#she changes so quickly but its hard to pinpoint when or how or why

[technicolorxsn]

oh okay

[yeehawfolk]

Reddit's being a dick and won't let me post something I wrote about why I feel Zelda is still a princess, so here we fucking go, boys.

My thoughts were always that Zelda is a "Princess" in title only (I'm also of the mind that "Princess" in-universe is more of an honorary title when the newest Zelda incarnation shows up, so even if she were technically Queen she'd still be referred to as "Princess"), especially with this portrayal of her. The monarchy and kingdom were destroyed during the Calamity, and the various villages/towns/stables seem to be doing ok without it. There's no more guards; villagers protect each other and their towns with Link, now.

Lemme put this into perspective a bit.

Imagine you're a resident of Hyrule, right? You work at the stable association. Each is fairly far away from one another, but they keep abreast of the news via travellers that come and go. You've never left. You've lived here since you were born, and so has your father, and his before that. It's all you've ever known. One day, you receive a letter from your friend at the next stable over. They say to watch out for a strange traveler on the road; not for any nefarious reason. On the contrary; he's actually quite nice. He helps whoever asks, even if he never flinches when he's tricked into eating a Golden Rhino Beetle and snarfs down barely edible food on the regular. You don't think anything else of it. After all, stable work is hard work, and it quickly leaves your mind.

And then, one day, he appears. You don't see him until he lands in front of you-somewhat painfully-from the sky. A young Hylian with blonde hair and a stoic, stern face. He's wearing only a pair of pants and a hood. When you go to check on him, he dusts himself off and gives you a thumbs up, then proceeds to cook for 3 hours at your cooking pot. He looked so serious picking out incredients, only to light up in joy at the most hideous concoction of a food you've ever seen that it makes you smile yourself, even if the smell makes your eyes water. He eats it, no hesitation, then eats another 10 baked apples from his pouch.

You ask him to get you some ingredients for a dish; he complies eagerly as he pulls from his pouch 200 more of the same. He asks you to braid his horse's mane; you show him how and listen to him hum, even if there's no conversation during, as he only speaks with his hands. He spends the night, and is gone the next morning, hopping onto a wild horse and riding away as you comb your fingers through his unboarded horse's mane. It's an experience you won't forget any time soon, that's for sure.

And then, after you meet this young man, things start to change. The monsters settle down. Lynels start disappearing, and local merchants are flooded with their parts. The Divine Beasts quiet, red lights pinpointed onto the old castle, and guardians are rare if not entirely extinct. There's whispers that the Hero has returned.

You think back to the blonde Hylian with blue eyes who befriended the dog by sneaking them slabs of meat when you weren't looking.

A roar wakes you from your slumber in the middle of the night, shaking the foundations set in place by your grandfather's father. It was unlike anything you had ever heard of, a wail of pure hatred and maliciousness that soaked into your body and chilled your very bones. You barely even noticed it at first, but now that your feet have carried you to the entrance and the inhuman scream petered out, you couldn't tear your eyes away from it.

The sky was red. A deep crimson, the color of blood. Clouds gathered so thick you couldn't see the stars or even the moon. Lightning thrashes through the sheets of rain and illuminates the backdrop of battle; everyone sees it. Its too big to miss. A giant beast blazing with a malice-filled fire, almost as big as Hyrule Castle itself, tusks dripping ooze onto the fields below. The Calamity has risen again, and you can do nothing but cower, stumbling back inside. Feel the enormous rumblings through the soil as your family huddles beneath a table.

You think back to the boy who was good with horses. The boy who brought change on his tail. You wonder, then, if he was in the middle of it all. You feel he is.

Another scream pierces the air. You don't dare move to look again.

Suddenly, light.

Blinding, intense, burning out in a fraction of a second. Spots still dance in your vision, and yet, the quaking of the ground has ceased. The rain still patters on the roof, but the sky no longer looks bloody, and you hesitantly crawl from under the table.

There is only the rain, and there is only the castle in the distance, and there is only silence.

In the weeks after, you see him again. Only this time, he's brought someone else along, a girl around his age. She smiles gently and seems a little shy, but her earnestness in meeting you and your family dulls it all to a slight glimmer and replaces it with a dazzlingly warm glow.

She introduces herself as Zelda. You know the name; everyone does. She's been a story for as long as you have been alive. The daughter of the late king, thought to be dead one hundred years ago, is holding your hand and asking if there's any repairs that need to be done on your stable. Her smile is beautiful, genuine. You don't know what to say, except to nod your head and point her to a spot in the roof you'd had trouble patching without the proper materials.

The boy from before, you learn, is named Link. The Hero from one hundred years ago, who protected her from the Calamity to the end. The last time you saw him, he was kicked off an angry horse and laid motionless so long you thought he had died. They seem close; he leans over her shoulder as she writes in a journal, and she turns to him every now and again to consult with him about it before continuing. No words are shared between them, but they seem to have an understanding even without his hands signing at her. A single motion floats by every now and again, slow and lazy as she adds up supply costs. Together, they watch the sun slowly sink below the horizon.

They decide to stay the night.

Zelda, you learn, is a very driven young girl. In the few weeks she had been free, she had decided to make a trip around to all the stables and make a list of repairs and supplies they will need for them, then they're going to Akkala to meet a friend who might be able to help. After the stables, she says, is the towns. She's especially excited to see Hateno; she has never been, and Link has said she can move into his house.

She talks long into the night about Hyrule and her plans. A smile flashes over a supper she thankfully saved from Link, as bright as the sun when she spoke of her travels so far and all she'd seen. She wants to bring everyone together, you learn, to try to salvage what was lost and build anew; though when her green eyes look up to the the night sky, she pauses and frowns, brow pulling together.

"If only I had been able to awaken my powers sooner, we might have had an easier time rebuilding." You see her gaze searching for something among the stars. Something you don't see. "It... It was because of me that the Champions... and Link..." Looking off at the Hero who was entertaining your younger siblings, she sighs.

You don't know what to say. "Princess-" You begin, but she cuts you off with a sorrowful smile.

"Please, there's no need for formalities." Looking down at her feet and folded hands, she meets your eyes again. "I am no Princess of this kingdom. She has no ruler, anymore. She has become wild and reclaimed and beautiful. I almost feel as if I don't belong in such a place."

Even she, it seems, is still a child, plagued by guilt. She plays with your siblings before they leave the next day, and you spend the morning caring for the horses as they squeal and giggle with delight, Zelda placing her hands over her eyes and dramatically beginning to count; your siblings scuttle off to find spots to hide. When she leaves, she gives the stable a 50 rupee tip on top of costs, promising to bring more supplies for the hole in the roof on her next visit.

As you watch them head back onto the path, Zelda turns and waves before they're out of sight, which you return.

It seems the Princess has returned; not as a monarch of a broken, shattered Hyrule. But as wild and untamed a Princess as her kingdom.

TL;DR: Zelda is a Princess by Association. There's no kingdom to back her authority, no reason to really follow her except for the fact that she has the best interests of Hyrule at heart. She's the figurative Princess of Hyrule that guides them forward, and most everyone likes her because she tries really hard for her people. She's not a monarch in TOTK, hence why there's no need for a coronation to Queen.

[harlowcomehome]

Ok so this is based off of a one tree hill episode but a dad Jack! Where him and reader have had a ruff time lately with Jacks work schedule and his attitude and he makes reader a nice dinner when she gets home from work one day, (ps reader didn’t know their daughter was awake or outside since it was dark) so when they finally settle down for a nice dinner they hear a splash in the pool and reader and Jack run out to see their daughter in the pool so jack jumps in the pool and gets their daughter and reader looks at jack after holding their daughter and says she wants a divorce (please make a part 2 or something with happy ending)

“The D word.”

To say that you and Jack had been having a rough time lately would be a huge understatement.

For the last year or so you two had been more distant that ever, it wasn’t only because of your work schedules, but also a lack of connection. When you were around each other you felt a sense of annoyance. You loved Jack but everything he did frustrated you, he felt that way about you as well he was just better at hiding it.

If you had to pinpoint a moment in your relationship where things started to go south, you wouldn’t be able to do it. One day you woke up and things between you two just felt, different.

The two of you had never mentioned the “d word” but you felt like you were both tiptoeing around it, and the anxiety of that conversation felt constantly suffocating.

Jack decided to take some time off from touring, for the last three years he had been back to back with releasing an album and touring immediately after, he was convinced that this was a major reason as to why you two didn’t connect much anymore.

You however, had zero plans of slowing down and not because you didn’t want to but a big part of you wanted him to know how it felt to miss you instead. You wanted him to feel how you had been feeling the last few years, raising your daughter without you there wouldn’t be easy for him and you liked the thought of that.

Jack called you while you were driving home and you answered “hey hey, what’s up?”

“You headed home?” Jack asked, sounding exhausted, which led you to chuckle a little to yourself.

“About thirty minutes out, why?”

“I’m making you dinner” he shyly admitted, you never knew him to know how to cook.

“Making?” You laughed and he did too, “I promise you its edible” he laughed and you heard your daughter giggle in the background.

“She should be sleeping” you groan and Jack swallowed hard “I know, working on it” he sounded defeated but you didn’t feed into it at all.

“Alright see you soon” you hung up, running one hand through your hair in annoyance.

When you got inside the house you kicked off your heels and were immediately greeted by Jack who couldn’t keep his hands off your curves.

“Hi baby” he kissed you softly and you leaned into it.

“Smells good” you raised an eyebrow to him.

“The fact that you seem surprised is kind of heartbreaking” he clutched his chest dramatically as if you broke his heart.

You playfully slapped his arm before looking around for your little.

“Bed” he assured you while pulling out a chair for you.

Before you sat down, you tied your hair up immediately. Your work day was exhausting and you couldn’t wait one more second to get into comfy clothes. “Jack, I’m going to change real quick, I’ll be back.”

His eyes saddened at you using his real name and not a cutesy nickname but he nodded and started to plate your food.

He was hopeful that you’d come out in the sweats he strategically laid out for you but you didn’t, which also felt like a fifty pound gut punch.

When you sat down at the table Jack handed you a glass of wine, you looked at him confused. “I don’t drink?” You cocked your head to the side kind of offended that he’d forget that but when you looked at him he answered quickly showing you the bottle he poured it out of “it’s grape juice, I wanted to be fake fancy” he chuckled and you nodded and felt a sigh of relief come over you. “I love that” you smiled, it was the first time he had seen you genuinely smile since coming home and he felt a wave of butterflies come over him.

When Jack went to grab your plate it was the first time since arriving home that you actually visually took him in. You had been together for a few years now, so looks change but Jack was always so gorgeous to you, even when you didn’t always see eye to eye.

You admired his freckled arms, as they grabbed the plates, your eyes trailed to his biceps which were muscular, more muscular than you remembered. He turned to you and noticed you were eyeing him, he couldn’t help but smile, a part of him wondered if you were still attracted to him after all this time.

He sat your plate down and then he sat down next to you, you still eyed him up and down, counting the gray hairs in his well groomed auburn colored beard.

“What are you thinking about?” He broke your trance and reached out for your hand that laid on the table. You squeezed his hand and smiled “you’re still the most handsome man I’ve ever seen” you smiled and Jack felt a wave of relief come over him.

It was shame that feeling didn’t last much longer.

You both were taken out of the moment when you heard a big splash coming from your backyard, it was then that you two saw the back door open and you screamed, a scream Jack wouldn’t be able to erase from his brain anytime soon.

Jack ran outside and saw his daughter thrashing around in the pool, he jumped in immediately and grabbed her as you stood off to the side of the pool in shock, crying and reaching out for their arms.

You grabbed your daughter from Jacks arms, and she was coughing up the water that she had swallowed, you panicked as you patted her back to help her get it all out.

Jack rushed out of the pool and ran over to you both his face was covered in fear and panic “is she ok? Is she ok?”

“She’s breathing, she’s ok” you assured him as you held your weak/limp daughter against your chest, her short arms wrapped around your neck as best as they could be.

“You didn’t lock the back door?” Your voice was shaky.

“I wasn’t thinking about it, she just went to bed and you were coming home” Jack took his heavy wet shirt off and rung it out above the pool, he was breathing hard still trying to recover from what just happened and you couldn’t even look at him.

Your daughter wrapped her arms around your neck “mommy” she started to cry and you held her tightly. “I know baby, you’re okay” you held her as she started to cry harder.

You turned to Jack who was standing there dripping in pool water, if looks could kill Jack would’ve been dead on arrival of the dirty look you gave him.

“I think were done here” you whispered as you started to walk back into the house, how could he be so irresponsible you thought to yourself.

Jack paused hoping you didn’t mean what he was jumping to the conclusion of.

“Done for tonight?”

You stopped walking and turned to Jack, your expression was cold and something he had never seen before causing him immediate panic.

“We are done here” you pointed between the two of you, “ We need to get a divorce” you stared into his baby blue eyes that no less than five minutes ago were your favorite eyes in the world, and you watched as they dilated against your words.

“A divorce?” Jack couldn’t believe what he had just heard escape from your mouth.

You nodded as you walked into your daughters bedroom to get her cleaned up.

Jack sat at the kitchen table, in the seat you had just been sitting in moments previously, he had no words to express how he was feeling, just tears.

[whiteqnn]

PURE [5] - Corpse Husband x Fem!Reader

A/N: It’s been a while.  

part 1

part 2

part 3

part 4

PURE [5]

“Did you guys find anybody?” Felix’s voice sounded out when the man repeated the same question for what seemed like the third time since he joined the call. The number of players showed 7 of them, which meant that they were still missing three people. Sure, they could start the game now, but it would be way more enjoyable and funny with a full lobby. 

“Yeah, Toast will be here any moment. “Sykkuno replied right away. “He just texted me; he should join us in a few.”

“Cool. Anyone else?” 

“I think Corpse was also supposed to join us, right? Not sure though why he isn’t here yet.” 

“Oh, yeah, Corpse will be here soon too!” Jack suddenly chimed in with an explanation. “He said he needed to take care of something first, but he’ll be here before we start.” 

“Great. But that means we’re still one person short.” Felix hummed when Toast’s little astronaut appeared in the lobby “Hey Toast."

“Hey man.”

“Do you have anyone coming?”

“I’m afraid not. I asked MrBeast, but he’s busy, so...”

“Well then, we can just start when Corpse is here, and maybe we’ll find someone in the meantime?” Dave suggested, earning a few hums of approval from the other players. 

“Yeah, I think that’s the best option...” Jack agreed. But then his voice blared out in everyone’s headphones with excitement. “Ha! Corpse is bringing someone!” 

“Who?” 

“I dunno, he just texted me he has one coming and that’s all.” 

“Hm, all right. Let’s wait then.”

***

Corpse fidgeted with his phone, glancing between its screen and the chat in his stream. People were already asking countless questions, but rather than answering them, he was waiting for Y/N to call him. He was nervous - the girl still hadn’t commented on his request. 

The idea to invite her to the lobby wasn’t spontaneous. In fact, he’d been thinking about it for quite some time now, but never found the courage to actually ask if she would like to join them for the game.

It’s been almost a month now since that memorable phone call. A month since Y/N last played with her friends; a month since she considerably reduced her social media usage. 

Sure, she was still active on her youtube channel, but not as much as before the whole haters situation. No matter how hard she tried to just ignore them and simply continue her career, she just couldn’t. There were still these nagging thoughts at the back of her mind, reminding her of all those people and their comments, their messages. It seemed like a good idea to take a short break and sort everything out.

Her fans understood it. They were obviously sad that her videos weren’t as frequent as before, but everyone knew what the situation looked like and that Y/N needed some time for herself. 

Her audience knew it, and so did her friends. Especially Corpse. 

The man kept his word and talked to the girl whenever she wanted to. Which, in the end, was almost everyday. Although at the beginning their conversations mostly focused on her current problem and dealing with it, their topics broadened over the time. 

At one point though, Y/N started worrying that maybe she’s annoying him with her so frequent calls. She thought that she shouldn’t bother him that much - even if talking to him was what really helped her cope with her problems. He already had enough on his plate, and sharing her own concerns with him suddenly seemed like a very selfish thing to do.

But she quickly realized how wrong she was for thinking like that. When one day she didn’t call, figuring out that she should stop troubling him with her own issues, she was very surprised when Corpse reached out to her himself. He expressed how worried he got when she didn’t call, and when she explained what was the reason, he spent the next fifteen minutes lecturing her that she should never think she’s bothering him. 

From that day on, they talked every single day. And they talked about almost everything.

Corpse enjoyed their late night-talks more than anything. He liked to listen to Y/N talk about the things she finds exciting, her hobbies, and her dreams. Hell, she could talk about what she ate for breakfast, and he would still listen with interest. 

And even though they haven’t seen each other in person, even though she still hasn’t seen his face, they managed to get really close during those past weeks. For an outside observer (who also didn’t have access to Twitter) they would seem like a couple of very good friends.

But not for Corpse.

He couldn’t pinpoint when exactly did it happen. They were talking one evening and Y/N was telling him about the TV series she had finished watching recently. He listened intently and watched as her facial expressions changed from excited to frustrated, as she was enumerating everything she liked and disliked about the series finale.

And then he suddenly got this weird feeling in the pit of his stomach, and simply couldn’t take his eyes off her. 

He tried to play it off and act as if nothing changed, but he couldn’t stop his heart from doing backflips whenever she laughed at one of his dumb jokes or called him partner. It was still a running joke between them and among the group of their friends, but there was something in the way she said it that made him instantly smile like an idiot. 

He also started paying more attention to the hashtags on Twitter and Instagram. #PartnersInCrime was still rather popular, even though it was a month since anyone last used this phrase on stream. Corpse also found out that #Y/Nforthebride was trending for some time; he even managed to stumble across a few fanarts. 

There was this urge to send them to Y/N, but he was too nervous that it would make things awkward between them... After all, he didn’t know how she felt about that whole shipping thing. 

That’s why he decided to just leave things between them as they are, and be happy that he’s at least her friend.  

Corpse nearly jumped out of his skin, when he was brought back to reality by the sound of an upcoming FaceTime call. Y/N’s photo appeared on his screen, her smiley face which he had assigned as her contact photo. His lips corners curled up in a smile almost unwittingly. 

“Hey Y/N/N” he said after answering the call. 

“Hi Corpse” she smiled softly upon hearing his voice. Although the screen on her side was dark, she didn’t mind not seeing Corpse’s face. She respected his wish to remain faceless and enjoyed their conversations anyway. 

“Whatcha doin’?”

“Just editing the new video. I guess I’ll upload it in the morning... but I’m not sure yet.”

“Well let me know then, I wanna be the first one to see it.” 

“Sure thing, Corpse” she chuckled, lowering her gaze bashfully. Corpse just looked at her face for a moment, unable to stop smiling to himself. Then he remembered why they were talking in the first place.

“So... have you seen my text?” Y/N sighed at his question but nodded her head slowly. “And what do you think?”

“I don’t know, Corpse...” she ran a hand through her hair in a nervous gesture. “...if that’s a good idea, I mean.”

“Well, it’s been a while. No pressure though, if you don’t wanna play then it’s totally fine.” he quickly clarified. “I just thought it would be fun if you joined us, even if just for a moment. I’m sure everyone would go crazy.” 

Her smile widened slightly at his words, but she still didn’t look convinced. Sure, it was tempting to join them. She wanted to do it each time Sean or Felix bombarded her with messages and codes to the lobby, both inviting her to join the group in the game. But then she remembered how people reacted to her appearance in their streams... and suddenly it didn’t seem like such a good idea anymore.

“We’re gonna play on Polus...” he added after a moment when she still didn’t say anything. “That one map with the planetary base... there’s a lava pit, y’know. Just saying...”

She laughed wholeheartedly at his words, remembering their last game when Corpse jumped into the lava for her. 

“Sykkuno’s gonna be there as well” Corpse continued. “And I promise I won’t kill you this time.”

“Even if I’m the last player alive?” she joked.

“Even then, Y/N.”

Corpse stifled a laugh, as she cocked her head to the side and narrowed her eyes slightly as if trying to spot him in the darkness. 

“Are you streaming, Corpse?” she then asked.

“Not yet. I’m gonna start the stream as soon as you say yes, though.”

“Oh c’mon” she laughed at his words “That’s emotional blackmail!” 

“Maybe. Is it working?” he asked.

Y/N let out a heavy breath and ran a hand down her face. Corpse watched in anticipation as she seemed to have some internal battle with herself. He hoped that she’s gonna agree, he really missed playing with her. 

“All right, then.” she suddenly said, and his breath hitched in his throat. “I’m gonna stay for a few rounds I guess...”

“Wait, really?” he asked, a smile on his face only widening. 

“Well, yeah, partner.” she replied, which made his cheeks go warm “Your imposter techniques haven’t been very effective lately... Someone needs to help you out, or you’re gonna lose your title of the king of the Imposters.” 

“Oh, is that’s how it is now?” he laughed in fake shock. “I wouldn’t have to worry about losing the title if my accomplice hadn’t left me all alone!” 

“All right, all right.” she giggled at his accusations. “Your accomplice is on her way to support you.” 

Corpse smiled even wider at the sound of her laughter. Her eyes shined with happiness when she was giggling, which only brought out their E/C color. The fact that his stupid babbling was the reason for her smile was making him feel extremely proud of himself.  

“But just so you know... I still have no idea how this map works, so I’m afraid I’m gonna need you to guide me around it...”

“Y’know you could as well just say you want to hang out with me...”

“Corpse!” she laughed, her cheeks blushing in embarrassment. 

“Just kidding Y/N” he chuckled at her reaction. “Of course I’m gonna guide you, don’t worry.”

“Okay then...” she said after a moment, looking at the screen again. “I’ll be there in a few minutes. Will you send me the code, please?”

“Sure I will, Y/N” 

“Okay. See you later, partner” she smiled brightly. 

“See you, partner.” 

When Y/N ended the call, Corpse let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. He sighed in relief and ran a hand through his hair, before moving to sit behind his desk.

It was only after he started the stream that he realized he was blushing. Not only because Y/N would join them, but because there was also another thing he wanted to ask her about, but didn’t find the courage to yet... 

***

By the time Y/N turned on her computer and started the game, Corpse has already sent her the code, and there was a Discord invite waiting for her as well. She bit her lip nervously as her heartbeat quickened. 

Was she nervous? As hell. 

She did everything she could to avoid being in unnecessary spotlight since she started receiving those hate messages. Perhaps escaping the problem wasn’t the best solution, but it definitely was a comfortable one. People wouldn’t have a reason to hate on her if she disappeared. 

But then she couldn’t say no to Corpse. And truth to be said - she really missed playing with her friends. From what she’d seen on Twitter, the lobby would be filled with those she’d already played with, so she wasn’t that nervous before the game. What she was nervous about though, was how people would react.

Accepting Corpse’s request was something she did due to the sudden rush of courage. And now there was no coming back.

She knew Corpse would understand if she changed her mind... but she heard how excited he was when she had agreed. She couldn’t do it to him. 

