#why am i subconsciously clinging to something i know well is COMPLETELY impossible

[cardinalvalentino]

when will the torture end.

[thebladeblaster]

Digimon Tamer ZERO -Earth Arc-

Chapter 4 Nightmare Fight Part 2

“That’s impossible!”, Kai gasped as he backed away.

“That wasn’t just me making a convenient costume change to mess with you. You’ve seen what’s been happening to the rest of me in reality. He’s losing and being devoured. That’s why now I am Aichi because I’m being assimilated by the Void.”, Void Aichi explained.

“No…”, Kai growled.

“I know more than anyone that you’re too late. I’m perfectly aware of the condition of the rest of me. As I said it’s only a matter of time.”, Void Aichi replied with a content smile and closed eyes.

“I won’t allow it…I’m going to save you!”, Kai declared.

“That explains his extreme shift in behavior. When he was still mostly Tatsunagi he was taunting and playing with me but as he’s become more Aichi…he’s become more serious and cold…”, Kai thought as he met Void Aichi’s gaze.

“You can’t. Just give up. The Void has already taken near complete control of my body twice at this point. Maybe if you hadn’t proven yourself so untrustworthy recently I could have confided in you but it’s too late for that.”, Void Aichi replied.

“Don’t you dare give up, Aichi! I’ll attack! Burn it all away Overlord!”, Kai declared.

His damage had now exploded up to five as well but he wasn’t alarmed in the slightest even as he stared down a double critical.

“I guard.”, Void Aichi countered as he guarded with multiple grade zeros.

Kai gritted his teeth as he saw that no matter what he drew during his twin drive that he wasn’t breaking through. His turn ended and Void Aichi put his hand on his deck to draw his next card.

“I’ve really been such a fool. Since I was in grade school I knew the truth about people but I blindly ignored it because of this card you gave me. The moment I received it I became blinded by that false hope.”, Void Aichi explained.

“It wasn’t false. You’ve made friends. There’s countless people who have come to treasure you and couldn’t live without you.”, Kai objected.

“Friends…? Having them has just been painful…It’s only created a vulnerability which people have used to twist knives into my heart.”, Void Aichi replied.

Kai gritted his teeth as he looked down.

“That WAS my fault…because I unleashed Link Joker onto everyone. That’s not something that would normally happen. Besides, I doubt that’s how you REALLY feel. I thought that my actions under the reverse were completely my own but it had influenced me. That’s not to say I wasn’t responsible. I definitely was. I subconsciously knew and let it happen. I didn’t care as long as I continued to win.”, Kai explained.

“It’s all a pain…It hurts…It hurts too much. I’ve been in so much pain I just feel numb to it all now both physically and mentally. I WILL tear down those bonds chaining my heart!”, Void Aichi declared as he drew his card and started his turn.

This intensity…

It was definitely the kind that Aichi would give out but it was heavily distorted by the Void.

Void Aichi rode Gancelot’s break ride and filled his field with Gold Paladins effortlessly replacing the units he destroyed. Kai staggered back as he could just barely stand up to Void Aichi’s assault.

His hand was left nearly empty as Void Aichi looked down at Kai with disappointment.

“Is this how you felt when you used the reverse against me the first time? This resistance…it’s pathetic. It’s such a letdown. I haven’t fought in weeks yet you’re here on the ground barely clinging on.”, Void Aichi questioned.

“This fight hasn’t been decided yet! I’ll show you my true form! I crossride! Dragonic Overlord the End!”, Kai declared.

Void Aichi didn’t seem intimidated by the End’s presence unlike the previous time he faced it. He had to admit that Void Aichi had been playing absolutely perfectly and efficiently but he wouldn’t let something like that stop him. One thing he found odd though was that Aichi was messing around with the soul which he’s rarely done before. He would have to keep his guard up.

Kai was determined to wipe that expression off his face. That hopeless, empty expression…It was like he had been reverted to how he was before receiving Blaster Blade.

Aichi needed him again.

He needed him to save him.

And he would stop at NOTHING to do so. It was the least he owed Aichi. He would pull him back into the light to be with his friends kicking and screaming if that’s what it took. Most importantly…he would restore that hopeful smile and that pure optimism that could warm the coldest hearts. The one that melted his…even through the reverse.

Kai threw everything on the table without restraint. He was going to burn away the Void and its hold over Aichi. First in this illusion then in reality.

He burned away Void Aichi’s forces without mercy once more. Then he was battered with attacks.

Again and again…

He attacked, determined to burn the Void to ashes. No matter how many times he had to restand he would do so.

He snickered when Void Aichi threw down a perfect guard.

His whole assault was stopped cold.

“That’s it? That was boring, Kai. You think I don’t know how to deal with the End by now?”, Void Aichi questioned.

In reality…

Crusadermon easily scared off anyone in their path as they carried Kai back to Card Capital. Misaki and Emi instantly ran in when they returned with Kai and Dracomon.

“What’s going on with Kai?!”, Misaki questioned.

“We don’t know. We were hoping to find that out after getting him out of that mess outside.”, Kourin explained.

“It’s another Digimon. Is that Kai’s?”, Shin questioned.

“I’m Dracomon.”, Dracomon replied as he waved enthusiastically which made everyone sweat drop.

Any fears those inside had about the juvenile dragon melted away at its friendliness. It was quite ironic considering who his tamer was…the mostly unfriendly member of their group. They expected this out of Aichi’s partner, not Kai’s.

