd he do?" Natasha didn't resist her curiousity, leaning against the driver's side door and sizing up the other woman. She was pretty, well-dressed and reasonably wealthy on the first sight. "Yeah, he looked like a Todd," The quip slipped from the redhead's lips as she remembered the man from earlier. Foxy looked way too good to be wasting her time on someone who looked like an adolescent that hadn't outgrown his skater boy phase.

Foxy chuckled shyly at Natasha's remark, smoothing a hand over her face. "Lord, where do I even begin..." The sigh was loud and long. "He lived in my apartment rent-free, made me give up my cat by lying about his allergies, went through nine low-wage jobs in two years, did nothing but play video games in his free time and developed a pot addiction, thus spending all his money on it," she began steadily but her tone grew in pitch with every added offence as Natasha's eyebrows climbed higher and higher. "My last straw was when he took out a loan he couldn't pay off to buy his brand new cool car," the words were spat out with venom. "I threw him out last Saturday. He's been following me around all the time," Foxy continued, growing dark in the face. "And then I found out he had been cheating on me for I don't know how long. I just... I just lost it," she finished pathetically, all but crumbling into a pile of human misery.

Natasha's face had frozen into mute disbelief somewhere around the first half of the story, repulsion and astonishment mixing into a flurry of quiet rage on the random woman's behalf. Menfolk were bizarre animals, and as much as the spy felt herself annoyed by her roommates at the tower, she couldn't help but feel relieved that the men surrounding her were far from douchebags of the casual variety. This Todd, however, was no amateur, and had done Foxy really, really dirty.

The redhead made up her mind rather quickly. "That's a lot to unpack," she carefully studied the micro-expressions on the other woman's face. "I have a couple of nice bottles of wine at my place and nobody to share them with. Care for a glass?"

Foxy's eyes widened once more. "I don't- I don't want to take up your time, I mean, I'm sure you've got more important shit to do, like save the world and y'know..." The stammering was followed by a shy look to the side.

So, Foxy had recognised her. And she didn't go running the other way like most people that encountered her in disadvantageous situations did. "I actually don't, I was just getting my shopping done for a lack of better things to do," Natasha lied seamlessly, motioning to the other side of the car. "Hop in." Mission reports and Barton's pizza date could wait.

The woman made quick way around, buckling into the seat in seconds, right before Natasha peeled off from the parking lot towards the Avengers tower at breathtaking speeds. The car was a gift from Tony - one of the rare things he managed to get right - and an absolute pleasure to drive.

"What's your name?" The redhead asked, juggling the steering and her smartphone effortlessly.

The woman rattled of her first and last name on between attempts to fix her runny make-up and wipe the dried snot and tears off her face. "Foxy is a nickname my gramps gave me, said I used to excessively play with fox pelts in the attic when I was a kid," the woman added with a snort, totally oblivious to Natasha's eyebrow raise as the spy read the information on her in-between overtaking slower cars.

Good student, good family life, stable income and good career growth in a prospective sector. What did Foxy even find in a guy like Todd? The most important information, however, was also most pleasing. No ties to any kind of intelligence gathering organizations.

As Natasha parked and popped the trunk once more, the other woman offered a hand with her shopping bags. Friday acknowledged the newcomer, startling her, causing Natasha to roll her eyes and mention, loudly, that if Tony decided to pay them a surprise visit, he may end up castrated or shot on sight, much to Foxy's bashful snickering.

Once the shopping was put away and the wine opened, the spy let herself curl up on the couch opposite the woman who studied her Spartan style apartment with curios eyes. The lack of knick knacks must've been a surprise for her: Natasha's apartment looked bare compared to what she'd seen in other's people's homes but the desire to make the environment more cozy had never been strong enough to actually act upon it. She wasn't used to staying in a place for very long.

"Do you still want to get back at the bastard?" The redhead asked once the first bottle was coming to an end. The alcohol was sitting low, pleasantly warm in their bellies and the food that they'd ordered in the middle of a casual chit-chat lulled them into a state of comfortable stupor.

"I want to gouge his eyes out and wear them as a battle trophy," Foxy was slightly slurring her words, much more affected by the wine than the stoic, experienced agent. "But I guess I can settle for petty crime or arson."

"I'm sensing you didn't tell me the whole list of grievances," true to her words, the spy felt as it there was a possibility quite a few things were being left unsaid.

Foxy sighed once again, placing the empty glass on the table and using her palm to prop her flushed face against it, blankly staring off into the far end of the room. "I came out as bisexual last year and he was giving me so much shit for it. Todd kept pushing for a threesome and when I refused, started accusing me of cheating during our fights, called me a whore a couple of times," the more she spoke, the higher Natasha's anger levels rose.

Not only was a Todd a dick, he was an abusive one. Truly, the grand prize of Asshat Lottery. "I have an idea or three," the spy twirled the remaining red liquid in her glass before downing it. "But it'll have to stay between us two."

"I'm listening," Foxy turned to meet Natasha's face, eyes considerably more alert than seconds before.

A few days past their amicable wine-and-revenge get-together, Natasha's doorbell rang as if she wasn't already had been made aware by Friday that a visitor was coming up to see her. Boxes of hair bleach and dye laid stacked on the living room table, surrounded by jewelry and assorted accessories. A pitcher of fresh sangria topped the ensemble, two clean glasses placed neatly on the tray next to it.

"Hi, Nat," Foxy's smile was a mile wide - a far cry from the sniffling sad sack of a woman the spy had first met. The nickname flowed freely from the woman's lips, as calm as Natasha's own answering grin and greeting. "I gots the stuff," waving her purse about, the woman kicked off her shoes by the door, approaching Natasha with the same smile that seemed to be more effective at lightening up the room than Tony's expensive designer lamps.

As Natasha's plan achieved a solid state, the two women had quickly come to a realization that Natasha was far too recognizable with her signature red hair and over a flurry of text messages, the decision to switch to a warm caramel blonde was made unanimously. Foxy had rebuked any and all Natasha's attempts to affirm she'd be able to do it herself and the spy gave into the other's chiding, relenting to have her hair dyed by a person who at least had a possibility of seeing the back of her head without having to perform acrobatic tricks.

Foxy was an easygoing, non-problematic person. She was fun to have around, quiet but witty, with intelligent eyes and a realistic view on the world. It was something Natasha valued, alongside the lack of probing questions regarding her past or her job - her insides clenched uncomfortably at the thought of having to lie about those things, or even worse, having to admit to the wrongdoings in her past, however Foxy carefully steered away from topics that were sensitive and never gave Natasha as much as a side-eye if the spy appeared to lack some minor detail that normal women her age all seemed to be aware of.

The curiosity had her ready to burst. Nat's natural defense mechanisms were quite confused, not sure what to make of the woman who almost too friendly to be true, but the kindness in her eyes and the sometimes shy, awestruck looks she gave Natasha when she thought the redhead wasn't looking made up for it in spades.

"What do you think?" The noise of the hair dryer finally ceased, Foxy's voice echoing in Natasha's luxuriously large bathroom.

The newly-blonde spy studied her reflection with a tilt to her head. The ombre was a nice touch - her own hair was naturally darker than the caramel and honey blonde she had chosen, so the almost-brown shading at her roots took much away from the contrast between her lighter hair and darker brows. It was just another disguise for the spy, but somehow, this one felt more like home than any of the previous faces she had worn.

"I like it, you were right about the ombre," Natasha voiced her thoughts, eyes sliding over to the smiling woman behind her, feeling the corners of her mouth begin to creep upwards in involuntary response.

"You looked good with red hair, don't misunderstand me," Foxy briefly raised her hands. "But you have a light complexion and lighter colors do wonders for bringing out the youthfulness. Even if we don't have much joy these days, a good hair color is an opportunity to showcase the bit," she briefly touched her own hair in an exaggerated attempt at driving her point home.

The fun part was done, the time came to execute the revenge. It wasn't exactly anything special; rather, the plan was quite simple - let Todd make a fool out of himself in front of his friends and perhaps (a slightly, teensy possibility) get himself arrested. The two women took their time to get dolled up, not too much - but rather, adding just that little bit to themselves to easily attract moderate amounts of attention from men.

The bar was busy, noisy and full of people when the two women stepped through the door. Natasha's eyes scanned the room out of habit, easily spotting the tall, lanky Todd in the far end of the bar, laughing and boozing with equally pathetic-looking man-children. The urge to gag was almost irresistible.

The spy let herself to be led to the bar by Foxy who looked mildly uncomfortable. Natasha was sure that if she was to touch the other woman's face, it would be flaming under the circumstances. "Try to relax a little, I won't bite," with a quip to her companion, Nat ordered them a vodka cranberry each, sitting down with her back to the men. "Tell me when he notices us and starts moving this way."

Foxy nodded minutely, clutching her drink for dear life and taking generous sips to calm herself down and relax like the spy had requested. They talked about everything and nothing in between, Natasha's hand on Foxy's knee crawling closer to her hip as minutes passed by without interruption. Loud noises of men playing darts and drunkenly cheering reached the womens earshot every now and then, causing Foxy to throw increasingly infuriated glances towards her ex-boyfriend and the Black Widow's current victim of choice.

Sitting opposite the perfectly composed, smiling woman, it was clear as day she was, indeed, best of the best. Despite knowing Foxy for only a few days, Natasha managed to pull off a very convincing girlfriend: her body language was nothing short of absolutely besotted and the googly eyes the spy was making had Foxy constantly remind herself that it was only for show. There was no way this gorgeous, incredible human would be interested in someone as plain and ordinary as herself.

"Heads up," Foxy's smile suddenly grew a mile wide as she stared directly at Natasha, eyes alight with fury at the scene about to unfold. Natasha's reply was to briefly tighten the grasp on the other's leg in silent support.

"Hey, baby," Todd was drunk enough for the stench of his breath to reach both women. "Oh, I see you're with a friend," his attempt at flirting only made Natasha scrunch up her face like a cat that accidentally smelled a lemon.

"Leave me alone," Foxy stated firmly, knowing the phrase wouldn't do anything to deter her overzealous ex, but this time - she counted on it.

"It's okay, I can share," the slurred words had a couple of people nearby raise their eyebrows at the audacity.

"I'm not interested," Foxy snapped. "In fact, there is absolutely nothing your freeloading, cheating ass can bring to my table."

The woman radiated satisfaction as gasps sounded out around them; Todd was a regular at this bar and most people there knew him in one way or another. The moment of joy, however, was brief.

"Listen, bitch, you have no business talking to me like that," full of drunken bravado, the man spat angrily, taking unsteady steps closer to Foxy. "What you need is a decent man that can handle your outbursts, not some dyke..." before he could even utter another offensive syllable, Natasha had his wildly gesturing arm twisted painfully behind his back, easily forcing the inebriated man to his knees.

"Wanna try that again, champ?" Sarcasm flowed freely from the spy's lips as the patrons in the bar gasped. The civilian clothing and the new hair color might have been an effective short-term disguise but once the crowd had seen her neat little party trick and had taken a good look at her face, nobody was doubting her identity. "Call the cops, will you?" She addressed the shocked bartender who immediately scrambled to obey.

"I didn't do anything!" Todd cried out, eyes drunkenly darting between the Black Widow's quiet rage and Foxy's grim stone face.

"Huh, that's weird. Because I clearly heard and saw an attempted hate crime," Natasha's voice attained a sardonic tint. "And I have a bar full of witnesses," the spy shrugged, letting go of his arm but keeping a boot firmly planted on his back to prevent him from escaping. "I hope you have a lawyer."

Foxy snorted, reaching for her unfinished second drink. "Tough luck."

Out of the corner of her eye, she spied Todd's friends inching closer to the exit door second by second, as if they could stand a chance against a professionally trained secret agent. Luckily for them, Natasha wasn't interested in the remainder of Todd's gang of losers and merely raised an eyebrow when the other men reached the door, a tiny smirk appearing when his pleading eyes didn't cause any reaction in his friends, the spineless worms, hopping out of the door without as much as a goodbye to the man laying face-down on the dirty floor.

As soon as the police arrived, awestruck by one of the NYC's most famous superheroes just casually standing in a bar, they eagerly collected the inebriated offender, briskly escorting Todd to the squad car. The bartender and several other patrons confirmed Natasha's words that an attempted hate crime had taken place. Cops were in and out in less than fifteen minutes and the otherwise-pleasant hole-in-the-wall bar returned to its usual evening bustle.

"Celebratory shots?" Natasha laughed as Foxy exhaled, deep and slow, once her racing heart calmed down.

"My treat," the other woman motioned for the bartender and soon, a line of colorful glasses appeared in front of the women. Each downed a glass easily, slamming it back on the table. "Man, this is everything I never knew I needed," Foxy confessed with a shy smile. "Thanks, Nat. You're the best."

The spy responded with a satisfied smile, picking up another glass and holding it out for a toast. "To revenge well-deserved," the glass clicked, alcohol slid easily down their throats. "So, what now?"

Foxy's eyes shone in the bright lights of the bar, relieved and tipsy. The small empty glass twirled easily between her fingers. "Dunno," the shrug came and went. "Maybe go on vacation. To Florida."

Natasha let out a belly laugh, downing her last shot without as much as a stutter in her movements, Foxy's eyes lingering on the stray drops of alcohol running from the spy's plump lips. "A vacation with the crackheads? Romantic," the quip was received with an eyeroll from the other woman.

"Spoilsport," Foxy, too, finished her booze and placed the money and a hefty tip on the bar, tapping twice to get the bartender's attention. "I meant more like - lay on the beach, sip mimosas, look at sexy people in swimsuits..."

"Florida is for old people," Natasha objected, pulling her leather jacket back on and leading them both outside. The evening air was crisp, bringing a clearer head and re-arranging the thoughts back into a more sensible state.

Foxy easily picked up her pace to match Natasha's precise strides leading them in the direction of the former's building. The warm buzz of vodka coupled with the fresh air and her desire for retribution well-fed, Foxy settled into a comfortable silence next to the spy. They reached the building quickly, their pace brisk and distractions lacking.

"Care for a nightcap?" She didn't know what prompted her to blurt out the words; as soon as the words registered in her brain, they were already out and Foxy's face heated, fingers fumbling for the keys in her pocket, Natasha's touch still warm and lingering on the side of her leg.

The spy seemed amused, studying Foxy's nervous habits with a crooked smirk. "Sure," she agreed amicably, following the woman into the apartment building, not missing both the rigidity of her back and the added spring to her step.

A moderately sized, well-decorated apartment revealed itself behind the open door, scarcely illuminated by the NYC lights coming in from a glass wall in the living room, reflecting the vast living space furnished with a large couch.

As soon as the door clicked shut, Natasha turned around, stepping into the other woman's personal space with the grace of a predator. Two shining eyes stared back at her in the darkness, framed by fluttering lashes. Foxy's bottom lip disappeared behind her teeth, skin gleaming with perspiration.

The recently-turned blonde spy wasted no time caging the other woman between her body and the door, chests almost touching. The air around them was charged, Foxy's heart thudding loudly in her chest as she gulped. Natasha studied her expression, "You want this?" she whispered against her lips, sharing the oxygen between them.

"Ye-yeah," a short nod and a gasp later, the women were devouring each other, grasping at their hands and shoulders like they were drowning. Hot and wet and sharp from the booze, the kisses were as graceless as their fingers haste in removing each other's top layers of clothing.

The sharp corner of the living room archway dug painfully into Foxy's back, bringing an additional sense of awareness: this was real. This was happening. Natasha's blonde locks flowed through Foxy's fingers, soft and silky, a contrast to the teeth pulling on her lip in impatient hunger. Foxy grunted in response, parting from the other woman to send her t-shirt flying somewhere in the direction of the kitchen.

"Bedroom," mere minutes in and she already sounded utterly and throughly ruined.

"Couch," Natasha was equally feverish to get to the good parts. Her belt was unbuckled and the nice button-up she'd worn hung open, a plain white bra iriscendent on her alabaster skin.

Letting herself be led to the couch, Foxy could barely take her eyes off the woman in front of her, making sure she wasn't ogling Natasha outright yet secretly hoping to be caught anyway. The blonde was like a porcelain doll, unreal, firm and soft at the same time.

The moment Foxy gracelessly landed on the couch, Natasha was all up in her space, straddling the other woman with the grace of a savage cat; lips once more attached to her flesh, Natasha left a trail of hot, wet marks starting at the jawline and ending at the cups of Foxy's bra.

Not knowing what to do with her hands, Foxy grasped Natasha's hips, unable to hold back a moan heavy with lust as the spy ground down with her hips. It was exhilarating to see the other woman affected by their heavy make-out session; nothing short of absolutely smitten to see Natasha pull back, panting and disheveled, to shed her shirt and her bra.

Unable to resist the urge, Foxy's hands reached out to cup the spy's round breasts, tugging her closer to pop a rosy nipple into her mouth. Natasha shivered, arching into the caress, holding onto the other woman's hair and tugging it in the direction only she knew.

Natasha wasn't loud, she wasn't wild; her moans were more like muted gasps but her body spoke for her louder than any words: the grinding was getting more impatient, Natasha's hold grew stronger. As Foxy fumbled for the button of Nat's pants, she felt the soft, delicate lace underneath. Natasha had come prepared.

"Hold on," the spy mumbled, hopping off Foxy's lap to quickly push her pants and panties down her legs with practiced ease. The other woman followed suit, leaving herself to be bare besides her underwear, the attempt to remove them intercepted by Natasha. "Let me," quiet words tickled the skin of her throat where Nat had immediately attached her mouth.

Foxy scrambled to intake the oxygen she needed, letting herself feel the hot glide fully, having lost herself in pleasure, missing the exact moment Nat's fingertips breached the waistband of her panties. Soft and nimble, so different to a man's roughened skin, the sensation was as strange as it was sweet. The urge to arch and rock her hips against the nearest surface intensified and Foxy could only keen, quiet and high, causing Natasha to chuckle to herself.

"Enjoying yourself, sweet girl?" The miniscule trace of coyness seeped into the blonde's voice. The engorged, puffy, moist flesh of Foxy's lower lips parted eagerly to Natasha's experimental dip.

"Yeah, yes," the woman slid down, spreading her legs in invitation. "Please, touch me," begging to be filled in all the empty spaces, Foxy threw her head to rest against the back of the couch, watching Nat through unfocused eyes.

"Oh, I will," the spy purred, sliding lower to put her face next to Foxy's dripping cunt. The spy's fingers glistened with arousal and she popped them into her mouth, licking them clean before doing the same to her lover's swollen folds. The response was instantaneous and loud, Foxy shook under Natasha's expert teasing. "Stay still," she ordered quietly, patting Foxy's belly.

Molten, honeyed waves of bliss overtook common sense and awareness, tiny sparks shooting up Foxy's cunt every time Natasha suckled at her clit. The spy read her body like an open book, following the movements of her hips with her mouth, always a step ahead and slightly south. Foxy's peak was imminent, approaching rapidly, as Natasha's sweet merciless assault wrung every single drop of the thick, precious liquid out of her cunt.

It only seemed to gush more, the woman pushing her cunt into Natasha's face as the latter doubled down on her efforts to bring her to ecstasy.

The waves began deep in the pit of Foxy's stomach, making her legs tremble, her toes curl and the flutters of her cunt increase in speed and intensity. Silky soft and typhoon wet, her orgasm crashed her mind into million pieces and Nat dutifully extracted everything until the last drop with the skillful touch of her tongue and fingers.

"Tash," Foxy moaned. Her legs quivered at the slightest touch to her oversensitive cunt.

"Mhm," was the blonde's reply, contented humming getting closer and closer until the womens lips met once more in a fierce, passionate kiss.

Foxy's hands immediately sought purchase on Natasha's hips, searching for the spots that would make the spy's body song in the same way she'd done to Foxy; seemingly much more reserved, quiet but happy sighs broke past Nat's lips in response to gentle hands stroking where she was most sensitive.