So, once she’d taken a deep breath and put her headphones on, Y/N accepted the invite and braced herself for the inevitable chaos that was bound to take place in the call. She decided to wait with joining the lobby though - at least until they realize she’s with them. 

“..the fuck you’re talking about?!” Felix’s voice was the first thing she heard, which made her roll her eyes with a smile. “It’s not my fault I sound like that! At least I don’t have a liar voice like Rae!” 

“HEY!” the girl yelled “I don’t have a liar voice!”

“You do, you’re using it even now!” Jack argued, much to Rae’s dismay. 

“What is going on here” Corpse’s deep voice sounded out suddenly. 

“Oh, you’re here! Finally” Sykkuno immediately welcomed him with his always happy voice. 

“Yeah, sorry that I’m late guys.”

“No worries, man” Pewdiepie spoke up again. “We were just talking about playing the voice card and that you’re basically the only one who can do it.” 

“Not fair at all!” Rae chimed in, making Corpse chuckle. 

“The voice card...” he hummed after a moment, before adding. “I wouldn’t really say I’m the only one though...”

“Well who else then? Everyone else either starts laughing or have a liar voice” Dave asked, and Rae scoffed at the last words.

“Well what about my guest?”

Y/N inhaled sharply, realizing that now she should probably reveal herself. 

“Oh, right! Who you’re bringing man?” Sean asked with curiosity.

That’s when Y/N typed in the game code, and her white astronaut appeared in the lobby. 

“Wait, who’s- HOLY SHIT” Sean all but yelled, when realization hit him. Y/N laughed loudly at his reaction, and her voice only seemed to prove to everyone that she really was there. 

“KIDDO WHAT THE FUCK” Felix reflected Jack’s response, yelling over his friend.

“Oh my god, hi!”

“What a surprise!” Y/N managed to catch Sykkuno’s words. “It’s so amazing to have you here, Y/N/N!” 

“As I live and breathe.” another voice spoke up, and Toast’s little astronaut came face to face with her white bean. “My lifelong nemesis. Back here snap my neck again, huh?”

“Yeah, happy to hear you too, Toast” Y/N giggled at his words, then she adressed the whole group. “Hi guys.”

“Okay I did not expect that in the slightest” Sean laughed happily “You’re here kiddo!” 

“I am” she smiled from ear to ear, even though they couldn’t see her. 

“Wait- Corpse, is that the thing you had to take care of?” her best friend asked Corpse with suspicious voice. 

“Well...” he trailed off and cleared his throat, making everyone laugh.

“That’s so great Y/N! We missed you so much!” Rae thundered over the bickering of the boys. “The game hasn’t been the same without you...”

“Agreed. I suddenly stopped dying.” Toast commented, making her roll her eyes with a laugh. 

“I don’t know if I should be happy or fucking scared right now.” Felix laughed nervously. “With Corpse and Y/N? We’re fucked now, guys.”

“I promise I’ll go easy on you, I haven’t played in so long I think I forgot all my strategies...” 

“Yeah, sure.” Toast’s forever suspicious voice made her smile wider. “Just don’t kill me in the first roung, okay? I won’t vote you off just stay the fuck away from me you little murderer.” 

“Okay, I promise I won’t kill you...” 

She couldn’t stop herself from laughing, and the smile remained on her face even when they started the game. It only seemed to widen, when she saw the sign Imposter on her screen. 

Only to giggle hysterically when she realized that Toast was the other imposter...

And so the game went on with Y/N and Toast cooperating like perfect serial killers. Corpse did as he promised and guided her through the map, both of them being closely followed by Sykkuno. Because of that she’d just sabotage the map most of the time to give Toast opportunities to kill their friends, but eventually managed to sneak out when her two fellow crewmates were doing their tasks. It just so happen that Pewds was walking past her, and she might’ve accidentally snapped his neck... 

“Goddamnit! I knew it! I fucking knew it was you!” Sean yelled once the game was over and Y/N saw the sign VICTORY on her screen, her small character standing next to Toast’s one. He was ejected at some point because Poki managed to walk in on him killing Rae, but Y/N remained undetected until the very end. Perhaps the fact that Corpse was one of the two crewmates who were left alive had something to do wtih it...

“That was rude” Pewds said in a whiny voice, clearly referring to their encounter which led to his death. “I was just happily walking around, doing my tasks like a good crewmate, and then boom! Y/N happened” 

“I would say I’m sorry... but I’m really not” she laughed, making Felix gasp in shock.

“That’s what happens when you work with Toast!” 

“Good game, Y/N. That was amazing” the man in question said appreciatively. 

“Will you finally forgive me for killing you that one time if I say that being imposters with you was cool?” she laughed nervously. 

“Actually... Yeah, I guess we can bury the hatchet now. AND we should team up more in the future.”

“Great!” 

“Excuse me, what?” Corpse’s voice made the whole lobby laugh. “I don’t remember us cancelling our partnership, Y/N.”

“Corpse...” 

“Are you trying to steal my accomplice from me Toast?” 

“Well she’s a great partner in crime after all...” Toast deliberately used the phrase, making Corpse gasp.

“Hey! She’s my partner! Find yourself your own, Toast” Corpse joked, making Y/N laugh bashfully, her cheeks warming up at his words. 

“Yeah yeah, I remember, don’t worry man. No one’s gonna take your partner in crime away from you...” Toast’s teasing voice made them all laugh, Corpse and Y/N included. 

For the next few rounds Y/N played as a crewmate, running around the map with either Corpse or Sykkuno and doing her tasks. During meetings they joked and laughed, and for a moment, she stopped thinking about what people watching her friend’s streams might think about her presence. After all, there was at least a small chance that they didn’t think about it at all, and simply enjoyed watching their favoirte youtubers. Just as she enjoyed playing with her friends. 

Oh, and by the way, Corpse kept his promise and didn’t kill her even when she was the last player alive...

It was soon time when everyone started slowly leaving the lobby, having played for over three hours. Y/N also said her goodbyes to the others and promised that she’d join them to play a game called Raft next week. 

When she turned her computer off and threw herself on her bed, Y/N immediately grabbed her phone to call Corpse. He answered right away. 

“Well hello, partner...” she rolled her eyes with a smile when he accented the last word. “Or should I say, traitor, instead?” 

“Corpse... you know I would never betray you...” 

“Well how can I be so sure, now that I know how cool it is to be imposters with Toast?” she knew he was joking, she could almost hear the smile in his voice.

“Not nearly as cool as it is with you, Corpse” Y/N grinned from ear to ear when Corpse scoffed. 

“I spare your life so many times and that’s what I get in return? You cheat on me with Toast?” he said in disbelief “I’m disappointed, Y/N, I really am.”

“I would never!” she laughed through her words, even though her cheeks were now red because of Corpse’s words. “You’re the best partner in crime, Corpse, I wouldn’t trade you for anyone else!” 

Not only in the game, she thought.

“Hmm, alright. Let’s say I believe you.” he said after a moment of thinking. 

“I mean it, Corpse...” Y/N said after calming down from her laughter. “I... I really wanted to thank you.”

“Thank me? For what?” he asked, genuinely surprised. 

“Well, first of all for inviting me to today’s game... I really had lots of fun, it was great to play and talk with the others. And I wouldn’t be in the lobby if not for you...” Y/N mumbled, before verbalizing her previous thoughts. “And I also wanted to thank you for just... you know... being my friend. My real life partner in crime. I just wanted you to know I’m really glad I met you...” 

Corpse was silent for a good few moments, and Y/N started panicking that maybe she said something wrong, or maybe he found her spontaneous confession funny, or worse, dumb. She was almost ready to somehow laugh it all off, when his voice cut her off.

“Thank you, Y/N. It really means a lot to me too.” he sounded like he had some troubles with speaking, which made Y/N furrow her brows in worry.

“Is everything okay, Corpse?” 

“Yeah, I...” he stuttered, then laughed nervously. “I just didn’t expect that and... yeah. It’s not something I hear on a daily basis, especially from someone like you.”

Someone like me? 

 “But what you said... it’s mutual.” he said after a moment, and Y/N couldn’t stop herself from grinning like an idiot. “You’re the best partner in crime I could ask for. And not only in the game.” 

She could as well just pass out there and there...

“So uhm... there was one thing I wanted to ask you...”

“Yeah?”

“I was wondering if maybe... you know, if you’d have some time... and if you’d want to of course... would you maybe like to visit me here in San Diego?”

Yeah, passing out seems like a good idea. 

***

This is not the last part. 

TAG LIST: 

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[purple-babygirl]

you got me reading all your works from 4 AM till 6 AM today, and I have zero regrets. And I’d do it all again. I truly love all of your works, especially those that has anything to do with Bucky.

Now all I can think about is Bucky’s reaction and care to finding out that his Little got an injury—one that she been hiding from him. Omg the fluff.

Anyway, have a great day!

Pairing: Poly!SamBucky x little!f!reader

Word count: 3,381 (i know i know...)

Warnings: polyamory, ddlg dynamics, excessive, probably unnecessary, fluff no one asked for.

A/N: Nonnie, I'm honored💜. Thank you so much for sending me this, you've warmed my heart to no extent💜💜. It is everything when you tell me you like what I share with you. You're so amazing and I hope I'll always deliver and never disappoint you ily:"💜 I know you only said Bucky but I couldn't help but get Papa!Sam in there too, hope you're not mad at me?:" Please enjoy xx.

~~

don't hide

"Oh, we forgot the toilet paper!" Sam groaned, "I'll go get it. Wait here, sugar, okay? Eyes on the bags and don't move. Papa will be right back," he said before marching back to the big store's entrance, leaving her by the car with all the grocery bags.

Papa said to wait there. Papa warned her that the ground was snowy and slippery and dangerous. Papa told her not to move, she reminded herself but she just couldn't help it. She had to grab that orange.

A bag had fallen on its side out of nowhere and an orange had fallen out and rolled away. She needed to get it before Papa came back or else he'd know she wasn't watching the bags and was zoned out instead. She'd be careful and she'd take the fruit and come back to where Papa left her and he wouldn't even know it. She'd take small steps and she'd be quick. Plus, she was a big girl; she'd never slip, right?

Wrong.

Before she could catch herself, her foot was slipping, her arms were flailing and she was on her back on the cold, hard icy ground. She squeaked, pain shooting through her spine like an electric shock. Through panic and pain, she got hold of the stray fruit, managing to get herself up and back to where she was supposed to be standing the whole time before Sam made his way back to her.

"There we go," Sam sighed, setting the bag with the toilet paper beside the others and opening the car.

She was silent, biting down on her lip to stifle the pained whimpers ready to leave her mouth.

"You ready to go, sugar?" He asked her as he stacked the last bag in the car, slamming the back shut.

"Yes, papa." She nodded, the bones supporting her neck hurting as she tried her best not to cry when she slightly bent to get in the backseat.

She didn't say anything. She couldn't. Daddy and Papa were taking her sledding in the park the next day and she couldn't even be good and obey one single thing she was told. They'd definitely cancel the whole day and make her stay home if they knew what she did. And not only that but she'd surely be punished for not listening and not being careful enough. She could take it. She could play, sled and smile through the pain. Plus, she was a big girl; she could handle a little fall, right?

Wrong.

Her back was killing her. She tried not to hiss when Papa put her seat belt on for her. She had no idea how she'd make it through the day.

~

"Show daddy what you got him, sugar!" Sam encouraged after leaving the bag of goods on the table for her, walking to the kitchen to drop a bunch of grocery bags

She carefully pulled a chair out and slowly climbed on top, rummaging through the bag until she found a packet of Bucky's favourite cookies. She'd pointed at them as soon as she saw them at the store and didn't stop until Papa got them down the high shelf and into the cart.

Bucky's appreciative smile lit up the room, "oh, for me?"

"Yes, daddy. Got 'em for you." She nodded timidly, playing with her sleeve.

He accepted the cookies with a giddy grin and went to store them in place in the kitchen. She giggled, proud she was the reason Daddy was smiling.

"Thank you, love." Before she could stop him, Bucky was hugging her tight, metal arm pressing on her back to pull her body to his.

The chocked whimper she let out didn't go unnoticed by the super soldier.

"You okay, doll?" Bucky raised a worried brow, flesh hand rubbing circles on her back as a sort of habit.

"Yes, daddy. I'm fine," she lied, held-in tears burning the back of her eyes. She just needed him to stop touching her spine.

"You sure?"

"Sugar, go wash your hands we just got back from outside," Sam reminded, saving her from repeating the lie to Bucky.

"Yes, papa." Her socked feet padded on the floor as she left for the bathroom.

Bucky shrugged it off for now, walking outside to help Sam with the bags. She probably wanted more candy than she was allowed and Sam refused or something of that sort.

~

When she was done washing her hands, she tiptoed to her bedroom and did her best to redress herself fast. Her discoloured skin looked awful in the mirror. She couldn't let her daddies see the huge bruise that was forming on her back, innocently praying it'd disappear over night so they could still go sledding the next morning.

"You changed by yourself?" Sam furrowed his eyebrows upon seeing her in a comfier outfit. He knew for a fact Bucky didn't help her because he was washing strawberries in the sink behind him.

"Yes, papa," she muttered hesitantly, fearing his reaction.

"Why didn't you call me or daddy, baby? We could've helped."

"Papa and daddy are busy, didn' wanna bother you," she lied again.

"Doll, we'll never be too busy to look after our favourite girl. You can always ask for daddy and papa's help, okay?" Bucky assured her gently.

"Yes, dada."

"Good girl, here," Bucky grinned, offering her a strawberry.

"Tank you." She took it with a smile and hummed after the first bite, making Sam chuckle.

"You did a good job dressing yourself, sugar. We're proud of you." Sam let his hand cradle the small of her back so he could kiss her forehead.

She whimpered again, biting her lip hard and closing her eyes.

"Everything alright, baby?"

"Yes, papa. Strawberry tastes so good."

"Okay, baby. Go play in your room till me and daddy get lunch ready."

"Yes, papa." She pecked Sam's cheek before leaving the kitchen.

"She's lying," Bucky told his husband as soon as she got inside her playroom.

"I know."

~

She spent the rest of the morning suffering in silence. Her back hurt whenever it came in contact with anything. She couldn't lean forward, or backward. She couldn't even lay down for nap time, crying into her pillow as soon as her daddies left the room.

She'd try not to whine when Daddy's palm touched her upper back. She couldn't enjoy watching her favourite show on TV because she was too busy trying not to pull away when Papa hugged her to his chest while she was on his lap.

As the hours passed, she was in so much pain it was showing all over her face. Sam and Bucky were worried that she wasn't saying anything. They knew something was wrong they just didn't know what. They failed to notice her features scrunching up in pain whenever they touched her because, in their defense, they were always touching her. So they couldn't really pinpoint the problem.

"There you go, sugar." Sam handed her a plastic cup, half full of strawberry milk he'd just whipped in the blender for her.

"Thank you, papa." She smiled gratefully, stretching her neck to kiss his cheek, her face twisting in pain as a result.

"Doll, are you sure you're okay? Do you have a tummy ache? Do you feel sick?" Bucky questioned softly, all while rubbing circles on her upper back.

"No, dada. I'm okay," she continued to lie, sipping from her straw quickly so maybe Bucky would stop and let her drink in peace.

Bucky looked to Sam in defeat and the latter just shrugged at him helplessly.

"Love, me and papa are worried there's something you're not telling us." Bucky's hand caressed further down to the small of her back and she couldn't help but wince, dropping her cup.

Strawberry milk covered her chest and lap and she couldn't hold it in anymore. She started crying and apologizing, thinking there was no way out of punishment for her now. They were going to find out.

"Hey, hey, it's okay, sugar. It was an accident. It's okay." Sam tried to soothe her but her cries only grew louder as she let all the tears out.

Her body hurt so bad and it didn't help that Bucky was patting her back to calm her coughs and sobs.

"Come with me, doll. Let's get you cleaned up." She cried harder at Bucky's statement, knowing they were going to see her back now.

"No, daddy, please. Don't wanna." She shook her head, choking on her tears. She made no effort to go to his open arms like she would.

It broke Bucky's heart a tiny bit. He started to think he'd done something; that she was like that all day because of him for some reason.

"But baby, you're soaked in milk. You can't stay like that!" Sam didn't wait for her refusal, slipping his arms under her legs and carrying her body off the couch.

"No, no, papa, please." Her tears wet Sam's sweater, her thrashing hurting her muscles even more.

"Stop crying, sugar. Tell me what's wrong," Sam said, sitting down on the closed toilet lid with her on his lap.

She remained silent, her fist rubbing at her teary eye and her lips trembling.

"Is there anything you wanna tell me and daddy, baby?" Sam tried again, making brief eye contact with a worried Bucky preparing a bath.

"Wanna shower by myself," she muttered when her sobs died out, tears still leaving her red eyes.

"You know we can't let you do that, doll," Bucky sighed.

"B-But I dressed by myself," she cried more, leaning on Sam's chest.

"This is different, baby." He kissed her forehead.

"Why don't you want our help, doll? What is it?"

She was quiet again, making both men sigh.

"Alright, love, hands up," Bucky instructed but she shook her head.

"Come on now, be good. We gotta get you cleaned up, baby, or you're gonna be all sticky," Sam told her, fingers tugging at the hem of her sweater.

She gave up fighting; her back was sore and she knew her daddies were going to get her in that bath no matter what. She closed her eyes when the sweater was pulled over her head, preparing herself for Daddy's reaction.

"My goodness, doll! What happened?!" Bucky exclaimed in worry and she started sobbing again.

"What is it?"

"Look at her back, it's messed up!" Bucky gestured to the huge purple and blue bruise, whispering the last part of his sentence.

"Oh my god! How did you get this?!" Sam's eyes widened as he questioned her and she only cried more.

It broke their heart. She was in so much pain all morning and they had no idea. How could they be so inattentive?

"Hey, baby, no, it's alright. We just wanna know how you got hurt, sugar. You're not in trouble," Sam reassured, pushing her hair out of her face while Bucky ever so tenderly examined her bruises.

"I'm sorry, papa. I'm so sorry," she cried in his chest, "I- I didn' listen when you- told me to stay I- the orange fell out an- and I wanted to get it and I fell d-down an' hurt m-myself." She tried to explain between hiccups as Sam bit down in realization and regret.

"Aw, sugar," Sam sighed, feeling guilt gnaw at him for leaving her alone by the car. What was he thinking? How could he leave her all by herself like that? She was just a little baby!

"Papa's sorry, baby. Papa's so sorry he left you standing alone and went back inside." Sam apologized, kissing away the tears soaking her cheeks while she sniffled and hiccuped.

"Don't cry, doll. We're not sad with you. You didn't do anything wrong," Bucky cooed, his thumb wiping the tears down her chin and neck.

"B-But I was bad." She looked at Bucky with teary eyes.

"No, doll, you weren't bad. You were just tryna help Papa because you're a good girl." Bucky kissed her temple, holding her forehead to his cheek while he looked at Sam.

The man was zoned out, probably beating himself up somewhere in his mind.

"Let's just get you in the tub for now and then we can let the doctor take a look at your back, okay?"

"What if he gives me shots?"

"He's not gonna give you shots, doll. Only something to apply to your bruise, nothing painful or scary." Bucky promised, easing her off Sam's lap to get the rest of her clothes off.

Sam scratched his head before abruptly standing from the toilet seat, "I'll go start dinner."

Bucky sighed when his husband left the bathroom. He knew Sam was feeling guilty for their baby getting hurt and while he wanted to assure him it wasn't his fault, he had to tend to her for the time being.

"There you go, doll." Bucky carefully lowered her in the tub, letting the warm, soaped water soothe the ache in her muscles.

"Dada, can you come too?" She asked quietly, noiseless tears still leaving her eyes.

Bucky stripped himself at once, cautiously getting behind her in the tub before pressing her back to his chest. She sighed as he held her to him, Bucky's chest being much comfier than the solid ceramic of the tub.

"Is papa mad at me?" She asked Bucky, her voice trembling and breaking as she continued to cry.

"No, no, doll. Papa's not mad at you one bit, he's just worried about you," Bucky said, his hands rubbing softly on her tummy as he kissed her shoulder.

"Then why'd he leave?" Her voice was squishing Bucky's heart and he just wanted both his babies to feel better.

"He's preparing dinner for you, baby. Papa loves you; he could never be mad at you." Bucky turned her head so she could face him and wiped her tears away.

"We love you, doll. No one is mad at you. Daddy and Papa only want you to be okay. We just wanna keep you safe," Bucky told her warmly and she nodded, wrapping her arms around Bucky's neck and burrowing her face in the crook of it.

~

After her bath, Bucky got out first, telling her to wait while he got towels. But instead his legs took him to Sam.

"I feel like shit for not noticing too," Bucky muttered behind his spouse.

"It's not only that- what are you doing strolling around the house in just a towel after a warm bath?! Bucky, you'll catch a cold-" Sam scolded when he turned around and saw Bucky undressed.

Bucky put his mouth on Sam's in an attempt to calm his anxiety.

"I'm gonna be fine and so is she," Bucky promised against Sam's lips, cupping his cheek.

"I left her alone, Buck. She got hurt because of me."

"No, love, no. It was an accident. It could've happened anywhere any time."

"I still shouldn't have left her."

"Then we know not to do it again. Don't beat yourself up over it and distance yourself like that."

"I'm not distancing myself."

"Sam, she thinks you're sad with her. Please, love," Bucky begged, his thumb swiping over Sam's skin until the latter nodded with a sigh.

"Now go put on something."

"I thought you liked me naked," Bucky teased.

"Go." Sam lightly slapped his rear.

"I'm going." Bucky laughed, kissing Sam's lips one last time before retreating to the bathroom.

~

Bucky dressed her in something warm and told her to wait a minute while he got ready so he could take her to the doctor's. She peaked out of her room, hearing onions sizzling in the kitchen. She walked over to Sam as he poured tomato juice and the pot hissed.

"Papa? Are you mad?" She tugged at Sam's sleeve, red-rimmed eyes staring up at the man.

Sam sighed, turning off the stove. He took her hand in his and walked out of the kitchen with her, sitting down on the couch and motioning for her to sit on his lap.

"Why didn't you say anything, sugar?" Sam asked, putting her hair behind her ear.

"I'm sorry, papa," shs teared up, "I thought you'd be mad at me and think I'm bad and not wanna take me sledding no more."

"Baby, I'd never get mad at you for getting hurt. Ever." Sam reassured her, not letting his eyes get glossy with the tears he held in.

"If you get hurt me and papa will take care of you no matter what, doll. That's the only consequence. Do you understand me, love?" Bucky added, walking out of the bedroom with a jacket in hand.

"Yes, daddy." She nodded, throwing herself in Bucky's arms, "I'm sorry. I love you."

"We love you too, doll." Bucky kissed her head, careful not to hug or squeeze her too tight.

"Papa, will you come to the doctor wimme and daddy?" She asked Sam sweetly, leaning on his chest after leaving Bucky's hold.

"Of course, sugar." Sam's thumb stroked her cheek softly.