“Let’s lay him down.”, Shin said as he looked for a futon.

Heiressmon came out with his tail wagging at seeing another rookie.

“Oh! Friend! Friend! Wanna play?”, Heiressmon asked Dracomon as they sweat dropped.

“Children…”, Crusadermon grumbled.

The others focused on Kai as Dracomon looked over to Kai.

“Maybe later. Kai needs it. I can feel it.”, Dracomon replied.

Dracomon looked worried when he looked over to his partner. He had this ominous feeling like he was fighting for his life and there was nothing he could do to help.

With the Cardfight…

“I’m not done!”, Kai declared.

“You are. I’ve known how this fight was going to go since the beginning. My Psyqualia has been active after all. That’s why when I noticed that this fight wasn’t straying from my image I got bored.”, Void Aichi admitted.

“What?!”, Kai questioned.

“This is why I didn’t use my Psyqualia against you then…Kai. You weren’t worth it even while reversed. None of the reverse fighters were.”, Void Aichi explained.

“That’s not why…”, a voice that sounded like the normal Aichi echoed in his mind. It was very quiet and distant.

“As I told you before…I SHALL sever those bonds. The ones between me, you, and everyone else. It will all be reduced to nothingness. Just as you have…I crossbreak ride!”, Void Aichi continued.

Kai’s eyes widened in shock.

“That’s not Gancelot Zenith…”, Kai commented.

“No, it’s not. You know what it is, Kai. Descend, wayward knight stained with betrayal! With your blade you shall strike down your former Vanguard along with your former allies! Alter Liberator of Madness, Gancelot Яeverse!”, Void Aichi chanted.

Gancelot grabbed his head as he was engulfed in the darkness. A dark ooze appeared under him swallowing him whole. There was suddenly an explosion of power that sent Kai off his feet and shook the space around them. There was wind surging and converging on a single point.

Out from it emerged a shadow with glowing red eyes. He had black rings around his arms and legs. The horse was nowhere in sight. Instead the figure was on a demonic winged unicorn clad in white armored and black rings clearly, a Star Vader. It’s horn was a jagged blade. When the darkness cleared Gancelot’s armor was revealed to be pitch black like the Shadow Paladins. His glowing blue line on his armor and clothing turned red. Over his armor was a tattered black cloak. The most noticeable change was that his helmet now covered his whole head. The helmet now resembled a demon.

Kai’s eyes were wide as he drank in the sight of a Gold Paladin reverse unit. It felt…wrong.

“This isn’t right…an evil card like this doesn’t suit you, Aichi.”, Kai commented.

“You say that as if I care for your opinion.”, Void Aichi replied dismissively as he replaced his decimated front row.

Aichi had only two cards left in his hand.

That was some hope.

He just needed a heal trigger.

“It won’t come against Gancelot and it won’t matter regardless. Now…I attack!”, Void Aichi declared.

Kai took the hit knowing it was best to get a heal trigger sooner than later. He needed a heal trigger to survive this barrage.

He sweated as he slowly revealed his damage. It was a heal trigger which meant he had some hope to survive this turn.

From there Kai guarded with everything he had. Gancelot struck him harshly and his whole body ringed with pain but he was fine.

“Counterblast.”, Void Aichi said as he flipped over two damage.

All of his other Gold Paladins had suddenly become locked by their own ally. Truly a knight stained with betrayal…

“It’s good that you guarded my attack. Otherwise I couldn’t show you this. Be яeborn, Gancelot…from the depths of hell! Superior ride!”, Void Aichi declared as Kai was agast.

He superior rode another Gancelot яeverse.

“My Vanguard gains +5000 power and for every Gancelot in my soul my Vanguard gains a critical!”, Void Aichi explained.

“That’s…!”, Kai gasped.

After Aichi’s soul shenanigans he had two extra Gancelot’s in soul along with his other two. To his horror Gancelot restood ready to attack him again.

Alter Liberator of Madness, Gancelot Яeverse POWER 13000 + (4x5000) = 33000

Critical 1->4

“Drive check! No trigger! Second check…”, Void Aichi said as Kai was sweating bullets.

The reborn Gancelot was already more than enough even with his heal trigger. He had no more cards left to guard with. He only had three heal triggers left. It was already impossible for him to survive this attack.

But even then…

Void Aichi wordlessly revealed a critical trigger.

That made five crits.

Gancelot shot towards him at rapid speeds. He pierced through the End’s chest with just the air pressure of his thrust. Kai clutched his chest as he separated from the End who faded into nothing. His limbs felt heavy as his body was soaring in pain.

No amount of heal triggers could save him as he received his final damage. Void Aichi stood above him with that unempathic and cold look that creeped onto Aichi’s face in their last meeting. Kai struggled to make his body move through the soaring pain.

“Aichi has been through worse…He’s been through worse…”, Kai thought as he tried to reach his feet.

Void Aichi knocked him back down with a kick, making his pain worse. His boot was planted onto Kai’s chest. His clothes he had been wearing had changed as the Link Joker aura waved across him. It had been replaced with a black tailcoat with the same colors of the reverse: black, red, and white. It was as if the Void intended to lay its claim over Aichi by making him dawn its colors.His shoes were now boots and under his jacket was a white dress shirt.

It seemed like clothes FAR fancier than anything he could imagine the bluenette wearing in reality. Void Aichi looked over his new attire.