"I've got a vibe in my bedroom," clarity finally broke through the orgasm haze, Foxy's brain slowly coming back to reality.

"No, I want your fingers," Natasha's reply was assertive as she moved her hips in tandem with Foxy's hand, dripping the sweetness of her around all over.

The urge to pop the fingers into her mouth was strong, so Foxy did just that, moaning at the tangy taste, Natasha's breath quietly stuttering at the sight in front of her.

"I want to eat you out," the words barely had left Foxy's mouth as Natasha flipped them so she was the one laying on the couch, spread-eagled and open for the other woman's eager mouth to explore. Wet, sloppy and so, so tender, Foxy let herself taste the arousal of her lover.

"Yeah," so soft, one could easily miss it, the approval didn't get lost in the headrush nonetheless. With grace, Foxy sought the spots that would force Natasha to break her silence with slow, broad motions until the blonde had no choice but to arch her hips into the sensations, chasing her pleasure, losing the aura of restraint she'd so carefully cultivated.

No time for self-control. The temperatures were climbing steadily with every single movement, both lost in their imperfect shared rhythm, the soft of Foxy's tongue and fingers like finest silks on Natasha's eager cunt. Two fingers slipped in without resistance, immediately seeking out the soft, spongy spot that made the blonde's toes curl and mouth open in a silent scream.

Foxy's free hand groped around for Natasha's ass hastily, bringing her hips closer to her mouth, tongue never ceasing its assault on the blonde's clit as her body grew more rigid, fingertips going white with the force she was gripping the comforter.

"Gospodi bozhe," came the mumble, the only warning before Natasha's powerful thighs locked Foxy in place as the blonde rode out her orgasm, violently shivering, dousing the other woman's face in her sweet release. Dutifully, Foxy stroked the silk of Natasha's skin everywhere she could reach, her hot breath on the blonde's pussy easing her back to Earth through the aftershocks.

Natasha's eyes opened, feeling her lover's look of adoration, and she cracked a reluctant but genuine smile. There was something about Foxy that was just so-

Natasha taglist (open, see fic hat for info; crossed out nicknames are the ones I couldn't tag, please update your info):

@mikariell95 @letsby @sleep-i-ness @toomanyrobins @persephonehemingway @bluecrazedandbeautiful @slothspaghettiwrites @xoxabs88xox @marvelsbanner @sapphicnoodle69

[one-real-imonkey]

Mhmmmmmmm, prompts you say? How about......the commander batch end up in the past with the TM except they were all doing something (one was sleeping, the other was unconscious, one was doing reports, one in the middle of a battle, heck, if you include Fox he could have been having a 'meeting (free interpretation) with Palpatine! Maybe the end up as teenagers! Who knows!

In strike bc I haven't seen you write a lot about clones sooooo....yeah, feel fre to ignore this!

Oh the clones my boys!!!!!!

They deserve love and affection and absolutely I’ll write for them. I’m rubbing my hands together and cackling like a super villain. 

They’re all their natural ages, as if they bandy been aged in advance.

———

They’d shown up a mile out from Jasters camp, discovered by a patrol.

Six boys, young boys, some armed, some injured, all almost identical to his ad.

Five of them were, if he had to guess, quintuplets, about 13, while the youngest looked about two or three years younger than them, his Jango’s age.

They were brought to the med tent, and Jaster called at the same time. He met them at the edge of the camp, let the little ones introduce themselves as they walked towards the tent.

Cody, the first introduced himself as, and Jaster noted the scar curling down the side of his face. Then Wolffe who was missing an eye, Ponds who was both bald and injured, Bly with yellow facial tattoos and Fox, who had no definable features Jaster could tell, but more hunched shoulders and bags under his eyes. And the youngest, Rex, with shaved blond hair.

They were not normal ade. The way they walked, watched each other’s sixes, the way their eyes scanned every inch of every room and how Rex’ika was kept to the middle of their group as they were escorted to the med tent. They moved like experienced soldiers, not a group of scared ade.

He stays to the side as they’re checked over, and though they’re obviously not sure where they are or whether to trust Jaster, they clearly want answers, and to compare notes.

“It has to be Force nonsense,” one of them, Wolffe, was saying, “how else could we have travelled so far in the blink of an eye. I’ll admit, it was a shock to go from a firefight to suddenly being alone with you all.”

“A blink of your eye,” Ponds threw back while the baar’ur bandaged his head wound, “I was unconscious and only woke up because you were yelling.”

“I nearly shot Wolffe, I’d been in a fight too.” It was concerning that Bly and Wolffe had both been in firefights, firefights, they were ade!

“Rex was asleep.” Cody chipped in, smirking slightly at the embarrassed and annoyed look that flashed across his vod’ikas face.

“Hey, I'd been awake for over a day, and so had you, so you're the one the medics would be angry at. He was doing his reports, because everyone would simply die if he waited until the morning.”

The baar’ur laughed softly, partly for the teasing and partly to lighten the mood with such awful things being insinuated by their comments, and gestured Jaster over, signalling that they were pretty much done, except for Fox’ika, who’s eyes they were checking having noticed his clear headache.

“It’s fine, baar’ur, you don’t need to worry about my headache.”

“Ad...”

“Nyac. It almost always comes after meetings with our... with our boss, it’s just stress and tiredness, I'm fine.”

Those words were oh so concerning coming from such a small child, and he could see the same concern not only on the face of his baar’ur, but also Fox’ika’s vode. He doubted boss was the right word for the person this ad’ika had been meeting. Not with the comments they’d been making, the way they stood and sat and walked.

Still, the baar’ur backed off.

“So, ade, now that you’ve been treated, I think we need to talk.”

“Yeah.” Cody, Jaster was starting to think he was their leader. “We should. Like why you keep looking at Rex.”

Had he been? The ad looked so similar to Jango, really, it was just the hair. Still, they all looked so very concerned to have any focus on their vod’ika, and he needed to be careful about that. The last thing he wanted to do was upset or scare them.

“To start with, it’s good to meet you all, my name is Jaster Mereel...”

The tent flaps opened and as if summoned his ad’ika slipped in,

“And this is my ad, Jango Fett.”

There was a second of silence, then a flurry of hand signs, before stressed little Fox swore, colourfully.

“Language!”

In another situation he might have slapped a hand over his mouth in shock of what he’d just said. He hadn’t meant to say it, but they all looked and sounded so similar to his ad, it had just slipped out.

And now they were all staring at him incredulously.

Jango looked half way between astonished at the language and annoyingly like he planned on using it.

He could imagine the ribbing he was going to get, how that conversation would go. 

‘So Jaster how was your day.’ 

‘Oh fine,’ he’d reply, ‘ except that a bunch of stressed and battle worn ade appearing from thin air who look identical to my ad who taught him a whole new library of swears to use.’

He wasn’t too surprised that seeing Jango had shaken something in them, but their story soon slipped out. Time travel, war, messed up ageing. Children sent into war, whether they were physically adults or not, it was horrific, and more so when you could see them like this.

Now they were their real ages, the ages they would be without the enhanced ageing. 

They were warriors and soldiers who’d seen the most brutal of war and death, and they were ade who deserved love and affection and so many other things they’d so clearly received from each other and none others as they’d grown up too fast.

These ade had been raised by demagolka and monsters, and his Jan’ika had been a part of it. Not intentionally, one of them had said, at least, they didn’t think so. Most of them had never even met him, and the one who had, Cody, claimed it had only been once. It was not a path he planned on letting his ad walk again, willingly or not.

It was no burden to adopt them, to claim them as his own and swear he’d give them a better childhood than they’d had. The biggest argument was over combat, because they were soldiers, and they wanted to fight, but Ka’ra they were so young. The quintuplets, they were only just 13, and when they were a little more adjusted and settled, they could start taking small missions, with adults and supervision. Rex’ika would have to wait, he was just too small. He and Jango could start at the same time, not before.

He would have been Demagolka to decide otherwise.

No child should look so grateful to be told they were wanted, that they had a home and loving aliit. No ad should look so disbelieving. 

Jango looked over the moon to have new vode, as Jaster had predicted, worming his way into their little group and cuddling in. It was cute, and clearly none of them were capable of denying a vod’ika, even if he wasn’t one of the ones they knew.

Jaster isn’t surprised by the way Jan’ika looks at Rex, not only could they be twins, but Rex has the hair he knows Arla had, and though wary and watchful of both Jango and the rest of the tent, and likely anything they could hear happening outside of it, they were happy to hold Jan’ika too.

Jaster’s aliit had just grown larger, but he couldn’t complain. It would be a journey and a challenge, their horrific pasts creating problems he likely couldn’t even foresee yet, but he couldn’t regret it.

And he knew they’d be adored and protected by his people too.

———

Thanks for promoting, I loved it. They all deserve better. I wanted to add something where they saw Jango and assumed he was another Vod who’d traveled, maybe part of Rex’s old batch before they were decommissioned and his moved to their group, but I couldn’t fit it in. But this worked well too.

Also absolutely Palpabastard was messing with Fox.

Thanks for reading.

Inbox still open, prompts or headcanons or asks. (-:

[bi-naesala]

Fox isn’t surprised when he finds someone inside his shitty apartment when he opens the door, not when that someone is Thorn, since he had insisted he gave him and the rest of the Guard - or former Guard you should say - squad a key to it, just as a security measure since he insists on living alone and barely contacts them.

He just went out that day to get some groceries - yes, now instead of guarding assholes for life he just does mundane things like that one - but still, he could’ve warned him that he was going to come.

“Hey, Fox!” he says, smiling warmly at him. Even as the war went on, that smile has never lost its particular shine. How he managed is still a mystery to Fox.

“Thorn,” the other greets him, stepping inside. Despite everything he can’t help an amused huff seeing Thorn all comfortable on his couch. “I see you’ve made yourself at home already.”

“Well, you know, since I was all alone in here…” Thorn replies, before getting up and dragging Fox into a hug. “I’ve missed you, vod.”

Fox doesn’t like how easily he melts at the contact, but by now he’s gotten used to it. He receives so little physical affection that when he actually does it’s so intense that he almost cries - almost.

“I’ve missed you too.”

 Since he’s there, Thorn makes himself useful by helping him with the groceries, putting them in the places they belong to.

“So… wanna come to 79’s later?” he asks, closing the fridge but not before taking a bottle of water and drink it like this was his home and he could do anything he wants with no repercussions. It’s all Fox’s fault: he let him get away with it at first in the name of hospitality, and now it’s gotten out of control. Oh well, it’s not like he can order him to stop now - he doesn’t have a rank anymore.

A sigh leaves his lips then. This isn’t the first time Thorn has attempted something like this, but by now he should know how it’s going to end.

“No.”

 If his dry answer fazes Thorn at all, he doesn’t show any sign of it.

“Okay. How about tomorrow?”

Fox shakes his head. “No.”

Now Thorn’s enthusiasm begins to look a bit deflated, but he still doesn’t lose hope.

“Would you like to come any day this week?”

“No.”

This time a sigh leaves Thorn’s lips.

“Alright maybe let’s not go to 79’s,” he says, “How about somewhere else? Dex? You used to love Dex! Or we could go to this nice place Thire told me about--”

“Thorn.”

“Yes?”

“I’m not coming.” Fox gestures to the other. “If you want to have fun go, I’m not stopping you. Just leave me out of it.”

Thorn takes a deep breath.

“Why are you so determined to be stuck in your little hole?!” he asks, exasperation overflowing at every word, “You have the right to have a life! Nobody’s going to deny you that anymore!”

Unlike Thorn, Fox isn’t a fool; he knows that his situation is not as easy as he makes it out to be: even if the Clones Rights Bill has been approved, it’ll take some time before the rest of the galaxy will see them as actual people, and Fox himself isn’t also exactly loved by his vode.

He doesn’t blame them: he was the one who raised his blaster against one of his own; he didn’t kill him only because he had missed his heart by a small margin.

If he wasn’t exactly well-loved before - it goes with being a Corrie, as they called it - from that point on he became absolutely hated. He doesn’t blame them nor he tries to justify himself, even as he has to admit he doesn’t have many memories of that day in the first place; still, he’s not a coward and he refuses to hide behind such a pathetic excuse.

 The thing is this: Fox doesn’t belong anywhere anymore; he knows there isn’t a place in which he’s welcome.

It’s fine, solitude isn’t that bad, even if it wasn’t supposed to be part of any of their lives, but he’s gotten used to it.

Besides…

 “I do get out. In fact, I just came home after I got out.” It’s a weak retort, but someone has to make that point. As expected in fact, Thorn’s completely unimpressed with that comeback.

“Grocery shopping doesn’t count.”

“Not just that,” Fox weakly mutters.

He’s not lying though! Two days ago he got out to meet with Bly! Sure, they have avoided going to 79’s or any other clone created space, but they still saw each other, they still went for a walk, they still talked, they still acted like friends.

Of his old batch, Bly is the one Fox sees most; it used to be Ponds, but then… Fox doesn’t want to think about that. Apparently Bly has forgotten that his brothers can take care of themselves and has the need to be act like a mother even when that’s totally unnecessary - nevermind how relieved Fox feels when he comes visiting, that’s totally unrelated.

With Wolffe he mostly speaks via comms; they guy is still so busy trying to find a place for the Wolfpack, and although Fox doesn’t blame him - he would’ve done the same for the Guard - he’s glad that his men managed to find it on their own.

Hell, even Cody makes himself known from time to time, even though it’s mostly by sending holos from his most recent travels - yes, he always said that he wanted to explore the galaxy after the war, and now the son of a bantha is truly doing it.

Excluding his batch, the only people that remember his existence are Stone and Thire, who make a point to visit when they can, and Thorn, who is the one who bothers him most often.

 No matter how you put it, in the end Fox is very much alone.

It’s just self-preservation, nothing more nothing less, really: the Coruscant Guard has always been in a weird spot, because they’ve been looked down by the majority of the vode for not fighting frontline.

Now, with the discovery of Palpatine’s true identity, things have only gotten worse because they’ve been suspected of working with him, as if they haven’t been simply other pawns for him to manipulate. Not that they have ever been accused directly - except from some drunk vod at 79’s - but it was easy drawing conclusions with the way they were looked at, or the general distrust that the vode reserved them, like they could still be working against them.

At least Fox has managed to shift the blame around so that instead of “the Guard worked with Palpatine” people go around saying that only Fox did. His reputation is already damaged beyond repair, so why not? At least the others will get that second chance at life that he knows he wouldn’t get either way.

Deep down, very deep down, he envies them, because they truly are free, unlike him, who will be chained to his past crimes until the day he dies and probably even after - he shivers just thinking about how he’ll be remembered by the future generation, if he’ll be remembered at all.

Still, it all becomes meaningless in front of the pure joy he feels when they narrate him the last shenanigans they get themselves involved in. They are truly free and happy now, and Fox is happy for them.

 … If sometimes he wishes their places were switched, that he was the one who could live freely as his heart desires, well, that’s something only for him to know and keep secret.

Sometimes he thought about confiding in Thorn, the only one he’d ever consider burdening with this stuff, but every time he decides to do he quickly changes his mind; it’s not worth it.

Now more than ever he wants to scream, not even at Thorn in particular, just scream, as if all his anguish and problems would disappear just with that. It would be too good to be true

It’s not that he doesn’t want to get out, it’s just that he can’t. It’s not safe, it’s not…

He’s afraid of all the stares he’d get, of all the words that would be thrown at him. Normally it wouldn’t phase him - he’s used to it - but day by day he’s becoming more susceptible to his emotions again; it almost makes him miss that time when he was so detached to seem almost a droid. At least he could get things done back then, not like now that he has to mentally prepare himself to go out at least one day before.

 At least now he’s free, however, isn’t he?

Technically he could go wherever he wants, could do whatever he wants, if only… No, he can’t. People wouldn’t be happy to have him around.

 Thorn tries again. He’s gotten so close to Fox that if he was someone else Fox would’ve already tried to put some distance between them, but with Thorn he’s used to it.

“Fox, what’s wrong?”

“I can’t. I--” Kark, his voice is breaking.

“Nobody’s stopping you. In fact, the only one stopping you is yourself, trust me,” Thorn reassures him. “I know you still feel guilty, but most vode have gotten over it. In the end we were all in a shitty situation. Besides, you did hesitate in the end, didn’t you? That’s why Fives is still alive and why we discovered who the Sith Lord was.”

What Thorn is saying makes sense, but this doesn’t mean that it’s easy for Fox to accept it; after so much time spent with self-hatred as his only constant companion, he can’t act like he never thought any bad things about himself. Besides, he doubts the rest of the vode really have forgiven him.

Still, Thorn wouldn’t lie about this, because as much as the fool still insists on wanting to cheer him up, he knows that he won’t accomplish anything by telling lies - actually, he’d make things even worse - and there’s still the fact that deep down Fox wants to leave his place, wants to do something with his life, but… it’s scary.

 “Even if I decide to leave, it’ll take time before I can organize anything,” he says, because it’s so much easier saying that rather than to admit that he’s the one who needs time.

These last months have been hard for everybody, but nobody talks about how especially hard they’ve been for Fox. He’s just so tired of everything.

Yes, that’s it, he’s tired. If he could he’d disappear without leaving any trace, but he knows that if he does someone would come searching for him; in the end there are some people that care about him, but at this point Fox wishes they didn’t because it would make his situation easier: he wouldn’t hold onto that love he still scarcely receives anymore, he wouldn’t suffer because it’s still so little.

Whose fault is that anyway? It’s his. It’s him the one who keeps pushing people away. It’s just that he craves and hates the attention at the same time, a contradiction that he still hasn’t sorted out.

 He’s so focused on trying not to lose it in front of Thorn that he barely notices him moving them to the couch. He does feel it however when he closes his arms around him, when he kisses his forehead, when he says that it’s fine, that it’s ok, that he’s safe.

Fox has gone so long without allowing this kind of softness in his life, but damn he missed it. If he began to let people closer again it might happen more often, but how is he supposed to do it?

 He doesn’t know how much time passes before he gathers enough strength to speak. He won’t lie: staying like this almost makes him want to curl into a ball and fall asleep in the security of Thorn’s arms, but it’s something that Fox would rather avoid, at least for now. Maybe in the future he might be able to let go and actually do it.

“I want to leave,” he eventually says.

“Leave to where?” Thorn asks.

“I don’t know, but I want to travel.”

“We can do that,” Thorn replies, smiling at Fox, “We can do whatever we want.”

Yes it’s true, they can…

“You think Thire and Stone would want to come? It would be nice having the squad back together.”

“I’m sure they’d love it.”

Fox doesn’t know if Thorn’s actually right, but it’s reassuring to hear him say that.

 For now he’ll bask in his brother’s warmth for a bit longer. They can plan another time - there’s no rush after all.

The idea of the outside isn’t something he’s still entirely comfortable with, but Fox would also be lying if he said that he isn’t looking forward to exploring it. Coruscant is pretty and all… but he’s grown tired of it.

He might still not have found his place in the new word, but who knows, maybe there’s hope for him yet.

[oftenderweapons]

Apple Of My Pie (5) — Jin

A Small Town Swoons story Chapter 5.

Pairing: Kim Seokjin x reader (nicknamed Buttercup)

Wordcount: 3.8k

Genre: non-idol!AU, Baker/Café owner!Seokjin, University student!reader Flatmates!AU, Friends To Lovers; angst, very little fluff

Rating: suggested 18+

Trigger Warnings: swearing, slight anxiety, verbal fight, generic allusions to sex.

A/N: Hello my cupcakes! Welcome to the Small Town Swoon Universe! 🥰✨

In this episode: As Jin and Grace grow more intimate, Buttercup realises she needs a way out of her situation, and Namjoon and Jeongguk offer her just that. However, as the events develop, she understands that her decision needs to be even more drastic. Jeongguk teaches Seokjin a very tough lesson — maybe the  toughest of them all.