"And we can still go sledding in the park tomorrow?"

"Oh no, baby, we can't go tomorrow."

"But you said you weren't mad." Her lip jutted out in a pout.

"I'm not mad, baby, I promise, but you're hurt."

"But the doctor is gonna fix it," she whined

"He's a doctor, sugar, not a wizard!" Sam chuckled

"Because wizards don't exist."

"They do exist, but that's not the point," Sam argued and Bucky playfully rolled his eyes behind her back.

"But papa-"

"No buts, doll. We'll go as soon as you get better and we'll stay as long as you want, yeah?"

"Yes, daddy." She complied, knowing they were right; her back was achy and stinging.

~

As promised the doctor gave her no needles, only a prescription of a cream for her back and a painkiller.

"Daddy, I don't wanna," she whimpered as Bucky lifted her PJs up. She was afraid of the pain she would feel once Bucky started massaging the substance onto her skin.

"I'm gonna be gentle, doll. I promise."

"It's gonna hurt," she complained more.

"Here, sugar, hold papa's hands and daddy will be done before you know it." Sam opened his palms and she immediately put her smaller hands on top.

"There you go, all set. We're ready, daddy," Sam told Bucky, squeezing her hands and smiling comfortingly at her.

She gave half a smile back, blushing as she felt Bucky ever so softly lay kisses down her hurt back.

Sam chuckled, kissing the back of her hand. She slightly hissed when Bucky touched her skin with the cold cream, his pointer and middle spreading it around on the bruises.

"Anywhere else hurts, love?"

"Right here, daddy." She pointed to the back of her neck.

Before Bucky could, Sam tilted himself forward and kissed from the ends of her hair down to where her neck met her back. She giggled, Sam's lips tickling her. The man chuckled again, pecking her cheek.

"Papa?" She held his hands in hers.

"Yes, baby?"

"I love you." She wasn't unaware of how he blamed himself for her little accident and she wanted to let him know it was alright; she was alright.

"I love you more, sugar." Sam smiled, relieved, pressing his lips to her forehead.

"Starting to feel seriously left out over here," Bucky said, wiping his fingers on a tissue.

Sam rolled his eyes at his needy-for-attention husband before cupping his cheek and kissing his forehead as well, sending blood to his cheeks.

"I love you, daddy," she whispered, squeezing Bucky's right hand.

"I love you more, doll." Bucky echoed his partner, kissing her hand.

For the whole week, Papa and Daddy let her sleep on top of their chests, seeing as cuddling and spooning weren't options and they still wanted to be close. She'd alternate between the men as the nights passed.

Eventually, they did go sledding in the park when she healed, three days in a row. She loved it and she laughed so much till her cheeks hurt. She could handle a little fall after all; she could handle anything as long as Sam and Bucky were there to take care of her through it.

[thefanficmonster]

Fated

Karl Heisenberg x Autistic, Sound-sensitive Reader (Female)

Warnings: Swearing, Spoilers for RE8:Village, Noise sensitivity

Genre: Romance, Comfort

Summary: Not everyone could love a man like Heisenberg. But Y/N isn’t everyone, nor is she just anyone. She loves him as the whole package he is: murderous intentions, human experiments and all.

Requested by @phoenixofthevalley Hi dear! Here you go - the first fic I’ve ever written for Karl Heisenberg (first of many) and thank you so much for being my first ever Resident Evil 8 requester! Hope you enjoy the read! Feel free to correct me if I’ve described anything incorrectly or in an accidentally offensive manner. I have no intention of spreading hate or any type of misconception so I’d really appreciate the correction. Love, Vy ❤

Watching Karl get so excited over this grand plan of his - the destroying of Mother Miranda, his revenge - it all makes me feel uneasy. I can’t explain the feeling, mostly cause I’ve never felt it before, and I can’t quite describe it either. I don’t connect to people easily and I’ve always been told I’m the problem but I guess it took the right person to make me feel things I haven’t felt for no one else all my life.

“The weren’t worthy of your emotions, darling.“ Karl told me on one of the rare occasions when I opened up my mind to him. I felt his words wrap around me like a comforting embrace. For the first time in my life, I felt understood.

I think that’s what took me the longest to get used to - being understood, seen and validated. My opinions had never before been taken into account seriously, my personal boundaries were rarely respected by others and people always had a hard time dealing with how distant I can be. But what bothers me above all is how people refer to me as dramatic because of my sound sensitivity - something no one took seriously when I’d tell them about it.

Karl did though, surprising me to no end.

He respects that I like my personal space and prefer not being shown much affection, especially not physical. He understands that I have a hard time showing people affection myself. He goes out of his way to make sure I’m ok with whatever it is he’s doing, saying or suggesting. And I’m sure that if I were to ever tell someone about this, they wouldn’t believe me. That’s most definitely due to his rough exterior and intimidating appearance. Also probably because he comes off as downright selfish and rude when you first meet him, but getting to know him was a journey worth taking because I now know the real him. A trust me, his rough exterior and the softness of his true self have nothing in common. Although, he does claim that softness is only reserved for me.

With all that laid out, it’s completely understandable that I don’t want him going up against Mother Miranda. Thanks to Karl I’ve never had the displeasure of running into her, but I’ve heard countless stories of how powerful and downright terrifying that witch is. Bottom line: I don’t want Karl walking into something that’s the equivalent of suicide.

And I’ve finally decided to let him know exactly how I feel about it.

I’ve been sitting here, searching for my voice as I observe Karl in his deepest thinking space. He’s constantly in it, if you ask me - constantly thinking, looking for ways to make his innovations better, stronger, more powerful to add to his chances of victory against the sadistic ruler of this village. He was already at his desk when I walked in, hunched over dozens of drawings drawn with cut-edge precision yet in his mind they are probably not near good enough. In his mind, all he does is never good enough. He prides himself on this factory and what he’s produced thus far but he cannot stay proud of himself for very long, he constantly feels the need to better himself in order to remain worthy in his eyes. I wish I could change his mindset on those grounds but I know that my tries would be futile and pointless.

“Karl?“ I suddenly speak up, surprising both him and myself. I don’t know what I was thinking opening my mouth when I still have no idea how to go about this without making it seem like I don’t believe in him. That is in no way the case. I believe he can defeat her, if he cannot do it himself, his robo-army most certainly can. But I don’t want defeating her to cost him his life cause without him in mine I’m not sure what will be left of me.

He straightens up from where he’s been hunched over for the past God knows how many hours, rolling his shoulders and stretching his arms as her turns to look at me, his sunglasses capturing the white neon light in the office as he does so.

“What is it, darling? Something wrong?“ he takes a step towards me as I stand up and go to approach him.

“Actually...“ Suddenly, that thing he keeps in a safety cell just below this room starts going off with that annoying loud sound it makes. It’s always disturbed me, ever since it came to exist which was not so long ago considering it’s been his latest project. It not only terrifies me but triggers my sound sensitivity as do most of the machines in this forsaken factory.

I close my eyes tightly shut as I cover my ears with my hands, praying for the sound to go away as soon as possible because I can’t take it. It almost makes me physically nauseous and gives me vertigo, bringing me to the brink of tears because of its loudness and intensity, like it’s drilling right into my brain.

I can’t quite pinpoint the exact moment the sound went away because when faced with such a pain-inducing experience, my senses tend to tune out while I still remain conscious, but when my hearing returns I the only thing I’m able to hear is a steady heartbeat and a steady breathing. 

“It’s ok, darling. You’re ok.“ I hear Karl’s quiet whisper, giving me peace and coaxing me into opening my eyes.

When I do so, I come to realize why the rest of the world has gone quiet. Why I’m suddenly so flooded with comfort like no one is able to bring me. No one but him.  One of my ears is pressed up to his chest while the other is covered by his warm hand which travels up to move a strand of hair from my face and put it behind my ear as he repeats his soothing words like a chant, slowly starting to let go of me out of fear that he’s crossing a line. He’s always so wary about that and I’ll forever be grateful to him for it.

“Are you ok, sweetheart?“ His hands gently cup my cheeks, tilting my head so I can look him in the eyes - directly in the eyes, for he has ridden himself of his glasses. I’ve found he does that often when around me - removes his glasses. I once asked him why that is but the answer he gave me was vague, all the while a small smile played on his face. Guess he’s a bigger secret-keeper than I primarily thought. It doesn’t bother me really, I know the only secrets he keeps are the ones that would be a hazard for my safety if he exposed me to them, so I allow him his secrets and I keep some of my own to myself. It’s only fair, after all.

I nod, blinking up at him, “Yes, I’m ok. But...“ Now or never, girl. Now or never. “But if you want me to be honest, I will be.”

He looks baffled by my answer but he doesn’t falter, quickly regaining his composure before he replies, “Of course, dear. I always want you to be honest with me. What’s on your mind, what’s bothering you?“

Now “I haven’t been really ok for a while now.” I take his hands in mine, removing them from my cheeks but holding them firmly between us - a gesture that surprises me just as much as it shocks him. Never have I felt the need to be so close to someone. It may be momentary and temporary, but I refuse to dwell on that as I push forward with my argument, “I haven’t been ok since you told me about your plane. The whole thing with Mother Miranda and all that...” Not the time to be leaving me, words. I started this, I’ll finish it. “Look, Karl, I know you and your army can bring that witch to her demise but...”

“But what, Y/N? Tell me.“ He encourages me softly, his hands subtly tightening their hold on mine as if to keep me grounded, remind me he’s listening closely to every word I’m saying. Like he always does.

“But what if it doesn’t go as planned?“ I blurt out, biting my bottom lip nervously. It makes me anxious, being so honest and emotionally exposed. That’s so rare for me I doubt I’ll ever get used to it, but that’s the only way I have at least a fragment of a chance of convincing Karl to drop this. “What if things go south and you end up killed or turned into a monster or something else?“

The concern on his face washes away when he hears my words, getting replaced by a soft, consoling smile. I quickly look away, feeling that confession on my part was quite odd. I feel out of place but not uncomfortable, I don’t know how to explain it. It almost feels like relief, like I’ve finally gotten a huge boulder off my chest and I can finally breathe properly. But I can’t, not until I hear his reply. That smile should probably tell me something but it doesn’t - I won’t believe anything until I hear it come out of his mouth with my own two ears.

“Oh Y/N, darling, you won’t lose me. Ever.“ His thumb swipes across my knuckles soothingly, drawing abstract patterns on the skin of the back of my hand, “You never need to worry about me, hun, I ain’t going anywhere. No one can take me away from you or you away from me. Anyone who dares to try, well, bad things will happen to ‘em.“ He chuckles, easing the tension enough for me to able to look up at him again. When our eyes meet again, I see something I can’t name nor describe. All I know is that what he’s telling me is genuine and comes, “I’ll always be here, by your side, Y/N. I will always be here to shield you from anything and anyone. Any rogue lycan or any loud sound, I’ll be there to prevent it from reaching you. Never forget that. Ok?“

That urge to be have him close takes over me again. I think that somewhere in the back of my mind I see a clock ticking down, counting down the numbered hours we have together before he inevitably carries out his plan. As scary as that is, I think I can do nothing but accept it.

And so, that’s exactly what I do.

Wrapping my arms around him tenderly, enveloping him in the first hug I’ve ever given him - probably the first hug anyone has given him - I accept our fate, silently hoping it changes somewhere along the lines.

“Ok.“

[plus-size-reader]

Forgotten

Thomas x Plus size!reader

Word Count: 2326 words

Warnings: none

Summary: WCKD isn’t the only one with secrets. The Scorch has a few secrets of its own

—————————————————————————————————

It would have been stupid of the gladers to think they were the only ones left.

While it was true that WCKD had taken to picking and choosing who got to survive, that didn’t mean there was no one else left outside of their domain. It just meant that the few of you that had survived were better at it than the rest.

Sometimes you called them the forgotten, those who WCKD couldn’t use that got left behind. In the beginning, it was like your own little maze, made up of all those who didn’t mean anything to anyone because they couldn’t use you.  

You were left for dead at the mercy of the scorch, and while some people had survived, as the time ticked by, fewer and fewer of those forgotten ones survived.

Most of them ended up as cranks, at the hands of the virus that had torn through the life  you once knew.  It was all you had now, and as treacherous as it was, the scorch was your home.

It was all that was left.

Which was why you were so shocked to see such a big group of them still alive out here, not deterred by the dust storms in the desert or the cranks who would surely tear them apart if they got the chance.

All in all, they were way out of their depth.

You had been staying here, in what was now little more than a bunker while now, keeping a close eye on the compound to the east. WCKD got shipments of supplies sometimes, which you had taken to ripping off occasionally.

Stealing from them was hardly the worst thing you’d done out here.

It was what you had to do to survive.

However, the last thing you’d been expecting here was a group of strangers, somehow still alive against every threat in this place. Though, from the looks of it, they hadn’t been out in it very long, which could have been the reason for that.

You watched them for a while, trying to figure out who or what they were, before eventually, you decided that you had to do something about it.

They weren’t going to survive out here on their own.

What you were doing went against your every impulse, of course, as you had learned not to trust anyone or anything, not even the other survivors that could be found bunkered down all over the scorch.

The only person you could trust was you, and even that was iffy sometimes, but for some reason, you felt differently about them.

Maybe it was because they were so desperately fighting for survival, ro maybe it was just because you’d been alone for so long but whatever it was, you had already made up your mind.

They needed your help, or they were going to die out here.

“I wouldn't do that if I were you” you called, just in time for one among them to flip the switch to the power grid. It may have seemed like a good idea at the time, but only if they knew even less about this place than you thought they did.

Both men in yoru view tensed at your appearance, but didn’t have any time at all to address you before the crank you’d loving been calling Doris for the past six months slammed against the bars of her cage.

She was here when you showed up here and once you’d decided that there was no risk of her getting out, it was easier to keep her alive than to put her down.

In your experience, having one around that wasn’t a threat to you, helped you keep tabs on what would draw in the rest.

“Follow me” you suggested, rushing off in the opposite direction of two of the other cranks, glad to find out that at the very least, the two of them could run. If they couldn’t, you would have been forced to leave them behind.

Just because you wanted to help them didn’t mean you were all of a sudden willing to die for strangers.

You would help them, or at least try to help them, for as long as you could. The actual survival was their responsibility, what they had to do out here because they wanted to. Everyone that survived out here had to want it.

If you didn’t, you died.

That was just how it was, and nothing was going to change that.

The pair of them shared a look, just one, before following your lead. The next few minutes went by quickly, more quickly than anyone could have predicted, as you raced toward the exit, meeting up with quite a few others in the process.

From the looks of it, the gang's all here.

You didn’t say anything more until you had made it safely, for the most part, out of the building, the door closed tightly, one metal door between you and them. All of you, with the exception of one, had made it out in one piece.

“What were you doing back there? What's going on? Who are you?” came the parade of questions as you walked, already sort of leaving the rest of them in your dust. While they clearly had no idea what was out here, you did.

...And you weren’t itching to see any more of those things tonight.

“Y/N, I was living there but I guess I’m not anymore” you decided, only looking back at them to answer the first of what you assumed would be a million more questions. The more ground you could cover before the sun went down, the better off you’d be.

If they thought one of them getting bit was bad, it was going to get so much worse in the dark. Those things thrived in the dark.

“Living there, with those things? You’ve gotta be mad” one of the scoffed, immediately forcing you to stop again.

Once again reminding you why you normally shied away from helping other people all together.

“You came out of a maze, didn’t you? Cause you definitely haven't been out here” you hummed, eyeing the blonde incredulously, though when an answer did come, it wasn’t from his lips. Instead, one of the original two you’d found, Thomas you thought you’d heard, spoke.

He was lost.

“Yeah we did, you didn’t?” he wondered, a genuine look of confusion dressing his face for a second. They hadn’t really considered an alternative, and why would they?

All this time, they had been under the impression that there was nothing out there in the scorch, but you were living proof that was a lie. It made him wonder that if that was a lie, there was a good chance other things had been too.

They just couldn’t be sure what.

“No, I grew up in the scorch” you shrugged, doing your very best to ignore the way their faces twisted up when you said it out loud. Of course they couldn’t understand what that was like, because no one could.

Only people who’d done it could even imagine what it was like.

The gladers weren’t exactly thrilled about this situation, but as uncertain as they were of you, it was clear that you were that much more concerned about them. Clearly, all this time out in the scorch had made you paranoid.

Rightfully so.

“You live out here? In this?” the blonde repeated, clearly missing the point of this conversation entirely. You wanted to make this as quick and concise as possible so as to not have to talk about it again but that wasn’t about to happen.

Not with all these shanks asking so many questions.

“Alright, I’m gonna need some names. Then I’ll tell you all about the forgotten ones” you decided, folding your arms crossed your chest, keeping as calm as you could be given the circumstances.

You didn’t have all day to sit around talking about this. From the looks of their friend, you didn’t even have till sundown anymore before you had at least one crank to deal with.

“That’s Minho, Frypan, and Teresa” he, Thomas, started, pointing each of them out in turn before moving on to the next.

“Over there is Aris,” the shortest of them.

“That’s Winston”  the soon to be crank

“This is Newt and I’m Thomas” he hummed, making it clear that there was some kind of connection between all of them that was much deeper than you would have thought, and confirming that was in fact his name.

At the very least, you had that going for you.

“There used to be more of us, out here, but as the time passes, there’s less” you started, deciding that a deal was a deal after all.

You told them you would explain this whole thing, after all.

“I’ve been on my own for a while, moving around to stay alive. Sometimes I stole from the WCKD supply trucks from the compound where you came from, but they aren’t even the biggest threat” you allowed, letting your eyes linger on Winston for a moment.

You knew that to them, he was family, but it was hard for you to see him as anything more than a ticking time bomb. You had just lost too many friends to cranks over the years to feel comfortable with him like that.

It was only a matter of time.

Thomas nodded as you spoke, thinking over each and every one of your words carefully.

After all, to the best he could tell, you had been living there all this time and when he stopped to think about it, it made sense. All those kids in the maze, they were there because they were immune, and they needed to be protected, but they weren’t the only ones left.

There was no way everyone else was dead.

Someone had to be alive somewhere, out there in the rubble, which wasn’t exactly wrong. There were plenty of people left, hiding out all over the scorch, just trying to survive.

“We’ll figure something out” he muttered, following your gaze to the male, who was currently holding tightly to Minho’s shoulder just to keep upright.

So far, it was just a sick feeling in his stomach and a dizziness clouding his thoughts, but soon it would be much more. You knew all the sighs, far too well, and you could have pinpointed exactly how it would happen.

It was a race against the clock.

“You can’t promise that. You don’t know this place like I do” you whispered, turning back around to continue on your way, not willing to discuss this any further. You wanted to believe in a cure as much as the next person, but you weren’t blind.

You didn’t get to be so naive.

“So why help us then? You clearly think this whole thing is hopeless anyway” Thomas called, jogging slightly to catch up with you, the rest of his group taking up the back. It wasn’t exactly easy to move through the sand, but you made it work.

All in all, it was easier for you than it was for them, just because you’d been doing it for longer.

You sighed, looking at him through the corner of your eye, desperately trying to understand what it was he wanted from you. This was a lot harder for you both than need be, as neither of you had a good history of working with others, but it was what it was.

It was plain and simple.

You didn’t want something to happen to them.

The Scorch had taken so much from so many people and you didn’t want to let it take anything else from anyone else if you could help it. At the very least, you could help guide them in this world they knew so little about.

It was all anyone could do, because there were so few of you left.

“Because it’s important,”

Thomas seemed to be determined to keep his family safe, and you could respect that. After all, he wasn’t the only one who’d had one, and you hadn’t been as successful as you’d hoped in your own quest.

If you could help him keep his people alive, you weren’t going to turn a blind eye to that.

“I lost my people, but you don’t have to lose yours” you decided, remembering the countless friends you’d had and lost over the years. The Scorch was real and dangerous, where nothing was ever guaranteed.

Between WCKD and the cranks, you’d lost everything. They would get bit; if they were immune, World In Catastrophe: Killzone Experiment Department was on top of it, and if they weren’t, they died.  

News of the immune, even out here, was hard to keep hidden. They were valuable, and as best you knew, WCKD was already tracking them down.

Thankfully, you knew how this went down, and if they had a shot out here, it was with you.

“You would do that for us?” he questioned, unsure of what in the world was happening here. He thought he understood the world, though he understood what was going on but every time he got any information, it flipped all over again.

Thomas just felt like he couldn’t win, no matter what he did.

“Yeah, but you have to know Winston isn’t going to make it. He probably has half an hour left, at most” you whispered. There was no way you could guarantee he had even that much time but he certainly didn’t have any more than that.

It wasn’t really the news you wanted to give him but you didn’t have much choice in the matter. He’d been bitten and since he clearly wasn’t immune, that wasn’t going to change.

“Yeah, yeah, I know”

None of this was going to be easy but at the very least, he won’t have to do it alone.

[1rintooru]

a/n: no idea what to title this - its just a shortie that makes me wish i was heather...

wc: 800

genre: fluff + angst

You were 15 when you and Suna Rintarō exchanged words for the first time. You knew who he was (he was hard to miss), but you were hardly acquaintances. Up until that point, you’d only seen him around school or in the candy aisle of your local store.

It was a chilly morning in early spring when he first spoke to you. He had offered you his sweater without hesitation and you stubbornly declined. You already felt like an idiot for being so underdressed, especially since frost still embroidered the windows when you left home.

“Take it,” he insisted, nearly forcing the sweater into your hands. Your apprehension was met with indifference and you finally relented. The way his eyes narrowed felt like a non-verbal scolding and you hated how it worked.

The sweater was massive, almost swallowing you whole and weighed heavily on your shoulders. You could tell he’d worn it only a handful of times; the bright sports logo looked brand-new and the faint smell of teenage boy mixed with fresh laundry hung onto the fabric.

“Looks better on you than me anyways,” he had said and you knew he was lying. You muttered something about how you didn’t know how to thank him and he simply brushed you off with an eyeroll and a lazy smile.

After that, you suddenly you became partners in crime. Pulling pranks on classmates, sharing homework and sending each other stupid videos at 2 am. His mother adored you and you grew close with his sister. It was hard to pinpoint what exactly drew you to each other, but the connection always felt intensely magnetic.

You were one of the first people Suna told about finally getting scouted. He’d been working his ass off for years and he deserved every bit of success.  As honored and as excited you were, you couldn’t ignore the heavy ache that began to swell in your chest. All you could do was congratulate him and pull him into a tight hug while forcing back tears.

“Nothing’s gonna change,” he promised, as though he read your mind. All you could do was cling to him tighter and ask him why.

“My sister’s been begging to see you again, dummy.”

You could tell by the fondness in his voice that he was lying. You didn’t say anything else. He knew that you knew and he was alright with that. Despite your best efforts, communication eventually died down. Every now and again you’d hear from him, but it felt like the distance wasn’t purely physical anymore.