“I suppose it’s more fitting for what’s coming. I wonder…”, Void Aichi commented.

Kai’s eyes widened in shock when the same sword he brandished against himself appeared in Void Aichi’s hands. He raised the blade over Kai as that twisted smile finally returned.

“Through attacking an image of me you surrendered yourself to the Void. I wonder if striking an image of you would have the same effect on me. Removing any lingering resistance against the Void…”, Void Aichi continued as he met his gaze.

He could see a flicker of scarlet in Void Aichi’s eyes as he said so that along with the wicked smile made him believe that he was dealing with purely the Void again.

Kai caught the blade as he stabbed down. His hand bled as he struggled to keep the blade away from his chest. He found his hand slipping and smearing his blood down the blade. Despite him pushing it back with two hands, Void Aichi used one hand which was pushed down with unnatural strength.

He was toying with him again.

He’ll make it regret it.

In reality…

The others had gotten Kai laid down on a futon with a blanket over his.

“G-gah! Is that blood?!”, Kamui questioned.

“What…?”, Misaki gasped with a stunned expression.

Blood was dripping from Kai’s hands in real life. They had the cuts from grasping the blade.

“Kai!”, Miwa called out as he ran over to him.

Miwa ripped off his sleeve without hesitation to wrap it around Kai’s wounds.

“Do you guys have any alcohol for disinfectant?!”, Miwa questioned in panic.

“I’ll get it!”, Shin replied, practically sprinting to get a hold of some.

“We need to apply pressure to his wound.”, Misaki said as she held out a hand.

Shin nearly slipped as he handed her the bottle. She poured it over Kai’s cuts and Miwa quickly wrapped the ripped sleeves around the cuts tightly. The others looked anxious as they watched.

“Come on, Kai! Wake up!”, Miwa called out.

Dracomon stayed glued to his side and tried licking him awake.

“Wake up, Kai!”, Dracomon called out.

In the image…

“A-Aichi…! You can’t…let the Void win!”, Kai barely got out as his breaths were heavy.

“With this my heart will return to being empty just as it was before. So…when you think about it me and the Void are a perfect match. This isn't corruption. This is simply returning things to their natural order.”, Void Aichi replied.

Kai summoned all of his strength to grip the blade tightly. His hands were shaking as the blade neared his chest.

It was getting so close.

“K-Kai!”, he heard the concerned voice of Dracomon through the illusion.

“Dracomon…”, Kai thought.

A static filled image filled Kai’s mind.

“Kai…do you think we’ll meet again outside the Digital World?”, a voice came from a young boy whose face was obscured.

It sounded like Aichi.

“We definitely will. With Dracomon and Kotemon too.”, he heard himself say and then he smiled at the boy.

Kai gritted his teeth as he felt the fire inside him stirring up again. He didn’t understand what that image was but it made his resolve grow. Within his pocket a tiny device glowed. It was that of the V-pet which morphed into the Digivice and was emblazoned with a red symbol. The brunette pushed back past the pain.

He DEFINITELY won’t let the Void win.

Not like this!

Void Aichi’s smile dropped looking unamused at the interference of the Digivice.

Kai unconsciously reached for his pocket as he tried to tilt the sword away from his heart. The Void had suddenly decided to stop taunting the brunette and thrust the sword downwards.

However Kai was not greeted with more pain. He had stopped mid thrust and the hand holding the sword was now shaking.

“Aichi…”, Kai said.

The bluenette’s eyes were shadowed as sweat rolled across his face.

“W-what…? I won’t…”, Aichi muttered as his eyes were revealed to have light in them for a moment.

Kai wasted no time and aimed his Digivice at Aichi as he seemed to drift in and out being under the Void’s influence. A light erupted from Digivice hitting him. The bluenette hissed in pain as he dropped the sword. The reverse suddenly completely returned as Kai was knocked out of the image.

In reality…

Aichi shot up from his bed breathing heavily as his skin was caked with sweat. Dynasmon sat by his bedside silently guarding him like a century. He seemed to be back in his house. The royal knight must have brought him there after he passed out.

Why was he so tired…?

The bluenette wiped away the sweat from his brow.

“Was that a dream…?”, Aichi thought.

When he woke up his memory of it seemed to be rather foggy and lacking details. He felt like he was there kinda…or was he in the background? Was he fighting? Was he a spectator? His mind was spinning again as he felt very confused.

Did he try to stab Kai?!

He thinks remembers something vaguely involving a sword.

He couldn’t recall…

Dynasmon was close to his side wiping away the sweat with a towel.

“Thank you, Dynasmon.”, Aichi said.

“I believe you had some sort of nightmare. You seemed very distressed.”, Dynasmon replied.

“I did. It was scary from what remember…I hardly can though. You shouldn’t worry about it.”, Aichi admitted.

He felt himself checking his deck just in case…A few Link Joker cards had materialized out of nowhere but there was no Gancelot яeverse.

“So, that was just a dream…more like a nightmare.”, Aichi thought as he laid back.

“That lowly virus is scheming isn’t it?”, Dynasmon questioned.

“Yeah…I don’t know what it is but…I really can’t be around my friends. I think it wants to hurt them…”, Aichi replied.

“What shall our next move be?”, Dynasmon questioned as Aichi pulled up the covers.

“We’ll try to find…Gatomon, Barbamon, or…Daemon…I’m just…”, Aichi murmured before he passed out again.