TRIGGER WARNINGS: Swearing. Allusions to sex; accidental overhearing. Seokjin is kind of a jerk, Jeongguk is very angry at him. Verbal fight. Buttercup feels slightly anxious/panics at the thought of going back to the apartment.

Remember to vote for next prompt (check the link in my bio) and in case you need it, here’s my masterlist 💜

If you’d like some company, here is the music companion (Spotify only, sorry 😔)

Navi: Chapter 1 — Chapter 2 — Chapter 3 — Chapter 4 — Chapter 5 — Chapter 6 — Chapter 7 (7/7)

There were things you never thought you would have to do, things that made you realise the absurdity of your position, the complete stupidity of the circumstances.

Real people don’t need to handle this. Real people live banal lives, date, fall in love, break up. Or get married, have kids, grow up and grow old together.

Real people aren’t awake at four am because their crush’s date is mewling from the opposite side of the apartment.

You didn’t want to ask yourself questions.

You wanted to sleep and possibly wake up cold. That is, dead.

She mewled. Of course, not actually cat sounds but rather that kind of small, shy squeals that usually mean “I’m shy but I love whatever this person is doing”.

You didn’t allow yourself to dig into that.

You just turned to the other side and pressed the spare pillow against your head, trying to mute the sounds — and maybe mute your thoughts in the process.

Maybe accidentally suffocate yourself.

It was ridiculous.

This had happened about a month ago, with reversed roles — you being the squealer and Seokjin being the unfortunate listener.

You wondered whether he had felt just like you were feeling at that moment.

You thought about wearing your headphones and blasting some music. You thought about rushing out of the apartment and smashing the door on your way out.

You knew you had no one to call, no one who could rescue you at four am on a winter night, sheltering you from the shards of your heart precipitating and stabbing your guts.

Maybe you were allucinating. Maybe it was the sound of your pulse getting too loud because you didn’t trust yourself breathing without emitting a sob.

No, it was the headboard. There was no other way to explain the thumping.

You turned and grabbed your phone, sending a hopeless shout in the void. Just a text to the one most likely to answer, even though the chances were pretty thin.

Are you awake? Perhaps?

The thumping subdued.

Your vision blurred as you stared and stared, occasionally tapping the screen and praying for a miracle.

You thought you had fallen asleep, trapped in a nightmare, when a small bubble appeared.

On the hunt. We’re just back from Mulbreigh field. I guess you’re home?”

You shook yourself up and got moving, not even caring to keep quiet. The thumping had resumed, and so had the mewling.

At Ginger’s in five.

Gotcha.

You did exit the apartment in a few minutes, grabbing just the bare necessities, and closing the door quietly.

By now you were familiar with nightly runaways.

And you were also familiar with the trio headed toward you.

“Buttercup, is that you?” A calm, familiar voice asked.

“Joon?”

“Yeah, it’s us. We have just one field left.” He said. “We’re hoping to get the last one in time for the meteor shower.”

You raised your eyebrows. “There’s a meteor shower tonight?”

The other man at Namjoon’s side was a vet from a city nearby, who occasionally helped him track new wild animals that inhabited the area. “Yes. At around five am. It will be barely visible, but it will be there. Nice to see you, Buttercup.”

“Hello Marcus, always a pleasure.” You said kindly, still shaking your head at the nickname. Shortly after, you noticed the third man greeting you. “Hi Buttercup!”

“Hello Guk!” You said. “How many did you find?”

“We found three owls and got them chipped and registered. And we found a new fox, just out of Mulbreigh. We’re going to track him or her soon, hopefully. No wolves, fortunately.”

You smiled. “That’s good news!” You said enthusiastically, thinking about how the farmer would have menaced those. The four of you walked toward the last location, taking a long path stretching north. 

“We’re hoping to find deers, honestly. Remember when we found that doe, last year? Apparently she found a way to remove her tracker and we’re hoping we can keep her monitored, just in case she has more fawns this year.” Marcus explained, at which you nodded in interest. 

Staying focused allowed you to remove some thoughts from your mind, but at the same time you kept yourself out of their way, letting the experts work, following them from a distance as they combed the field and placed pheromones signals around the area, hoping to attract the doe to the trees near the field, where it was easier to find her traces and where it was potentially easier to catch her.

“There’s no point going on here,” commented Marcus. “We can only wait. It might take weeks.”

Namjoon huffed and nodded. “Oh, there!” He said, pointing up. A white sign resembling a scratch slashed the horizon in the west, Jeongguk whipping his head in the direction, his pretty eyes widening in wonder as he saw one more shooting star zoom through the sky lighting up at dawn in such delicate shades, from rose to periwinkle to deep royal blue.

For a moment you stared at the sky, feeling its immensity, peace and beauty heal you slowly and steadily. How could such tiny human matters affect its infinity? You let your eyes drown in the greatness of everything, with the snowcaps rimmed in gold in the distance, and the meteors becoming invisible as the sky finally became too bright.

“Guk, Buttercup, why don’t you head home while me and Marcus drive back at the cabin and finish up the paperwork?” Namjoon suggested, by now extremely used to his routine.

Jeongguk looked intermittently at you and Namjoon, adorably confused before he nodded.

“Okay.” He agreed.

You smiled timidly before thanking him, the two of you starting your walk back to town. It was a thirty minute trek, at worst, but you were both fast walkers and in twenty-five you reached his small house. Bibby, his large, scary dog — who of course is a sweetheart, just like his owner — welcomed both of you, the oversized puppy throwing himself at you and barking just once before Jeongguk shushed him.

“How come you joined us?” Jeongguk asked, uncapping his orange juice bottle and pouring a glass, offering you some while you shook your head and declined politely.

You crossed your arms, your stance becoming defensive. You fidgeted and tried to speak, starting a couple times before stopping and starting again, trying to build an actual sentence.

Jeongguk looked at you and waited patiently. He was familiar with the blabbering, stuttering and reformulating.

“Okay. Don’t say this to Yoongi, but… Yeah, he took Grace home last night— That is, he brought her to the apartment and they… Slept together?” You said, your voice so squeaky by the time you said the final word.

“And by ‘sleeping’ you mean everything but, right?” Jeongguk asked tactfully.

You nodded and looked at the floor, busying yourself petting Bibby.

“I’m so sorry, Buttercup.” He said, coming close to you and caressing your back soothingly.

You didn’t have the energies to cry. You probably would, in a while, after waking up.

“You need some sleep, don’t you, Buttercup?” Jeongguk asked, patting your head.

Again you replied wordlessly, moving your head in approval.

“Bibby is a great nap buddy, and I can get the futon ready and let you sleep there.” He reassured you, already fluffing up the pillows and grabbing an extra blanket.

“I’d like to sleep on the sofa, please?” You said, sitting down and removing your shoes, Bibby immediately getting interested in your wiggling toes.

“Oh, you’d like that?” He asked in surprise, “try it first, I can still get the futon ready if you don’t like this old guy.” He joked about the piece of furniture.

You laid on your side, wiggling a little as you found the right position. “Can do.” You said with a barely-there smile. “Thank you, Guk.”

“It’s okay.” He said, throwing the blanket on top of you. “This one is just for guests. I washed it last weekend, don’t worry.” He reassured you.

Knowing Jeongguk, you didn’t even mind. He is a neat freak and a tattoo artist: cleanliness means everything to him. “Can I seriously keep Bibby?” You asked, soft eyed.

He beamed and nodded. “He only sleeps on the sofa.” He said proudly and, as if following his owner’s praise, Bibby climbed on the cushions, curling up in the space before you and laying his head on your arm, using it as a pillow.

You giggled and scratched the spot behind his ear.

“Ask me if you need anything.” Jeongguk murmured. “I’ll leave my door open, just in case you need help or something.” He commented sweetly, closing the blinds to the several windows before walking to the kitchen and coming back to you, placing a bottle of water close to you.

He noticed Bibby was already asleep and he caressed the dog’s head before whispering “sleep tight”.

You heard him leave the room. You closed your eyes, feeling Bibby’s lungs inflate and deflate regularly, his heartbeat strong, his short fur velvety and relaxing under your fingertips.

You fell asleep like a baby.

Waking up meant a lot of things happening altogether.

Realising Bibby was in your arms.

Realising you were on Jeongguk’s sofa.

Realising you were heartbroken and that the idea of going back home nauseated you so deeply you couldn’t even remotely consider it.

Jeongguk greeted you from the kitchen. “You’re up, Buttercup!” He cheered, while Bibby turned around and placed his big head under your chin, shading his eyes. He always marvelled you with his curious manners. “It’s midday, would you like brunch?”

You sniffed the air. Bacon and eggs.

“Yes, please.”

Bibby seemed to follow your lead, sniffing the air and running to his owner, acting way faster than you.

“Okay, what do we wanna do?” Jeongguk  asked once you were both seated at the kitchen table.

You ate some food, chewing quietly as you thought. You took your time.

“Honestly, I don't feel like going home, I guess.” You said, staring at your dish. You felt a bit lost.

“We can hang out. Watch TV, meet the guys, do anything you want.” Jeongguk said.

“I was thinking of… No, it's okay, I should go home.”

“But you don't want to.” Jeongguk opposed.

“No, but I don't want to go back later tonight and find myself dreading sleeping in my room.” You said. You couldn't explain the emptiness in your stomach as you thought of the room.

“You know you can stay here as long as you want, right? I have a spare room. We can put the futon there.” He said touching your hand.

That small sentence felt like the water threatening to drown you was slowly lowering.

“I don't want to abuse your kindness.” You admitted shyly, softly.

“I am your friend. It is my duty to help you” He reassured you.

You mulled over your various possibilities. “Okay. But I'd like to go home and grab some stuff. Maybe they're not around.” You considered, looking at Jeongguk doubtfully.

“It's okay. We can go together.”

You exhaled in relief.

Standing in front of the apartment door, you took a deep breath, Jeongguk rubbing his hand between your shoulder blades, over your jacket.

You could already hear them laughing and chatting.

You slipped the keys into the lock and opened the door.

“I'll wait here, yes?” Jeongguk reassured you.

You nodded and went in, walking to your room hesitantly, only to be completely overwhelmed by the sight in the kitchen.

Jin was standing behind Grace, helping her prepare his special avocado sandwich, an elaborate mug topped with whipped cream and crushed almonds waiting beside her while the breakfast table was filled with any kind of breakfast and brunch food one could only dream of.

However, what truly unsettled you was Grace, wearing an oversized shirt — Jin's — bare-legged, with Granny's thick handmade socks covering her feet and calves.

Seokjin said something in her ear and she giggled cutely, throwing her head back and leaning into his shoulder.

They ignored you completely, caught in their happy bubble, while you hid slightly.

You refused to hold on, rushing back to the front door.

Jeongguk spoke softly. “Where's your stuff?”

You shook your head.

“I'm coming with you.” He said, placing his hand on the small of your back and leading you inside, closing the door noisily.

“Hello, we're here.” He called loudly, bringing the two of you to the kitchen.

Seokjin's eyes zeroed in to the place the man's voice had come from, spotting you instead.

So this is it, he thought.

He. Grace.

You. Jeongguk.

Jeongguk?

His jaw contracted.

“Buttercup came by to grab some things. It won't take long, will it, sweets?”

You widened your eyes at him and shook your head. “Yes, sure.”

You almost ran to your bedroom, picking up the most basic stuff to spend a night out and to head off to lessons the following morning.

In the bathroom, you collected your toothbrush and beauty products before returning to the kitchen, your bag ready.

“Good to go, sweets?” He questioned, looking at you with his expressive, gleeful eyes.

You nodded and gave him the tiniest of smiles. “Let's go.”

Jeongguk turned towards Jin and Grace. “Have a nice afternoon, goodbye!” He greeted, letting you wave at the two before dragging you out, not before offering Seokjin a smug grin and winking.

Wearing that mask took a toll on him. He hated what Seokjin had done to you through the years, acting like a protective older brother without being one. He hated that the man kept you emotionally busy and never let you out of his influence. Most of your past relationships had dramatically been brought to an end by Seokjin's asphyxiating presence, by the incapability of your partners to rival with your best friend.

He had ruined you for everyone else, and Jeongguk couldn't find any words to define how cruel that was.

“Are you doing okay, Buttercup?” He asked.

You smiled a bit coldly.

“I'm sorry you had to see that.” He opened the door and let you in, Bibby welcoming the both of you.

“It's okay. They've been dating for more than a month now. He's been by himself for a long time–”

“But he had you!” Jeongguk objected as he took off his jacket.

Your mouth stretched sadly. “Not like that.”

Jeongguk scrunched his nose in disappointment. “Okay. You know I’ve had the biggest crush over you. And we know that by now it’s just water under the bridge. And maybe I never told you but it was so easy to get over you — no offence — since to me, actually to all of us, you and Jin have always belonged to each other. It’s canon. Anyone else would be wrong for the two of you. Obviously.”

You completely ignored Jeongguk’s mention of those old feelings. You already knew; it was all water under the bridge — just like he said — and the two had discussed it years ago. Instead, you focused on the belonging part. “He has Grace now. They’ve been dating for what? Six weeks?”

“He’s been in love with you for four years!” Jeongguk said, slightly upset.

“Well, apparently he didn’t do a great job of showing that! And it doesn’t matter now. He has Grace.” You repeated.

“The two of you are so stupidly dumb, I need to call Yoongi.” Jeongguk said, absolutely frustrated.

Silence lingered heavy in the room, like a thick fog. “Don’t call Yoongi, please.” You said, sitting on the sofa and curling up in a ball. “He’ll scold me and then snap at Jin and then Spice will kill all of us for stressing him and interrupting their kinky Sunday afternoon.”

Jeongguk startled and put down the phone. “Kinky Sunday afternoon? Is that a thing?”

“With Spice, anything is a thing, especially if it means alone time with Yoongi.” You explained, scratching your nose and hugging Bibby as he got on the sofa.

“Okay. Let’s think about happier, less traumatising things. Do you wanna watch some TV? I have some Disney DVDs from when Namjoon comes over. No Bambi and Dumbo because those make him cry.” Jeongguk said, exposing his friend shamelessly. “And I don’t want to pay for Disney plus, Yoongi would disown me and I would never tattoo him anymore and I don’t want that.”

You giggled, completely endeared. “Do you think you have Tangled?”

“Oh, yes!” Jeongguk checked the case and placed the CD in his PlayStation. “Namjoon loves Pascal. The chameleon.” Jeongguk gushed, sitting on the sofa, switching on a small lamp. “Oh, would you like some popcorn?” He asked, ever friendly and welcoming.

You smirked before nodding.

Pausing the film, he dashed to the kitchen, getting a bag into the microwave and coming back five minutes later with a large bowl, the whole room smelling of salted butter.

You hummed in approval and settled down, Bibby miraculously uninterested in the snack. He restarted the film and your mind got completely absorbed by that.

Seokjin was confused.

He had accompanied Grace home, and now he sat in an empty room — an empty house —, looking at the opposite end of the table, where you weren’t sitting.

Did you sleep with Jeongguk for revenge?

Did you maybe talk to him and he made his move and you said ‘why not’, just like you had with that dude almost a month ago?

Maybe you liked him. Maybe you had always liked him and the two of you had confessed — he had a different gleam in his eyes and he had called you ‘sweetie’ or some other dumb nickname like that.

He should have confessed. He should have stopped hiding his head in his ass and should have grown a pair and told you, Buttercup, I’m so far gone that I’d be ready to serve you for the rest of my life, hell, I’d even donate you my sperm if your husband was infertile and you wanted kids. I’d even give up a kidney, fuck, I’d give up my heart too for you.

He was a dumb, stupid fucker.

He wrote you a text.

I’m sorry about fucking Grace, please come home.

Erased

Please come home. We need to talk. I’m in love with you.

Erased

Don’t fuck Jeongguk, you can fuck me instead, please.

Erased

He realised he always wrote ‘please’, and the more he went on, the more he needed to add.

He tried to stop overthinking everything and focused on the actual reality of it all.

He stared at your empty seat again.

Are you coming home for dinner?

Sent

The silence felt eternal.

That must be how space rovers feel, he thought, thinking about that tiny robot that wandered over the surface of Mars all alone.

He felt like the whole apartment couldn’t possibly be home anymore.

He shook his head, telling himself he was being melodramatic. After five minutes, he decided to call you. You always answered texts about food! You knew how much it meant to him eating together!

With renewed tenacity, he found your contact at the very top of the list, three A’s added before your name to make sure it always stayed on top of the list.

And he called you.

The beeping sound of the call ringing went on for ages. He swore he could feel his hair grow and his skin wither.

He waited maybe for a bit less than a minute, his mind already knowing that you were upset with him, that you were making him wait and grovel. You were trying to get on his nerves. Most definitely.

The ringing stopped.

“What is it?”

It was Jeongguk.

“Is she with you?” Seokjin asked, cold as ice.

“Yes. Of course.”

“When is she coming home?” Jin asked dryly. He felt ready for a fight.

“When she wants to.” Jeongguk replied equally dryly.

“Give her the phone.”

Jeongguk breathed heavily. He didn’t want to pass the phone to you. Seokjin had no right claiming you like that, using that voice, acting so mean when he was the one at fault. “She’s sleeping.” It was true. You were really sleeping; you had completely crashed at the end of the cartoon, with Bibby keeping you warm and covering you in affection, never leaving your side. After all, some dogs have a sense of smell so fine that they can sniff at their owner’s skin and perceive the hormones making their human happy or sad.

Seokjin waited, trying to calm himself down. It didn’t work. “I bet you’re gloating. You finally have her, don’t you? You must be feeling so smug.”

Jeongguk stretched his neck, keeping his composure. “I don’t have her, okay? She came to me and I gave her space. I gave her somewhere safe—”

“Our home is safe.” Jin growled. “Here is safe.”

“With you breaking her heart by banging that girl you don’t love?”

“She also banged a man she didn’t give a shit about.”

Jeongguk raised his eyebrows. “Did you bang Grace for revenge, then?”

“No. God, I’ve been alone for years, can’t I have one good thing?” Seokjin almost screamed, his frustration spilling over.

“Maybe she banged him to get over you. Maybe she did that because she’s tired of being alone, too.” Jeongguk explained, his tone glacial. His anger was scary — it didn’t explode or break. It froze everything it touched. “You hurt her. The moment you chose Grace, and with every date you went on. When you went to her on Valentine’s, when you banged her the other night. And there’s a difference. The dude she banged? That was just sex. But you and Grace? There are feelings there. That’s the part she can’t stand. This morning, when she saw the two of you in the kitchen? You broke her heart, Jin. She was broken—”

“But you fixed that, didn’t you, sweetie?” He teased, sarcastic and poisonous.

“Stop talking about my feelings for her.” Jeongguk chastised him. “Unlike you, I told her. I told her I had had a crush for her. I told her three years ago and I also told her that my feelings died down once I realised how she looked at you and how you looked at her. And we’re friends, we’re cool. I would never be able to look at her like anything more than a sister.”

Seokjin shut his mouth. He felt horrible. Maybe because he was horrible. He needed your sparkly laugh and your soothing touch. To talk things out about last night. Make everything right again. “Please, convince her to come home.”

Jeongguk tutted. “I won’t. She’ll come if she wants to. At her own time.”

“Jeongguk...” Seokjin begged.

“You both need to move on from this toxic bond. And there’s no way other than separating. Physically first, and emotionally second.” Jeongguk reasoned, repeating something he and Yoongi had discussed a thousand times.

“She is my friend.”

“You’re not hers, though. You are the person she loves, and the person hurting her. She deserves a real chance, away from you.” Jeongguk rubbed the crown of his head. “I have to go. Goodnight.”

He hung up.