Things changed again once you were 18. Suna called you at midnight and you answered, expecting the worst. He had always hated making phone calls. Through his excited flurry or words, you managed to make out that he’d finally gotten his driver’s license. He begged to take you out for a ride and it didn’t take much convincing for you to agree. It was hard to say no when you heard him smile through the phone.

This quickly became somewhat of a ritual for the both of you and it felt like old times. Your favorite part was watching the stars on the roof of his car. You remembered how he’d pull out his sweater – now with the logo peeling off and stitches coming loose – from the backseat and spread it out like a blanket.  You’d always comment how pretty the sky looked, oblivious to how he was looking at you every time he agreed. None of it could have been a coincidence, right?

Not with how your face fit perfectly in the crook of his neck.

Or how his hands fit snugly with yours.

Or how your heartbeats matched when he pulled you closer.

Or how he finally felt heard even when he said nothing at all.

You knew it wasn’t a coincidence when he pressed his lips against yours, whispering that he wished “he could have someone like you,” – but it felt like a dream.

At 24 you saw his sweater make another final appearance. By now, the sweater was really starting to show its age. The printed logo had completely worn off, leaving only a dark spot from where the sun hadn’t bleached the fabric. It carried a couple more stains since the last time you saw it, and the sleeves had some new holes. To be honest, it looked like it had survived an apocalypse or two.

Suna didn’t seem to mind though. In fact, he looked really happy. You could tell by how his eyes crinkled as he tried to hide his smile or how they twinkled when you caught him stealing sneaky glances. It was how his blush would expose him even when his face was completely deadpan. You knew he was happy because it’s how he used to look at you.

You loved that sweater but hated it on her.

You hated knowing that he probably told her she “looked better in his clothes,” and that he was telling the truth when he said that. You hated it, because you secretly thought so too.

You hated that sweater, but damn – you wished it was on you.

[fukurodaze]

you!

pairing: miya atsumu x fem!reader genre: fluff, an atsumu and reader meet cute!! word count: 2.1k warnings: light cursing synopsis: atsumu may or may not have developed a tiny crush on karasuno’s substitute manager.

requested by anon <3 aah i’m so sorry i kind of changed the plot slightly :))

special thanks to maddie @prettysetterakaashi​ for the beta <3

LISTEN TO: all about you - nct u

the first time you meet miya atsumu, he is seventeen, wearing his number seven jersey, and so ready to whoop your team’s (and, really, anyone else’s) ass.

the arena is much bigger than you had dreamed - much like the ones you’d seen on television - like the sendai gymnasium, but multiply it by four. it’s loud, overwhelming, and teeming of air-tight pressure. you swear you could almost hear it: the wavering heartbeats, the rolling cameras, the competitive atmosphere.

maybe you had overdressed just a little bit. turned your tracksuit into a stylish oversized-padded-jacket-baggy-pants-tight-shirt situation. (you absolutely blushed when kiyoko said you were pretty today.)

out of the crowd of volleyball players gathered before the opening ceremony, you spot a faux blonde tuft of hair and a loud voice accompanying it. he nags at one of his teammates as he stuffs his coat in his bag. 

broad back. sloped shoulders. the number seven.

“say, is that inarizaki’s setter you talked about from camp?” slightly motioning to the side, you ask your fellow first-year, kageyama tobio.

kageyama nods sharply, “yes. why?”

“yachi told me that if we win the first match, we’ll be up against them. i heard they were runner ups for the last interhigh,” you mutter, “whew, scary.”

and extremely handsome, you want to say.

there’s a pause, and you continue, “i mean, not that we’re guaranteed to win the first match anyways. it’s nationals...”

kageyama shrugs at your statement, “it’s nationals.”

you remember yachi had told you to have faith in the boys. 

so when you heard the whistle on game point announcing karasuno’s victory on the first round, you couldn’t help but mumble an ‘i knew it’ under your breath by the bleachers.

but as you cheered, yellow water bottles in hand, voice an octave higher, you swore you felt a pair of eyes that ogled at you from the second floor. 

your senses were correct - miya atsumu was wondering what kind of volleyball team had someone as cute as you in all of japan. 

“eyes on their plays, not the managers.” miya osamu’s hand lands square on his twin’s back, earning a surprise yelp in response.

“they’re not even playing anymore! they just won!” atsumu gestures dramatically, but he keeps looking your way. 

“well ya better keep yer eyes on the ball tomorrow-”

“-and YOU need ‘ta jump higher for our new quicks.”

osamu sighs, and as they hear their coach calling them down, the two leave the second floor balcony in rare silence. he figures his brother might have developed a little crush on karasuno’s substitute manager. it was always common for his brother to develop some kind of attraction to someone from somewhere far, yet the way atsumu’s staring so intently has him thinking he might actually want to do something about you. 

“you’re weird,” osamu snickers.

atsumu furrows his brows in joking offence. “-isn’t that, like, rude?”

atsumu wasn’t, isn’t, and will never be the kind of guy who loses sight of the ball. ever. 

he reckons his peripheral vision has widened for this match and this match only, seeing as he feels an extra pair of eyes on him.

for some reason, he feels the need to play around a bit more today.

his sets vary even more in tempo, he’s spiked more than usual, and he can’t stop moving. it doesn’t help either that inarizaki’s ten-point lead in the second set only fuels his playtime. anything to rack up some more points.

although he’s stuck with jump floaters, he thinks flipping off karasuno’s super libero is almost enough to make up for his lack of jump serves, so he savours every time he’s in the back right, ready to serve. 

he doesn’t mind the gasps that come out of your mouth when he lands a service ace, either.

and as the set point goes to inarizaki with a lead that just seemed so right, atsumu promises himself to come up to you once inarizaki wins. 

he knows he’s going to win. 

his shoes feel light on the rubber floor, like he could squat down and bend back and jump up all he wants. his muscles are working hard, and his senses are on point. 

when he looks around, seeing the teammates he knows can catch his sets and karasuno preparing their defense, his eyes instead flutter to you, in the corner on the benches, holding desperately onto two yellow water bottles. you’re wearing a normal tracksuit this time, but he still thinks it’s cute. 

he tries not to think of you between rallies. not about how he’d like to see you cheer for him when he crushes your team. not about how he’s found the perfect dinner spot near the gymnasium to take you out to after the win. not about the satisfaction he’ll feel after seeing little tobio’s defeat and your hand in his. (assuming that a first date involves holding hands - atsumu’s never been on one.)

so, with only the third set left to win, atsumu doesn’t bother asking what could go wrong. because he knows to make sure that nothing, nothing at all, will result in a loss for inarizaki. 

oh, how he was wrong. 

when karasuno’s frustratingly good first year duo blocks his ball and sends it plummeting to the edge of the court, atsumu knows that the whistle that follows means that this might even be the last time he sees you this year - and what if you’re not at nationals next year?

the sting of losing comes first as the usual shaking hands and lining up to bow commences after the game, and as he says some last words to his teammates and school, he catches sight of you hugging the team’s other beautiful manager. you have tears of joy threatening to fall out of the corners of your eyes, and he admits you look precious with the edges of your mouth upturned and your cheekbones raised in a victorious smile. 

he wants to see you like this with him. although he doesn’t know you at all, he doesn’t want to miss you; yet he can’t pinpoint why.

so after calling to hinata and telling him he’ll “set for him someday” (it was half-spite and half-promise, but it came out as a threat), atsumu’s gaze fixes on the back of the other side of the court at the benches where you are. 

“‘tsumu, let’s go,” osamu calls back at him, and it brings him back to reality.

except reality’s a loss where he doesn’t get to see you in his life ever again. and though he’ll accept the outcome of a national-level volleyball match, he knows he can do something to at least catch up with you - he’s still got a few days in tokyo, after all.

“ah screw it!” atsumu mumbles to himself, and begins to suck up his pride. what he’s about to do will be either extremely embarrassing or extremely endearing, he thinks.

he walks up to the karasuno bench where you’re at the side, packing up the water bottles in a duffle bag to carry. you’re squatting down, unseeing of him, until there are a few footsteps and the feeling of a person behind you. you turn around, and it makes you stand up quickly.

you look at the setter, bleached hair untoned and face oddly satisfying to look at. you had paid a little too much attention to him during the opening ceremony, and though you had suppressed the knowledge of his ogling at you from yesterday, you can’t help but feel your attraction to the setter worsen with him right in front of you.

“you. meet me at the entrance,” atsumu invites, and though his face is obviously burning red, something about his words make your heart pump a little too fast.

it doesn’t take much contemplation to figure out your answer is yes. yet, somehow, saying yes while your heart suddenly changes its pace takes a little bit more time than you thought.

you’re about to reply when you see osamu call his brother loudly, making atsumu’s eyes go wide in embarrassment. you stifle a laugh, and you give him a subtle nod, though judging by the way he runs like he’s chasing an out-of-bounds ball, you reckon he might not have seen you. 

again, you’re correct - atsumu thinks he’s just witnessed his own death, running fast at one of his only attempts at ever asking someone out. 

how does one ask someone out? is it, like, ‘hey, wanna go on a date’? or is it, like, ‘hey i like you and i think you’re pretty and i tried to find you on instagram but i don’t know your name’? he agrees with himself that it’s safer to say the former.

atsumu is pulled back to his team, embarrassment seeping through his senses from his asking out on top of that familiar sting of losing. he changes into his sweatpants and jacket in silence, backpack worn tightly around his shoulders as the rest of the team walks through the venue.

“'samu, have you ever been turned down by a girl?” atsumu tries his best not to sound like he’s sulking (he is).

osamu hums, “what did you do to karasuno’s manager?”

“ugh, not telling.”

meanwhile, burning excitement and far-fetched fantasies finally hit you. 

your heart now beats fast - maybe not as fast as when karasuno had anticipated atsumu’s serve, but still fast - and you’re not sure what kinds of chances you’ll get in the future. 

there is an internal debate: there’s no denying the mutual attraction, so why stop? you want to tell yourself that nationals is for volleyball and for you to fill in for your friend yachi, but his words repeat themselves in your head, and it’s only mere seconds that pass before you know exactly what to do.

you come up to kiyoko, and she replies with a kind hum. you ask, “can i go... uh, buy some souvenirs real quick? i’ll bring this bag with the water bottles with me.”

she looks around first, “ah, how long will you be gone?”

“not long.”

“well, the boys are going to change, so, alright. don’t get lost, okay?”

“okay!” your feet bring you out of the court area, and into the maze of the gymnasium. (you have no idea where you’re going.)

it makes you think; is this all worth it for the stranger miya atsumu? maybe. maybe not. but you’ve gotten the chance - might as well take it. 

there are things you whisper to yourself as you run around the foyer, unsure of which entrance he’d be most likely to meet you in, so you end up running to all of them. there are around five entrances total.

“this is so stupid,” is one of the things you whisper to yourself.

“he’s not even that cute,” is another.

“why couldn’t he just ask me out normally?” a sigh at the second entrance.

“ugh, but he’s... so good at volleyball,” a remark at the third entrance.

and finally, at the fifth entrance all the way at the back, “you!” 

that is when you spot that familiar tuft of untoned bleached hair, swept to the left, his maroon club jacket replacing his jersey. you hope you’re not seeing a mirage, seeing as he hadn’t looked back when you first exclaimed of your presence. 

your voice is louder and more embarrassing than his, “miya atsumu!”

now he looks. 

now he turns red.

you see his brother osamu with some kind of amused grin as you grab onto the setter’s club jacket, dragging him somewhere. you mumble an ‘excuse me’ to his brother, and he surprisingly nods.

when you drag atsumu into a secluded corner still inside the venue, his face is bright red like you remember it. you let go of his arm, and it makes you cringe to see how you had literally just pulled japan’s number one high school setter by his sleeve.

“what was that?” atsumu fixes his bag. he tries to hide his incoming grin.

“you- you told me to meet you at the entrance,” you fumble with the ends of your jacket, “so i did.”

“huh,” atsumu mutters, matter-of-factly. he sounds amused. he looks at you with a smile. “i’m glad.”

there’s a silence as he offers to carry your bag. you let him.

“i know this place near this venue, do you- do you want to go there sometime?”

your ears perk up - it’s exactly what you want to hear. now, there is no contemplation.

you inhale. “yeah. i would like that.”

atsumu takes a deep breath, and he smiles like a happy child. you tell him your full name, and he tells you his, even though he knows you already know it.

it turns out, the first time you really meet miya atsumu, he is seventeen, wearing his dishevelled maroon club jacket, and so not ready to miss you.

and thank god; he was definitely going to see you again.

[nocapesdahling]

As the World Falls Down - Chapter 3

Helmut Zemo x Gender Neutral Reader

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3

Chapter Summary:  In which you have a plan to save yourself and Alena, but have no idea if it’s going to work. Either way, you have to try.

Rating: Mature (17+)

Chapter Warnings/Tags: Slow Burn; Angst; Misunderstandings that lead to angst; Established canon character deaths; Did I mention angst?

A/N: We have reached the end of Part 1 and the Age of Ultron arc. I hope you’ve enjoyed it so far, and would love to hear your thoughts. 

Chapter 3: Beneath a Fallen Sky (Age of Ultron) - Part 1

Word Count: 2.4k

You made sure Alena was strapped in tightly on your chest and that everything was in place. With time running out and Novi Grad continuing to rise, it was as good as it was going to get. You needed to move now. You had your prototype boots and gauntlets, which should allow you to fly. You hoped they would at least. Your main consolation was that they worked during testing, even if that had been in a controlled environment.

You had always admired Tony Stark, being something of a child prodigy yourself and starting college at a similar age to him. When you had first seen the Iron Man suit, your first thoughts had been of awe like any person who got a glimpse of Iron Man. Yet most people probably didn’t think what you had thought later, while considering the technology behind the suit and how to go about making your own.

Well, if he can do it then why can’t I? How hard could it be, really?

It turned out to be a bit more difficult than you’d thought, but you had developed something after much trial and error. However, you hadn’t tested anything in the open air yet. The previous test was only a short one to see if your prototypes would work and you had hovered a few feet over solid ground at most. That was why your plan only had a 65% success rate, but you had confidence in your technology and hope. In Sokovia, you couldn’t get far without hope.

You noticed the air getting thin as the city continued to rise, so you fitted Alena with an oxygen mask. You had a tank available in your apartment for squad emergencies, and were amazed how many times it had been used in the past. Your squad got into the oddest situations. There had been Andrei’s mission with the diplomat and the ice cream swimming pool and Mila’s with the yacht and the hammerhead sharks. All classified of course.

You digressed. There were more important things to consider right now, even as you wondered how your squad would take the loss of their handler when Helmut told them. You knew that it would hit them harder than they would ever admit. They emulated Helmut’s stoicism when in the field and today was still a mission, even if it was unlike any other. The destruction of one’s home was not something any of them had encountered before. If you couldn’t be there, then you hoped your gadgets would help to protect them today and in the future. You planned to be there.

You clipped the oxygen tank to your tactical gear and hoped that it wouldn’t unbalance you too much. You would need all the balance you could muster if this plan were to succeed.

Once you were as ready as you could be, it was time. The city had to fall at some point and you wanted to be in the air when it did as the height it had reached would cause a destructive impact radius. You brushed a kiss to Alena’s head, seeing her little feet kicking and knowing that she was awake.

“Not the best timing, little one. This might be a bit scary, Alena, so I wanted you to know that I love you. Already. So much. I think I loved you as soon as I saw you. Wish us luck, my little Alena Heike. We’re going to need it.”

With that and the realization that you had reached the edge of the city, you took a deep breath, taking one last glance back at the city that had been your home for most of your life. Then, you braced yourself, stepped off the edge, and flew. Well, you took a moment to stabilize yourself as the only other time you had done this was in a local park in the middle of the night and then you had grass to land on not open sky. But then, you flew.

You flew like the birds you had admired for their freedom and grace and like Iron Man. Tony Stark had nothing on you. You let out a joyful laugh, forgetting your circumstances for a moment. You forgot the swarm of robots on the other side of the city, the fact that your home was in the process of being destroyed, that you may never see Helmut again, and that you weren’t sure if you and your baby would get out of this alive. Nothing else mattered at that moment because you were flying.

Then you were shocked back to the present as to your disbelief the city began to freefall, plummeting quickly and devastatingly towards Earth before exploding mid air. You could see from where you were that it looked like Iron Man and Thor had blown it up somehow, but you couldn’t understand why the Avengers hadn’t been able to stop it from falling in the first place.

Why hadn’t they been able to save Sokovia? They had saved New York. It didn’t make sense. The world had painted them as infallible. These were Earth’s heroes? They did not look so “Mighty” now.

The debris began to land too hard and too fast. It looked like it would impact more of the surrounding area than you had anticipated.

You gasped in horror, the tears freezing on your cheeks. If a building was hit with debris of that size, then the result would be catastrophic. You worried immediately for your squad and Helmut, turning on your earpiece with frantic movements even as you unbalanced without one of your gauntlets.

You tried Helmut. You tried Ana, Branko, Claudia, Andrei, and the other members of your squad. No one answered.

The base wasn’t that far away, not when you calculated the radius of the debris. It would be difficult, but you could make it there. You had to make it there. You needed to know.

You flew above and around where the debris was falling and jerkily made your way towards the base, still not as smooth as you wished you were or as fast as you wanted to be. You arrived to the sight you hoped not to see.

The base had been hit by a large piece of debris from the city and was collapsing in on itself. You landed as smoothly as you could a distance away and caught yourself on a tree, falling to your knees. No one could have survived that.

Helmut was gone. Helmut Zemo was dead.

Your chest hurt and your vision was blurry as your mind whirled.

You had survived, while Helmut had died. It wasn’t supposed to be this way. You would never see him again.

How did this happen?!, was your last thought before slumping backwards into a faint.

In your horror at the base’s collapse, you had forgotten the existence of its reinforced underground bunker where technology did not work and where your entire squad including their leader, Colonel Helmut Zemo, waited for the dust of Novi Grad to settle. Very much alive and in quiet mourning for their lost Q. They would exit through the tunnels a few hours later, coming out miles away from where you collapsed.

In fact, you wouldn’t recall the bunker’s existence until a little over a year later and by then it would be too late.

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

You awoke in the hospital. It took you a moment to realize what had happened and where you were. With that, came the realization in your mind that you would never see Helmut or hear his deep voice calling you his Q ever again. Despite the gaping hole in your chest and your desire to let yourself be numb, you needed to find Alena. You gasped and sat up too quickly before falling backwards out of dizziness.

You breathed in and out to calm yourself the way you often had as you assisted your squad in the completion of missions, and clicked the button to raise the bed as you looked around the room. You were in a gown and had no idea what had happened to your gauntlets and boots, but hoped they had been destroyed in the landing.

You heard Helmut’s voice in your head as you pinpointed the potential exits and any possible weapons.

“The first step, my Q, is to always survey your surroundings. Get your bearings and be prepared for anything. Be prepared to fight, but also to run if necessary. There is no shame in running. Running can save your life and I, my darling Q, would much rather see you alive .”

You smiled bitterly before letting it fade. You were not in any shape to run at the moment, and Helmut was no longer there to advise you. Your memories of him would have to suffice.

As you surveyed the room, you glimpsed your pack in the corner of the room and what looked like your highly damaged prototypes alongside it. There next to your bed was a crib and laying inside was Alena, who looked clean, like she had been changed, and who was sleeping soundly.

You let a small and real smile touch your lips. She was safe. You were safe. Both of you were alive. Helmut was not.

No, you couldn’t let yourself think of it. Not now. Maybe, not ever.

You pressed the call button for the nurse, hoping this was a real hospital and not some elaborate plot. It looked real, but one could never be sure.

“Finally awake, are you? Good, I’m glad to see it. I was beginning to worry about what might happen to your daughter.” The nurse said in rapid fire Sokovian as she bustled into the room.

“Yes, thank you. How long have we been here and where are we?” You had to clear your throat multiple times and even then your voice came out as a rasp.

The nurse poured some water into a cup, drank it, and then offered you some as well. “You probably do not remember, but you were rescued three days ago. You have been awake sporadically, and even then you were groggy. That is why you do not remember. For your second question, you are in a hospital in the Czech Republic. We are taking care of multiple Sokovian refugees.”

“But you are speaking Sokovian?”

The nurse frowned and leaned closer. She looked like she wanted to pat your hand or hold it. You were glad she did not. “Sokovia is gone. This time for good. There were not many survivors. My mother was Sokovian. I thought a familiar language might be of comfort to you. It has been to the other survivors we’re treating.”

You attempted to read her face and her eyes like Helmut had taught you. She drank the water before giving you some, which was a point in her favor.  She also did not look like a plant and you let yourself relax a bit, but kept your guard up in case you were wrong. You knew that Novi Grad had been destroyed and the devastation the debris must have caused, but it was hard to believe that your country was gone. It had been failing for years, but it was still yours. Yours, Heike’s, Carl’s, Alena’s, and Helmut’s. Now, it would only exist in the memory of its survivors.

You pushed the thought of Helmut aside for the moment, but at the thought of Heike and Carl you knew what question needed to be asked. “Have they released a list of survivors?”

“Not yet, but I do not want you to get your hopes up.”

You hated to think that the nurse was right, that Heike and Carl were also gone. They had been miles from the city however, so you had to hold on to hope for their sake. You could not consider never seeing Heike’s hair in the sunlight or Carl’s smiling face again. They were part of your family. You needed to find out what happened to them. “Please let me know as soon as they release the list.”

“I will, dear. I will.” The nurse gave you a pained smile that looked more like a grimace. “Now, we got your name and identification from your pack. I was in charge of your admission papers, and did not include any reference to your military rank to be safe. Sokovia is gone, so I did not want it to make you a target. What you were wearing alone looked like it would draw some attention.”

You nodded and thought briefly, knowing that had only happened because the nurse had ties to Sokovia. She was showing honest care and concern in the best way she could, and you appreciated it. You had been correct in her not being a plant then. You pictured Helmut’s smile when you told him that you were putting his training to good use, before remembering that he was…

You couldn’t bring yourself to think the word. You had to keep it together. You couldn’t falter now. Not when Alena was counting on you.

You realized the nurse was still waiting for some kind of answer. “Thank you. A civilian life might be just what I need.”

The nurse smiled back, “Yet, we have no information on this little one. I have a birth certificate here to fill out. You are one of her parents, yes?” Alena continued to sleep in her crib, oblivious to the world around her.

“Yes,” you swallowed and rapidly thought of how to answer the next question that you knew was coming.

“And her other parent?”

“He died in Sokovia,” you felt a tear roll down your cheek. You wondered if you were prepared to continue. Saying it out loud made it real.

“I’m sorry to hear that, dear.” The nurse did pat your hand this time in commiseration before withdrawing when you tensed up. “Would you still like to put his name on the certificate?”

You steadied your breathing and hoped that when (you couldn’t bring yourself to think if) you found Heike, wherever she may be, that she would understand. You knew that you could not regret this decision. It felt too right for that.

“Yes,” you responded haltingly. The words seemed to catch in your throat. “His name is… Helmut Zemo and our baby’s name is Alena Heike Zemo.”