Dynasmon grumbled as he put a new towel over Aichi’s head.

“That damn virus…First it’s Beezlemon now that damn thing is stalling us.”, Dynasmon grumbled.

Of course he was WELL aware that it was running out Aichi’s clock intentionally and he couldn’t exactly leave Aichi alone in good conscience in this state to fight. So, their mission would be delayed until the Void was done messing with them.

With Kai…

“Kai!”, Dracomon squeaked as Kai shot up covered his sweat.

Kai needed to wipe his face as he felt that his face was covered in salvia. Miwa pushed him back down gently.

“Kai, you’re injured. Lay down.”, Miwa said.

Kai looked down at his wrapped up hands.

“What happened?!”, Misaki questioned.

The gang was huddled around the brunette. He was not a fan of crowds…

“I think I found a way to save Aichi.”, Kai replied.

Everyone looked shocked at Kai’s words. Kai looked down to his pocket. Without him saying anything Dracomon brought out Kai’s Digivice and put it in his lap. Five of them froze when they stared at the Digivice. It looked eerily familiar as they were hit by a strong sense of deja vu.

“This thing was able to affect the Void. If we have more we might be able to completely purge it from Aichi.”, Kai explained.

To be continued…

[pigeonp0st]

As promised I now am more familiar with Lena (and I'm in love w this woman) I came to request Lena being insecure cause she grew up with her abusive mother and she's touch starved and she doesn't know how to show affection to her girlfriend (reader) but R notices she's acting a little distant and they just end up with cuddles or something like that! Pls I just need something really fluffy cause Lena deserves the world!

Lena Luthor x Reader #1

Words:1,491

Warnings: depressing thoughts (?)

Notes:

Yay! Thank you for my first Lena request ;) this...didn’t turn out as fluff filled as I planned originally, but I hope you enojoy it anyways. (Sorry for spelling mistakes!)

————

Llllian and the Luthors ingrained many things in Lena that she’s still struggling to get over. Currently, physical affection is something she’s trying to get used to—physical affection that isn’t for manipulative purposes, at least.

It’s hard though. It’s easy to want (she’s wanted it like this, from you especially, for a very long time) but hard...to accept.

That’s why when you cuddle into her at night, unprovoked, Lena only thinks of all the ways she’s undeserving.

You wrap your arms around Lena from behind, and rest your head on her shoulder like it’s nothing, and she wonders when you’ll realize she’s not good enough.

You give, and you give, and you ask for nothing in return, and Lena see’s memories of a girl who looked up at her mother with desperation, and a need for approval, and got nothing in return.

Lena remembers a girl who tried, and tried, and learned too late that nothing she ever did would ever be enough for love. That to them, she would never be worthy of love.

Intellectually Lena knows that when she was four years old, being handed to the Luthors, she had to have known what love and affection was—she looked for it with such a large amount of wanting that she couldn’t not have known what it felt like—but now…

Now Lena just doesn’t know. Well...she does, but she doesn’t know how to react to it anymore. She doesn’t know how to give it.

She does know what it feels like.

It feels like your hugs that make her feel safe, and your hand in hers that makes her feel grounded, and your kisses that make her feel like everything’s going to be okay.

Sometimes, sometimes, it’s enough to make Lena feel like this isn't something she has to earn.

Other, more unfortunate times, it serves in making Lena feel guilty. She feels guilty that she’s never the one reaching, and that you’re always the one pulling, so she pushes away because of it.

She tries to be subtle but in hindsight she probably isn’t more obvious.

Lena tries to ignore the flash of hurt in your eyes when she pulls her hand away with an excuse, and the defeat in your voice when Lena says she’s going to be home late “so just just go ahead and go to bed by yourself,” And all the while she doesn’t even know why she’s pushing when it hurts so much.

It doesn’t even help the guilt, it only makes her feel more guilty and angry at herself, and perhaps this is what she deserves.

Perhaps the self-loathing she’s so accustomed to has become a comfort.

———

You gave Lena her space—the space you aren’t even sure she wanted—but now a confrontation is in order.

You corner her in the living room one day (not really, all you do is shut her laptop and sit on her so she can’t escape) and Lena blinks up at you and says; “I was wondering how long this would take,” like she already knows what’s happening.

You’re not sure how she knows when not even you know what your plan is here...but you suppose she’s a genius for a reason.

“Lena,” you start, pouting, because you want her to know this isn’t a fight. It’s a conversation, you don’t want Lena getting defensive before it even begins.

She’s tense enough as is.

“We said we’d talk about things,” you remind her, your pout turning into a comforting smile. “What’s bothering you?”

Lena laughs, unsurprised, and says, quietly, “I have a feeling you already know.”

And yeah, you sort of do, but not completely, because Lena’s been pulling away from you, but she looks like she’s pulling herself apart too.

“Was it too much?” You ask, tilting her chin up with your pointer finger, “do you want me to dial it back on the touching?”

The way Lena’s eyes immediately widen in alarm is answer enough, but she vocalizes her disapproval anyways with a choked out; “No.”

The look you give her is complete confusion.

“No, no,” Lena repeats, eyebrows coming together, “I just—I’m—” she pauses, releasing a breath. “I’m sorry, give me a moment.”

You wait patiently while Lena gathers her thoughts, and smile to yourselves at the subconscious tap of her fingers on your arm.