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

Navi: Chapter 1 — Chapter 2 — Chapter 3 — Chapter 4 — Chapter 5 — Chapter 6 — Chapter 7 (7/7)

[some-dr-writings]

Affection starved Kokichi x Reader One-shot: Dancing at a Distance

Being with Kokichi Oma was a rather strange experience. You always had company yet after that moment, you feel lonely. You were happy but when looking back on your time together, it was sad. It was an almost surreal experience. Though he was a liar you had no doubt he cared about you and yet…

“Hey, Oma… care to dance with me?” You never knew you could get so many answers from that one simple question, but no matter how he phrased it, no matter how he ‘danced’ around the question, the sentiment was the same. No. You didn’t want to be pushy, but any explanation would have been appreciated, even a fake one,  or ‘I just don’t want to’, but he never gave you anything to work with, it seemed he more so didn’t answer at all. And so, you were left alone as he watched you from a short distance, just as he did all other times.

On one particularly nippy autumn night you found yourself unable to sleep. Perhaps it was your increasing worries about your relationship, perhaps it was the fact you had excess energy from sitting around all day hardly moving around, whatever the reason, you were still just laying in bed staring up at the ceiling… Maybe it was the fact that the world seemed to be dead silent. No rustling of the wind, not even the smallest moan or creek from the seemingly hollow dorm building. Just silent. The kind of silence that would allow one to hear their own gentle calm heartbeat.

…

After getting dressed in some loose clothing other than your pajamas, you took your boombox, small box of cassette tapes and left your room.

As the Super High School Dancer not many would assume you’d like the old bulky music equipment so much, but you did. You liked hearing the buttons and pieces inside make those satisfying click noises as you set up everything. Before Kokichi came crashing into your life, your main hobby was transferring new music onto cassette tapes. There was just something about… for lack of a better word, booming, sound of the old boombox. It was like the difference between listening to a recording of an orchestra and hearing one performed live before you. You can feel the music instead of just hearing it. Sure, you could use a modern boombox, but it wouldn’t have the exact same sound or feel, it’d be a little off.

You trotted your way out to the field as to blast the music without disturbing anyone’s sleep. You hummed feeling the slightly damp grass beneath your feet. Gently placing the boombox and box of cassettes down you quickly began set up. Now, what to play you wondered. Maybe something for quickstep since the fast-paced dance tired you out faster than most other forms. After placing the cassette in you quickly backed up from the boombox, ready to dance. You felt that joyous anticipation bubble up inside as the intro played… A-and played again? Maybe the intro was longer than you remembered… Okay, no, there was something wrong. Confused, you took out the tape. There didn’t appear to be anything wrong with it, and you weren’t entirely sure if this was a problem you could have with tapes. Perhaps something was wrong with the boombox? You decided to test this theory and placed another tape in… The intro was the same but a completely different song was played with the same instruments as the intended song. “You have got to be kidding me.” That smile you tried repressing kept growing wider and wider as you placed in more tapes, finding each one had some silly quirk.

“Nishishi. Y/N, you came!” Suddenly you were tackled from behind, being hugged so tightly. You tried sighing in annoyance, but it came out more as a soft chuckle. “Where’s my tapes?” “Hmm? What tapes?” “… Look we can play some other time, but right now I need my music to dance to so I can tire myself enough to get to sleep.” “W-what? Sleep? Y/N how could you!?” He began crying those crocodile tears as he nuzzled his cheek against your own. “You show up to our super-secret meeting only to abandon me! How can you be so mean!?” You rolled your eyes at his theatrics. “… Okay, I’ll bite. What’s this secret meeting about?” You raised a hand up, gently running your fingers up his neck and through his hair. After a moment he flinched and quickly backed away. Turning around you saw he had a small pack on him. He must have been on his way to set up some prank before hearing his tapes being played. “Planning our crime spree tonight!” “No.” “Whaaat? Y/N, I know you’re new to D.I.C.E. so I’ll let you off easy this time, but I’m the Boss, you have to at least listen to me.” “I’m not a part of your gang, I’m your partner.” “Yeah! My partner in crime, love crimes!” He looked absolutely giddy with sparkling eyes as he leaned in closer and closer, the tips of your noses touching. “… How would one even go about committing a ‘love crime’?” “Oh, Y/N, being so cheeky, like you don’t know.” His eyes narrowed on you as he wore that sharp smirk. “You stole my heart; I stole yours. Now, I want to work with you. Let’s go on a date, right now!” “Dude. It’s one in the morning or something.” “Yes, and…” “… Fine, hopefully this’ll tire me out enough to get to sleep.” Happily cheering Kokichi took the boombox and box of fake cassette tapes before bolting, leaving you to chase after him.

You quickly found yourself running out of the school and into town. Kokichi dashed down street after street after alleyway, then around a corner, down a street you had already passed. It was as if he were just running around on a whim without a destination in mind, which was entirely likely. You picked up your pace quickly leaving Kokichi behind. “Hey, no fair! You’re only faster than me because you’re not carrying all this heavy stuff!” Slowing down your pace, you turned around. “Are you sure it’ not my years of dancing?” You smirked, sprinting straight for him. You scooped him and all the stuff in your arms in a bridal carry style. Your movements were swift and effortless, completely fluid, no hesitation. You even picked up your pace. “Poor lil’ Oma, so tiny, I’m surprised you could even lift my boombox!” “Hey! Not everyone has giant beautiful muscles like you!” “They’re not giant, I’m just toned!” “Y/N that’s such an obvious lie! I’ve seen you lift people over your head with ease! You’re even… carrying me right now…” “Oma?” He didn’t hide how his voice trailed off. Did he only realize that now, or was it another lie? “You alright?” “Hmm? What’s got you wondering that? Of course I’m not! You’re holding me so closely, it’s embarrassing!” “Oh! Sorry!” Your pace immediately slowed down and just as your grip loosened, Kokichi threw his arms around your neck. “But that’s a lie! Geez, Y/N, you should know I can never get enough of you!” “… Sure. Uh, anyway! Are we just going to run around all night or are we actually going to go somewhere?” “Hmm… Alright! First go down the street we just passed! And while we’re at it, we need some racing music!” He pried a chuckle out of you at how clumsily he placed the cassette in and how he got increasingly ‘upset’ that he wasn’t finding a good enough racing song, which was only exacerbated by the ridiculous music that played.

“Stop, stop, STOP! We’re here!” Hopping out of your arms he sifted through his bag, taking out his signature mask and placing it on. “A costume shop?” “Duh! We need something to cover your face! You still haven’t made your D.I.C.E. mask yet, so we’re going to get a temporary one.” “… We’re actually committing crimes!?” He simply laughed his signature laugh as he picked at the lock. When the door opened an alarm went off. You were frozen in place as Kokichi dashed inside. Moments later the alarm stopped blaring. He then popped his head out the open door, taking off his mask. “Okay, it’s safe now! C’mon we only have ten minuets!” He then dashed back in. You were hesitant when taking those first few steps, you’ve never done anything like this before! When Kokichi spoke of ‘love crimes’ you weren’t thinking you were actually going to break into a building and steal something! Kokichi ran back out and took your hands into his own. “Don’t tell me you’re scared of walking into a building.” Then he held his mask up to you. “I’ve done this countless times, you’ll be safe with me, and that’s not a lie.” After you placed on the mask, he led you inside.

“Huh, this feels exactly like when I get into position before judges. Horrifying, and exhilarating!” “Nishishi.” Even in the dark Kokichi effortlessly lead you between the aisles. The place was rather eerie. Costumes and pieces hanging from the ceiling, random oblong shapes jutting out of the walls, the twisted shadows that seemingly scurried about. Your vision was also lightly obscured due to the mask. That coupled with you being slightly on edge from this entire situation, you were a little spooked. You squeezed his hand, lightly stroking the back of his fingers with your thumb. It was more of a mindless gesture, but an appreciative one. You only noticed you were doing so when you suddenly felt the grip on your hand loosen.

Suddenly Kokichi sprinted ahead, letting you go. “Here it is! The back storage room! They keep all the good stuff here!” He quickly picked at the lock before swinging the door open. As he entered, he searched through his bag, taking out a flashlight and with a short sharp click sound the light flipped on, seemingly blinding. You involuntarily held a hand before your eyes, squinting and looking between your fingers. Suddenly your view was darkened. “Who thought these tacky sunglasses would come in handy!” “Ah, thank you Ou-” Now that you weren’t blinded you saw how Kokichi managed to gather the most ridiculous pieces of costumes in mere moments. Clown shoes, fairy wings, giant sunglasses, boxing gloves, all of the bead necklaces, monster finger puppets on all of his fingers and some in his hair, a bowler’s cap, fox mask, checkered vest, striped shorts, feathered boa, frayed scarf, and whatever else was under all that. Being surprised by being greeted to that sight so suddenly a laugh erupted from you. That beautiful, sweet laugh that utterly melted Kokichi’s heart and caused that unconcealable, beaming smile to radiate off him. “Huh!? What’s so funny, Y/N? ~” He hopped just a little closer to you as he spoke in that knowing sing-song tone. “N-No, stop it!” You clamped your hand over your mouth, desperate to repress that laughter. Kokichi smirked. You knew better than to hide your laughter from him. “Y/N, tell me! Hey, hey, tell me, What’s so funny? Huh, huh, what is it?” With each syllable he made some sharp movement, whether it was drawing closer to you or flinging out his hands, smacking whatever was next to him causing it to fall on his head. “D-damn it Kokichi!” You laughed even harder as you kneeled on the ground, holding your stomach which hurt from laughing so hard. Meanwhile Kokichi froze for a moment, a scarlet hue spread across his cheeks and tips of his ears. His heart absolutely pounded against his ribs. You called him by his first name. After taking in your beautiful laughter he quickly removed the clothing, tossing it aside as if he were in a panic.

Once you calmed a little, Kokichi called out to you. “Y-yeah?” You hobbled towards him, taking the sunglasses off, your eyes having adjusted to the light. “There’s a whole lot of masks here!” He picked out a few holding them before his face. Very cartoonish looking shiny plastic masks. An anime girl, a bee, crocodile, a clown- “Oh, I didn’t know people made masks of your face Oma!” “Well, I’m just that handsome. Not everyone can be a face model.” He then made what you assumed to be an exaggerated ‘sexy’ face to which you rested your face in your hand. “You’re so ridiculous.” “You say that like it’s a bad thing, but I can hear your smile!” “I am smiling, and I hate it!” Your smile only grew at this silly light banter.

You drew closer looking at the open boxes. You picked up a Venice carnival mask. The face appeared to be a cracked porcelain with intricate gold, black and dark purple design. There were blank spaced under the left eye and over the right where scores of music were. At the top was what appeared to be a jester’s cap, even with tiny bells on the ends. “Ah! Perfect!” Kokichi daintily took the mask from you and placed it on. Even how he did something as mundane as picking up an object had so much personality. Perhaps as a dancer that was one of the things that drew you to him. “Alright, let’s go! We still have love crimes to commit!” “This wasn’t it!?” “Duh! Y/N, keep up. We were just getting a mask to hide your identity! This was only preparation.” He then dashed off towards the counter. You dashed after him, finding he was leaving money on the counter. “You’re paying?” “Well, yeah! I’m not a thief you know!” He said as he took a box of impulse buy mints. “Really now.” “Petty theft Y/N, petty theft.”

Once you were outside Kokichi repicked the locks, locking the doors. “Now, our date night can begin! Huh? Whoa, whoa, whoa! What are you doing? No taking off your mask when committing crimes! We don’t want anyone recognizing you!” “Uh… I’m giving you your mask back? I assumed you’d want it back, and I’d wear the store one. Wasn’t the whole point of coming here to get me a mask?” “… No, keep my mask on.” “Oh, uh, okay?” You sidled up beside him, gently taking his hand. “So, where are we headed to commit this ‘love crime’?” Kokichi flinched his hand away, instead occupying himself with the boombox. “Before that we need a sneaking around theme song!” “o-okay…” You awkwardly stood beside him as he fumbled with the cassette tape. “There, now-” He crashed into you carrying everything. “Carry me!” He nuzzled into you as you effortlessly lifted him up. “Now, off to adventure!”

As you raced around he played silly song after silly irritating song. You sighed as he scat or made up nonsensical lyrics for your soundtrack. He’d sing at the top of his lungs, making you fear he was going to wake someone. Quickly though he told you to stop. “This is it!” “… What even is this place? Off neon lights… I don’t even see a sign.” “Oh~ Nishishi. This is fun.” He joyfully skipped over to the door, picking at the lock. “You wait right here and be prepared for an emergency escape!” He then slipped through the door laughing his signature laugh.

It was awfully cool for an autumn night; it wasn’t even near winter yet. The wind picked up, rustling the leaves and throwing them up into the air. You sat on the sidewalk, looking out at those bright colorful twinkling lights. It was strangely dark and isolated here. The exact opposite of the lively town which lay not far. What even was this you wondered. You guessed you’d find out soon enough, but… would waiting too long be bad. Were either of you truly happy with this? Was this healthy even. You held no doubt that Kokichi cared for you but thinking back on what lead you here… like this place you felt somewhat isolated. Were you doing something wrong? You wanted to just ask Kokichi, but what if it was like dancing and not even lying, he’d simply say nothing as if the question were never asked. If, like times when he seemed to distance himself from you, he’d give you affection or make you laugh, get you to temporarily forget about it. You liked Kokichi, you truly did, but… maybe this wasn’t healthy for either of you. Maybe it’d be better to be friends instead. There wasn’t that much difference between being friends and being in a romantic relationship, it just the latter has more expectations… what if that was it. Maybe you were expecting too much of this.

“Hey! Y/n!”

“Huh? Uh- what?” “There you are!” He was smiling, crouching before you hugging his knees. “I called for you for a while, but you were off in la-la land!” “Oh, sorry. Just got lost in thought…” You then smirked. “But only because you took so long.” “Excuse me, but that was record time for disarming a building!” “Still took forever.” “You’re so silly.” Taking your hands, he jumped up pulling you to your feet. “Now, let’s go!”

He eagerly dragged you into the dark building. There was but a single door open where light beamed out, swaying and dancing about on the floor and wall beyond it. There were also two pairs of shoes before the door. “Come on, c’mon, put them on quickly now!” … The shoes had wheels on the bottom? Looking into the room you found it was massive. The floor was smooth and shiny with nothing atop it, the walls blank, and the ceiling was covered in lights. Against the walls was some carpeted flooring where Kokichi placed your things. He rolled along watching as you hurried to place the skates on. “I had no idea there were roller-skating rinks around here!” “Yeah, but I think this is the only one, but it’s so drab! So, we’re gonna liven things up!” He excitedly searched through the bag taking out a funky looking toy gun, colorful plastic cups and many cans of spray paint. You hobbled over to the rink, slipping forward and back, swinging your arms and body out in any direction to keep any semblance of balance. When Kokichi neared you threw yourself at him, to which you both fell. “S-sorry!” You rolled over quickly sitting up. “Ooh, I didn’t know my Y/N was so clumsy! Or were you just wanting an excuse to hug me?” “I’ve never been roller skating before.” “… You… you’re not lying… But you’re the Super High School Level Dancer! Shouldn’t you know roller disco?” “Yeah, High School Level, not Ultimate, or end-all-be-all… There are a few things I still have not mastered. Like how Tojo can’t cut konjac, or how Chabashira doesn’t know a thing about Aikido! We may be great, but not perfect, and roller-skating… happens to be where I’m lacking.” “Oh… That’s going to be a problem then. Oh well! This will just be more fun!” With verve he pulled you to your feet and placed a can of spray paint in your hand. “Let’s go paint!”

You slipped and tumbled as you painted, making sloppy, dripping designs. Kokichi linked his arm with your own, catching you before you fell and simply helped you keep your balance in general. You most often just made random lines or squiggles and Kokichi incorporated them into his own childish looking work. He turned the lines into the sides of dice and the squiggles into lop sided hearts or other things, whatever he felt like. You found yourself giggling from imagining how ridiculous you must have looked attempting to keep balance and nervousness from breaking into another building, this time vandalizing it. But you trusted Kokichi and followed his lead, letting yourself just enjoy the absurdity of it all.

Once finished the pair of you took a step back, admiring your work. “Masterpieces, all of it!” “I don’t know about that, but it was fun.” “Now, we need to fix these lights!” He glided away, picking up the packets of colored plastic cups then returned. “Toss me up to the ceiling Y/N!” “Excuse me!?” “I need you to toss me! I’ve seen you do it before! Besides, how else am I supposed to place these on the lights?” You looked up seeing the ceiling lights were the kind where the light was just stuck in a drilled hole in the ceiling. You supposed it was possible to cram the open end of the cup there. “… If you touch the ceiling or ground even once I won’t toss you anymore.” “Yay!” He hugged you, giving you the opportunity to quickly pick him up and toss him. “What was that? It’s wasn’t even close.” “Well excuse me for not wanting to hurt you.” “I know you can do this. I’ll be fine.” “… alright.” After you made sure you were standing on the toe stop, you tossed him much higher than before. You held your breath seeing him fly up then come tumbling down. Catching him in your arms you clutched him tightly as if fearing he was going to fly up on his own. “See, I’m fine. I know I can trust you.” “… Thanks.” “Now, onto the next!” And so, you tossed up Kokichi to each and every single light.

When you caught him that last time you hugged him tightly, thankful you did not slip up once. You certainly felt the pain of your dancing partner not catching you and though quick, it’s scary and can instantly shatter much trust that had been built up. However, you felt Kokichi squirm under your grip so you reluctantly let go. He then hugged you before skating away, picking up the strange gun. “Y/N, want to do the honors?” “… I don’t even know what the gun does!” “Okay, okay, just help me keep from falling over.” “Alright?” Before you could even approach him, he crashed into you. He then looked up at the ceiling and took aim. With a pop curtain string lights shot out, attaching itself to the ceiling. It was no wonder he asked you to keep him steady, the force from that thing shooting was much too powerful for one person to handle. Kokichi made sure to cover the entire ceiling with the thing. When he was finally satisfied, he raced off to the wall to plug the end into an outlet. Then the lights flipped on.

It was brilliant. It was like an otherworldly stage. The curtain string lights slightly swayed as Kokichi flew past, making it appear almost waterfall like. The colors clashed against one another and were slightly obscured by the string lights making it look to be a haze. The floor reflected the ceiling making the lights look endless. It was fun chaos. And what made it even better was the quickstep song Kokichi had playing on full blast from your boombox. “Wait. No that’s actually one of my songs. Not one you altered.” “Aw~ You liked my music. Well if you insist, I can play the Delfino Plaza theme intro loop for us.” “NO! No! I am so glad for this! I was just surprised for a moment!” Kokichi laughed seeing your flustered reaction.

“… Oma. You’re ridiculous and amazing. This is fun, and scary. Thank you for this.” Kokichi froze hearing the shear warmth that oozed from your voice. He was only snapped out of his trance feeling you so gently take his hand and intertwine your fingers together. He flinched away, immediately regretting it. “I’m not comfortable with that. I don’t like touch that much. I hope you understand.” He then hid his hand behind his head. “… But that’s a lie.” He quickly wrapped his hands around one of yours, pulling himself close. “Sorry for scaring you!” “… Is it, though.” You pulled your hand away. “Do you not like being touched?” “Hmm? Wait, what’s that?” He tried skating away but tripped over his own feet. When he hit the ground a buzzing sound went off. “Aw. My hand buzzer prank was revealed, oh well.” “… You really don’t want to talk about this, do you. That was a pathetic ‘prank’ to get me distracted.” You kneeled down beside him to be closer to his level. “You always do this, try to pull the wool over my eyes, distract me from… something. It seems you push me away, but you then approach me so freely. Is this a control thing? Do I make you uncomfortable? Is that why you’re only okay when you approach me? If you distrust me that much at least lie instead of ignoring it. I don’t care if it’s a painful truth or a happy lie, just… communicate with me, say something, anything. Please.” You couldn’t let this go. If you wanted this to work you had to communicate somehow, and you didn’t know what else to do at this point… and… You hated this. You hated being used to this feeling. It was just like dancing. Fun and amazing, and so, so exciting, but lonely. When dancing you need to be at similar levels for it to truly work, but because of your title, because of how quickly you learned others became intimidated by your skill believing they couldn’t keep up with you, leaving you on your own. You thought this would be different. No disproportion of skill level so you could be on an even playing field, so you could actually have a partner to work and be with. But even with Kokichi, it was like you were being dragged around. You wondered if you only felt like this because you were expecting too much. You thought things could be like when you were younger, you could actually have a partner, someone who you could rely on just as much as they relied on you. Someone you could trust to catch you, be someone they could trust in return… But it’s not. This just feels like whenever you invited another dancer to dance. Left to be by yourself.