End of Part 1 - To Be Continued in Part 2: Burn it to the Ground…

A/N:  I know this chapter was angsty, but I hope you enjoyed part 1 of this fic. Part 2 will not have as regular updates because Part 1 was pre-written, but I’m working on it. Thank you all for reading!

[imagine-loki]

Midnight Stroll

TITLE: MIDNIGHT STROLL

CHAPTER NO./ONE SHOT: One Shot

AUTHOR: mooncat163

ORIGINAL IMAGINE: Imagine that you struggle with sleep walking, and one night you manage to get to Loki’s room. The next morning he wakes to find you snuggled against his back, and wonders how you ever got past the security spells he’d cast.

RATING: General

NOTES/WARNINGS: just fluffy stuff, sleepwalking

— —

You’ve been up for close to seventy-two hours straight, copying VHS surveillance tapes to digital in an attempt to isolate and identify players suspected of gearing up for a major weapons heist. Any attempts to make you rest before you collapsed were rebuffed: you were determined to complete the process and make positive ID’s as soon as you could.

“Hey.”

The greeting was soft so that you weren’t startled when Steve came up behind you. He glanced over the monitors before looking at you.

“Hey, Cap,” you replied, and turned your head slightly. “I’m almost done, just have about twelve hours left-“

“That's why I’m here,” he said. “You’ve been at it for close to three days, and you need to rest.”

“I’m good,” you protested. “Jarvis has already isolated footage for me, I just have to-“

“Rest,” he said, firmly. “Jarvis, bookmark where she’s at, but she’s not allowed to start again until she’s eaten and slept.”

“Yes, sir.”

“But I-“ You turned your chair to face Steve after the computer monitors went blank.

“No.” He urged you out of the chair and then ushered you from the room. “Tony agrees, and none of us want you to become overtired.”

You still wanted to protest, but there wasn’t any point in doing so. Jarvis wouldn’t allow you to access the files until Tony or Steve agreed to it, and there wasn’t a way to subvert the AI. You knew this because you’d tried several times, just to see if you could and to see how badly you could annoy Tony.

You had managed one small victory: you’d renamed some of his music files, so that instead of the heavy metal songs he liked to blare at random, Jarvis would end up playing teen bop songs. Tony didn’t talk to you for a week after that, although you could see by the gleam in his eyes that he was slightly impressed by the feat.

Computers had always been your ‘thing’, and you could set up networks and track down problems in record time. When you worked with the electronics, your mind visualized the connections and routes in schematic form, enabling you to pinpoint the failing areas. When it came to analyzing data, you could do so just as quickly.

Steve led you to the elevator, and the ride up to the Avengers’ level was made in silence, then his hand in the small of your back guided to the dining table, where the rest of the team sat.

“Glad you could join us,” Tony said, grinning when you cut your eyes at him.

You sat down across from Loki and Thor, then helped your plate with food as it was passed to you. You offered them both a tired smile, which Thor returned with a wink. Loki nodded, and although he didn’t smile, his green eyes were lit with amusement. A warmth spread through your veins, making it hard to look away from him, but you finally managed.

If only he wasn’t such eye candy, you thought. Or maybe such a snack...a tall, tall, snack…snack-a-licious…

You smothered a giggle that almost escaped, but then strangled on the sip of water you’d just taken. While you coughed into your napkin, Bucky tried to help by patting your back, but his strength knocked you forward enough where you almost face-planted into your plate.

“Bucky!”

“Sorry.”

You composed yourself while keeping your attention on your food. You weren’t very hungry, even though you’d subsisted only on coffee, protein snacks and candy over the last few days. As you began to eat, it became difficult to keep your eyes open. Now that you were still and quiet, the lack of sleep caught up with you fast. The others watched as your head began to drop lower and lower, until your fork clattered onto the plate as you fell asleep while sitting upright.

“Come on, sleepyhead.” Steve scooped you up and carried you to your apartment, where he put you to bed.

— —

Later that night, Tony was still in the common room when you padded quietly on bare feet into the kitchen. You went to the fridge and stared at its contents for several minutes before taking out a yogurt cup.

He watched as you shuffled to a drawer for a spoon, and he started to ask if you needed help when you struggled to open the yogurt, but you did manage to get the lid off after a couple of minutes.

“Are you alright?” He asked as you consumed the yogurt in four large spoonfuls.

You didn’t respond, just dropped the spoon into the sink, and the empty cup into the garbage, and left. Once back in your apartment, you crawled into bed, pulled up the covers and went back to sleep.

— —

Several hours later, Loki stirred from a deep sleep when something woke him. He listened for any movement in his apartment, but all was quiet. Something wasn’t right, though, but he couldn’t put his finger on it.

He started to get up, but then realized what had disturbed him: a warmth against his back, along with a bare arm across his waist. To say that he was stunned would be an understatement, since neither should be there.

Loki carefully grasped his bedfellow’s wrist and raised it enough to try to determine who had invaded his space, and he didn’t need three guesses when he recognized the intruder’s bracelet.

Pixel.

He couldn’t help but think of you by the nickname that Tony had burdened you with due to your computer skills. None of that was important, however. What was important was why you were in his bed, and how you had managed to avoid the spells that he cast each night that would alert him to any intruders. It was a habit that he kept, even though it was unlikely that he’d be attacked in his own suite, and he felt a bit uneasy that you hadn’t triggered any of them.

Loki carefully shifted until he faced you, and the movement was enough to turn you on your back. He braced up on one elbow while he looked into your face, and recognized the exhaustion it reflected. He knew that you’d been working hard on the surveillance videos; too hard, it seemed. He frowned at that, and decided to speak to Stark about letting you stay awake for days on end, as it wasn’t necessary since Jarvis could easily help run comparisons.

“Hey, Pixel.”

He brushed hair out of your face before shaking you gently, but you didn’t stir. He tried again, with no success: you were dead to the world. He considered taking you back to your own bed, but an urge for mischief kept him from doing so. He rather wanted to see what your reaction would be come morning. So, he adjusted position slightly so that your head was pillowed on his arm, then he put the other arm across you and pulled you closer.

— —

Early the next morning, well before dawn, you awoke slowly to find that something was very, very wrong.

Your sheets were softer than you recalled, you were curled against someone’s side, with your head on their shoulder, and this someone had their arms around you. Slowly, carefully, you sat up, and the shock when you recognized your bedfellow had you turning toward the edge of the bed.

Loki.

Before you could disengage fully from his embrace, he turned with you, and drew you even closer to his chest, where he held you firmly. You laid still for a couple of minutes, not wanting to disturb him, hoping to escape before he woke. Then you carefully tried moving his arm from across your waist so that you could slide from beneath it.

“What’s the fuss, pet?” Loki asked, sleepily.

“Why are you in my room?”

“Your room?” You felt his smile against your temple.

“My room! And my bed!”

“Are you certain about that?”

Your brow furrowed in confusion while you slowly looked around, then your mouth fell open in astonishment when you realized where you were. Nope, not your room, but his.

“How did I get in here??”

“That’s the million dollar question, isn’t it?” He asked, while burying his nose in your hair. “How you got in, and got past my security measures.”

“I don’t—wait, security measures? You mean booby traps?” You whispered, aghast.

He almost laughed aloud at that, and would have if your tone hadn’t been so horrified at the notion of triggering one of his spells.

“Don’t worry, Pixel, there isn’t anything that will cause lasting harm,” he chuckled. “So, first order of business: why did you come here?”

“I’m not...oh...cripes…” you rubbed your face with a groan.

“Yes?”

“I’m so sorry...I must have been sleepwalking.”

“Oh?”

“I haven’t done it in years, though...I guess being up for close to four days straight triggered it.”

“I see,” Loki mused over that for a moment. “But how did you get past my spells?”

“I don’t know, I really don’t,” you replied. “Are you sure they’re still intact...never mind, forget I asked.”

You’d backtracked on the question when his arm tightened slightly; you could imagine that his expression would remind you that he was a master sorcerer who was at least nine hundred years in age, and that he would know if his spells had failed.

“I should go,” you told him as you tried again to move his arm. “I’m very sorry for invading your space…”

“It’s early yet, why not stay?” He asked. “You’re delightfully warm.”

“Yeah, I don’t think I should.”

You were painfully aware that your gown’s thin straps left your arms and shoulders bare, and the hem only reached to your knees. There was no way that Loki hadn’t noticed it either, just as it hadn’t escaped your notice that his chest was bare. Thankfully, you could tell that he had on pajama bottoms. Thank God for small mercies.

“I was a perfect gentleman last night,” he commented. “Don’t you trust me?”

“Of course I do,” you replied, quickly. But do I trust myself?

Loki hummed softly before he ran his hand down your arm and changed your gown into one that covered you from your chin to your feet, and from your shoulders to your wrists. You were quite sure the thing would strangle you, since you were a restless sleeper.

“Geez, did you raid Steve’s grandmother’s closet??”

“Just trying to be helpful,” he replied with a chuckle, before he changed the gown again.

This time it was a green shirt with flowing sleeves, open neckline and a shorter hem which reached your knees. It wasn’t lost on you that he’d put you in his color.

“Better?” He asked.

“Yes, thank you,” you replied. “But I should go....”

He held you more firmly, and drew his legs up behind yours to trap you further. He was reluctant to let you go now that you were in his arms. He’d watched you for months now, slowly warming up since you treated him the same as anyone else, perhaps even better. He wasn’t sure how you’d managed to get under his skin, but he found himself wondering how it would feel to hold you, to kiss you...to have you.

When Loki refused to let you up, your heart began to race at the implications. Was he interested in you? Or just being mischievous because you had accidentally climbed into his bed? Either way, the proximity to his bare skin had you shaking; it wouldn’t take much for you to give in to his request.

“I’d like for you to stay,” he whispered, before he’d turned your face toward him.

When his lips found yours in a gentle kiss, your reticence flew out the window.

Yes, that did it.

[bau-baby]

the ultimate loss. 2/?

aaron hotchner x gn!reader

Summary: While you and Aaron are grieving the loss of Haley, an untimely realization comes up on your part after a night of consolation. Will anything come of it?

word count: 3k

warnings: grief, loss

A/N: Holy cannoli I am so sorry for how long this second installment took me!! Also the ending seems kind of rushed and it’s not the greatest, sorry! Now, onward with the story! 

read part one here

It has only been a few months since Haley’s service, and you have been at a loss. Ever since the time you and Aaron had together on that patio, something changed. Something that you couldn’t really put a finger on. Neither of you addressed it for fear of messing with things you weren’t ready to face. So you both did what you do best: ignore it.

You’ve filled your time with hours on the job, Aaron has been doing the same. You both merely dance around one another, not allowing your colleagues to pinpoint or figure out what happened. And if you were honest with yourself, you weren’t either. Hell, you weren’t sure Aaron knew what was going on, and he is one of the best profilers you have the pleasure of knowing. 

It’s another late night, early morning at Quantico. You’re burning the candle at both ends, losing sleep by the day. You blame it wholly on losing a friend, and sure that was the big, main reason, but you also know it’s a ploy to throw whatever it is that’s happening with you and Aaron out the window for a time.

After-action reports fill your time as the coffee keeps getting brewed and your pen isn’t running out of ink anytime soon. And you always love to think that this is your time away from Aaron, when in reality he’s right up the stairs, hunched over his desk just as you are. You saved your glances for when your hand got cramped or you needed a refill on coffee. What you don’t see was the glances he’d send your way while you were engrossed in the paperwork. 

You normally end up staying late at the office since you have a tendency to take some of the extra files from Aaron as well as the team so they could get home quicker.

You finish up a majority of your reports just before midnight, opting to take the unfinished ones home. You gather your finished files, making the short walk up to Aaron’s office before knocking. You hear him faintly say “It’s open,” and open the door.

“Hey Aaron, just wanted to drop these files off before heading home for the night. If you-” Your words die in your throat as you finally look at Aaron much closer. His eye bags were getting worse, and he looks like he hasn’t slept in days. “Are the nightmares still happening, Aaron?”

He knows there’s no use in lying, especially to you. He nods as he presses his pointer and middle finger to his temple, trying to alleviate the dull headache that hasn’t left him in so long. It was one of the only constant things in his life, outside of Jack and you.  With the headaches and the nightmares saddled on top of the grief, he hasn’t had true peace in months.

You tentatively take a seat at his desk and wait him out. You know that once he feels like talking, he will. He takes his time, twiddling his pen in between his thumb and pointer finger.

“I miss her. I left her at home with Jack almost every day, I was never there for his appointments or for his big milestones. I forced her to be a single mom when I could have easily just been there. I-” He stops, and you can see his eyes are brimmed with tears. You swallow the lump forming in your throat.

“Aaron, she loved you-” He scoffs, “-No, she really loved you. It tore her to pieces when she left, she just reached a point where she had to put Jack’s needs first. She still cared for you. The call I got the day you were admitted into the hospital told me enough,” You look down at your hands, trying to find the words, “You’re a great dad, Aaron. You do your best and right now that’s all anyone can ask for.” 

Aaron lets out a huff of breath and leans back in his chair. He pinches the bridge of his nose, trying to lessen the pulsing headache still fully present. You only hope that your words made a difference, and you start to get up to leave.

“Wait. Please don’t go. I- I can’t stand being alone here anymore,” The admission makes your heart swell while simultaneously hurting for the broken man, and you settle back into your seat. Maybe finishing up the rest of your reports in the company of a friend wouldn’t be so bad after all.

-----

The late nights you and Aaron were pulling to keep each other company quickly transitioned to going home early to see Jack, still keeping each other’s grief at bay. Didn’t help that Jack was the sweetest kid on the planet, and one you definitely couldn’t say no to.

There were days where Aaron would just break down away from the watchful eyes of his son. He wanted to remain strong and not worry the young boy, but he knew Jack was hurting too, just as you were. Even if he was vulnerable with you at times, he still kept some walls up and held some feelings to his chest.

And Aaron would never tell you, but some days it was hard to even be in that apartment. The wall has been long since repaired, the bloodstains lifted from the carpet. But that didn’t remove the nightmares that haunted him every time he came home.

He could never forget the acrid smell of Foyet’s breath as he continuously taunted him, the knife driving into his abdomen. He couldn’t forget the fleeting memories that he surrounded himself with, a hopeful yet useless distraction as he was bleeding out on his apartment floor.

He couldn’t forget Foyet’s smile, his laugh that haunted Aaron’s deepest nightmares. 

Foyet’s words would come to him in flashes, always coming back to remind him of everything he lost.

“Do you know how much you have to study the human body to stab yourself repeatedly and not die? I don’t want to brag but I’m somewhat of an expert.”

The humor Foyet found in what he was saying was not ever lost on Aaron.

He always felt the ghost of the knife, cold metal gracing his abdomen that was slowly losing heat due to the blood blossoming around his still body.

“Do you wanna see my scars?”

The image of Foyet’s mangled abdomen was stamped into his brain, a fateful image that spoiled his sleep every night.

“Yours are gonna look just the same.”

And that they did. Aaron hated the scars that riddled his chest, the raised, gnarled skin always a reminder of his failure. He not only failed Haley, but his son that he swore to protect and give a good life. He ripped the life away from both of them. Haley would never see what Jack would become, and Jack would never remember the woman who gave her life to protect him.

No matter how much he trusted you, there was still that wall that held him back from telling you all of this. His rational brain told him that you’d help him work through it, but his trauma-riddled brain told him that he’d end up overwhelming you, even though you both lost the same person, she just had different emotional ties to both of you.

That call that you listened in on while racing to Fairfax was imprinted in your brain. You’d continually tried to tell yourself that you couldn’t change anything that happened, that you couldn’t save Haley. You couldn’t give Jack his mom back, and you couldn’t bring back Aaron’s closest friend. 

You knew it wasn’t right to blame yourself. You knew that Foyet had fooled all of you. That didn’t stop you from taking the blame, forcing yourself to relive the worst moment in your career, just to subject yourself to something you felt you could have prevented.

Jack wouldn’t have any memories of his own mother. You would just plant four years’ worth of stories as he grew up, telling him tales of how strong his mother was, and how she was the best thing that happened to his father.

Maybe these similar trains of thought are what led you to be knocking on Aaron’s door late at night. And maybe, that’s what led him to answer.

“Y/N? It’s so late, what’re you doing here?” The opened door revealed a distraught yet cozy Aaron, floppy hair and eye bags in all.

“Can I, uh, can I come in?” You remain composed, trying to regulate your breathing before you possibly could fly off the handle.

“Yeah, of course. Are you alright?” 

Now isn’t that the question of the hour, Aaron Hotchner? You aren’t really sure what you feel, so instead of answering, you walk over to his couch and sit. 

Aaron trails in behind you, two cups of coffee in his hand. You accept the cup, the ceramic mug already bringing life back into your hands. Aaron sits on the other side of the couch assuming the same position you are: a blank, grief-filled stare aimed at the table in front of you. The only sign of either of you being cognizant is your periodic sniffles. You don’t even realize you’re crying.

“I just miss her, you know?” The sentence comes through a wavered tone, and you hiccup through the tears. 

Aaron’s in a similar state, his red-rimmed eyes giving way to a tear-filled, “I know. I miss her too,”

A watery laugh leaves you, “Y’know, one time when I visited Haley, told me about how you two used to be. Before Jack, before…”

Before the divorce. Before she died.

“-just, before. She even gave me a little insight on your stint as Pirate #4 in Pirates of the Penzance,” A watery smile makes its way onto your face, and you hear Aaron huff out a sad laugh, shaking his head as he does so.

“I swore her to secrecy on that. She liked you, honestly. She loved how you were with Jack, and I can’t say that I don’t either. You being here, for us, is something we’ll always be grateful for. Thank you,” The sentence makes your heart swell, as more tears fall down your face. They’re full of grief, sadness, and a love you don’t catch onto right away, but when you do, you force that back down to whatever depths it came from.

You hear the feet padding across the floor before you see him.

“Y/N? Why are you crying?” Jack asks as he clambers up next to you and into your arms.

“Hey, bud, what’re you doing up? Your dad and I were just talking about your mom, and how much we miss her,” You say, rocking the boy as you hold him.

“I miss my mom too. Do you think we could talk to her?” He asks. You could hear how tired he is, and you look at Aaron.

Go ahead, his look says, and you stand up with Jack still in your arms. You pick up the candle and lighter on the way.

You lay Jack back in his bed, grabbing the picture of Haley off his dresser. You light the candle and hand it to him.

“Hi, momma. Y/N is here, and I miss you. I love you,” You continue to listen to the boy, but you can feel the tears pressing at the back of your eyes again. You can’t imagine what this four-year-old boy is going through, trying to understand why his mom isn’t coming home anymore.

You feel a certain pair of eyes on you from the doorway of Jack’s room, and you see Aaron watching you and Jack. He’s got this soft, sullen smile on his face as he hears Jack recount his days since he’s last talked to Haley. Soon enough, the four-year-old runs out of steam and says goodbye, blowing out the candle. You reach over, tucking the covers up to his chin, and tell him goodnight.

You walk out to see Aaron sitting on the couch again, his elbows resting on his knees, hands covering his face. You sit with him until the early morning light washes over the DC skyline, sunlight peeking into the windows. You both laugh, cry, and sit in silence as you talk about whatever, but the topic keeps coming back to Haley.

“Well, if I want to make it to the building on time, I better go back to my apartment and change,” You say as you get up to grab your shoes that have long since been forgotten, as well as your keys and such. “Oh, I didn’t even notice the time. See you at work,” He says, getting up off the couch too.

“Bye, Aaron. See you at work,” You give him a soft smile, and make your exit.

Aaron doesn’t make light of this, but seeing you leave after the night he spent commiserating with you, made him miss it more than he thought he would. The freshness of it all, the connection you shared with mutual grief, was something he never thought he’d get out of his job.

-----

When you step into the bullpen, you’re the first one there for once. Fresh clothes and a rejuvenated heart puts a small pep in your step, even on no sleep.  After the night of vulnerability you shared with Aaron, you felt refreshed, if only a little tired. 

For the sake of making sure you actually stay awake, you make two cups of coffee. Made one cup just how you like it, leaving the other one black. You set your cup down at your desk, climbing the stairs up to Aaron’s dark office. You turn on his desk lamp, setting the coffee down. You knew he wasn’t too far behind you when coming to the office, it was only a matter of time before he walked out of the elevator. 

When Aaron finally makes it to the bullpen, he sees you already cutting into the reports he left on everyone’s desks the night before. He practically floats to his office, his lack of sleep starting to catch up to him. When he opens the door, he sees the coffee mug at his desk, a sticky note attached to it. Very familiar handwriting fills the note. 

Thought we could both use some coffee after our late night. 

You know where I am if you need anything, old man. 

Sincerely, 

A very concerned friend :)

Aaron just shakes his head at the note, a smile he’s not used to filling his face. He looks through the window out into the bullpen to find you with an equally facetious smile on your face. 

That’s when it all comes crumbling down for you. The realization hits you as you turn back to your work, and you have to slow your breathing so as to not worry anyone else making their way to their desks. 

Fuck. 

You’re in love with your boss. 

You’re in love with Aaron Hotchner. 

You could not have worse timing, you realize. He just lost his wife, you just lost a friend. Neither of you should be open to dating. He isn’t open to dating, and you’d be damned if you were too.

You were never known for your timeliness, but this is a whole other level of bad.

 What are you supposed to do? There’s no handbook, nothing to tell you what you’re supposed to fall in love with your divorced boss who just lost his ex-wife. And there shouldn’t be, you’re being careless. 

It’s normal for people in grief to come together, and after a loss people make strides to fill that gap. That’s all you're doing. You don’t actually feel this way about him. 

That’s what your profiling tells you, but you don’t try to reason with it. No amount of reasoning can fix this. You’re screwed, and you know it.

That’s why you make a vow to yourself- right there in the bullpen. 

You are not going to let this get too far too fast, and you are not going to scare this man away. He is your boss first, friend second, and lover will never make that list if you keep up this fast train of realizations and possible confessions.

You get saved from your rabbit hole as you hear Reid and Morgan walk into the bullpen, talking about whatever those two can talk about at 8 AM. You just shake your head at their antics.

Those two really are like brothers.

Slowly, the rest of the team trickles in, and you’re expected for a day of paperwork when JJ flashes a file at you. Seems like you won’t your day of reprieve, but if you’re honest with yourself, you’re glad.

On top of the Aaron Revelations™, It’s been really hard these past few weeks without Haley. You usually went over to see Jack and her often, talking and laughing over some glasses of wine. Now, you just... don’t have that.

But, all that aside, you have a case.

So you put the pieces of yourself back together, compose yourself, and take a breath.

You can do this.

-----

You can’t do this.

You did fine on the case, and you know that. You remained composed, and kept your head on straight. That doesn’t change your realization, nor does it settle your feelings. Professionalism is at the forefront of your mind as you settle into your seat on the jet. Aaron sits next to you like always, and you school your expression for most of the flight, but that didn’t stop your brain from going faster than light.