“I can’t give the way you do,” Lena finally says, after what feels like hours but must’ve been minutes, and you know what she means. “I don’t know how to give affection like it’s an everyday thing, and I felt...like an asshole.”

You snort, but Lena continues after a flick to your arm, “I guess I distanced myself because sometimes I felt too much guilt around you.”

“You guess?” You tease, smiling.

Lena relaxes immediately at your smile and groans, because yeah, she knows it doesn’t make sense, she’s already acknowledged that. “I don’t really know what I was doing.”

“Lena,” you sigh, feigning exasperation, “I don’t need you to instigate hugs, or hold my hand, or be the one to cuddle up to me, or give me load of kisses, or—”

“—I get it.”

“I just need you close enough that I can do all of those things for us,” you finish.

You don’t let Lena look away when she tries, instead you clasp her face in between your hands and bring your faces close enough together that you two are touching noses.

“Even if i’m the one that instigates all of those things...Lena, you do realize that you’re usually the one that doesn’t let me pull away, right?”

She gives you a bewildered look that has you pulling away and laughing into her neck, because god, your girlfriend is a dork.

“You cling to me like a fucking sloth, babe.”

“I don’t,” Lena protests, looking aghast, but you aren’t done.

“And not only that, but you’re getting better Lena, you truly are,” you assure her, because she is. Even this week while she was pulling away from you, she still gave you subtle unconscious touches, touches that she wouldn’t have given as mindless as she had when the two of you had just met.

“I…” Lena blinks, caught off guard, “well then.”

You roll your eyes playfully, because of course Lena doesn’t see her progress. She’ll only ever see where she’s “lacking”. It’s fine though, you’ll just show her how great she is until she’s able to see for herself. All of her friends will.

“Baby, all you need to do is let me love you and it’s all I’ll ever want to do,” you admit, ghosting your finger over her cheek. Loving Lena Luthor is the easiest, most awarding, thing you’ve ever done, when she smiles at you the way she smiles at you now. Complete admiration.

Yes; this is your award.

——-

Later, when the two of you are going to bed, Lena wraps her arms around you and whispers, quietly into the darkness, “thank you”, and you love her.

You love her despite the way she struggles, and because of the way she tries, and you love her because she looks at you like you make trying easier.

“Lena?” You ask, seeing if she’s awake. She is, she kisses your cheek sleepily to let you know, and you smile immediately.

“I’m so proud of you. Not just for this progress, but for everything you are, and for everything you accomplished for people who wouldn’t acknowledge it,” you sigh into her hair, consumed by unwavering sadness for a little girl that deserved better, and for an adult that deserves more. “I see it. I acknowledge it. You’re amazing, Lee.”

This, this she has to know. This, the world needs to know.

Lena says nothing for such a long while that you think she’s fallen asleep, but then, right as you’re on the verge of sleep she whispers, wonder in her voice, “why is it that I believe you?” And then, quietly, “why is it that you make me feel worthy?”

You fall asleep wondering yourself how a woman so full of worth, and brilliance, can believe so little in herself.

Then you dream of a mother with an icy fake smile, and a brother with a crazed look in his eye, and a father who was much too busy, and you know.

You know. So when you wake up the next morning you tighten your arms around a peaceful sleeping Lena and wish only to protect her from evil that she sometimes (foolishly) believes is in herself.

——

She wakes up with mischief in her eyes, and a bright smile on her lips, and you think that maybe you should be focusing more on protecting your own heart if she keeps looking at you with that look on her face.

“Good morning, my hero,” you rasp out, lost in green eyes.

Lena’s smile turns impossibly soft. “Good morning, my love.”

[seyaryminamoto]

Matching Heartbeats: Sokkla Saturdays 2020

Day 9: Sokkla is painful for Zuko

On FF.net//On AO3

A beam of light fell upon the woman. It didn't seem out of place, yet that spotlight appeared to say she was… alone. She projected a massive shadow… so strong it might consume her completely. She glanced at the darkness that poured from inside her warily, fearfully, perhaps knowing it could overwhelm and consume her.

But then that bright light changed, shifting not in nature, but in form. And where her darkness touched him, his features became clear. Where his light touched her, she became real. And once their lips joined, it was as though all the darkness and light in the world had stopped battling, but instead had accepted their true meaning and duty: to work together, to be tied to one another for infinity, to shed light and cast shadows on equal measure, always at a perfect, matching rhythm…

Light and shadow that enabled the onlooker to finally understand what he was looking at… or rather, who he was looking at.

A loud gasp, a yelp, and then he sat up with a start. His chest was heaving, his heart racing, beads of sweat clinging to his body. What he'd just witnessed… it couldn't be. It seemed so unlikely, so uncanny, but he had seen it with his own eyes…

"What… what's wrong?"

The female voice beside him called for him, reaching for his bare arm. She always liked sleeping with the covers rolled down to her naked waist, for the Fire Nation's heat bothered her at nights. Surely by now, her violet eyes had opened as she sought to unravel whatever had startled him so badly… but in such a dark room, it was impossible to tell if she could see him yet.

"Hey…" she called again, cupping his cheek: he was still breathing loudly, heavily, and still refusing to talk. "A bad dream?"

"B-bad…? I guess it wasn't bad…" he admitted, swallowing hard.

"Then what is it?" she asked, sitting up fully beside him: she hugged him, her breasts pressing against his arm. He wanted nothing but to return to what they had been doing earlier that night, before falling asleep in each other's arms… but he couldn't. Not when he was so shaken up. "Come on, love… you can tell me anything."