“Do whatever you want with me.” “Huh?” He sat up and looked you directly in the eyes, or at least you assumed so, it was near impossible to tell with the mask on. You also thought so because of how you felt this gaze. It was similar to what you felt on stage, knowing all eyes were on you, but this was different. It was… intense. “I… w-what do you mean?” He dragged himself over only mere millimeters apart from you. “… You overwhelm me. I’m not used to this. Getting affection so earnestly. Everyone hates or distrust me because of my antics. The only people who cared about me before you was D.I.C.E., my family. But… we don’t show affection in the typical way. We mess with one another, making lighthearted jokes at our own expense to make others laugh, booby-trap places we know they frequent often and that trap having a treat or gift for them. But you… You just say it. You just hug me, touch me, hold my hand. I want it. I want you. I want you to keep wanting me. But then I feel like my heart’s going to explode and I get so nervous and my mind goes into a panic. It’s embarrassing that I feel ashamed of not being able to handle even your simple touches. So, I back away, but I still crave you and want you to know I care about you too. I’m not uncomfortable it’s just… so much to take in all at once my mind and heart can’t keep up!” As he spoke, he slowly draped his arms over your shoulders and leaned into you, closing the gap. He nuzzled into you. Even with that mask on, you could feel a shiver run down your spine as his warm breath brushed across your ear. “… Do whatever you want to me. Please.” This… You never heard him speak in such a serious tone before. He almost sounded like a completely different person. You wondered if he could feel how your heart raced, the heat radiating from your face, how you just wanted to melt into that embrace. Little did you know Kokichi was thinking the exact same thing in that moment and every other time you touched him. Still holding on to you, he backed up so you could see his masked face.

“But that’s a lie!” There was that playful tone you recognized. “I’m a supreme leader. I’m showered in love and affection all the time! Every single day I’ll have you know! How do you think I got so good at giving hugs?!” As if proving his point, he tackled you into a hug, throwing all his weight into it, knocking the two of you over. “… If all that was a lie, then what about the first thing.” “It’s the truth. Do whatever you want to me, and I won’t mind a Single. Little. Bit.” “Whatever I want huh… Then…” You slowly sat up. “Care to skate dance with me?” “What? Did you lie to me about not knowing how to skate?” “No. I don’t care if I don’t even know the basics. I just want to dance with you. Share my passion with you.” You shakily got up. “Want to dance with me, Oma?” He was still for a moment before taking your hand. As you helped him to his feet you noticed the song suddenly changed. It was one you didn’t recognize but had the same instruments as the intended song. Of course, he used a silly tape, why would you think he brought your original ones with him. It was Latin Jazz you believed.

Taking both his hands, you held them in a tight grip, fearful of falling over. You both laughed out loud, spinning around, clinging to one another attempting to keep any balance. You tried doing some dance moves, from ballet, to ballroom, to jazz, most of which ended in you and Kokichi almost toppling over and laughing to no end in the process. You soon noticed how Kokichi’s grip was almost unbearably tight, and how his hands trembled. “Nervous?” “I… I’m feeling lightheaded.” He then flopped into you. You immediately wrapped your arms around him, keeping him steady. “Ah~ much better. Thank you, Y/N.” He knew dancing was going to kill him. He could hardly handle you holding his hand and now he was trying something so intimate, dancing. Entrusting your entire being into your partner. Being so close with so much skin contact. It wasn’t like he didn’t like it. In fact was a desperately wanting this, but he believed he hadn’t become a complete wreak from these overwhelming feelings because his intense blush was hidden behind a mask and he couldn’t see how tenderly you were probably looking at him right now. Or how you were smiling, or… And even merely thinking of you was blurring his mind, being consumed by the desire to just stay like this longer.

Suddenly you stopped. “Oma. I think someone-” The moment he heard voices Kokichi dragged you to your things, chucking the skates away and quickly collected the boombox and tapes. “Y/N, run now!” You scooped him and your things before dashing away past the people at the entrance. The pair of you giggled like naughty school children as you zipped down street after street trying to lose any cops that were potentially called on you. After Kokichi was convinced you had escaped he burst into obnoxiously loud laughter, taking off his and your masks. He so cheekily smiling seeing the dawn of a new day. “You’re beautiful Oma.” Then you pulled him closer, kissing him on the cheek. His laughter choked, a loud squeak like noise replacing it. You chuckled seeing his tight-lipped wobbling smile as his already rosy tinted cheeks flushed to be absolutely red. “Oh? I thought you were great at accepting affection. Or are cheek kisses your weakness?” You were leaning in for a kiss when he placed and hand on your face and buried his own face into his other hand. “Y-you’re so mean. Don’t tease me like that!” “Aw~ but how am I supposed to resist when you blush so cutely like that!” You absolutely adored seeing that blush spread, and smile grow.

[willowbird]

Prompts open? Bet maybe foxes(and Andrew) slowly finding out how fucked up Neil’s mom was to him?(I get it was to survive but it was still abuse)

Since this one got kinda... Uh... Long... And answered both of these prompts I decided to combine them!! I didn't include a separate one for Andrew because he's present for a couple of them and by the time I reached the end it was like 6600 words and an Andrew POV would probably add another 2000 because I'm me and I always get carried away with Andrew POV.

If you’d rather read this on AO3 you can do so here.

4 times the Foxes found out how fucked up Mary was to Neil, and the 1 time Neil actually admitted it

ONE - ALLISON

Allison had been taking Neil shopping, which in itself wasn't really a weird occurrence. Allison would take any of her teammates shopping if that's what needed to happen to get them to stop looking like a dirty hobo. As it happened, Neil was just the worst offender and so she pestered him about it more often than not. It was remarkable how the guy could be dating the Monster and still look like that. Not that Andrew Minyard was a fashion icon or anything, but the miniature psychopath at least understood the concept of aesthetic and made sure the people around him wore things that actually fit. 

Well, most of the people around him. 

Point being, Neil needed a bit of extra help, and Allison was more than happy to supply it. So she'd taken to dragging him out shopping with her once a week. It was basically therapy - and fuck if that boy didn't need some of that.

(But Allison wasn't going to say that in front of Neil or he'd probably get hives…)

Usually, the shopping trips all went about the same. Allison would drag Neil along, Neil would acquiesce until he got hungry, then he'd get bitchy and after Allison fed him he'd calm the fuck down enough to try on more things before refusing to get anything. On a very rare occasion she would get him to accept a shirt or a new pair of pants. His weakness was shoes, but she tries not to exploit that too often.

Today, however, was different - because today Allison caught Neil's eyes catching on a particular hoodie. If it had been just once she would have passed it off, but this was at least the fourth time Neil had sought it out in the whole ten minutes they'd been in the narrow clothing store and his eyes didn't just catch, they lingered. Which meant that Neil was interested, that he liked something. This was a breakthrough! Especially since the hoodie was new and had color, rather than the drab shit he was always wearing. It was a very pretty cerulean blue with black stitching and was of a less bulky design than the other two Neil owned (one of which was the Foxes one she'd never seen him wear off-campus). In the proper size it would fit his frame nicely, she could tell just by looking at it, and she was low-key impressed that something with general style had been the thing to catch his eye. 

Allison grinned and nudged him. "Hey, just grab it. You could use a new hoodie."

Neil's attention snapped to her and Allison wasn't prepared for the flash of instinctive panic that raked through his eyes. "No, I didn't- I don't-" He raised his hands apologetically, which was weird, then seemed to catch himself and dropped them immediately. Allison could see him struggling not to look over at the sweatshirt and for the life of her she didn't understand why. But now she needed to know.

She gave him a look. "Uh, yes you did, and you do. What's the big deal? So what, you like it. Get it." She shrugged, hoping nonchalance would encourage him to stop being a weirdo about it.

"Nah," Neil said with a shrug. "It's fine. I've got hoodies."

Allison thought about letting it go, she really did, but she was too curious. But she also knew that the more she seemed to care about the answer she was prodding for, the less likely Neil was going to give it. So she pretended to look at some of the surrounding clothing without really registering what she was shuffling through. "You act like you've never bought something just because you wanted it before," she said with her usual level of scathing judgement.

"It was too dangerous," came Neil's distracted response. When Allison peaked over at him, her hand freezing on the shoulder of a sweater, about to slide it down the rack, she saw that he was looking at the hoodie again, studying it with a too-careful blankness she was beginning to recognize as Neil-in-memory.

"Getting something you wanted was too dangerous?" It was harder this time to keep her tone casual but she managed it well enough that Neil didn't fully snap out of his thoughts, wherever they were.

He shrugged. "It was distracting. If you had things you cared about you'd lose sight of survival, or make stupid mistakes."

Allison just stared at him. "You weren't allowed to have things you wanted… because they'd be distracting? Neil that's really fucked up." 

Neil looked over at her and grimaced, pulling away from the hoodie. "Whatever, it's not a big deal. Come on, are you done shopping yet?"

For another moment Allison stared, then she stalked forward and violently grabbed the hoodie from the rack, ignoring Neil's startled protests. 

"No," she said, pointing at him with her free hand. "You aren't some kid on the run anymore and you don't have to follow your mom's fucked up rules. If you want something, you're going to get it, damn it." If Neil tried to protest again she didn't see it because she'd already whirled around to head up toward the checkout.

Fuck you, Mary.

TWO - DAN

Team Night was something Dan instated right after finals last year. One night a week they all got dinner after practice. The whole team had to be there for at least part of the time. Sometimes they got along, sometimes they fought like half-crazed rabbis raccoons, but they were all together in a situation that wasn't about exy (no matter how many times Kevin or Neil brought it up). If there was anything Dan had learned over her years as Team Captain, it was that they would always operate better on the court if they could also work together off of it.

Tonight they'd gone out to dinner with the whole team before splitting off into various groups back at the dorms. Renee had gone off with Allison and Nicky while Aaron had left right from the restaurant to meet up with Katelyn. The freshmen had split into their own groups - they were still working out their hierarchy among themselves and Dan knew by now that she just had to let it happen - which had left her and Matt and, surprisingly enough, Neil and Andrew. She hadn't really expected the other two to accept her invitation to join them in Matt's room for a movie, but when she's offered Neil had easily agreed and Andrew hadn't protested. 

A part of her had still expected Andrew to peel off and go back to his own dorm once they'd returned to Fox Tower, but the reticent goalkeeper had followed them all into the room with no complaint.

"All right!" Matt announced with a grin once the door was shut and locked behind them, crossing to where he kept the booze. "Power Couple Movie Night! Whatcha guys want? Babe?"

Dan chuckled and rolled her eyes affectionately. "You're ridiculous and I love you. I'll have a whisky sour." She looked to Andrew and Neil. "What about you guys? He just stocked up so there's a bit of everything."

"Babe, you're making me sound like an alcoholic." 

Dan dismissed the complaint with a wave of her hand and smiled over at the other two. 

"Whisky straight." That was Andrew.

Neil just shrugged. "I don't need anything," he said.

"Do you have Dr. Pepper?" Andrew asked, apparently not done.

Matt nodded, lifting a mostly-full two-liter for him to see and setting it on the surface of the cabinet. 

"He'll have that with amaretto."

"Andrew."

"Neil."

Dan tried not to be too obvious about how closely she was watching them. It wasn't even a 'how could they be together?' thing. It was just that… Neil was this big mystery, and Andrew was also a big mystery. And now they were together and that just made the mystery balloon exponentially. The two of them fit together in a way that was somehow both surprising and like nothing in the world could make more sense. They had a whole language together of looks and gestures, of silent understandings that the rest of them couldn't even begin to interpret. In a way, this was just like any other couple. Even now, Dan shot a glance over at Matt and they shared a look of their own before resuming their subtle observations of the other couple. Somehow it was different with Andrew and Neil though. Somehow it seemed… heavier. It was fascinating and also kinda unsettling, which only made Dan want to figure it out even more.

After an extended silence where Neil and Andrew had some indecipherable conversation with their eyes alone, Neil sighed, apparently conceding defeat, and nodded agreement to his boyfriend's drink order. 

"All right! Neilio is drinking with us tonight!" Matt pumped a fist into the air, shattering the residual tension with his enthusiasm. Dan had probably never loved anyone so much in her life.

Neil smirked his own affection for the big lug and flopped onto the couch, Andrew following with less flourish but a level of relaxed comfort that made Dan's heart soar. It was really happening. Andrew was letting himself trust them, letting himself be a part of the team, letting himself be… one of their friends.

Matt finished making their drinks and brought them over on a serving tray he had been a little bit too excited to buy.

Neil took his drink and cautiously sniffed it, wrinkling his nose. "It smells sweet," he complained.

"You have two choices when it comes to liquor, Josten. It either tastes sweet or it tastes like alcohol." Andrew was entirely unsympathetic, though his gaze remained focused on Neil even as he sipped his whisky. Apparently, this was some either-or that Neil was willing to concede to because he sighed and sipped the drink. After a moment he hummed and took another sip. Another sip turned into a second drink as the four of them collectively decided to skip the movie and instead hang out and talk about the worst movies they'd ever seen. Andrew, surprisingly, had a lot to contribute - as he had apparently seen a lot of movies and had Opinions about all of them. It was very weird and kinda surreal, but also made Dan feel almost giddy.

"Well shit, Neil, if it was just a matter of you not liking the taste of alcohol we'd have stocked up on wine coolers ages ago," Matt said as he handed Neil his third glass later on in the night. He grinned and perched on the armrest of her chair. Dan smiled up at him when he put his arm around her, leaning against him and sipping her own drink as she turned her attention back to the other couple.

The other couple. Well, that was weird.

"Nah, I still wouldn't have had anything," Neil said after another, fuller drink. He leaned back, comfortable. Dan noticed that he and Andrew weren't touching but there was still a weird intimacy with their proximity. It hurt her brain to think about so she didn't focus on it overmuch. Then Neil said, "Mom only brought out the alcohol when I needed to be stitched up," and Dan froze with her drink halfway back up to her mouth. Neil didn't seem to notice, looking into his cup as he continued. "No hospitals, you know, and when I was a kid I always cried a lot and was really loud about it unless I was too drunk to feel anything at all."

And when I was a kid I always cried a lot and was really loud unless I was too drunk to feel anything at all.

When I was a kid…

It felt like all the air had been sucked out of the room. Dan peripherally noticed that she wasn't the only one who had gone still. It was so rare for Neil to say anything about his time before he joined the Foxes. It was even more rare for him to bring up his mother - especially in such a… disturbingly revealing way. 

Matt was the one to break the silence. "When you say you were a kid you mean…?" There was a false lightness in his voice, like he was trying not to alert Neil to how much he was revealing. Andrew cut him a glare but then looked to Neil without interrupting.

Neil shrugged, swirling his glass lightly, apparently fascinated with the ice as it clinked gently against the sides of the glass. He poked at them with his mixing straw. "Mm, Lola scared me, y'know? I didn't want her to stitch me up. So I begged mum. Dad would hurt her too if she couldn't keep me quiet. I tried, but being noisy was always a problem for me. 's how I usually got in trouble anyhow. Or by not being still enough. Or dropping knives." Neil shivered, his free hand rubbing against a spot on his abdomen like he was worrying away at a memory, some phantom ache from a past that he could never quiet escape from.

Andrew, apparently, had decided this was enough. He reached forward and pulled the glass from Neil's hand with a gentleness that shouldn't surprise Dan anymore. He set the glass on the table and stood, then tugged Neil up with him. He didn't let go of the striker's hand even when he got the other man standing. Once he was sure the other would be steady he glanced over at them with a dark, steady threat in his eyes. "We are leaving now."

A sound beside her alerted Dan to the beginning of Matt's protest and she elbowed him before he could complete it. In its place, she gave a strained smile and nodded. "Of course. You guys are probably tired. See you tomorrow!"

Neil raised his hand in a small wave but he still seemed a little lost, his expression closed, his mind somewhere else. 

When the door closed behind them, Matt stood up and walked over to lock it, then he stood there for a moment before turning to face her. His expression was dark and angry and echoed the storm stirring in his own heart.

"Neil went on the run when he was ten."

It might have seemed a random statement, but Dan was following the same line of thought and she nodded. They'd known that Neil's dad was a bastard, knew he'd been hurt by him and his people when they'd been on the run and it wasn't a far toss to infer that he'd been hurt earlier too. But this confirmation was blood-chilling. Mary's part in it was not comforting.

"She did nothing, Dan. She did nothing. She let him get hurt and then she got him drunk as a little fucking kid to stitch him up again. I know it was a fucked up situation, and I'm sure it wasn't all sunshine and rainbows for her but fuck Dan. Fuck."

Dan nodded, setting down her drink and rising from the chair so she could go to Matt. She knew that she only had a surface understanding of the situation. She couldn't imagine what Mary might have gone through herself, but she couldn't find enough compassion in her heart to make excuses for her. Maybe that made her heartless, she didn't fucking care. What she cared about was that Mary let her own son be hurt badly enough that he needed to get drunk and get stitched up over and over again, before and after they went on the run. What she cared about was that Mary hurt her son over and over herself in order to control him, to keep him under her thumb. Maybe she did it because that's how she thought she was protecting him but intentions meant shit.

Lesser evils were still evil.

There are always choices, always options, and Mary's choices had traumatized Neil just as much as the Butcher's had. Maybe Neil had complicated feelings about his mother but Dan didn't. She had a very clear opinion, actually.

Fuck you, Mary.

THREE - MATT

"Okay so, but why Andrew?" Matt didn't mean anything negative with the question, but he flipped a hand in apology when Neil glared over at him. "I didn't mean it that way. I mean like -- is your type short, blond, and stabby or…?"

"I don't have a type. I don't swing."

Well that made no sense.

"Except for Andrew," Matt clarified, reminding Neil that he was self-admittedly committed to the Monster.

Neil nodded without hesitation. "Except for Andrew," he agreed.

"Right… but… why? Why only Andrew? Didn't you ever like… like other guys, or girls?" Matt studied his best friend, desperate to understand him. He wasn't even being anti-Andrew about this, he was just trying to learn more about Neil and this integral part of him. Neil said he didn't swing, and then of all people to fall for - he falls for Andrew. Matt had thought that maybe Neil had been shy about admitting he was gay or something, but Neil was pretty confident about the whole not-swinging thing. Matt got that there were other sexualities out there, but the idea of just… not wanting anything just didn't make sense to him.

He was surprised when Neil actually said -- "Sure, yeah, when I was like, fourteen or whatever. I wouldn't say I liked anyone, but I noticed girls."

Matt blinked and looked over at him, letting the game controller rest on his lap. "Wait, you did?"

Neil shrugged. "Yeah, but it wasn't allowed so…"

"It wasn't… allowed?" Matt frowned, lost.

"My mom knew they'd be a distraction, that it was too dangerous for me to fall for someone. I don't think it occurred to her that I might like a guy, so when she realized I was noticing girls she made sure I didn't anymore."

Matt was silent for a long moment, letting the implication of that sink in. "When you said she 'made sure' you didn't notice girls…?"