You lean your head against the window, and hope against hope that everything- every feeling, every thought- would just leave you. They didn’t, but you welcome the sleep that comes like an unknown force.

When you wake, you smell Aaron’s cologne. You’re groggy, and it takes you a minute to realize that his suit jacket rests across your upper body. 

“You looked cold, just thought I’d help,” Aaron says, not looking up from his file.

That man never stops working.

“Thanks, Hotch,” You say, sleep still laced through your words. You get lost in the moment, the familiarity of it all sinking into your bones. You smile blissfully, sleep consuming your conscious again

You just miss the small smile Aaron gives you after your eyes close, sleep taking your body again.

[herstroywritten]

Their Aching Firsts.

I still have no excuse for my obsession with them. Not sure how I feel about this particular story, but I wanted to post something for the start of Rivusa week for the hell of it. It’s about 7k words (I apparently can’t stop writing them once I start and their works end up being endless). Oops.

Fair warning, there is a umm *spicy* scene near the end there. I don’t usually write those and I tried to keep it as vague as I could, but I thought I’d mention it anyways. Other than that, enjoy and let me know what you think!

The first times they kissed, it was fueled by anger- he grabbed, she pulled, they crashed.

The first time they talked about it, it wasn't so much a conversation of words as it was one of looks. His eyes said "I want you and it terrifies me." Her eyes said "I think I want you, too. And I think I'm finally ready to admit that."

The first time Musa realized her new favorite jacket was once his, she stares at herself in the mirror for over an hour. She misses lunch with the gang and Riven comes knocking at her door and opens it to find her standing in front of that mirror in a state of awe. She's bathed in black leather, sleeves reaching the tips of her fingertips.

"You ok?" Arms wrap around her waist as she toys with the hem of the jacket. She looks at him through the mirror and smiles.

"I just want you to know I'm never giving this back."

He huffs a laugh as he lets his head fall to her hair, breathing her in. Lavender and something sweet that he's never been able to pinpoint. "Not even if this falls apart?"

She whirls around to face him. "I don't intend on letting that happen." Her hands are on the collar of his shirt, eyes blazing with stubbornness. He knows then that her words are a promise, a commitment and not just a comment in passing.

"I don't know, Muse. You still have time to regret all this. Regret the ruin of your reputation. What will people say?" His words are teasing, but she can see right through them. She senses his vulnerability, his apprehension.

"There are a lot of things I regret in life- yelling at my mother when I was fourteen because I didn't want to clean my room, being a bit of a bitch to my suitemates at the start of the year, hiding instead of fighting because I was too scared to see what my powers could really do. The regrets are endless. But, you, Riven, are not one of them."

He frowns, blinks away the swarm of feelings within  him. "Yeah?"

She bunches her hands on his collar and pulls him down to her mouth. "Yeah."

"And what if I'm the one to end this?"

"And do what? Date some other girl for the hell of it?"

"Maybe, " he grins. "I hear I'm hot on the market now that I'm on the good side." She pulls him all the way down then, kisses him hard.

"Give it a try. Whoever she is, she won't last more than a day. And she'll defiantly never have you. Not really. I have you right where I want you, Riven. You're mine and you know it." She blazes a fire in him with her words.

"Oh yeah? And how would you know that?"

"You're here, aren't you?" She's all sass as she cocks an eyebrow at his question. "And, plus, it's kinda hard to lie to an empath."

And then she's kissing him again. This time with so much passion that he can't make sense of the world around him any longer. She pulls away only to tell him, "And I bet she'll never get that reaction out of you."

"No. No, she won't."

________________________________________________________________

The first time he calls her his girlfriend, it's not exactly in the situation she had imagined.

"Girls, I need to tell you something." Musa's voice wavers slightly as it rises above the noise that is their friends' laughs and chatter.

They're on the roof of Alfea, clustered among one another on the edges of old, shabby stones. The sky above them is dark and heavy. Stars wink at students from behind perfect clouds, ones that Musa remembers seeing in old cartoon movies that she used to watch with her parents when she was younger. From up here, the rest of Alfea seems like their whole world, its students miniature figures in a dollhouse. It's a perfect night, just as it should be. Rosalind is gone, out of the school and although that's not good enough, it's something. And Headmistress Dowling is alive and back in charge of the magical boarding school, where she belongs. From her perch up here, she can make out the headmistress' perfectly done hair as she leans back and laughs at something Silva is saying. She sees Professor Harvey heading towards their table, scolding students along the way to back away from the school's boarders. She's surprised that they haven't tried to stop all the drinking that going on. It seems that even the professors have had enough of the fighting, so much so that they're no longer focusing on the minute details of teenage life. Plus, she suspects that when they called for a party to celebrate the revival of Dowling and their taking back the school, they had fully expected the drinking. In fact, Musa had even seen Silva sneaking a few drinks to the teacher's table, but she'd never tell him that.

She can still hear Terra's squeal when Dowling had announced the party. And she can feel the toll of the  heels Stella had insisted she wear on her feet. It has brought everyone so much joy, this little piece of heaven that they're being allowed, and she's been so very glad to just bask in it. After months of walking around with her headphones constantly on, trying desperately and failing to block the thoughts of despair, gloom, and pain, she welcomed the change. It had taken a lot out of her, but she had even worked up the nerve to leave her headphones behind for the party. The girls had been surprised at first, but then Bloom had stepped forward, wound their arms together, and led her outside the suite. She's been getting weird looks from them all night, little side glances with small smiles and questioning eyes, asking her if she was okay or if she needed to head out for a bit, take a breather. She'd returned them all with reassuring smiles of her own, letting them know that she was fine. And she was fine, but probably not for the reason they thought. Yes, the students around her were happy and she didn’t have much negativity to deal with from them right now, and yes her powers were getting better. But the reason she was doing so well had to do nothing with the students around them or her ability to control her magic and everything to do with the specialist across from her.

Riven and her had been a bit of a dichotomy since the start of her second semester at Alfea. They were paired together for combat classes from the very beginning of Rosalind's reign at Alfea. He'd flirted, as he did with everything that had a pulse and walked his way, and she had shut it down. Odd how that had only encouraged his behavior. Odder how she'd eventually come to appreciate it.

It was a slow transition, their thing. She had been resistant to accept she liked someone so very opposite to her last boyfriend, hesitant to give herself to that natural disaster that seemed to be Riven. Honestly, it seemed like a loss for a long time. She'd lay in bed some nights, staring at her ceiling, listening to Terra's slow breaths as she slept, and just think about the fact that just a few months ago (God, it boggled her mind that it was only a few months ago… where did time go? And how did they get here, in a school run by a once presumed dead war leader and a woman that seemed to exude death from her presence alone?) she had been perfectly happy with Sam and the silence that he brought. Sure, they had eventually called it quits once she had realized she couldn't live in silence forever and he realized she needed to learn to shield herself from harm. It had been tough, but they were friends. And she had been okay being single again. Truly, she had. So how she'd come to crave noise- his noise, loud and obnoxious emotions that sent her body tingling and her mind reeling- she doesn't know. But it had happened and once she's finally just accepted it, the ball was in his court. Too bad for her though, because just as hesitant as she was, Riven was ten times more resistant to the pull that existed between the two of them. Musa remembers all the nights they'd sneak out and he'd teach her new moves with a staff and sometimes he'd let her use his swords, teasing her as she struggled under their weight. She'd head back to her suite before the sun came up, always frustrated because couldn't he see?! Couldn't he tell? Why else would she show up every single night without fail? Why else would she stick around when the training turned to teasing and taunting turned to conversations in hushed tones? Long story short, it took him being under mind control and her breaking it for him to just finally, finally kiss her. And from then on, it had been secret meetings in different corners of the school, in their rooms when no one else was around, and anywhere else they could find some privacy.

She's itching to cross the space that separates them currently and slip her arms under his jacket, an action that she'd first done on instinct but which had quickly become a habit once she had realized the effect it had on him. She's been eyeing him the whole night, fully aware of his gaze on her. There's a reason she hadn't argued with Stella when she'd been handed the lavender slip of a dress that she currently wore. She'd even managed to forgive the light fairy for the strappy silver heels she had practically forced into Musa's feet when she caught Riven staring up and down her bare legs. 

"Musa? What is it? Are you ok?" 

Bloom's worried tone pulls her back to reality and she forces herself to face away from Riven and toward the girls. She'd avoided this conversation for so long, but it had to come out at some point tonight and it had to happened before one of the girls found them in some shady corner with their clothes half off. 

"Oh, no I'm fine! It's not that." Now, how to approach what it actually was? 

Aisha's confused tone follows her reply, "Well, then, what is it?"

"Um, it's kind of a little complicated…" Musa's voice trails off and she has to physically stop herself from turning back to Riven to see if he's ok with this, with what she's about to say.

"Musa you're freaking me out a little here," Stella's eyes narrow at Musa's fidgeting her hands. Huh, she hadn't even noticed herself playing with the hem of her dress.

"Oh no! Did you actually kill that poor guy that tried to hit on you?" Terra sounds worried as Musa just groans at her words.

"Ughhh. Terra, we said we wouldn't talk about that."

"What guy?" Riven's question comes at the same moment as her whine, except his is louder and much more aggressive. All heads turn to him, and Musa curses the jealousy that she feels coursing through his veins right now. Damn it, couldn't he just keep it in long enough so she could explain to her suitemates what the hell was going on between them? His eyes are all rage and warning as he stares Terra down. And for some reason, she's all worked up at his gaze and doesn't know what to do with herself. She really shouldn't be so attracted to this side of him.

"What's it matter to you?" Aisha questions, eyebrow raising in his direction.

"It just does."

"Really, Riven? The middle school comeback? Classic."

"Stay out of it, Aisha. I wasn't talking to you."

They're bickering back and forth, and Musa can sense both their patience straining. This is not how she was hoping this would go. Finally, she steps between them, one hand on Aisha's shoulder and the other on Riven's chest. "Ok, that's enough."

Aisha glares his way one more time but steps back, Riven does not.  Instead, he turns to Musa and asks her, "What guy, Musa?"

"It doesn't matter, Riven."

"It does to me."

"Well, it shouldn't. It was just some drunk dude with a bad haircut. That's it." She's trying to reassure him, to let him know that this thing they have going on isn't just something she's going to drop the first chance she gets for any guy that makes eyes her way. She knows that's one of his big insecurities. He has it in his head that he's not good enough to deserve this, something that isn't completely fucked up from the very beginning.

They're trading glances, a secret conversation of their own  happening between them.

"No!"

All heads snap toward Bloom. The second she turns around, Musa knows that her redheaded roommate has figured it out. Bloom is grinning at the two of them, practically bouncing on her heels as she grabs onto Sky's arm and tugs on it. "Did you know about this?! Why didn't you tell me?!" 

Sky (bless his soul) looks at his girlfriend with confusion evident in his face, "Know what?"

Except it's Stella that answers, "They're dating."

And then mayhem ensues and Musa suddenly wishes she had thought this through because she's feeling so much from so many people right now and she's not quite sure how to handle it. She tries to hide the wince that forms on her face as she tries to answer all the questions her friends are practically screaming her way, but Riven must have noticed it because he reaches for her hand and pulls her out of the circle the girls have formed around her and closer to him.

"Alight, that's enough." It's the rasp in his voice that sends her spiraling every time he speaks, and she's putty in his hands. It's pathetic, she should have more self-control than this. "Yes, we're dating. Yes, she's my girlfriend. And, Aisha, no I did not pay her or threaten her into it. Gods above!" He takes a sweep of the room, gesturing to all their friends with a hand as if to say 'you're all very welcome.'

"Any other questions?" No one speaks up. Not that Musa would have heard any of them because good gods, did she hear him right? Did he just say what she thinks he said? Is she his… girlfriend? They'd avoided so many labels for so long that it had completely slipped her mind to actually name this thing between then by the time that they had finally become something substantial. And she's been fine with that deal, with not having to name their relationship, but hearing him call her his girlfriend has send her body trembling, fire coursing through her veins and butterflies bursting in her stomach.

And then he's pulling her away, down the stairs that led them up to the roof and between hallways that blend into one another as her mind focuses on the way his hand grips hers and the lust (his? hers?) that seems to be engulfing her whole being.

She lets him lead her into his room, onto his bed, and just as he leans down to kiss her, she moves down and places a kiss on his neck instead. Looking up at him, she tests out the word that's taken over her brain since it left his lips, "Girlfriend?"

"Fuck. Is that not what this is? I, I don't know- I kind of figured- I don't know. Shit, sorry-" If she wasn't so very in love with the idea of being his girlfriend, his something (just his), she would have let his ramble continue. She didn't get to see this often, a flustered Riven, and it was a sight she found quite adorable. But, alas, she had other plans for tonight.

She bends her neck upward, uses her toes to push herself up the bed, and kisses him ever so lightly on the lips. Just enough so that he stops talking. A feather's whisper of a kiss, against which she purrs "That is exactly what this is if that's what you want it to be." 

His eyes are black with want when he closes them and his hand comes up to trace the edges of her jaw. His breathing speeds up as he leans his forehead against hers, and that's how she knows he's trying to collect his thoughts, watching his words as he often does when he's scared he's about to make the wrong move, say the wrong thing. She swears she's going to get him to stop doing that around her, because she wants his thoughts, every single one of them, as raw as they are. She doesn't want the filtered version. And she can feel them, mingling into the background as his insecurity takes over. Her hands find their way to his jaw and now they're holding each other, "Tell me."

He opens his eyes, opens his mouth to tell her, just as she knew he would. He'd never deny her anything and she's learned that in the short time that they've been together. He'd collect the stars and fashion them into a necklace she could wear around her neck if she asked for the universe. He'd start and end a war if she so much as suggested it. He'd give her his soul, she thinks. All she needs to do is ask, and he breaks for her. Crack by crack. Splinter by splinter. Until he's cleaved wide open and she sees all of him.

"I do, want that. I want you." His voice is gruff, guttural. "What about you? What do you want?"

God, how does he still not get it?!

"You." A whisper, and then a kiss.

_______________________________________________________________

The first time he makes her cry, it's not because of something he said. It's because of something he did.

It had started like any other day- breakfast, classes, social gatherings at the end of the afternoon. Musa and Terra had just left botany lessons and were heading towards the specialists training grounds to meet up with Sky and Riven before they all went to grab dinner together. It had been all fun and games, Terra and her grumbling about how ravished they were and laughing along at each other's comments. But Musa had sensed the uneasiness that radiated from the training grounds the second they had rounded the corner of Alfea's large lawns. Silva was especially on edge, and the fact that he had all the upperclassmen and the best of the specialists lined up as he walked back and forth between them shouting orders could not be a good sign. And with an insane mastermind on the loose, Musa had feared the worst as anyone else would. She'd taken off running, and Terra had followed without any questions, trusting her instincts.

She only caught glimpses of Silva's orders. "… Five burned ones… Two upperclassmen faries out there already… We need to leave now- I'm going to need ten of you out ASAP. Five more will guard the school grounds… Any volunteers?" 

Her heart stopped when in her peripheral vision, she saw Sky and Riven's hands go up. This would be the third one this month that they had volunteered for, and the last time they left the school grounds Riven came back with a broken foot that he's still limping along on. The word left her mouth before she could think about it, "No!"

He turned to her, surprised to find her standing among the specialists. "Musa?"

She can't be bothered to greet him, not right now, not when he's practically signing up for his own death. So, instead, she stares him straight in the eye and says it again. "No." 

But Riven is as stubborn as she is, and she knows he's been itching to prove himself again, to make up for what he did under the control of Rosalind just a short while ago. His words crush her soul, "I volunteer for the outside team." He's talking to Silva, who's eyeing the two of them with an intrigued look on his face. He nods curtly at Riven's words. But Riven is looking at her, his jaw set and tilted upward with determination.

"Alright, Sky and Riven, you'll lead the charge. Get your weapons. We leave in five minute. Go!" And then he and Sky are running toward their weapons bags, Musa and Terra hot on their tracks.

She catches up to him just as he's strapping on his swords. Her hand comes to pull at his wrist, motioning for him to face her.

"Are you fucking kidding me right now?" He won't look at her, won't meet her eyes. "Riven, I'm talking to you! You can't just volunteer yourself up for everything that could kill you! What the fuck is wrong with you?! Whatever you're trying to prove, stop it!"

He's reaching for his fighting boots, switching into them. Whether he's just not listening or if he just doesn't care, she can't tell. She wants to kill him. She wants to kiss him. 

"Please," she can't believe she's begging. "Please, Riven. Your foot. You can't-"

"I'm doing it, Musa." She sees fury, internalizes it before her insides form it into something tangible and she can see it, feel it. It's red and blinding and raging.

"I'm asking you not to." He won't say no to her, he hasn't done it yet. She asks and he cracks for her right? Right?

Wrong. 

"LET'S GO, SQUADRON 1!" She barely registers what Silva's command means until Riven is standing up.

"I'm sorry, Musa." And she knows he means it, because when his hands fall to her shoulders, quick and rushed, they're firm. He leans down to kiss her goodbye or as a form of apologizing, she's not sure, but she turns her head away from him and he ends up kissing the space between her cheek and jawline. If he won't look at her, then she won't look at him. And if he won't listen to her, then she won't give him the satisfaction of her approval. It's petty, she know that. She senses his emotions deflate at her actions, the feeling of rejection cutting into his heart like a shard of glass ripping through flesh. But she's seen this movie before, she knows how this story ends. Too many specialists have left the school's walls wounded and eager to pick a fight, only to come back on the brink of death or even worse, they haven't come back at all. And the idea of him becoming one of those statistics hurts more for her than her rejection will ever hurt him.

She doesn't turn to watch him leave, but she hears his boots beating against the pavement as he rushes to catch up with Sky… and then silence. 

She's so numb by now. Numb to death, to feeling, to crying. She doesn't cry. Not when Terra comes to hug her from behind. Not when they're back in the suite and Bloom is practically sizzling with anger at the fact that they didn't think to bring her along on the mission and that Sky is being sent on yet another mission. Not when it's midnight and Dowling informs that the specialists made it back safely.

She doesn't go down to greet them when the other girls rush out the door. Terra lingers in the doorway.

"You sure you don’t want to come?"

"I'm good." She's staring outside the huge window of their living room, refusing to look down at the ground and try to make out if someone is missing in the mass of specialists standing in the courtyard.

"Musa-" She feels pity and worry coming from Terra, and she doesn't want to deal with it right now. She just wants to be numb for a little while longer.

"I said, I'm good."

Once Terra is gone, she turns away from the window and goes to sit by one of the couches. She counts the floorboards by the main doorway of the Winx suite. One, two, three, four, five, six…

She counts them three times over before the door finally barges open, it's hinges creaking from the immense force of the push just enacted upon it.

Riven's eyes frantically search the room before they finally fall on her. He walks towards her, limps actually. (She knew his foot wasn't healed, no matter how much he insisted it was.) He has blood splattered on his right side. His or someone else's, who knows? And when he finally reaches her, and falls to his knees in front of her so that they're eye level with one another, she finally cries.

He reaches for her. She pushed him off. "Fuck you, Riven. Really, fuck you."

"I'm sorry. Muse, I'm so sorry. I'm sorry. I-"

"Why don't you ever listen? You keep walking into wars as if they're welcoming parties. Do you want to die?! Do you have a death wish? What the fuck is wrong with you?!" She's being mean, unfair. She doesn't care. If asking won't work, maybe screaming will. And she's exhausted. Exhausted of worrying about him every time he leaves. Exhausted of wishing he would listen. Exhausted of fearing he's the one that didn't make it back, because it's almost been him so many times by now.

"I had to Musa." His voice is soft, odd in comparison to the loud tone he usually takes when they argue about this topic.

"You always have to! You don't have to prove anything Riven. And you most certainly don’t have to die for no fucking reason!"

"You don't get it-"

"So explain it to me!" He sighs deeply, and closes his eyes. "No, Riven. Explain it. What don't I get?"

He finally opens his eyes, throws a string of colorful swears at the ceiling before moving his gaze back to her. "It's not just proving something. It's that if I go and… if I go, then one less specialist has to go. And that's one less person with people that care about them having to go. And that's one less tragic death, and then a whole lot less people hurt. If I go… who cares, you know? And, honestly, shouldn't it be me? A taste of my own medicine and all that. After all the shit I helped Rosalind do." She senses his bitterness, feels his anger and destitute.

He's an idiot.

"You're an idiot, you know that?"

"And you're beautiful," he quips back. She watches that smirk that she's come to love make its way onto his face.

"Flattery won't get you very far in life, Riv." Except, maybe it will. Because somehow and for some reason she's here, and she's crying over him.

It's like he can read her mind, not the other way around, "I think it's gotten me pretty far as of right now. I mean, you're here." The look he gives her has her twitching in her seat and she has to remind herself that she still has more to say to him. She can't just let him off the hook that easily. He leans up to kiss her, and she places her hands on his chest, gently pushing him away.

 "I care."

"What?" He's confused by her words.

"I care. If you go, and something happens. I care." She feels the surprise bloom from within him, and then a sense of overwhelming tenderness takes up his mind, and hers along with it. Her hands reach for him, " Come here."

This time, he obeys her. And as she kisses him, he cracks for her. Splinters for her. Lets her see him while he kisses her as if he's kissing her for the first time ever, ravaged and hungry for her. She sees it all- all of him falling into her and consequentially falling into place in her mind, in her heart. His insecurities, his fears, and his wishes. She doesn't shy away from him, but kisses him harder. His thoughts are exactly what she thought they were from the very beginning- a natural disaster. But she doesn't fear falling into them anymore, and in fact she thinks she likes them. She thinks she likes the way his mind works- ten emotions at one time battling to win out over one another. And when he pulls away, she likes the way his green eyes look at her like she's the whole world and the way his hands hold her tight enough for her to know that he doesn't think she's fragile but with enough care that she feels like she is all that he owns.

"Don't you ever," he's panting as he moves to place kisses along her jaw and at her collarbone, above her shoulders, anywhere the collar of her shirt will allow him. "Don't you ever pull away from me again."

She knows he's referring to the other afternoon, when he had left for the mission and she had closed off. "Why? Did I hurt your fragile ego?"

She's teasing, he's not. His hands are in her shirt and moving up, up, up until the offending piece of clothing is off of her. He's eager to kiss down her body, hands roaming the planes and curves that he must have memorized by now. He's kissing, kissing, kissing. Kissing away her tears, kissing right above her beating heart, kissing along her waistline. Frantic, needy, and- 

Oh.

Oh. She thinks she's in love.

________________________________________________________________

The first time they slow down, she feels as though she has seen heaven.

Riven's lips on her lips, steady and firm yet gentle, as his hands lay splayed over her bare sides and his thumbs dig softly into the dips of her hipbones. One of her legs is tangled in the sheets around them and her other is hiked up above his hips, her heel digging into his spine. He moves inside of her, and when she feels her hips meet his, she slides her hands over his shoulders and lets her nails graze his back. He watches her below him, eyes asking if she's ok, she smiles at him and says, "Just… stay. Don't move for a bit."