"You might think I'm crazy," he said. "I… I don't know. You'll probably think I am, actually… d-don't worry, Suki, really…"

"How can I not worry when you wake up in the middle of the night like that?" she asked, pressing a soft kiss to his shoulder, trailing up to his neck. "What is it? You can tell me…"

"Y-you're sure…?"

"Of course," Suki said, and he could nearly hear the smile in her very face. He released a breath slowly.

"W-well, I… saw two people, in my dream. Two people who were… well, connected! Drawn together, it was some strange metaphor on darkness and light? And I thought it was beautiful, but then I realized I knew who they were and… and that's when I woke up."

"Then… you knew those two people?" Suki asked, caressing his hair gently.

"Yeah. I did," he said, breathing out slowly. "And they… were kissing."

"Was it us?" she asked, amused.

"Uh… that's where you'll think I'm crazy."

"Uh-oh. Dreaming about another girl, were you?"

"No, I wasn't! Suki, it was… it was Azula and Sokka."

All her teasing behavior ended abruptly then, and she pulled away from him to no doubt give him the most skeptical stare of all time, even if imperceptible in the dark room.

"You… were dreaming about your sister kissing your best friend, Zuko?"

Zuko groaned and dropped on the bed again, and Suki just sat in place in the darkness, all her interest in soothing her lover's concerns with her body suddenly frozen cold: that wasn't at all what she had expected to hear.

"I don't usually think about my sister kissing people! I mean, objectively? The idea of anyone kissing my sister is gross," Zuko groaned, covering his face with his hands. "And I'm sure the idea of anyone kissing me makes her sick too, so we're even!"

"Well, I don't know. She never seemed to mind Mai much, did she?" Suki reasoned. "And she hasn't given us a hard time or said anything about finding us disgusting, her teasing is usually… not quite about that? So… I guess you're the weird one. Must be your dream was your subconscious mind, betraying that you need to stop being so childish and accept your sister can have relationships of her own. Right?"

"U-uh… huh," Zuko frowned, his hands slipping down his face as he pondered her words. "Then… I should accept this? I guess I am unfair, aren't I…? I've been with you for two years as it is, so… maybe you're right. Maybe… maybe that's what my dream was telling me. But maybe it was also telling me something else."

"Like… what?" Suki asked, blinking blankly.

"That… the one Azula should be with is Sokka," Zuko said. Suki's jaw dropped.

"Z-Zuko…? Is it really up to you to decide that?" she asked. "I mean, it's good if you're going to accept that your sister can have relationships without making a fuss about it, she's a grown-up now, after all, and she should make her own choices… but that's part of it too, you know? Maybe she'll choose someone other than Sokka…?"

"Well, why should she?" Zuko sat up again, casting his room's lantern aglow with a quick flick of his hand. Suki's confusion was apparent underneath the new light, more so when Zuko stared at her intensely. "See this? Light! That's what he will be, for her! And she has a darkness that he can temper with his light, while her darkness gives him shape and focus! So…! It's actually the best match of all time! Suki, you see it too, right?! Don't you?!"

"Zuko… it's literally three in the morning," she pointed out. He swallowed hard. "Don't you think all the Fire Lord pressures are getting to you…?"

"No! This is…! I'm absolutely serious here, Suki! I… I wouldn't have dreamt this for no reason," Zuko determined, with certainty. Suki sighed. "Visions are real! Aang would tell you so, too!"

"Sokka once told me Aang dreamt your father wouldn't fight him because Aang wasn't wearing any pants," Suki said, looking at Zuko skeptically. Zuko swallowed hard.

"Okay but that's not the kind of dream I meant…"

"The next time, he was going to give Aang a math test. And then? He was riding a flying hippocow while telling him he had slept in on the day of the invasion," Suki continued, with a sarcastic grin. Zuko's cheeks heated up more with every new retelling of Aang's dreams. "My point is, Zuko, sometimes… dreams are just dreams! And it's not up to you to decide what Sokka or Azula should do in their love lives, okay? They're their own people, they make their own decisions. Okay?"

"Fine…" Zuko pouted. Suki laughed and kissed his cheek.

"I do love it when you get passionate about things, but… you need perspective sometimes, sweetheart," she laughed, pulling him down on the mattress again and cuddling against him.

Yet Zuko's mind and heart couldn't seem to stop racing. Even as Suki embraced him, and he turned off the lantern with another flicker of his hand, he knew what he'd seen was no chance, no mere coincidence: his sister had a soulmate, and after all the mistakes he had made in their relationship so far, he refused to make another one now. He would help her find love… and then, hopefully, Azula would find the happiness she deserved. This was the right thing for a good older brother to do, and Suki would understand by the time his new venture bore the right fruit…

...

Breakfast wasn't a particularly formal occasion in the Fire Nation Palace ever since Zuko had taken the throne. People would come and go to the dining room at whatever time they could afford to, depending on what their duties required them to do. Of course, if you were too late, the food would likely be cold, or you could end up skipping breakfast altogether and wind up eating lunch instead… the cold part was never a problem for Zuko, as he could warm his own food if need be, and he made a point to join Suki whenever she had a late breakfast due to her shifts, in case she wanted a hotter meal than she'd gotten. It was funny sometimes, Zuko had to admit, that he'd made such a fuss when Iroh had warmed up his tea in Ba Sing Se… but nowadays he was doing the same thing with many meals, and for more people than just himself.