Neil shrugged. "I was stupid. Just telling me wasn't going to do anything." But his friend's casual nonchalance was gone and Matt watched as the other man withdrew into himself. His expression closed down and he scratched his nails through his hair, against his scalp in an anxious tick Matt was pretty sure Neil didn't even realize he did.

A flare of rage heated his lungs and it took concentrated effort to swallow it down. He could imagine what Mary might have done to her son to drill the lesson home. 

"That's really fucked up, Neil."

Neil just shrugged, then nodded at the tv. "Are you gonna play or what?" Matt could see that his friend didn't want to talk about it so he let it go, but he wasn't going to forget it.

"Yeah. How about you order some pizza or something? I'm getting fucking hungry." A bit of the tension broke and Neil flashed him a small smile before pushing off the couch to go get his phone to make the order. Matt watched him go and took another breath to make sure his anger was packed away for later.

Fuck you, Mary.

FOUR - NICKY

Christmas! Nicky was so fucking excited about Christmas this year. Not only would Erik be coming into town, but the whole family would be there! Well, the family that mattered anyway. Aaron was bringing Katelyn, Andrew would be there and participating, and Neil was staying with them for the entirety of winter break. It was going to be amazing!!

Already, in the few days since school had let out, Nicky had set about Christmas-ifying the whole house and it was looking amazing if he did say so himself, which he did.

Today was going to be particularly exciting because he had managed to get Neil to agree to go Christmas shopping with him. Erik would be arriving tomorrow morning and Nicky still hadn't gotten his present. Or Aaron's. Or Andrew's. Or Neil's… He'd gotten Katelyn's though! He'd seen an absolutely gorgeous sweater at the mall the other week in just her color so he'd swiped it up. Point being, he had some catching up to do and he suspected that Neil was also behind on his Christmas shopping.

This was confirmed shortly after they arrived at the mall and Nicky asked Neil what he'd gotten for Andrew.

Neil blinked at him, like he was caught off guard by the question. 

"I don't think we're getting each other anything," he said, looking downright confused.

"Oh. Oh Neil. Oh Neil no. No, you are definitely getting gifts for each other. You're a couple!"

Neil looked vaguely uncomfortable as he shrugged, but he didn't deny the label and Nicky counted that as progress. "I don't think we're the gift-giving kind…"

Clearly, Neil hadn't been paying attention to the fact that Andrew had been gifting Neil at every fucking opportunity since they'd met. Clothes, keys, food, drinks, more clothes, a phone. At first, Nicky had just thought it was Andrew being possessive in the way he was possessive of all the people he'd decided we're his. It wasn't until after the two had come clean about their relationship (relationship!!!) that Nicky had thought back and realized that Andrew wasn't half as generous with the rest of them. Honestly, Nicky was a bit embarrassed for not noticing it all sooner. This whole time, Nicky thought he was being cryptic when he was just being really, really gay. For shame.

"Mm, well," Nicky hedged, feeling pity for the poor blind idiot. At least he was cute. "You're wrong, but we won't get into it. Just trust me when I say that Andrew has definitely gotten you something." Probably multiple things, actually, but Nicky didn't want to shock the poor cute dummy. "And you can't tell me that you don't want to give him a gift." Nicky stopped, frowning at Neil in disapproval.

"It's not that," Neil admitted, and Nicky wasn't sure he'd ever seen the younger man look more awkward. 

"Then what is it. Come on, kid, tell Uncle Nicky."

Neil made a face. "Only if you never say that again."

Nicky laughed, though he realized Neil had a point. That might have been a bit much. "Deal. So what is it?"

Neil shrugged, fidgeting in a restless way that Nicky recognized as one of Neil's tells when he was uncertain or nervous. Neil was someone who needed to be in motion, someone who needed to do things. Nicky related to that, heavily, so he linked his arm through Neil's and tugged him into walking again. The motion seemed to help, and after a few minutes, Neil finally spoke up.

"I've never really done the whole Christmas or birthday thing. Especially not since me and my mom, you know…" He drifted off vaguely, gesturing with one hand like that's was supposed to indicate all the time he and his mom were running from his psycho dad and his evil butcher-buddy minions. Nicky nodded like it had and Neil continued. "It just feels… weird, you know. Like it's a thing that real people do. They go to school and they have holidays with families that don't want to kill them or each other. They buy each other presents that they don't need and that's… normal. But it just doesn't make sense to me."

There was a lot to unpack there, but Nicky's mind caught on the first thing Neil had said and it kept replaying over and over on his head like a skipping record.

Like it's a thing that real people do.

Like Neil wasn't… real.

Nicky stopped walking again, his heart clenching suddenly in his chest. "Wait, hold on. Rewind. Neil, you realize that you are a real person, right?"

Tension wiped Neil's face into an awful blankness and normally Nicky would let it go. He'd make a joke and try and get them back to something lighter, but this was… something was just so wrong about that and he couldn't ignore it.

"Neil," he implored, hands on both the younger man's shoulders, gripping tightly, willing him to open up to him.

Maybe it was a testament to the season of sharing, or maybe it was proof that he and Neil had come a long way since those first few months over a year ago, but for whatever reason, Neil didn't brush him off and he didn't pull away. Instead, he sighed and gave a small shrug, shuffling his feet as he apparently searched for the right words like they were hidden between his shoelaces.

"I didn't feel real for a long time, you know. I couldn't be. Mom was the one who made all the identities for me, the one who chose the names and the covers. She was the one who created everything about the boys I was supposed to be, down to their interests in school and outside of it, just in case someone asked me when she wasn't around. She'd test me on them. I studied those boys with more dedication than I studied for my classes when I was actually in school."

Nicky frowned, confused. "What about your interests and what you were like."

Neil shrugged. "I didn't have any. I wasn't like anything, unless you can count fear as a personality trait."

That… didn't make sense. Neil was saying words, and individually, Nicky knew what they meant, but his brain was struggling to comprehend exactly what they meant when put together in that order. 

"But… that's not possible. What about when you saw something you liked, or wanted, or did something that you just… enjoyed. A tv show or, fuck, math. You like math right? That's a part of your personality." He heard the desperation in his own voice but he was too distracted by the conundrum of Neil's 'I wasn't a real person's reveal that he didn't even care to attempt to rein it in.

"Not until I got to Palmetto," Neil admitted. "I didn't have to take a math class my senior year because my forged transcripts already had the required number of classes to graduate and it seemed conspicuous to take more than that. Your average teenager doesn't like math."

"But you thought about it, right? When you were signing up for classes, you thought about adding math, then actively chose not to." A picture of understanding was beginning to form and Nicky felt a little bit sick with what it showed.

Neil frowned, like he was thinking about it, then gave a small nod of reluctant agreement.

"So… there was something you liked, something that was you and you just, what, instinctively went 'No, bad idea'. Why?"

"It's what my mom would have done," was Neil's instant, confident reply. He hadn't even had to think about that one. Then, to Nicky's horror, he elaborated with, "Mom was a stickler on that kind of stuff. If I liked something, if I felt pulled to anything, it was dangerous and bad. I learned quickly enough to avoid anything that interested me so it wouldn't distract me. Surviving was what was important."

Yeah. Yeah Nicky definitely felt a bit sick now. 

"When you say that you 'learned quickly enough'...?" Nicky wasn't sure he actually wanted to know, but that didn't stop him from asking the question.

"Mom--" Neil actively stopped himself this time. "It isn't important. Look… are we going to go shopping or what?"

Nicky wasn't willing to let it go. "Neil. Did she… like, hurt you? For having interests?"

Now Neil looked more than just a little uncomfortable, and the way he didn't meet Nicky's eyes was all the answer he needed. Nicky wanted to hug Neil just then, but he managed, at the last second, to hold himself back. He'd probably pushed harder than he should have already and he was trying to be better about boundaries. Instead he squeezes his shoulders and then pulled his hands away.

"Well, come on. Let's finish shopping. I'll help you pick out something for Andrew if you aren't sure what to get him." 

Neil looked so visibly relieved that Nicky's heart broke. "Ah, yeah… thanks Nicky." The small smile he shot him was enough that Nicky forgot the boundary thing and just hugged him. Ugh, that poor kid. No wonder he was so confused whenever anyone was kind to him if his own mother had treated him like he wasn't even a real person to the point where Neil had legitimately started to believe it. Nicky had his issues with his parents, all the Foxes did -- it was part of what made them Foxes -- but this was kind of another level.

Nicky kept his arm around Neil's shoulders as he lead the younger man off to shop, now determined to make this the best fucking Christmas ever. Because Neil was a real fucking person and he deserved that frivolous normalcy. He deserved to like things and to want things.

Fuck you, Mary.

+1 - AARON

Aaron didn't usually care about whatever was happening in Josten's weird little brain. It wasn't a place he was eager to explore, to be perfectly fucking honest, and he was unfortunate enough to be subjected with the assshole's proximity often enough as it was. However, it was hard to ignore the man when he was having a literal mental breakdown right in front of him. He wished he could. He wished he could turn around and walk away, shut the door, and go back to not caring. Unfortunately, parallels had just been drawn that he couldn't unsee and now turning his back on Neil almost felt personal. It was incredibly uncomfortable and for a long moment Aaron just sat there, silent, in the wake of what just happened.

It had gone like this:

Andrew and Neil had been on separate ends of the couch doing homework. Nicky and Kevin were still sleeping off the trip to Eden's Twilight last night, and Aaron was slowly letting himself wake up to a hot cup of coffee and some random show on tv. Then that random show had transitioned into some kind of true crime show that had dragged everyone's attention to the screen with a single word.

Wesninski.

As it turned out, the show wasn't actually about the Wesninskis, but rather about crime in Europe. The Wesninski mention was due to the current segment on the Hatfords, a British crime syndicate -- the one Neil's mother hailed from. It was her picture on the screen when their collective attention all snapped to the screen, and the tension in the room suddenly increased tenfold.

Mothers were a bit of a complicated topic for everyone in the room. It was also probably the one thing that Andrew was unwilling to touch with a ten-foot pole, not even for Neil - and Aaron was long since past denying that those two had something going on far deeper than sexual tension and a disdain for ninety percent of humanity. 

So the room had frozen, holding a breath with a shared lung. Then Andrew had stood, moving to snatch up the remote so he could turn off the TV when Neil said, "No."

Aaron had never seen Andrew stop so fast in his life. His twin's face remained blank, but there was a darkness in his eyes that Aaron was queasily familiar with. It was a cruel, angry darkness and he didn't envy Neil for being the subject of it as Andrew turned his gaze on the striker. 

"If you want to cry over that bitch I am not going to stick around to suffer it." The words came out low and hissed and even Aaron could hear the sharp rage beneath the forced facade of indifference Andrew was attempting to keep in place.

Neil looked like he wanted to hit Andrew but he managed to keep his response to a sharp, venomous, "Fuck you." 

Andrew held the remote up to eye level then dropped it. It landed hard enough on the table that it bounced off, the back popping off and the batteries scattering. Then he was striding out the front door. Aaron expected it to slam, but somehow the gentle click of it just under the murmur of the crime show was just as finite.

It was like getting to watch a moment he'd lived over and over again over the course of years from the outside for the first time. In fact, it wasn't like that - that's what it was. Something anxious and sick curled in the pit of his stomach as Aaron looked from the closed door to Neil's tense, shaken form. He hated this. He hated sympathising with Neil. He hated understanding Andrew's anger. He hated not being able to pick a side. Aaron had heard enough about Mary Hatford to know that she was just as fucked up as Nathan Wesninski, dragging her son around, forcing him into isolation, beating him, fucking him over socially for his whole damn life when she probably could have just saved them both by either going straight to the FBI or calling up her own crime family. He knew that Neil didn't blame his mom when he probably should. He knew he made excuses, that he grieved for her. He knew he missed her and he also knew that it was really, supremely fucked up.

He also knew that he was just as guilty for the unworthy idolization of an abuser. It had taken him years to get to the point where he was willing to admit that, though. It was meeting Katelyn that had him finally looking at his past with a sobering dose of reality. It was only after months of wrestling with himself that he'd finally been able to accept the truth. Months of Katelyn's steadfast support, months of sessions with Bee beyond the joint sessions with Andrew, months of introspection that left him mentally and emotionally wrung dry -- and Tilda hadn't had half the physical and emotional ammo that Mary Hatford had probably levied against her young son.

Aaron watched Neil vibrate in place, watched his hands curl and his throat work, watched the pain and the rage and the grief flash through his eyes even as he tried to swallow it all down. He watched Neil, but he saw himself, and it was more than disconcerting.

He didn't make the conscious decision to speak before he said, "I get it." In fact, he almost didn't realize he had spoken until Neil snapped his attention over to him like he'd forgotten he was still in the room at all.

Neil didn't respond, probably too caught up with the war in his own head to form words -- a rarity for the loud-mouthed striker.

"She was all you had," Aaron said, and he wasn't sure if he was actually talking to Neil, or talking to the version of himself that still clung to the corner of his memories, desperate to validate the only person that might have loved him, the one person that should have loved him, when he needed it the most. "She was all you had, and that's what kept you going. Not her rules and not whatever it was that she did to make sure you survived. That it was her and you, that you had each other, and that that meant something. She'd do whatever it took to protect you, she was the only one who would do that, and it was everything, right?"

He could tell by the widening of Neil's eyes that he'd hit the nail on the head. He didn't look away as he continued with his truths, knowing he was probably the only person that had ever vocalized an understanding -- that he was probably the only person who could understand. 

"And then she was gone. And it wasn't only her that died. It was everything that she was supposed to be. She died, and all you had left were the 'almost's and 'not enough's and the 'never again's. And if you let yourself believe that she was just as bad then everything was for nothing. All the times you cared. All the times you tried. All the times you did everything you could to be what she expected of you. None of it would matter, because she was gone, and she could never redeem herself, and it was all pointless." Aaron heard his voice like someone else was speaking. It was too calm, too quiet, too knowing. It didn't feel the desert in his chest, scorching and dry and far too exposed. He saw Neil's reaction like he was looking in a mirror and it was more than a little bit unsettling. He understood the flash of anger in his eyes, the stubborn refusal in the set of his jaw, then the reluctant acceptance when his shoulders dropped. Aaron hated understanding anything about Neil Josten. He hated even more that it was this that they had to share. Something so raw, so close to home it had a permanent home inside his chest, nestled between his lungs. It wasn't fair.

Then again, he was a Fox for a reason he guessed. Life just wasn't fucking fair to a Fox.

Neil looked away, then deflated against his corner of the couch. He tilted his head back and Aaron saw his throat work as he fought emotions neither of them wanted Aaron to be a witness to. Aaron averted his eyes. He only looked up again when Neil spoke. The other man's voice was quiet but steady.

"The one thing she harped on most, more than anything else, was how attachments to anyone or anything other than my own survival were going to get me killed. Even to her. She told me so many times to run, leave her behind, but I… I never could. She never left me behind, even when there were times when I wanted her to. She'd probably be rolling in her grave if she could see me now…" Neil's voice drifted off as his gaze locked on the front door over Aaron's shoulder. Aaron didn't need to be psychic to know that he was thinking specifically about Andrew, about how much he'd risked for Andrew - not just to be with him, but also to protect him. Going to Evermore, allowing Nathan's men to take him quietly… yeah, Mary probably wouldn't be too happy about that, and not in the caring, not wanting Neil hurt way. She'd be pissed that Neil cared about something so much to take that risk, after all she'd done to try and beat that ability out of him.

"She was trying to make me soulless," Neil said without taking his eyes away from the door. "She hated it so much whenever I showed any glimmer of a personality. Whenever I was anything other than a possession she kept and controlled. My mother loved me, in her own way…" His mouth tensed, pursed, then he looked at Aaron.

For a moment, the two of them just looked at each other, a shared understanding between them.

"That's not enough," Aaron finally said.

Neil looked down, then up, meeting his eyes. "No," he agreed, "it's not."

On the tv, the show was still talking about the Hatfords. Not all that much time had actually passed since the segment started. Neil looked at the tv, then stood and gathered up the scattered pieces of the remote. He put it back together and spared one more glance at the screen, which now showed a picture of the Hatford family at some event when Mary and her brothers were teenagers. Then he lifted the remote and resolutely changed the channel.

"I'm going to take the car to pick up some food, you want anything?" Neil asked as he moved to get his shoes, then take his keys from the hook near the door.

Aaron snorted. "No. I'll order something if I get hungry." There was still some time until he'd want lunch, but he knew this dance by now. Neil and Andrew would drive off together. If he wanted food he was better off taking it into his own hands. It was entirely likely the other two wouldn't be back until closer to dinner.

Neil nodded once, then was out the door. Aaron watched him go, then sighed and turned back to his coffee, considering it.

He didn't like sharing something with Neil fucking Josten. It was annoying and uncomfortable. But all the same… he understood. And like it or not, they were tied together now. Maybe he wasn't ready to say 'fuck you' to the memory of his own mother, and Neil definitely wasn't ready to do the same regarding Mary Hatford, but they could acknowledge the similarities in their stories and that was a start -- for both of them.

Aaron sighed and closed his eyes. He pointedly didn't think about his own mother and instead let himself eagerly latch onto the other man's sympathetic demon as he thought, with vehemence, 'Fuck you, Mary.'

[shinidamachu]

Tale As Old As Time

Summary: InuYasha, Kagome, movie night trope and my Disney obsession walk into a bar... Pre-canon fluff. Word Count: 2.159 Genre: fluff Fandom: InuYasha Pairing: Inukag Format: oneshot AO3 Link: 🌹 Fanfic.Net Link: 🌹

“Time to go to bed, birthday boy.” Mrs. Higurashi planted a kiss to Sota’s forehead and the sleepy child grunted softly.

“I’m not tired.” He protested, immediately yawning and contradicting his already fragile point.

“Yes, you are. Come on, now. It’s late. Grandpa is sleeping and I’d like to rest too.”

InuYasha observed the two of them interacting, as he often did. There was a feeling that always came along with it. He couldn’t quite put a nail on the head of it. Something between the most harmless kind of envy and the saddest type of longing. The sensation of a beautiful dream that escaped him by morning, forever out of reach, no matter how hard he tried to make the pieces of it to rise up again in the horizon of his mind.

He remembered his mother to be just as tender.

But did she ever kiss his forehead that way? Did they ever argue over sleeping time, InuYasha and his boyish stubbornness, she and her heavenly patience? How much of her was truly a memory and how much was his wishful imagination? The longer the years went, the thinner the line separating illusion from reality got. InuYasha feared the day would come, when he couldn’t tell the difference at all.

“Fine.” The boy gave in, fatigue stronger then his will and eyes barely open as he stood up and made his way upstairs. “Good night, everybody!”

“Sleep well!” Kagome replied.

“G’night, kid.” 

“InuYasha,” Called Mrs. Higurashi, “I take you’re spending the night?”

“Y-yeah. If that’s alright, I mean.”

“Of course it’s alright, dear! We don’t have a spare room, but we do have extra pillows. Kagome can get you one or two. Do you mind sleeping on the couch?”

InuYasha turned to Kagome, who promptly took his questioning look for what it was. Smiling, she tapped the comfortable surface of the furniture they were currently sitting on, mouthing ‘couch’ to translate her mother’s intentions.

It still caught him off guard, the extent of caring that lady nurtured for his well being. She had absolutely no obligation to. No motivation, other than the pure compassion of her heart. The same compassion he saw in her daughter.

“Oh! No, I don’t mind at all. Thank you.”

When it came to Kagome’s mom, he couldn’t help to be overly-polite. Even if by other people’s standards, that equaled to merely being polite. For reasons he couldn’t comprehend, but that went beyond returning her gentle favors, it was crucial to be in the woman’s good graces. Maybe a small part of him wanted to be reminded how did it feel, getting used to motherly kindness.

“You’re welcome. Now, don’t you two stay up too late. I won’t let you go off to fight demons in the feudal era without a proper breakfast.”