And he does, closing the small space between them to catch her bottom lip between his teeth and pull on it before he continues with his love bites down her neck, behind her ears, onto her chest. He's making his way as far down as he can in their current position, and she's melting into him and fuck, she wants him to keep going. But she also wants him to slow down because she's on cloud nine right now and from up here she can see the stars in his eyes, can catch them between the kisses of his lips. Her hands move from his back, leaving behind what she can only assume is a mass of fresh red marks. They move to his chin as she drags him back up to meet her on that very cloud and then they're eye-level with one another once more. She feels the want form within him, she always does, but it’s an odd thing to actually see it emulated in his eyes. And there's something else there too, something she can't quite place and doesn't dare to assume of. When his lips brush hers for the umpteenth time, slowly shaping her name between them, she feels herself sink farther into him, a feat she had previously deemed impossible.

And her lips part in a whimper because oh good god, how had they never done this before? They were always so rushed, pulling at each other's clothes and stumbling into bed,  falling into one another in a tangled mess of limbs and lust. Perhaps it was the fact that they had kept it in for so long, refusing to admit they liked each other and once they were together, not wanting to tell others for fear of shattering whatever fragile state they were in. Their relationship had started with fighting fueled by longing, innuendos charged with so many suggestions, and eventually an aching want that Musa still couldn’t wrap her mind around. Really, she shouldn't be surprised at how touch hungry the two of them had been at the beginning of the relationship. (How touch hungry they still were.) But right here in this moment, as she opens her eyes, she regrets not slowing down and taking him all in sooner.

He is a sight to behold, with tiny and larger scrapes all over his body that somehow added to his physique instead of taking away from it. They are tens of thousands of stars and she traces them over and over, forming constellations with his imperfections. The pads of her fingers run over the features of his face, committing every bit of him to memory, and as they skim the tiny scar above his left eyebrow, the question slips from her lips before she can stop herself.

"When did you get this one?" 

He pulls away from her, just slightly so that he can see her face, and his eyes are darker than she's ever seen them as he lazily responds with a "Hmm?"

She's high on want and adrenaline, but she vaguely wonders if this is something he might not want to talk about. Too late to back out now. Plus, she'd like to know. "This scar. Above your eyebrow. How did you get it?"

Riven stiffens at her answer. She can feel his insecurity downing upon him, clouded by the desire and the want that still course through his body but slowly easing its way to the forefront of the battle that is his mind.

"I have them too," Musa whispers as she braces herself against his chest and heaves her body upward, brushing her lips against that very scar in question.

She moves back down again, and pulls her left arm slowly away from under him. She turns her head slightly to her left shoulder, using her index finger to point to a sliver of skin that's more taught and whiter than the rest of her. "I got this one when I was twelve. Tried to climb a tree that was too high off the ground. Had to get six stiches. My mom freaked out."

His eyeline follows her movements, and he stares at her shoulder for a few minutes. His gaze has her squirming a little, suddenly aware that she's naked in front of a boy she's very much into and that she has just pointed out one of the many flaws on her body. But then his eyes flicker upwards and he leans down and kisses her scar, just as she had kissed his.

"You're fucking perfect, you know that right?" She could cry.

"If you're trying to get in my pants, hate to break it to you, but they're already off," she teases, her voice soft and a smile on her lips. How else was she meant to respond?

He chuckles at her words, his laugh causing her to catch her breath as it does each and every time she hears it. It's an occasion that has become more common since they got together but which is still far and few in between. The sound vibrates off his body onto hers and has her writhing under him.

"Love, I would never consider your lack of garments a disappointment." He circles his hips above her, and she groans at the pressure. "And I would most certainly never forget being the one to take them off you, especially when you insist on making those noises."

Her eyes are blown wide as she grabs onto his forearm at the side of her head, where his fingers are buried in her hair. Her chest heaves up and down, up and down, heart beating so fast she's certain its rhythms are all in her mind and that it's no longer there. She's fairly sure she lost it somewhere between meeting him and getting here, to this moment.

He stops his teasing, opting instead to arch down once more and kiss the scar on her shoulder. He kisses it over and over until she feels her heartbeat slow down and her breath return to a somewhat normal pacing.

She tugs on his locks, silently motioning for him to come back up. Up he comes, and she's glad that she's somehow convinced him to continue denying her nothing. 

"Tell me."

He knows she's referring to his scar.

They're nose to nose, foreheads touching, brown eyes boring into green ones.

"About a year and a half ago. Right when things started to get messy in my life. Messier than usual, I mean. Back then I was a bit of a nerd, hung out in the greenhouse all the time-"

"Yeah, I've heard a few stories from Terra," she cuts him off, a smile playing on her lips at the idea of Riven hunched over a lab bench with pretty vines all around him.  It's a sight she hopes to one day see with her own two eyes, a side of him she knows she's so very close to opening up.

"Yeah, well, I'm sure you know how much of a dick I was after I started distancing myself from them. Sky, he got real mad one day. We were in Specialism class, learning some new sword tricks. I said some shitty things and then he tried to play the Saint Sky card. I got mad, I fought dirty. Scraped his arm with the sword. He finally snapped at me, landed a good blow right above my eyebrow." He laughed a bitter laugh at the memory. "Nearly missed my eye, the wanker. He apologized for two months straight. Either way, we both ended up in the infirmary and I figured I couldn't get rid of him. He kept me around and I stayed, almost like when we were children and we fought over dumb shit like who was the taller. Only difference now is that his scar healed and mine stayed."

That last sentence was loaded with so much, and Musa wanted to ask more but she didn't want to push her luck. She smiled at him, nudging his nose with hers. "So you used to fight over who was taller? The mental image of a baby Sky and baby Riven getting angry over something like that is almost, dare I say, adorable?"

He scoffs. "We were not adorable! We were two very manly twelve-year-olds with very some very manly, very reasonable arguments."

"Mmm," she hums against his skin. "Is that what you two have to this day? Manly arguments?"

"Are we really bringing Sky into the conversation while we're in bed?" She laughs, a full on laugh that comes from within her because his words were not what she had expected. "If you must know, now we argue over who’s got the hotter girlfriend."

His eyes are all mischief when she shakes her head at him. "Glad to see you two have really grown up."

"And I'm glad that I got the hotter girlfriend, because I'm not sure how else you've managed to keep me completely turned on while bringing up my best friend in the middle of us fucking."

And then it's her turn to tease him, turning her head slightly to the side so that she can catch his earlobe between her teeth and whisper in his ear. "I'll make it up to you."

And then she's flipping them over so that she's on top and she feels his breath catch. She smirks down at him mischievously and then they're off again, finishing what they started. She makes sure to go slow, to feel every bit of him as she moves, catch every angle of him below her and store it in her mind for safekeeping. 

And when it's over and he's lying on his stomach, back facing the ceiling, she moves herself on top of him once more. Only this time, she kisses every scar on his body, sometimes asking where and how he got them until he finally gets the hint and starts sharing their stories before she can even ask. There are so many of them, some tiny and some much more noticeable. All of them have stories. She vows to herself that she will one day know all of them. That she will be there to soothe the next scrape, the next trauma. With each one of her kisses, she can feel the natural disaster within him reach a rhythm, not quite silenced but at peace.

They don't sleep that night. Only once she's sure she's kissed every inch of his body does she finally worm her way back into his arms, but they're both wide awake at that point. His eyes watch her in the dark, hair loose and splayed around them like some sort of blanket. It had been in pigtails at one point in the night.

"What are you thinking about?" she asks.

"I…I just," words knot in his mouth. His eyebrows furrow at her in frustration as he tries to untangle and spell them out for her. "God, I love you."

Just for that, she kisses his body all over again. And again. And again.

________________________________________________________________

Their first times have been nothing short of unexpected. It's never how either of them imagined all these firsts would go. They're not soft and tender, though there are moments like that in-between, but neither had expected that. Their raging passions did not allow for it. But what they had expected was a lot more arguing, a lot more push and pull. Instead, they seemed to somehow fall right into each other- crash and burn style, no holding back.

Their firsts were painful lessons that needed to be learned. They were gnawing pains that needed to be had, throbbing emotions that had to be felt and delt with. They were stinging feelings, these firsts- stinging because they felt too much too soon and too fast and neither knew what to do with all of that expect for let it bubble until it exploded before them in an aching manner.

Their aching firsts.

[cherrywoes]

dark sun. (ryoumen sukuna x fem! vessel! reader x oc.)

iii. yugen.

— a profound awareness of the universe that triggers feelings too deep and mysterious for words.

rating: mature.

warnings: mentions of forced child bearing, violence.

YOUR NEW HOME was small, but much larger than the tiny closet that you had been sleeping in for the past several years. A bed with a mattress lay in the center of the room, the headboard pushed against the wall, and a desk and nightstand were the only other furniture to occupy it. It was much more modern than you had expected, but still kept to the traditional layout that most of the campus had to begin with. It smelled of wood polish, cleaner, and a faint incense that was making your stomach roll unpleasantly.

“They burned sage here,” Sayaka explained quietly. She stood behind you right before the threshold of the door, holding your bag while you scoped out your new abode. The rest of the ten minute walk had been silent between the both of you, filled with Ama-no-Kagaseo’s malice, Sayaka’s worry, and your disturbing apathy at the event. She kept running her fingers over the rope handles of your bag, working at each stray strand until it fell apart. “The previous tenant passed away violently and had lingering energy in the room.”

It was a convenient lie. Sorcerers didn’t ‘haunt’ in the same way that humans would haunt their homes, families, or killers; they did not remain behind at all. Wherever they went, there was no trace of them left behind. You knew that much from a book you’d snuck from Yaga when you were younger, before you were ever a vessel. Sayaka likely didn’t know that you were aware of that fact, nor would you allow her to be. You had to be clever now; you weren’t going to lose your freedom so easily now that you had it. And if that meant hiding things from Sayaka for now, then so be it.

“I see.” Ama-no-Kagaseo’s energy swept through the room and extinguished the incense burning in a corner. The smoke dissipated as quickly as it had appeared, floating up between the slats in the ceiling and encouraged to vanish by an incorporeal hand. You would have a headache later because of the smell, but you already felt better because it was gone. You, like Ama-no-Kagaseo, had an extreme sensitivity to anything purifying or cleansing in nature—although it couldn’t kill you, it could severely cripple your senses enough to the point where you would black out. Whether or not Ama-no-Kagaseo took over was his choice after that. You had discovered that little factoid after accidentally touching a blessed object in an elder’s office. “What am I to do here? I know they wouldn’t just let me stay here without some caveat in return.”

Sayaka followed you inside and set your bag beside the door. “There were whispers of having you keep an eye on Gojou and Itadori Yuuji, but I don’t know if they ever came to an actual decision over it.”

Oh, it was too convenient—in the off chance that Gojou would wield Yuuji to take down the elders and crooked system of clans and power, you would be there to keep them in check, to counterbalance the scales into neutrality’s favor. It was a good plan, a smart one, but you highly doubted they had factored in one thing: Ama-no-Kagaseo did not follow orders.

“Right. Of course not.” You pressed your fingers into the mattress, testing the softness. Beneath the fabric, your fingertips gave way to springs, hard and slightly broken in from where someone else had slept in a specific position. It groaned beneath your slight weight and you pulled back, eyes darting around the room to search for a futon—that would be infinitely more comfortable than this bed. “So, if I’m not going to do that, then what am I going to do? Sit here and rot until they call for me?”

You were bitter, and understandably so. Your freedom was on the leash of the elders who held the other end, usually with an iron fist and heavy hand. You were always raised to never bite the hand that feeds, but it was looking far too tempting right now. You could understand Gojou, just a little bit, and his frustration with the way things worked among the sorcerer society, but it did not make you feel guilty for what Ama-no-Kagaseo did to him. Not quite.

“Just…” Sayaka sighed and sat down on a cushion at the foot of your bed. She hid her hands in her pockets, fiddling with something that sounded vaguely like a chain or chain links clinking together like windchimes. She didn’t seem nervous, for once, but more exhausted—lethargic, even. The dark circles under her eyes were more pronounced than usual, her cheeks sunken and a little wan in the light. You hadn’t paid much mind to the changes in her appearance, but when she let her guard down it was apparent that she was tired. “Be careful. The president of the Kyoto campus is coming soon for the events—no, I didn’t ask—and he’ll want to see you, presumably.”

For just a moment, you had thought she would open up to you. Your gut tumbled with disappointment.

“When am I ever not careful?” With a slight scoff and a roll of your eyes, you evaded the cushion next to her and opted for sitting at the windowsill instead. It offered a perfect view of the courtyard and a small garden out behind it, flowers just barely peeking out over the stone paths. The wood was rough and unsanded, but you tolerated it just to maintain distance between yourself and Sayaka. “My entire life has been nothing but ‘careful’. You don’t have to tell me that, Fujiwara-san.”

You could feel her flinch at the sound of her last name. You never used her last name, at least not in private, much in the same way she only ever used your last name and never your first. It was new, bizarre, and foreign, because she knew, just like you knew, that the tiny chasm that Sayaka herself had made was starting to fissure into something bigger, something that wouldn’t just close on its own.

“Right. What was I thinking?” The sorcerer rubbed her face and exhaled a long breath. With a second glance at you, she got to her feet, shrugging off the vulnerability she had shown and replacing it with the Sayaka you knew. “I’ll leave you to unpack. Dinner is at five; you can join Gojou, Itadori-san and I if you’d like.”

With that offer lingering in the air, she stepped outside your room and shut the door behind her with a quiet ‘snick’ of the lock. It wasn’t locked, but the idea was there—after all, there were no tumblers on the inside of the knob.

“Indecisive.” Ama-no-Kagaseo manifested before you in a bright spurt of black flames, stars writhing inside each individual lick of heat. You reached up to allow him to hover over your palms to which he did so gladly, the fire oddly cold against your skin in comparison to the heat in the air around him. “She knows not what she wants.”

You huffed a breath. “I know. It’s her choice to make, though.”

“Mm.” A brief flash of fire and he was reaching for his human vessel against your chest. He lingered close to it for a moment, but you could feel his thoughts churning in the connection you shared, ponderous and curious. “Interesting.”

“What is?” You inquired, watching as he allowed his human body’s eyes to slide open for the first time in decades. They were completely black and enveloped with stars, much like you had been told how you appeared, and a single blue dot appeared beneath his eye.

“Nothing. For now.” The eyes slid shut and the flame retreated back into your open palms. “Hungry?”

Your stomach was rumbling, but a glance at the clock on your new desk revealed it was just four-thirty. You wondered if you could get away with eating early and retreating to your room again without ever having to run into Gojou or Itadori, although that was highly unlikely. Avoiding anyone here was as impossible as the moon rising before the sun.

“It’s a bit early,” you said instead, leaning against the windowsill and tucking your knees to your chest. You rested your hands on your knees, watching Ama-no-Kagaseo flicker curiously at your denial for food. “It’s okay, I’m not that hungry.”

A quick rush of flames indicated he didn’t believe you, but he went incorporeal afterwards, reverting back to a cool breeze that lingered in the air around you. He likely had nothing else to say or nothing on his mind that was important; he had a habit of doing such lately, though you could never pinpoint why. You supposed that it was not important for him to retain some physical manifestation while he was thinking, or that it was not his priority if he was too deeply in thought.

With a sigh, you sat back and stretched out your legs. You weren’t sure what to do now; years without freedom had put limits on your movements and hobbies. To now be handed that freedom on a silver platter, probably with later conditions, you almost wanted to go back to being stuck in that closet room all day and night. But you couldn’t do that, not when opportunity was already in your grasp.

What did people your age do? You stared outside the window at the stone path, eyebrows furrowed in thought. You were certain they didn’t have a Curse, that’s for sure, and they definitely weren’t a vessel for the world’s most evil being in creation. They also dressed differently from you—you, who looked like you had stepped out of a mystical, traditional Japanese fantasy novel—even when they were required to wear uniforms. Their sense of style and overall mood, just from meeting Itadori Yuuji, was different from yours. You wouldn’t fit in in modern society, or even the sorcerer’s carefully monitored one.

You were stuck, in a sense, in an era that you weren’t born in.

Ama-no-Kagaseo lifted a strand of your hair with an invisible hand in comfort. He was not quick to offer a solution and merely left you to ponder on all of the possibilities within your combined power. After all, they had to be your decisions to count to the council, not his. Any hint that he was persuading you in any way would force them to lock you up in a sealed room and execute you on sight.

But that was the issue, wasn’t it? There weren’t any other female descendants. You were the last remaining female Shiraishi. The men in your clan, while unrelated to you and having married in, were too old or uninterested in obeying the whims of the elders, as was their right. You had no choice in the matter. If you wouldn’t produce an heir willingly, they would make you do it by force—you had been told that they would sweep the women away to a clinic in Tokyo and create a child artificially, guaranteeing a female offspring. You weren’t, but your father was nonexistent in your life and may as well be as dead as your mother.

“Then I’ll just have to end it,” you mumbled to yourself. It was the only right conclusion. You would stop subjecting innocent girls to being vessels and you would simultaneously release Ama-no-Kagaseo in the process. But to do that, you would need help and information from Ryoumen Sukuna. He was, after all, the one who developed the technique to seal Ama-no-Kagaseo into a human body in the first place. He would be gone as soon as all twenty fingers were found, anyway, so there was no risk for him to be resealed again. You would just have to bide your time and wait carefully until the time was right. “What do you  think, Ama-no-Kagaseo?”

In your connection, you felt him full heartedly agree—but there was also reluctance there, hesitation.

“What is it?” You inquired softly. He surprised you by completely manifesting—a childlike version of his personal form, indicative of his tumultuous emotions because, even though he was a god, he experienced emotions on a childlike level, experiencing them for the first time—and pushing himself into your arms, uncaring of his actual physical form against your chest. “Amatsumikaboshi?”

His white hair, turning a dark blue and then black towards the ends, brushed against your arms as he further wormed his way against your side, just small enough to fit on the window seat with you. He wore a drastically oversized yukata decorated with a dragon scale design, expensive, and of the same fabric as your kimono. A golden eye, as gold as doubloons, peered at you from behind a fringe of snowy white strands, and atop his head sat two sharp horns, each as white as his hair and darkening to blue towards the points. He was not as intimidating like this, but you still held the same respect for him, and he you.

“No.”

Amused, you raised an eyebrow and rested a hand on his head, combing through the strands soothingly much in the way he would yours when you were tired. “‘No’, what?”

Amatsumikaboshi—not Ama-no-Kagaseo, for this was no normal representation of a false identity—fixed you with a determined stare. He was of so few words that you only understood him through his emotions, new and unexplored as they were, and he was keeping them from you for some reason, fixed on the idea that he was going to tell you himself.

“No separation.” He frowned, then, and reached for your heart, and traced it back to his. “No split.”

“Oh.” You blinked at him, then, tilting your head to further meet his eyes. His pupils were unusual slits now, some link to a dragonic form you didn’t know of. “But we will part some day, Amatsumikaboshi. I’m only human.”

He seemed angry at that fact, eyebrows furrowing at being reminded of it. He never liked being reminded of your very finite life, at risk every time you got sick or ate something that could have been laced with poison. He glared—glared at his human form—and all at once, seemed to come to a conclusion. Some invisible future began playing out in his head, all of his own creation, and whatever it was, it made a smile appear on his face. It was the first time you’d ever seen him smile out of happiness, at least in a physical body you could see. You’d felt the others against your skin or hair, but seeing it was a different thing entirely.

“Do not worry,” he said after a few moments of silence, meeting your concerned gaze once more with disturbing intensity. “I can fix it.”

“Fix it?” You echoed. You reached forward and adjusted a fold of his yukata that threatened to crease, usually out of habit of doing it to your own. He grabbed your hand and placed it back on his head instead, waiting patiently for you to resume petting him. “What do you mean?”

“Nothing. Yet.” He rested his head against the juncture of your shoulder and chest, a hand creeping up to rest against your heart and feel the gentle beat against his fingers. “For now.”

Blinking, you were about to question him further when your stomach interrupted you. A loud growl tore through the momentary silence and Amatsumikaboshi snickered, sitting upright, all questions and thoughts forgotten—or at least ignored.

“Eat,” he said, a hint of a smile still on his face, and leaning forward, brushed a kiss against your cheek. And then he was gone in a rush of blue, black, and white sparks, as incorporeal as he was before.

You sat on the windowsill, a blush creeping up your neck, and touched the tingling skin on your cheek in slight shock. You knew he was watching you, amusement rushing through your connection, and something else—so fast you couldn’t even guess as to what it was—and probably laughing to himself.

Embarrassed, you got to your feet and slipped on your shoes, heading down the hall towards the room where Sayaka had invited you to eat with her, Gojou, and Itadori Yuuji. Hopefully they didn’t mind you being a little late.

Before you could even turn a corner, a man was staring at you—dressed entirely in black and wielding a dagger in his right hand.

“Who are you?” You demanded. He didn’t answer.

Instead, your vision went white, and before you knew it, you were back inside your consciousness, inside Ama-no-Kagaseo’s domain, except you were keenly aware of your physical body hitting the floor and Ama-no-Kagaseo’s true form standing right beside you.

“Ama-no-Kagaseo,” you whispered, shock weaving into your voice as he carefully enveloped you into his arms, much like you had earlier. He was two heads taller than you in this personal representation of himself, warm, and lean. “What happened? Why am I here?”

He hummed against your head thoughtfully, dark and insidious. “Someone is trying to break my connection to you.”

“What?” You pulled back to stare him in the face, watching those golden eyes flicker over your face as if memorizing a dream. “What do you mean ‘break’ it?”

“Don’t worry.” Ama-no-Kagaseo smiled indulgently and pulled you closer again, your ear pressed against his chest—and to your shock, the steady beat of a heart sounding against your ear. “No power in this universe will ever separate us.”

And for once, you didn’t really believe him. 

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[thefanficmonster]

Never Satisfied [Chapter 6]

Corpse Husband x Original Female Character

Warnings: Language

A collaboration between Vy & Ashens 🖤

“I don’t wanna look like this, fuck”

Previously on Never Satisfied:

Digital Checkpoint activated. Reply to save progress. 💜 — Cora

With minimal contemplation he replies seconds later.

Corpse: save

Cora: your progress has been saved. Thank you for choosing A.S.S. - the Automated Save System. You are now free to activate the digital checkpoint at any time. 

Cora: I had a nice time. Text me whenever you need to. We’ll hang out again soon, deal?

Corpse: thank you

Cora: anytime sugar ;)

Funny how a text exchange so simple and short can turn so much around for a person. Funny how a huge weight lifts off him the second he locks his phone, suddenly finding it easier to breathe, to move, to blink, to function - to live. She gives him that kick he needs to be reminded to live and not just be alive. He’s still not comfortable with how much he’s relying on her but seeing her effect on him is nothing but positive, the most and best thing he can do for himself is go with the flow and let things happen. No overthinking, no planning, no shooting guesses, just facing things as they come face-to-face with him. He may never get used to it, but he won’t know that until he tries, will he?