Suki wouldn't be joining him today – she'd had an early start that morning, eaten her own meal in a rush and headed out to patrol the Palace. And while people were likely to come and go through the morning, Zuko intended to take the day as easy as he could… namely so he could wait for two very important people to stop by at the dining room.

Sokka was the first to arrive, yawning loudly as he entered the room with his usual nonchalance. After being a lanky Water Tribe boy when they had been fighting together in the war, he had even surpassed Zuko in height, and sported muscular arms with which he could likely crush someone's neck if he tried. It was, perhaps, a dark thought to be had about his friend, Zuko had to admit, but it seemed to him Azula would definitely appreciate a lover as physically strong as Sokka had become across the last years.

"Oh, you're still here, Zuko? Thought you'd be lording over your subjects by now," Sokka said, taking his seat by an available breakfast set and smiling with mischievous glee. "Woah, looks like a feast today! So much breakfast meat!"

"Thought you'd appreciate that," Zuko said, smiling. "I wanted to switch up our menus a little? If that's alright by everyone. I suppose the only risk with giving you more meat during meals is that you'll decide you want to stay in the Fire Nation for good, right?"

"And what's so wrong with that?" Sokka retaliated, grinning. "You said I'm a pretty good ambassador for the Southern Water Tribe, right?"

"You have been," Zuko nodded. "So consider this, uh… a gesture of appreciation?"

"You're weirdly generous all of sudden," Sokka said, raising his eyebrows. "Got to wonder if you have an ulterior motive, buddy…"

"W-what?! Why would I have an ulterior motive?!" Zuko exclaimed, unnecessarily loudly. Sokka inched away from the table, eyeing his friend warily.

"Umm… no reason?" he said, awkwardly. "I was just messing around?"

"Oh. Uh, sorry," Zuko smiled too. Sokka blinked blankly as he started eating, still glancing at Zuko with unease. "Sorry, I guess I'm a little on edge? It was a strange night…"

"Is that so…?" Sokka smiled awkwardly. Zuko flinched.

"I-I don't mean because of, well, Suki? Though… sorry. I know I shouldn't talk about this…"

"How many times do I have to tell you to stop worrying about it, Zuko?" Sokka smiled. "It's been like… what, seven years since she and I called it quits? And it was a mutual decision too. I'm happy you two are happy together, though I do think you should make it official eventually, you know…?"

"You know it's not easy, not even for a Fire Lord," Zuko sighed, but Sokka's change of subject brought an idea to mind. "Though… I guess I shouldn't involve myself in your love life, but you haven't really been with anyone since Suki? Or have you?"

"Uh…" Sokka's eyes shifted at Zuko before returning to his meal. "Nope. No one."

"Don't you think, maybe… you should try dating someone?" Zuko asked, with an awkward smile. "It could be good for you…"

"Dating someone?" Sokka repeated, with a light grin. "Yeah, well… I'm not sure I need to date anyone right now, but thanks, Zuko. Though you really don't have to worry about my love life when yours is so complicated, pal."

"Mine's not complicated, what's complicated is being Fire Lord," Zuko sighed. "B-but anyways, Sokka…"

"Yeah, must suck being Fire Lord," Sokka nodded. "So much to think about, so many problems to solve, and even then, you're trying to help me. You're way too nice this morning, Zuko, but you probably shouldn't be? I'm fine as I am, buddy, I promise."

"But…"

His protests would go interrupted when a new arrival stepped across the dining room… or stumbled across it, actually. Both Sokka and Zuko glanced quickly towards the archway, and Sokka even jumped to his feet, upon glimpsing Azula clasping the wall as she awkwardly made her way to the table.

"Azula?!" Zuko exclaimed, staring at her in astonishment. Sokka had raised a hand as though to help her, but upon noticing his gesture, the Princess raised her own as though to stop him: instead, Sokka wound up sliding his fingers through his hair, eyeing her worriedly. "What… what's going on? Are you okay?"

"I… shouldn't have taken up Mai and Ty Lee's invitation for a night of drinks in town…" Azula explained, stepping closer to the table. "I don't even remember… half of what happened? Don't ever drink enough to black out if you can avoid it, Zuzu…"

"You need help…?" Sokka offered, and Azula smiled.

"Gallant, but no. I'll make it to the table on my own, thank you very much…" she said, supporting herself on the many chairs around the table until she finally found a seat before which still stood a full breakfast waiting to be eaten. "Ugh, I'm not quite hungry, but… I know I should eat."

Sokka only sat down again after Azula did the same safely, groaning still as she tried to ignore the lingering pain. Zuko eyed her warily, as she sat only one chair away from him, holding her head up with a hand.

"Was it… fun, at least?" Zuko asked, with a small voice.

"I wish I knew," Azula smiled. "Might be I met my heart's true desire last night and I just forgot completely."

"No way!" Zuko laughed off, and Azula raised her eyebrows at his reaction at first, until she frowned again over the headache. "I mean, you wouldn't forget something that important, would you?"

"You underestimate the amount of alcohol I drank," Azula said, bluntly. Sokka could only laugh across the table. "What's so funny to you, Upstanding Ambassador?"

"I'm just wondering if you're blocking it all because you did something embarrassing. Like… I don't know, danced on a pub's tables? Or sang the whole repertoire of one of the Ember Island Players' musical theater plays…?"