“We won’t.” Kagome assured her. And that appeared to be enough. 

Following after her son, Mrs. Higurashi wished them sweet dreams and before he knew it, he was alone with Kagome.

It was Sota’s birthday, which, InuYasha learned, meant that a decade ago, on this exact day, the little guy was born. To celebrate the occasion, his family reserved the whole day so they could share delicious meals and bask on each other’s company. And to InuYasha’s surprise, his presence was requested there as well.

It wouldn’t be the first time he stayed over, but it was the first time her mom was aware of it. More than aware, encouraged him to do it. Even if InuYasha was fluent in the language of affection, even if he found the perfect words to explain it, he doubted one day she’d understand how much he valued her trust and acceptance.

Kagome cuddled up to InuYasha under the blanket they shared, tangling their arms and allowing her head to fall on his shoulder. His entire body stiffened in response. Was she really that oblivious to the effect she had on him or did she know just what she was doing? He was never able to figure it out. Regardless, resisting the sense of serenity that came with every aftershock was an impossible thing to do. As usual, InuYasha quickly surrendered. And as long as white flags consisted on leaning towards her touch, he was no opposed to it.

“She stayed.” and mesmerised, InuYasha stared at the magical box in front of them — a television, Kagome had told him. In her world, it seemed, there was something new to learn whenever he thought he had everything figured out. For the past four or so hours, they had been watching story after story unfold inside the strange device and Kagome had taken advantage of her brother’s crescent exhaustion to play some of her favorites.

“She couldn’t leave him there to die! He just saved her life.”

“Isn’t he a demon of sorts?”

“A beast.”

“Then it would have been fine, either way. He’s clearly stronger than humans.”

“Maybe. But she needed to see it for herself.”

“Why?”

Kagome sighed. 

“Because she’s already falling in love with him.”

Frowning, he mentally replayed the scenes, searching his brain for the signals he had so obviously missed.

The beast character was in love. InuYasha had no doubt about it. The girl had his heart the instant she volunteered to take her father’s place as his prisoner. He longed for her presence — despite her refusal to indulge him — and put effort into treating her nicely — despite not extending the same courtesy to anyone else. Everything she said, everything she did, had the power to drag him down or sweep him off his feet. He struggled with expressing the sentiment, his pride and bad temper getting in the way. But it was there. The situation was all too relatable for InuYasha not to recognize it.

The girl, though? The idea of her falling in love with the likes of him was absurd. Why would she? It was to be expected that someone graced with such intelligence and beauty would have known her own value better than to fall for a monster.

And yet, Kagome was right.

The tale went on and the girl took the beast to safety. A life for a life. They were even. She was free to go.

Still, she stayed by his side until he healed and every day after that. Because she could see right through his tough facade and was never being afraid of giving him a piece of her mind. And he saw her in return, welcoming the habits her own village judged her for maintaining. Against all odds, they understood each other like the last two native speakers of a tongue long claimed by oblivion.

Of their own accord, InuYasha’s eyes fell into Kagome.

“The best part is coming up.” She announced, thankfully snapping him out of his treacherous thoughts.

Song started playing, a sweet melody filling the air. All of the sudden, Kagome was moving the furniture around.

“Watcha doin’?”

Rather than responding, the priestess took him by the hand and guided him to the center of the room. Dumbfound, InuYasha watched as she silently raised his arm at shoulders height, placing his free palm firmly on her back right after.

By the time InuYasha picked up her intentions, they were already spinning around, dancing barefoot under the television light.

InuYasha had never learned how to dance. Between a battle for his life and the next, the opportunity didn’t present itself and, to be honest, the notion he was missing out on something hadn’t occurred to him. The whole thing seemed so out of his brutal reality, it was almost futile.

And despite finding himself wishing he had the necessary skills to better follow her movements, InuYasha discovered dancing with Kagome to be a surprisingly easy task. There was something peculiarly natural about the way she rested her head over his chest as they slowly swayed to the rhythm. He wondered if she noticed the inflation of it as he breathed her in, the scent he had grown to love so much overflowed his senses with a hint of corn and butter.

Kagome pulled away from him on cue with the song, using the hand holding hers to whirl away from him without ever breaking contact, only to swirl back to his embrace. The more they repeated the steps, the more his confidence grew and, passed the awkward phase, InuYasha was actually enjoying himself.

Too soon, the tune came to an end.

InuYasha stood there, unsure of what to do. Self awareness manifested itself hot pink on his cheeks. He had just danced with Kagome. And he had liked it. And he wanted to keep going.

She stared at him, a big smile on her face as if he was the one to give her a present and not the other way around.

“I always wanted to do that,” she confessed in a nervous laugh. Her gaze avoided his but her body remained in place, pleasantly close. “Anyway… Thanks for coming today. It meant a lot to Sota.”

“Y-yeah, no problem.”

Belle… Are you… Happy here with me?

Yes!

The distant voices brought the half demon down to Earth. For a second there, he had forgotten all about everything that wasn’t her. Their words sank in and InuYasha felt his curiosity blossom. He had to ask, even if the answer scared the shit out of him.

“Are you?”

“Huh?”

“Happy there with me... Are you?”

“Of course!” Guaranteed Kagome. “Why would you ever doubt that?”

There was an unspoken rule to never talk about it. The subject was too delicate, too painful to discuss. Kagome being Kikyo’s reincarnation and falling down that well was not an unpretentious whim of fate. It carried purpose, and once that purpose was fulfilled… Well, he’d rather fight Naraku over and over than having to face the dreading thought of an after.

Miroku and Sango had their future set. Defeating Naraku meant getting rid of the Wind Tunnel and setting Kohaku free, one way or the other. They could finally get married, start a family. Even Shippo had plans to keep doing those fox demon exams in order to improve his powers. InuYasha seemed to be the only one in the dark. His goal was to become a full demon, but that was then. What he wanted now and who he wanted with, had changed into something way more uncertain.

When they defeat Naraku, Kagome won’t hang out in his era as often. Without any further obligations there, she could dispense as many time she judged appropriate for her school thing and they would only see each other sporadically.

There was also the real possibility the Honekui no Ido would close forever. With their mission done, so was the need to allow their temporal trips, and that meant separation. As far as logic goes, he didn’t belong in her world and she didn’t belong in his. 

Yet, she fitted  into his life so well.

The prospect of Kagome choosing to live in the past with him was his favorite ‘what if’. But he had no right to ask her such thing of her, nor was he selfish to the point of actually doing it. She was his friend and even if they were something more, it was crazy to think she would drop her friends, family and everything she knows just for him. How could he ever compete with that?

“I dunno, you do run off here a lot. I guess I just thought you didn’t like there as much.”

“I’m sorry I made you feel this way, InuYasha. But it’s not the case at all. It’s just… I have a life here too, you know?”

“Keh. ‘Course I do.”

She smiled fondly

“Aren’t I lucky to have two places to call home?”

Something inside him melted into a smile of his own.

Their tomorrow was a cloudy day. Changeable and blurry. All he could do was hoping it would clear up.

Of one thing, though, InuYasha was certain: if she so wanted, he could leave everything behind and stay in her side of the well as it closes. The place was loud, too crowded for his taste and the smells were overwhelming, but they would be together and for him that was home.

“I suppose.”

“Come on, let’s watch the rest of the movie. It has the perfect ending.”

Doing as he was told, InuYasha walked to the couch, where Kagome nestled against him again.

Maybe it was foolish not telling her how he felt, how he have been feeling for a while now. It sounded insane to ignore the fear of losing her, of losing his home, always there lurking in the shadows. Maybe he was a mad man for keeping all of the things he desperately needed reassurance of at bay in exchange of enjoying that moment with her.

But right then, the hope of another dance was enough.

A/N: THIS WAS SUPPOSED TO BE 1K OR LESS, THIS WAS SUPPOSED TO BE 1K OR LESS, THIS WAS S-

Thank you all for reading. Maybe you've noticed I'm writing fluff stories a little more. I feel like it's not my best suit so I'm trying to give it practice. Still have a lot to improve and this wasn't edited, so be nice.

Anyway... Here is something sweet for @sophtin​ (and my self indulgent ass). Hope you rot your teeth, baby.

[incorrect-the-foxhole-court]

Northern Road Trip

This is my piece for the AFTG Gift exchange! I went for Andriel coz im a complete Andriel junkie, but i couldnt resist a little Renison on the side XD

This is for @andthenthefirenationattacked​ - I hope you like it! I’m sorry it’s not very good but I tried! (And if you wanna talk or fangirl about aftg at any point, i’m definitely around for that!)

Neil couldn’t remember a time he had felt this safe. Which, he had to admit, made no sense considering his current situation. Despite having family in England, an uncle who had once saved his life, the UK had never been a place that had screamed safety. And yet, here he was, standing in the middle of an endless stretch of rolling green hills that looked like they had been taken from one of Matt’s fantasy novels, and he felt…safe. It was as much a disquieting feeling as hope had once been.

The sky was a bright, forget-me-not blue that, after only five days in the country, he already knew was a rare blessing. Fluffy white clouds scudded across the sky, and the relief that they weren’t even a little grey had been unexpectedly strong when they had woken up this morning. Two cars idled behind him, the engines rumbling softly, and those inside were already betting on the upcoming games outcome and snacking on junk food that Kevin had already tried to throw out four times over.

Neil sucked in a deep breath, feeling the cold air settle in his lungs like shards of ice. Beautiful, this country, but cold. And wet. This was the first day they had been there that it hadn’t rained.

He could hear his old team behind him, laughing and joking, teasing Andrew for their stopping. It hadn’t been Andrew that had wanted to stop, but the goalie knew Neil too well now – had feigned car sickness to cover Neil’s need to see something. To see something other than exy courts and press rooms from the place his mother had come from. The woman had been cold and cruel and protective and beautiful, and standing there now, in the place she had always talked about, in Rivington, he could understand. The people he had met from around here felt like they had been born from the place itself. He could almost feel his mother in the wind’s cold fingers as it raked through his hair and cut straight through his winter coat to chill the blood in his veins.

“Neil! Come on! Andrew says he’s okay to keep going now,” Matt shouted, a grin on his face that was far too smug and pleased to merely be teasing.

Dan smacked him in the ribs as she disappeared around the other side of their hire car and slid into the driver’s seat. And then smacked the wheel in frustration, got out and went round to the passenger side door, grumbling about stupid English cars. Neil tuned out Matt and Allison’s teasing, both of them needling Dan about still not being used to which side of the car to get in, and turned to the other car. Renee smiled at Andrew before going to join the others.

Neil slid into the backseat next to Andrew, Aaron on the goalie’s other side, Kevin up front and Nicky driving. Within thirty minutes of driving, Andrew was asleep, head tipped back against the back of the seat – Neil wasn’t surprised, Andrew had barely slept since the flight, as though he was more scared than Neil that some relative would show up at their hotel. It wasn’t a secret they were in the UK; the whole world had known this is where they would be. The press had been covering the US exy team’s trip to the UK in excruciating detail for weeks. They had already had their games in Glasgow and London, and tomorrow, the last game of Us vs. UK, would take place in Manchester. London had been an easy win for the US Court, Andrew had barely bothered to try. Glasgow had been significantly more difficult. It had taken bribing Andrew to lock down the goal for them to come close to winning – even then it hadn’t been enough; they’d lost by two points.

Tomorrow’s game would decide who would face the Chinese team. And the old team from Palmetto State had come out to show their support as Kevin, Andrew and Neil, played their last UK game of the season, fighting to advance closer to the title of ‘Exy International Champions’. Kevin had been training and planning nonstop. It had taken Andrew’s knives to convince him to have this day off.

“Erm…Neil…?” Nicky asked, voice tight. Neil dragged his eyes away from staring out the window as the North sped by, and met Nicky’s worried eyes in the rear-view mirror. “Satnav is freaking out.”

“Get Andrew to fix it,” Aaron grunted, “he’s the tech wonder boy.”

“Waking Andrew up in a car has never been a good idea,” Nicky warned, no doubt thinking of that time all those years ago.

Neil could feel Aaron’s smirk as the man reached over and tapped his twin on the shoulder closest to Neil. From habit, Neil’s hand was out waiting as Andrew jolted from sleep, one hand instinctively reaching out. Their fingers twined together and held on tight. No elbow in the stomach, no fists flying, not anymore – they had been sleeping in the same bed now for nearly two years; Andrew was too used to being woken by Neil’s nightmares to react violently. Now it was a grasping hand and white knuckled grip, each proving to the other that they are here – that they are safe. On Andrew’s other side, Aaron huffed in frustration and turned his attention back to the steady stream of messages between him and Katelyn.  

“Satnav isn’t working properly,” Neil explained quietly, and Andrew shook off his grip, leaning forward to take it from Kevin.

“Going old school,” Nicky muttered to himself. “Gonna have to use these damn stupid road signs.”

Neil didn’t bother to watch what Andrew was doing to fix the machine – he had learnt a long time ago that when Andrew couldn’t sleep, he and one of the cats curled up on the sofa with an instruction manual of some sort. Andrew couldn’t sleep most nights. By this point, Andrew’s eidetic memory had given him the ability to fix almost anything technological.

It took them another hour and a half to reach the Lake District. They were aiming for a shop that the Northern players on the UK team hadn’t stopped raving about since the team meets had started. By the time they finally arrived, it was raining again.

They parked in a garden centre opposite a tiny little place called ‘The Grasmere Gingerbread Shop’ and stared out through rain-streaked windows. Nicky’s phone started ringing. He took the sat nav out of its holder, tossed it onto Kevin’s lap before balancing his phone in the slot instead. Allison’s face appeared on the screen, and then the rest of the others.

“So, how do we decide who goes out into the rain to get the damn gingerbread we drove for two hours to come and try?” Allison asked and Renee, in the driver’s seat beside her, tucked a few stray blonde curls behind her ear, dragging a smile from the otherwise annoyed face.

“Flip for it?” Nicky suggested.

Matt lost to Renee. Dan lost to Matt. Allison rolled her eyes and picked at a perfectly manicured nail, but called heads when she went up against Dan, only to lose. Storm clouds gathered on her face as she waited for the other car to decide who would flip against her.

Aaron called heads, Allison, tails. Aaron won.

Neil hadn’t heard swearing like that for a long time. He couldn’t help but smile. He had missed them all. He loved being on Court and he loved his team and exy, and playing with Andrew and Kevin, but he had missed being a fox.

Renee went with Allison, smiling as the blonde tried and failed to hide under the trees from the rain. Neil could hear through the cracked window Andrew was smoking through as Allison cursed everyone and everything for her having forgotten an umbrella. Renee just laughed and tugged her in for a kiss. Neil smiled again; it had taken them a long time to realise just how meant for each other they were – but now? Together? They were a sight for sore eyes.

Andrew blew another cloud of smoke past Neil’s face. He couldn’t help the deep inhale as the smoke curled past his nose. Andrew watched, utterly unimpressed – but Neil could read the affection in the stare. Smoke was no longer the reminder of his mother, of the fire, of how it had smelled when her body had burned. Now it was Andrew, it was nights on the roof, the bite of his key in his palm, the feel of a thundering heartbeat beneath his fingertips. Andrew’s knee nudged his, and Neil smiled again.

Allison and Renee got back in the car behind and they drove to Windemere, where they had booked out all the rooms in a little bed and breakfast. The man at the desk was the most English person Neil had ever met. He was the embodiment of every single English stereotype, and Neil couldn’t get away fast enough.

Their rooms were all on the second floor, Dan and Matt disappeared into one room, Allison and Renee into another, Aaron claimed his own room, as did Kevin and Nicky. Nicky was already face timing with Eric before his bedroom door closed. And despite Allison’s usual warning of ‘keep it down’, there were delighted giggles and moans coming from her and Renee’s room.

Neil shook his head, smiling, and followed after Andrew into their room. Andrew was already lighting up next to the window, so Neil dropped the bag by the bottom of the bed and slumped onto the mattress, stripping off his black armbands and dumping them over the edge. He heard Andrew shut the window and the bed dip as he settled nearby. Neil reached a hand up, and Andrew’s fingertips trailed over his bare arms, dipping over every scar and mark.

Neil closed his eyes, even now, years later, most touches on those scars brought back the car lighter, the knife, his father’s axe…

But then Andrew’s lips began tracing every raised bump, slowly washing away the memories one by one, until there was nothing left but the two of them, Andrew’s hands under Neil’s shirt, Andrew’s lips pressed hard to Neil’s, and Neil’s fingers tight in Andrew’s hair.

He didn’t realise how much he needed it until Andrew tugged his t-shirt over his head and slowly but steadily began taking him apart. Neil couldn’t stop the moan that Andrew dragged from deep in his throat as Andrew pushed him harder and faster until Neil’s breathing became ragged and Andrew leaned up to press their lips together as though he could swallow Neil’s hard groans when he fell over the edge. He lay limp and sweating, breathing hard, with Andrew beside him, the man’s expression open and soft in a way he had only seen four times so far.

Neil reached out, “Yes or no?”

Andrew didn’t reply, just pressed his cheek into Neil’s palm and closed his eyes as Neil’s fingers played with the tiny hairs at the nape of Andrew’s neck. He wanted to say something, anything to remind Andrew just how amazing he was – how he always knew what Neil needed, usually before Neil knew himself, how even though Neil had long since learned to stand alone, it felt safe knowing that Andrew was there for him if he needed to lean on someone. But he didn’t have the words.

And he didn’t find them fast enough before Nicky pounded on the bedroom door.

“Come on, lovebirds, Allison ruined her hair to get this gingerbread, and Aaron and I went out for alcohol, come and have a drink and a snack like the old days. But put clothes on first!”

Andrew growled under his breath, but Neil smiled.

“When will he leave me alone?” Andrew said, shaking out his hand and pushing up to sit on the edge of the bed.

“He’s been in Germany with Eric for ten months. He can’t leave you any more alone.”

Andrew just stood and stared down at him a moment. “Come on junkie. Let’s go.”

Neil stood and went to the bathroom, cleaning himself up, before he joined Andrew at the now open door to the bedroom, stood in front of a very irate Kevin.

“We have a game tomorrow. Tomorrow. And they want us to drink and eat and party. Why did they come at all, they’re not playing,” Kevin said, face set; cold and hard.

“Tomorrow will be fine. We’ll win or we’ll lose, but it’ll be fine. Let’s go, it could be fun,” Neil said, shrugging. He’d never felt as safe as he was in that moment and he’d never seen Andrew as relaxed – that was all he needed. All he wanted.

They should take road trips more often.

“Three hundred and seventy-four percent,” Andrew murmured.

Neil didn’t bother to stop the smirk on his face.

----

That’s it! Again, I hope you liked it and I hope it was a good enough gift for you in the exchange! Have a wonderful day!

[hela-avenger]

poison & wine- part 14

Author: hela-avenger

Word Count: 1494

Summary: Prince Loki of Asgard is in need of a date to take back home. That’s where you come in with a task of your own to make the whole trip with an insufferable prince worth it. Too bad that things don’t always go as planned and you end up giving more than you can take. Fake-Dating AU.

A/N:  Things are getting good! There’s more drama to come so stay tuned. Also thanks for reading everyone. I love seeing all your excited comments! Please let me know if you’ll like to be tagged!

Hela-Avenger Masterlist

“You don’t know who your father is?!” 

You let out a sigh at the sound of Loki’s alarmed voice in the room. You had failed to notice his appearance and you blamed the magical doors that apparently allowed anyone inside without hesitation. 

“Have you ever heard of knocking?” you ask. “Perhaps maybe privacy?” 

“You had me believe you knew who your father was,” Loki states in annoyance.

“It’s not my fault you fell for my lie,” you shrug confused as to why he was so worked up by your revelation. “Though it really wasn’t a lie. You made an assumption and didn’t think of confirming it.” 