                                                            *  *  *

Corpse sighs as he looks at himself in the mirror. He’s been trying to step up a little with the dressing game since he’ll be having a special guest over - ok, truth be told, he didn’t invite her, she invited herself but he’s glad she did. Lord knows he wants her company and wants her around but he could never bring himself to invite her over or initiate a hangout. Good thing Cora doesn’t expect anything from him, not of that nature at least. It’s oddly amazing having a person like her - someone who basically reads his mind like an open book and then takes action according to what she’s read. It’s not only the fact that she accurately gauges all his wants and needs, but also how she knows exactly what to do to satisfy them. To calm him down, to relieve his anxiety, to make him feel comfortable. He feels strangely selfish for always being on the receiving end of this friendship, although he doesn’t see much he could do for her. He’s decided to let time have full control of the course of their relationship, hoping his giver time would come soon.

As of now, however, it still hasn’t and he can stomach that.

It’s been about a week and a half since their first hangout but he hasn’t missed her once. That may be due to how much they’ve been texting ever since he unlocked that checkpoint she offered him. To be more specific, it probably has something to do with the fact that her texts are always so full of life and light, sounding almost like she’s there with him, talking in her signature upbeat and bubbly way which is such a contrast to his own melancholic approach to any conversation ever. 

She’s also sent him a ton of memes and selfies, plus pictures she took of clients’ pets. In return for her kindness, he’s sent her bad jokes, weird internet articles about ghosts and pictures of the current game he was playing. Needless to say, their chats have been very colorful.

Now that the scene has been set up a little better, a direct timeline of events lading up to this one would be appreciated, wouldn’t it? Ok so, it all started with an “I’m bored” text Corpse received from Cora about two hours ago. Instinctively, and partially because he didn’t have any idea what else he could possibly say in response to that he sent back an apology. An apology Cora apparently deemed a loophole she could use to invite herself over cause that’s exactly what she did, not that Corpse minds it much. In fact, he felt his heartbeat quicken with excitement when her “K then, I’ll be there in a bit :)” text came in. At first he thought it was his anxiety kicking in but when he realized the rest of his typical symptoms remained absent it took him a little while to pinpoint what that emotion could be.

The epiphany came in the form of the word ‘excitement’.

Regardless of the newfound feeling, or maybe exactly because of it, he attempted to protest. A protest she killed easily with a threatening “I know where you live” text which sent Corpse scrambling to get the apartment in some kind of order. Himself too, it’s safe to say he wasn’t looking the most presentable when he received that message. 

His cleaning session consisted mostly of him shoving the strewn about items in his closet and closing it shut like a wild beast dwelled inside, placing a chair in front of the door as a sign for her not to open it and also as a way of preventing the thing from opening on its own because of how overflowing it was. 

Afterwards he scrambled into the shower to scrub himself down. It’d been too much for him to tackle given he wasn’t doing too well mentally, but considering he was now suddenly expecting company he thought it’d be for the best not to subject his new friend to the three-day-unshowered Corpse stank. 

Right now, his main focus is his face, his stomach sinking at the sight of himself in the mirror’s reflection. 

How does she even want to see me? 

His mirror is cracked along the right side, spider web-like cracks reaching towards the center of it from the impact point serving as a reminder of a particularly bad night he’d rather forget.

He sighs as he combs his hair, knowing the dark curls won’t oblige and behave no matter how much he tries. He touches his jaw, deciding to let himself off the hook by deeming that a shave wouldn’t be necessary for at least another day. And then his eyes land on his clothes - an outfit it didn’t take him long to put together since those are the only articles of clothing in his closet he’d consider presentable enough to be shown off in front of a new friend who is yet to find out how much of a slob he really is. That clothing choice consists of a black button-up shirt and jeans. 

This is nice, right? It’s fine. It’s business casual but definitely leaning more towards casual, as some would say. I look...nice, decent. I’ll take it - it’s enough. Far better than my ‘usual’.

A knock at the door startles him, though it’s quickly followed by a voice he’s grown to find very endearing: 

“THIS IS THE COPPAS! OPEN UP YA’ DOOR!” The voice yells out, probably loud enough for the whole complex to hear but it’s not like he gives a shit. And, as context clues show, neither does she.

Corpse exits his bathroom, heading for the front door, pulling the chain off and unlocking the deadbolt before opening it. The object of his newfound affection stands on the other side, grinning and beaming with that usual light she has surrounding her. Her hair is thrown up into a messy bun - a hairstyle she seems to love - and she’s wearing a simple red t-shirt covered in little chubby, cartoonish black cats that seem to be struggling to exist. 

He smiles a little, finding it in himself to speak up but when he opens his mouth to do so, she cuts him off.

“Jesus, did you just come back from a funeral?” She asks, pulling at one of the buttons on his chest as she walks past him, letting herself in. 

His eyes, completely on their own accord, wander down as she walks on by, causing him to swallow hard as he finds himself staring at a pair of tanned legs, patterned by the fishnets she’s wearing, leading up to a pair of short black shorts. 

She turns on her heel about halfway down the hall, leading him to take an inevitable notice of how her well-loved boots could use a polish. Anyhow, he snaps his gaze away to hide the fact he’s been gawking, despite not really meaning to.

“No, but for real, why are you wearing that? You seem super confined and uncomfy, bud.”

Corpse blinks before swallowing and glancing down at himself, pulling at the button she touched before looking back up, his gaze traveling up the length of her legs. She has suspenders hanging over her thighs, more of an accessory than a necessary addition to her outfit. “I just...I dunno, I thought it looked nice. Does it not? I mean, I wouldn’t know, really. I don’t usually dress like this.”

“I mean, you look dapper as fuck but if you’re not comfortable then change, get your comfy game on. I’m the last person you need to impress in this world.”

God, she sees right through him. Even so, he considers protesting, trying to convince it’s all fine, that he likes this shirt and the outfit in its entirety. But her stare sets the record straight for him - she’ll know it’s all lies. And with that in mind, he lets his shoulders fall. Not a full second passes before he promptly starts undoing his buttons. 

“Oh, thank fuck.”  She comments as he  goes to retreat into his room, stripping the shirt off as he walks, unaware of her lingering eyes on his back, unaware of her lower lip bitten between her pearly teeth. Unaware of the subtle shift in her stance as she looks him over much like he did her moments earlier.

When he returns a moment later in a simple dark grey t-shirt, she greets him with a grin and pats his chest. “Much better.”

It doesn’t take long for them to decide to crash on his couch, throw on a bad movie and just sit in comfortable silence. Comfortable silence - something that usually eats away at him and is anything but comfortable he now sees as calming, a soothe to his ever-racing mind. 

Disrespecting the movie, Corpse takes to analyzing his guest instead. She has so much confidence, he can’t help but notice, like she’s been here hundreds of times, known him for so long. He hates her a little for it. Well, it’s not quite hate, it leans more toward envy. Jealousy. That human-nature characteristic of wanting what someone else has but you desperately need/wish you had. In his mind, she’s almost selfish: Why couldn’t she share some of that confidence and carefree manner with the rest of the world? It oozes out of her like a drip of honey from a beehive, sweet and warm. And all he wants yet has none of.

He instinctively tenses up as he feels her move closer before, suddenly, her head drops into his lap, legs kicked over the armrest of the couch. He holds his breath almost subconsciously, staring at her as she remains focused on the television. Unsure of what to do with his hands, he puts one across the back of the couch and the other awkwardly bent above his head. He doesn’t want her to get the wrong idea if he touches her. He doesn’t want to come off as a creep nor does he want to overstep any of her boundaries, despite the fact she’s walking a dangerous line of overstepping his. Well, that would’ve been the case if this was done by anyone but her. The way Corpse comes to this realization is when he figures out that he really doesn’t mind this proximity, as long as he doesn’t embarrass himself or creep her out in any way.

What felt like an eternity passes before she finally speaks up, still without looking away from the movie playing on the screen opposite the couch, “You know, I can feel how tense you are.” 

His face flushes with embarrassment, heating up as his mind immediately goes to the worst possible outcome of this situation.

She’ll probably sit up, or leave, he thinks to himself, heart thumping in his ears as he tries to observe her face the best he can from this angle. Nevertheless, he swallows that fear as she rolls her head to look up at him with those large glittering doe eyes, grinning a bit as she seems to always do, “You can just put your hands wherever it’s comfortable for you. I don’t mind.”

He hesitates for a moment but, as always, he doesn’t get much say cause she makes the choice for him, knowing that pesky fear is keeping him immobile. She takes the hand from over his head and pulls it down to rest just next to her skull. She then drags the one resting at the back of the couch, placing it so his hand is resting dead-center on her stomach. Satisfied with how she’s rearranged his posture, she goes back to watching the movie but not before asking: “This okay?” while looking at him through her peripheral vision. 

He’d have to admit it’s far more comfortable like this.

“Yeah, it’s fine. You’re okay?” He asks, feeling relieved when he feels her nod against his leg. 

He moves his hand a little and swallows hard as he contemplates if he really should make the move he’s thinking of at the moment. And then he abruptly decides not to think. So, instead, he acts on it. 

Without thinking of any potential negative consequences, Corpse slides his fingers to lace with hers, resting their conjoined hands on her stomach in the same spot where she left his hand a bit ago. She curls her digits around his tighter as reassurance that it’s ok. Her palm feels warm in his hand, her thumb tracing his cold metal rings. 

Checkpoint...his checkpoint. 

Is this what it feels like to be normal?, he wonders, Is this what it feels like to really connect with someone? He has never felt this before. He’s never met someone who has such an effect on him, understand him like this - Without even having to ask she grounded him; she knew what he needed and didn’t make him feel like an idiot about it. Instead she gave him the comfort he needed.

And suddenly he finds himself afraid - realizing that this isn’t simply a vibe of two buddies hanging out. He has that subtle ache in his chest that’s telling him he wants something…something substantial from this friendship. He wants this to last, or for it to blossom, he’s not sure yet. But for the first time, he doesn’t feel the overwhelming need to figure it out. That’s one of the many effects this girl has on him - she’s the definition of improvisation, unpredictable and alive. He’s slowly learning to let loose himself, all thanks to her. Slowly, he’s learning to trust time. 

He abruptly realizes he’s glancing at her often as the movie is still running, examining her features and slowly running his gaze down the length of her fishnet-clad thighs before quickly looking away, mentally scolding himself. It’s hard, but he manages to turn his gaze elsewhere for his sake and hers. For the sake of keeping things normal, platonic and not in any way awkward for either of them. The last thing he needs is to make things weird by letting his mind wander and activate his libido and then she’d really notice how tense he is. 

Cora remains oblivious to what’s going on in his head, thank God, as she continues running her thumb across his knuckles, eyes half lidded in calm content - something that’d typically seem like the complete opposite of what she is. He likes seeing her like this, tamed almost. He feels like no one else has had the privilege to see this calm side of her. Maybe that’s not the truth - it probably isn’t - but he still feels special, knowing that it’s a tight circle of people who have seen her this way.

And then he realizes the movements of her thumb on his hand have stopped.

He freezes for a moment, his fearful gaze travelling to her face where he’s relieved to find her eyes closed only seconds before he hears a light snore escape her.

She’s fallen asleep.

It’s an odd scene. She’s such a wild and free spirit, seeing her fall asleep like this is like observing an abnormality, a paranormal event. You know, like something one doesn’t usually believe exists or is capable of happening. He’d never before been able to imagine her asleep. It’s ridiculous, he’s aware - she’s human after all, but his mind has never been able to comprehend the thought and image of her captured by the power of sleep. He simply couldn’t see it happening. But now that it’s happened in front of him, he can’t look away from the sight of her relaxed, peaceful features, overcome by sudden slumber.

And then he comes to the realization that he’s now practically held hostage on his own couch, crippled by the danger of waking her up. It’s gonna be a long while, isn’t it, he thinks to himself, yet there’s still a satisfied smile on his face. A smile that’s a result of knowing he’s held hostage by her. That’s more a blessing than a curse, if he’s being honest.

@fockingwhore  @vixenl  @annshit  @wineandionysus  @wiseflamingoqueen

[lord-of-christmas-lights]

I could post regular Narnia headcanons...

Or I could post the continuation of this post and go into depth about how Eustace and Caspian are affected by deity Narnia. Welcome back to Inhuman Narnia 101 and it turned out just as long as the first one so buckle up.

Check out this post by @dorianviolet for another awesome version of Inhuman AU Caspian

Warnings for slight body horror mentions including blood magic stuff, slight religious themes and theological discussion towards the end.

Before anything: This AU directly contradicts canon a lot. I don't care, that's why it's called an AU. Some of it is deliberate, some of it is accidental. I haven't read the books in a number of years, so this is all based on the movies and general information I've picked up from fanfic and tumblr. Discussion on this post is welcomed, criticism and arguments are not. Thank you.

First off, here is the link to an exploration of Dragoning, the Eustace-centric fic I wrote about this. I refer to it repeatedly in this post so if you want the full thing, there it is.

Second, let's get into this. So in my last post, I talked a lot about Narnia, her general existence in this AU, and her motivations as a character. She wants the people in her world to be a part of her, and no one else. Some of this is a conscious choice, and some of it isn't. Eustace's changes throughout his time in VOTDT are definitely not purposeful. It was his greed that drove him to the treasure, it was his own "curse" in becoming a dragon. That was not Narnia reaching out to him and purposefully trying to mold him to her world. As such, he takes on more of an observing role.

Eustace doesn't ever actually directly address his cousins on the subject of their inhumanity, in this fic or in any other I write. He simply sees it, notes it happening, and moves on. Even in the sections in my fics where the subject of inhumanity in general is brought up between Eustace and one of his cousins, it's always about Caspian, the greater Narnian world, or himself.

"Eustace asks why, and Lucy answers. Narnia changes people, she says. It happens to everyone, but the closer you are to her Heart, the greater it is. I don't know where Dragons are. Perhaps closer than we realized. It's exhilarating, isn't it? Aslan will return us to normal though, at the end of our journey." - AEOD

I don't know why, but I don't like the idea of Eustace trying to directly address the Pevensie brand of inhumanity. That line above takes place after his UnDragoning, after the way he sees things has changed, and I see it as him asking what exactly has changed, you know, why are Dragons different than boys?

That brings me to how Eustace himself changes. Now, if he hadn't gone and turned into a Dragon, I imagine Narnia wouldn't have taken much note of him. He's a random human, stuck-up, not at all in line for ruling her lands, and just kind of exists without much else going on. She still would have affected him a little, as she does to all humans in her world but it would have been almost entirely spiritual with no physical changes. And then we got the greatest fuck around and find out scene ever. He becomes a Dragon.

I love dragons, always have, I have a very deep spiritual connection to these creatures, and as such, I have gone all out on worldbuilding for Narnian Dragons. Again, the quote from AEOD, "...the closer you are to her Heart, the greater it is. I don't know where Dragons are. Perhaps closer than we realized." In the Inhuman AU, Dragons were the first creatures Narnia (the deity) and Aslan made when they created Narnia (the world). They just really liked the dragon shape from other worlds and thought, "Hey wouldn't it be cool if our world was populated by these big fire-breathing lizards?" Now I don't actually remember how often Dragons are mentioned and/or featured in the books so I'm going with my idea that Dragons are a somewhat rare but not extinct species. They have to be created through magical means, often through physical transformation of people or objects, though there are a few known cases of natural-born Narnian Dragons. Eustace's creation was the curse on the treasure, though I don't see his Dragoning as a curse itself. As in, the curse isn't in the being a Dragon, it's in how the Dragon was created. So, Eustace experiences this accidental change into a creature that's closer to Narnia's Heart than pretty much any other being in Narnia. They were her first creations, forged from the fire in the Stars, and they are the closest to her magic. And that gets her attention.

Now, if you went and read AEOD, you'll have noticed that one of Eustace's biggest changes (aside from the obvious physical ones) is his vision. This is just a natural thing for Dragons, they are far more in tune with magic and the earth and everything than everyone else, but Narnia's special interest in him definitely amplifies the hell out of his magic sense.

"The people here say dragons see the oddest of things, and he has to assume it's a hallucination....He refuses to give into its whims, reminds himself it's just his imagination. Until Reepicheep comments on it." - AEOD. Following this quote, Reepicheep mentions to Lucy that her inhumanity is returning faster than Edmund's and Eustace has a total panic attack at the idea that what he's seeing is real. He sees what everyone else does, Lucy's stained fingers and Edmund's ability to manipulate words, but he also notices stuff no one else does like the stars in Edmund's throat and the echoes that follow Lucy's words. This is further cemented after his UnDragoning, where the extra stuff he perceived has vanished. Now the general idea in this AU is that the closer to Narnia's Heart you are, the more you know and perceive. Everyone can see some of the more obvious inhuman aspects of the Pevensies, but there are things that only Dragons, druids, Stars, and some other magic folk really close to Narnia's Heart see. I'm not going to get into an exact chart of what certain characters can and cannot see because that can change over time and such and I'd rather leave it mostly up to personal interpretation on what other characters do and do not perceive about the Pevensies and other such inhuman characters.

(Side note—I had to pause in the writing of this post here to go to my second meeting for an autism assessment and I think if I just showed the doctor my notes app and the inhuman/dark fantasy narnia tag on my blog, I'd get the diagnosis instantly lol) So anyways, Narnia senses Eustace becoming a Dragon and is like "Ooohoo what's this?" and starts sort of digging into him in the same way she does to her Kings and Queens. This triggers his already enhanced perception of Narnia (the world) to get even stronger, and this is when he starts seeing stuff like people's souls, Caspian's second heart (more on that soon), and looking at Lucy/Edmund/Lilliandil becomes almost painful because Narnia's magic is so bright in them. Aslan then UnDragons him, which Narnia really doesn't like btw, and Eustace is back to being a fairly average human.

This is where stuff established in AEOD ends.

Now I have so many ideas and half finished fanfics written out in my notes app about Eustace, UnDragoning, and inhumanity and it would be impossible to cover them all here, so I'm just going to go with the highlights. One of my favorite ones is the idea that after Eustace's UnDragoning, he still feels very connected to being a dragon. He's had this taste of pure inhumanity, and something like that doesn't just leave a person. There's a fic I read once long before I was fully invested in this fandom about Eustace and draconity that I will never stop thinking about and was actually the reason I started considering Eustace and Narnian Dragons in this AU. One of the really important things to note is that once a Dragon is created, they can never be uncreated. They can be UnDragoned, where their physical form is returned to whatever it was before their Dragoning (a rock, a talisman, a faun, etc) but their soul has changed on a fundamental level to that of a Dragon. Now for Eustace in my Inhuman AU, this manifests spiritually as a deep longing to return to being a Dragon. Physically, he experiences fun side effects like increased heat tolerance, nails that grow faster than normal, and because Narnia likes to meddle, a single ridge of scales along his spine. In some versions of my drafts, he stays at the end of VOTDT and experiences a slow Dragoning because Narnia's influence on him is that strong, other versions he stays but never quite returns to the Dragon he was before, and in yet other versions, he returns to England and loses that connection enough that physically, he will never be a Dragon again. As I said, Narnia is fascinated by him, she's never really had a human Dragon before, but he is still just a random guy who happens to be related to the Pevensies and as such, she doesn't invest as much time or magic into his inhumanity.

So that's Eustace. This is already such a long post but I promised to talk about both him and Caspian so here we go.

Now, in my last post I talked a bit about how Narnia (the deity) affects the other humans in Narnia (the world) to an extent, but it's nowhere near the amount she does to her Kings and Queens, and also this diminishes more and more the farther you get from Narnia (the country). Telmar is fairly close to Narnia (the country) but as we see in PC, a lot of Narnia's magic and spirit has been diminished by the time Caspian is born. Up until the awakening of the land during the battle, Caspian is essentially 100% human. However, this changes very quickly.

It's hard to pinpoint the exact moment Caspian becomes a King of Narnia. Is it when he refuses to kill Miraz? Is it when Aslan tells him he's one? Is it during his actual coronation? Yes, yes, and yes. I try not to pin it down to an exact moment. By the end of PC though, he's definitely noticing some changes in himself. I have an unpublished part 2 to an exploration of Inhumanity (my only other actually posted fic on this stuff) that I swear I will clean up and get posted soon that goes into further detail on the changes he's noticing at the end of AEOI. Some of the big ones include a second golden heart, seeing some of the life magic in the world around him, and a golden glow on his palms. He also slowly develops the ability to heal, though it's not always consistent. Magic takes practice, lots and lots of practice. In pt 2, the glow on his palms has gotten so bright and also spread around his head like a halo, and Lucy shows him how to conceal it so he's not impossible to look at, but because of Magic™ there's still a dusting of golden powdery stuff across his skin. His blood turns golden because Ben Barnes + golden blood is such pretty imagery, and like the others, it gets sucked down and absorbed into Narnia's Heart when he bleeds in battle. Also when I say he's got a second heart I mean he's got a second fucking heart. Ribcage shift and all. (His appearance doesn't actually change, it's more like a pocket dimension thing going on inside him, but he sure as hell can feel it happening). Having Narnia as a patron goddess just means you have to put up with a second puberty sometimes lol.

Anyways, there's a line in AEOI that I feel explains this stuff really well. "He cannot truly protect the land without becoming a part of it himself." Narnia changes her Kings and Queens because she wants them to be a part of her. Aslan doesn't really see these changes as necessary (in canon, a world without deity Narnia, they don't happen), and if the storyline we pick is the one that's the constant cycle of humanity and inhumanity, it's sort of a push and pull between them. Aslan wants the Pevensies, and by proxy anyone else who rules Narnia or experiences these changes, to keep their humanity, to stay as they were Created by him. Narnia, however, wants them to be as much a part of her as she is of them. It's very clear in both the books and the movies that Narnia (the world) is where these characters belong. In the end, they all come home to her (yes, Susan too because fuck Mr. Clive Staples Lewis). Caspian being anything less than fully inhuman is something she cannot handle. She is constantly having to recreate the Pevensies, reestablish her hold on them, only to have them return to England and become mostly human again. Caspian cannot be taken away from her, he is in this world by birth and she is going to do everything she can to shape him into the ruler he needs to be.

Once again, I would like to state that Aslan and Narnia are not opposing sides of good and evil. Gods cannot be defined by human standards, and to think either Narnia or Aslan completely in the right or wrong in this AU would be, well, an interesting standpoint, but really not the one I'm going for here. I'm not going to say it's a misinterpretation, I am very open to hearing people's thoughts on this AU, and everyone's going to see things differently. Just, please reread what I've written about them before you start making that argument.

Anyways, that wraps this post up because I have spent the better part of the past 6 hours writing this. I spent way more time on Eustace than I intended but it's just so fascinating to think about inhumanity from his perspective considering he's the only one in canon that actually was (briefly) inhuman. Again, if you got this far, congratulations! If you use any of my ideas mentioned here, please tag me, I am so starved for inhuman Narnia content lol.