Loki rolls his eyes at your technicality not amused at your current tactic to get under his skin. 

“Then what is the purpose of all this? Why are you even here?” 

“Because I do want information on my father such as who he is,” you clarify. “And I want to meet him.”

“I didn’t sign up for this...” 

“Yes, you did! You made a deal!” 

Loki opens his mouth to argue this further but Frigga steps in. 

“You two are being quite loud,” Frigga calmly states. “I understand that this revelation isn’t what we were all hoping for but we must plan accordingly. Y/N is still in need of your protection, Loki, and because you made a deal with her, you will honor it.”

Frigga turns to look at you with a promising expression. 

“We will find who your father is and we will protect you along the way.” 

“Thank you,” you whisper. 

Frigga nods in response and turns back to look at Loki.

“Now, why have you come unannounced to my chambers, son?” Frigga asks. “You interrupted a private conversation.” 

Loki scowls at being reprimanded but doesn’t comment on it. 

“Odin has asked for Y/N,” Loki states. “He wishes for our courtship to follow Asgardian traditions which means…”

“He wants to offer his blessing,” Frigga frowns. “And more…” 

You scowl at the addition and wonder what you could have possibly signed up for. As if sensing your concern, Frigga turns to you and offers you an encouraging smile.

“Don’t fret,” she tells you. “All will be explained.” 

This doesn’t assure you at all. Being called to speak to Odin about your courtship with no preparation at all was just a recipe for disaster. 

“Now you two get going,” Frigga orders. “If you waste more time, Odin will grow suspicious.” 

You don’t need to be told twice and Loki is quick to offer his arm for you to take. You slip your hand to the crook of his arm and allow him to escort you out. The silence you’re met with after should have been a reprieve except you knew Loki was still reeling from your revelation.

“I’m sorry I tricked you,” you find yourself apologizing to him. “I just… I knew this would be the reaction.” 

“I don’t care.” 

“Well it seems like you do,” you point out. “You’re upset.” 

Loki’s scowl deepens and you don’t understand why he’s taken such offense. 

“Why are you so upset?” 

“I’m tired of people making a fool of me,” Loki grits out as he glared down at you. “I may be the God of Lies but that doesn’t mean I enjoy being lied to.” 

“You know you’re being hypocritical seeing as you lied to me first,” you argue. “You manipulated me into this courtship by withholding vital information. Your mother herself said you even have your own selfish reasons in doing so… so don’t act so hurt when I’ve been playing this game the same way you are.”

Loki’s glare is still intense but the tension in his body disappears. You had a point. You knew you had a point. And you knew he hated that you were right. 

“We will discuss this later,” Loki sighs out. “For now, act happy and in love with me.”

You immediately take a deep breath and smile softly up at him. 

“Is that loving enough for you?” 

“You’re insufferable,” Loki mutters as he turns away from you. “Now keep up. We’re about to have quite an audience.” 

You hope he’s lying to you this time, but he isn’t. The moment you enter the courtyard, there is a brief moment of silence before whispers take its place. All eyes are on you and Loki causing you to hold on to him a little tighter.  

Surprisingly enough, he looks down at you with a soft smile and raises your hand to press a light kiss on it. You almost believe he’s being sincere but you are reminded that this is all a lie. Either way, the act eases you enough that you are able to ignore the whispers that uttered your name and continue forward. 

Loki leads you to the throne room where you find King Odin waiting. He remains as serious as you first met him. His gaze picking you apart in the few seconds that you’ve been in his presence. 

“Lady Y/N,” he greets. 

“Your majesty,” you greet in return as you offer a slight bow. 

“Thank you for coming,” Odin states, his expression never wavering. “It seems like my son left a few details out last night when we first met.” 

You can’t help but glance over at Loki unsure of how you were meant to respond to that. 

“Odin, do not accuse her…” 

You squeeze Loki’s arm in alarm. You didn’t know what you would do if they both got into an argument at this moment. 

“Forgive me… forgive us for keeping the information secret. It was a decision we both agreed on when Loki decided to bring me to Asgard,” you interrupt him. “We were… We were unsure of how you would take it and in all honesty, I was scared enough to be here as a guest. Loki didn’t want to add more onto my plate so we decided to keep this to ourselves.” 

Odin hums at your response. His expression softening slightly as he considered your words. 

“I can’t forgive you,” Odin states, causing you and Loki to tense in alarm. “For there is nothing to forgive you for. I understand your unique situation and I wish nothing but happiness for the both of you. That said, you have my blessing under one simple condition.” 

You glance over at Loki in apprehension but he just scowls in annoyance. 

“Your relationship may be advanced in Midgardian tradition but I wish to see it under the structure of courtship in Asgard.” 

Loki lets out an exasperated sigh but knew better than to argue with Odin at the moment.  

“There will be certain traditions I hope you may follow,” Odin explains with a smile that you can’t help but believe be of amusement. “We will start simple with an act of gift giving and then progress to banquets so you may introduce your relationship to Asgardian society. From there, well… we shall see if you’ll reach the next stage.” 

You try to make sense of what he’s requesting. It seems simple enough that you don’t understand why Odin believed your lie would collapse before then. 

“Loki honoring our tradition, you will give Lady Y/N a blade crafted for her use only,” Odin states. “As for you, Lady Y/N, it is tradition that a woman shall give her partner a handmade shirt for him to wear. You will show off these gifts of affection on your first banquet which will be two nights from now.”

That was a quick turnaround and you now realized the king was hoping to set you up to fail. You didn’t understand the urgency of doing so but you knew that those secrets that Loki has been hiding were most likely the answer to your question.  

“I hope that won’t be too much trouble.” 

You were not someone so easily scared off and you enjoyed a good challenge here and there.

“Not at all,” you respond to Odin as you offer him a smile. “If this is what you wish, then so be it.” 

Odin seems to realize that you were no stranger with a battle of authority. Perhaps you and Loki were a true match if that were the case. 

“If that is all, Odin, we wish to retire to our rooms,” Loki states. “It has been quite a day.” 

“Ah yes, you may take your leave,” Odin responds watching as Loki escorts you out. The moment the doors are about to be open he speaks again. “There should be no need of me to remind you that though you may be sharing a room, your actions have consequences. Please do try to avoid another scandal.”

Loki drags you away at Odin’s parting words in fear that you might bite his head off at the accusation made. He was right in doing so as your face had grown red in a mix of embarrassment and anger. 

“Your father’s an ass.” 

Loki could only laugh in agreement.

poison & wine tag: @damalseer​ @just-the-hiddles​ @jessiejunebug​ @nonsensicalobsessions​ @smollest-soybean​ @assassinoftheworld​ @readerbandit​ @doyoufeelikeayounggod​ @strangemcuvlogs​ @ha-tep​ @i-dont-know-eiither​ @gene-king​ @day-dreaming-fox​ @bn-studies​ @is-it-madness​ @sigyn-njorddottir​ @devilbat​ @victor-criss-bish​ @skinny-macncheese​ @musicconversedance​ @baby-bunnyxn​ @fandoms-allovertheplace​ @marvelloonie​ @jinxjinxednova​ @queenmuahaha​

Loki Tag: @unicorniorosacomefrutillas​ @thesilentbluesparrow​ @oddly-drawn-muse​ @josiehosiedaninja​ @hp-hogwartsexpress​ @sadwaywardkid​ @wolf-lover74​

All Works Tag: @jmb959​ @astudyoftimeywimeystuff​ @hellocookiecutter​ @steve-rogers-personal-hell​ @buckybarnesyard​ @not-zari-tak

[bellatrixobsessed1]

Speak No Evil (Part 16)

The fit she throws isn’t the one that Seicho had expected. What she had expected were pillars of fire and a barrage of cutting words, etched heavy-handedly into the sand. She thinks that the one she got is infinitely worse.

They are miles away from the volcano and the woman knows it. She sees it in her mute screams of frustration and rage. Those soundless cries put a unique sense of discomfort in her like no other at all. The woman is truly suffering in silence in every sense of the phrase and Seicho wonders if it is even possible to relieve her of it. She tries anyways. Tries despite how much the woman must irreparably and unapologetically resent her.

The woman’s face is red, strained, tearstained. Seicho pulls her into her arms and squeezes. Tighter than she has ever. Tighter than she has even held her own sister. She couldn’t save her from herself. She can’t save this woman from herself either. But she can at least try to get this woman to try to save herself.

She presses the woman’s cheek against her chest. Her sobs send tremors through Seicho’s body. She is somehow tense and limp all at once. And those tears; she wishes that the woman could make a sound, it would be so much less unnerving. All the same she doesn’t want to even imagine how tormented they would sound.

Seicho doesn’t know what else to do she rests her head on the woman’s and rubs her back over and over again until her cries let up at least a little. She is so terribly broken. Behind all of that resentment and beneath-the-surface rage is mountains of hurt. Perhaps fear. Certainly hopelessness. The only sound she hears are the woman’s soft, gasping breaths and occasionally small wheezes that are perhaps what is left of her ability to vocally cry. She hates these the most, they sound painful. She hopes that they aren’t truly so, the woman is in enough pain.

“Let’s get you back home.” Seicho finally says after at least twenty more minutes of letting the woman weep freely. “Your brother’s probably worried.”

‘He doesn’t care about me.’ She drags her pointer through the dirt. Her hand is still shaking, Seicho feels it when she takes it in her own.

“We’ll see about that.” Seicho mutters softly as she scoops the woman into her arms once more. She huffs, even with a good break, the woman is growing quite heavy in her sore arms. With luck she will begin walking on her own again soon. Though it would seem that she has thrown all of what was left of her energy and motivation into getting to that volcano. She is fresh out of willpower.

.oOo.

It is strange to be back on Fire Nation land. The sand sifts like snow but it is so very different. Everything is different really; where the tribes had smelled, pure, fresh, and clean, the Fire Nation is tainted. Not necessarily in a bad way but the air isn’t pure it is dashed heavily with smoke and spices and cooked meat, there is a bite of sulfur that she is no longer used to.

It is loudner too, much more bustling and clamoring. Where there had been arctic fox yowls and yips there is now the howl of vendors shouting over one another to draw attention. The crunch of snow beneath feet is swapped out for the crunch of gravel beneath carts. More people are out and about and TyLee almost longs to get right back on the airship and take Tuya’s offer to visit again. She knows that she will eventually, just not so soon.

Evidently, she isn’t sure where she is going to go now. She isn’t sure what the Fire Nation can possibly offer her when all of the real excitement is to be had in the frigid mysteries of the poles and their glaciers.

Maybe she will go back to performing. Perhaps theater or dance or try to join a band and sing. That is what she will do, she decides. She will dabble in everything that she can, try a bit of this and then a bit of that until she finally discovers which hobbies suit her best. Until she discovers what she truly loves not what she has been forced or coerced into loving.

Once she does that, she will muster up the courage to confront Mai. Just maybe she will find the bravery to confront Azula again, this time unwaveringly. And perhaps she will end up severing old bonds completely. It might be that, that is part of the healing process.

.oOo.

Seicho cares for her much more than she ought to. She does most of the foraging and cooking. She sets up all of the shelters. Occasionally Azula lights a fire for her. But mostly Azula lays quietly. Resigned. There isn’t really anything for her to do. She hasn’t anything to work for, nothing to aspire to be. She doesn’t have the compulsion to find anything. She has no purpose nor capacity to care. And yet she has failed to end herself and, by extension, the expanse of bleak and unremarkable nothingness laid out in front of her. She sits with her legs drawn up to her chest and stares almost unblinkingly into the fire.

“We’re about a day away from the beach.” Seicho remarks. “The one we met on.”

She had gotten the point the first time. Perhaps Seicho thinks her stupid. And perhaps Seicho is right. She doodles lazy spirals in the dirt.

“How can I help you?” Seicho asks. “I want to, but I don’t know how.”

Azula shrugs. She isn’t sure either. She isn’t sure that she wants help. She might very well like to watch herself fall and fall until she falls away completely. There is the faintest little itch, a residue of her former self that compels her to cling on for just a little longer. It is easy to shut out.

But Seicho doesn’t let her. She takes her hand and holds it against her cheek. Azula isn’t sure what the gesture is supposed to mean. A sign of affection probably, but Azula isn’t used to that anymore. Isn’t sure how to take it.

“I’m glad that you didn’t make it up that volcano.”

For the first time in a few days Azula responds. She replies with a simple, ‘why’.

Seicho shrugs. “I just like you. I just have a feeling, ya know?”

She doesn’t.

“I like telling you stories.” She continues. “You’re the only one who listens. I mean really listens. Everyone pretends to listen to me they say ‘mmhmm’ and ‘yeah’ but they don’t really listen. They always talk over me…”

Then Azula supposes that she has found the perfect companion.

“And you don’t do that.”

She makes out to scrawl a, ‘because I can’t’, but Seicho continues. “You might not be able to talk but you can still ignore me…”

Oh she highly doubts that…

“But you don’t. I bet that if I asked you to repeat everything we’ve talked about you’d be able to write it all out. Because you don’t just listen, you pay attention.”

Finally she writes, ‘people know how to ignore you?’

“They’re really good at it.”

‘Maybe they can teach me.’

Seicho laughs. Azula isn’t sure if it is a bitter laugh or a genuine one. “Thanks for listening to me ramble. I guess it was kind of a hostage situation.”

Azula nods, indeed it was. Though she supposes it was probably one of the better wastes of her time. At least this time around her failure won’t result in raised voices and shaming words.

Seicho is unusually quiet for a very long time before she finally asks, “do you really want to go?”

Azula furrows her brows.

“If you want to...you know, I’ll let you do it. I won’t leave until it’s over but I’ll let you do it. If it hurts that much…”

It takes her a moment to put two and two together and her stomach grows queasy when she does.

“I mean I don’t want you to but I guess that it’s kind of cruel to make you live if…”

Azula shakes her head. She doesn’t think that the woman means it. She can’t, not after everything.

“So, is that what you want?”

Azula swallows. Suddenly she isn’t so sure. She is sure of one thing, she just wants everything to stop hurting.

Seicho seems to smile. “It isn’t, is it?”

At last, Azula shakes her head no.

Seicho grins wider, “I was hoping that you’d say that.” And then much quieter, “I had a feeling that you would.”

More than anything, Azula just wants the pain to stop. She just wants to feel loved and lovable. She just wants to stop hurting everyone around her. A sense of control would be really nice too and a touch of dignity and honor. Confidence.

But first things first. She lets Seicho give her a small squeeze before she pulls out her parchment and brushes. Slowly and elegantly she scrawls upon the parchment, ‘Azula.’

Seicho cocks her head and Azula points to herself.  Seicho smiles, “your name is Azula?”

She nods.

[sarenhale]

Can we know more about Xante, Seran, and Cutter??

For sure! I’m happy to hear you’d like to know more about them!!

I’ve already shared some infos here and there on some art of them/answered questions/ text posts, the best way to gather more info on them (as for any other oc of mine) is to check their tags! (type their names in the search bar on my blog)

I tag everything on my blog and try to keep it tidy. 

I shape their backstories as I go, so I’m sorry for any mistakes or if some things don’t add up! Here’s a quick recap on them + some new details

Xante ‘Aster’ Marecar (tag)

Xante is an Altmer, he comes from a wealthy family from Summerset. The Marecar family is dedicated to magic research and commerce. 

Xante has two older sisters, Lùne and Cassandra. Lùne is responsible for the family’s part in commerce, Cassandra is an historian and expert on magic relics, and she’s often away for her researches. 

His mother and father are both trained magicians and work as researchers. 

Having lived a very sheltered and ‘easy’ life, Xante decided one day to leave his home and Summerset to explore the rest of the world and study other cultures. His first stop was Morrowind, home of legends and magic, two things he was very interested in. 

He’s very shy, especially around people he doesn’t know, and prefers the company of books to people’s. He gets easily flustered and intimidated by strangers.

He loves reading books about legends and tales from lands he doesn’t know, and takes interest in studying history, languages, and religion. He keeps a diary, a mix of a personal rambles along with notes and drawings from topic he’s studying.

He’s a skilled magician but prefers to keep a low profile (especially in a land he doesn’t know) and only uses magic when he’s threatened. He favors magic from the Conjuration and Illusion schools, relying on magic mostly to support, shield and hide himself rather than fight. 

He often travels around with his magic familiar, Mai, an artic fox.

The tattoo on his left has a protective glyph enchanted into it. 

‘Cutter’ (Caius) (tag)

Cutter is my Hero of Kvatch, the character that went thru the storyline in TES Oblivion.

Cutter is a Bosmer, he was born in Cyrodiil and an orphan from young age. 

He was raised by a pack a wolves in the forest for some time, until an Imperial priestess named Livia found him and decided to take care of him, and so teach him how to write, read, etc. 

Since the kid had no identiy, the priest gave him a name: Caius. Cutter doesn’t use this name often and just goes for ‘Cutter’ most of the time. 

Cutter grew up in Bruma, but never settled with the rest of the citizens nor felt at home in the town. He was grateful to Livia, but never felt like he belonged. 

It was easy for him to stand out, feel isolated and stared at by the rest of the citizens, especially considering how eccentric and extravagant he always acted. When he was around nineteen, he left the city to venture around Cyrodiil, often finding his way into the woods, that felt like home to him.

It’s around this time that he eventually meets Martin Septim, and his adventure with him begins.  

Cutter’s talk in Common is choppy, he doesn’t use complicated words and hates Imperial names, they’re too difficult and weird to pronounce for him.

He only knows how to write his name, he didn’t have the best education but doesn’t think much of it. He’s very straight forward and doesn’t have any filters, a thing that often puts him in trouble when he’s interacting with people. 

He doesn’t like big crowds of people and avoids big cities if he can, and sticks mostly to small villages or just raw nature, where he feels more comfortable. 

He’s used to being alone and doesn’t mind loneliness.

His manners are rather eccentric, and knowing well how his looks can affect people, he relies on them to spook people or intimitade them for fun. He has a weird sense of humor and likes to spook locals by saying weird shit or making up stories and legends, knowing full well his effect on people.

Nontheless, he’s loyal to his (few) friends and values things like brotherhood, valor, and courage. 

He’s a skilled warrior, more on the barbaric side, and usually fights with two hand axes. His closeness to nature makes him also an excellent hunter and tracker.

Seran (tag)

Seran is a Dunmer, he grew up in Morrowind, in the village of Vos. 

Seran is of modest origins, his father being a farmer and his mother a tailor. 

Since he was little, he tried his best to help his family out, and started working when he was a teen, at first as a laborer/handyman and then, when he was older, he enlisted to be a city guard. 

His impressive fighting abilities and good manners were noticed by a Telvanni diplomat, who requested him as a bodyguard. 

Seran worked with him for years, gaining a certain respect among other guards and fighters, his good presence and manners making him an appreciated figure even among very important diplomats and political figures. 

It was after an incident that almost got him executed, that Seran knew that that life of intrigues and secrets was going to be the death of him- he managed to avoid getting killed, and after creating a new identity for himself for a while, getting into the mercenary life. 

He was a good fight, and knew how to handle though situations and mission. For many years, he lived as an hired sword and travelled around different continents: Cyrodiil, Summerset, and Skyrim, where he almost settled down and started a family.

Seran is a rather sociable and patient person, he likes to talk and listen to people, and enjoys company of all kinds- making him a bit of a womanizer. 

He’s good mannered and well spoken, proof on how hard he trained when he was young to educate himself and evolve from his origins, in the hope of bettering his family situation. He has a soft spot for helping people in trouble, and despite his charm and wits, tends to avoid authorities since the Telvanni incident. He’s not technically still a wanted man, but Seran knows that Telvanni never forget and forgive. 

He usually fights with a double-handed sword, but is also trained to fight with a shortsword and shield. He favors heavy armor, and knows rudimental magic, mostly Destruction spells or Healing spells to aid him in battle.