"Ugh! No way I did anything that stupid!" Azula said. "I… hope."

"Fine, fine," Sokka laughed. "Though, you know? I think I know of a hangover remedy. I can ask the kitchen staff to fix you one, if you need it."

"Hmm… if the food doesn't fix this, I'll appreciate that," Azula said. Sokka grinned.

"No prob!"

Such a simple, friendly exchange… and yet they weren't simply teasing each other: Azula was willing to accept Sokka's help. She seldom was ready to accept anyone's assistance, but while she had changed over the years, this was unexpected… in the best of ways.

Only, Zuko's excitement over the matter had to be quite obvious, for he suddenly realized Sokka was staring at him… judgmentally, it seemed. Zuko froze, swallowing hard before returning to his own meal. Oh, Sokka would think he was going mad, wouldn't he…? But he wasn't. He knew what he was doing, and he'd get it done: his sister would be happy, and no longer lonely, and Sokka himself would appreciate it greatly once Zuko's deed was done.

"Eh… I'll go get your order in already, just in case," Sokka told Azula, smiling awkwardly before rising from the table.

He shot Zuko another strange stare as he made his way to the kitchens, while Zuko tapped his food with his chopsticks as a scolded child might. But once Sokka was gone…

"You, uh, really think you might have met someone last night?" Zuko asked.

"Didn't you hear I don't remember anything?" Azula said. "And why are you taking so long finishing your food? Need someone else to fill in your shoes while you waste your valuable time in the dining room, Fire Lord?"

"I decided today would be a lighter day for me, that's all," Zuko said, raising his hands defensively. "And I'm just saying… I'd be fine with it if you do meet someone, Azula. If you ever find someone who makes you happy…"

"And how would that be any of your business…?" Azula asked, rubbing her brow before casting Zuko a quick glare from the corner of her eyes. "This better not mean you're planning to marry me off to some foolish noble you need to get along with…"

"No! Never! I'd never do something so awful to you!" Zuko exclaimed. Azula huffed.

"I should hope so. I've said I won't be a threat for your rule anymore, but if you try something like that, I absolutely won't keep my promise," she said, sipping her morning tea.

"That's not my point, I'm just saying…" Zuko said, gritting his teeth. "That I haven't been very supportive of you for years, so I thought I'd change that, if I could…"

"Pfft, I'm perfectly used to our rhythm and relationship as it is. I don't need a doting, protective older brother… and I don't need to date anyone either, if that's what you were about to say next," Azula smiled dryly. "You have enough to worry about as it is, Zuzu. I'll live my life, you live yours."

Zuko scowled, watching bitterly as Azula continued eating without a care in the world… and his outrage only increased further once Sokka returned, setting the hangover cure by her tea.

"Hmm, thought you'd be gone already, Zuko," Sokka said, eyeing Zuko's plates. "You're almost finished eating, right?"

"Right," Zuko huffed, shooting a quick glare at Azula. "Well? Won't you drink your hangover cure?"

"I… guess," Azula mumbled. "Thank you for bringing it, Sokka."

"Don't mention it," Sokka grinned, returning to his seat "Though… it tastes like hell. Just so you know."

"Ugh… fascinating," Azula said, bringing the drink to her lips and grimacing noticeably once she tasted it. "Oh, hell, are you trying to kill me, savage?!"

"Not at all! I tell you, it works!" Sokka laughed.

"It's disgusting!" Azula roared, setting it down again and focusing on the food instead.

Zuko huffed, eating quickly as he pondered the situation some more. Both Azula and Sokka were adamant that they didn't need a relationship, didn't need his meddling, and that he had much bigger problems to worry about. Well… maybe they were right, but his dream wasn't wrong, he was sure of it. And clearly, going by all their arguing, they were still completely unaware of the fact that they were a perfect match. Yet… Sokka's willingness to help Azula was a good starting sign. While Zuko guessed it'd take a long time before they finally saw things his way, maybe he should focus on the positives and not lose hope: Sokka wasn't in a relationship, neither was Azula, and as much as they bickered, they likely were fond of each other on some level… for Azula wouldn't even acknowledge his existence if she didn't like him at all. So, there was still hope, if just a sliver of it. He could do this. He absolutely could do this…

It took him a few hours to come up with a solid plan, one that would once again show Azula how reliable Sokka was. The first stage of the plan was to ask all servants and Kyoshi Warriors to stay clear off the roofed, open corridor that led to the communications tower in the Palace for about thirty minutes, around noon. Once that was done, he snuck there, picked up one of the wall's lanterns, and shattered its oil compartment: he dropped the damaged lamp on the floor, watching with approval as the liquid spread across the corridor, all the way to the corner that led to the tower. Perfect.

After that, he hid in nearby bushes, watching quietly, knowing they'd arrive sooner than later: Sokka always had the routine to ship off his mail, whether to Republic City or to the South Pole, at these hours. As for Azula, Zuko sent her a message with a servant, asking her to give him a hand by sending some documents he allegedly didn't have time to ship off to the outer islands himself. It was a childish plan, he supposed, but it was bound to work anyways…

Sokka appeared first, and Zuko smirked: the pool of oil had spread across an intersection of two corridors, and there was no way either of them would be able to cross the halls that led to the communications tower if they didn't walk by that very intersection. He had known Sokka would come from the one where he had dropped the lantern, and Azula was set to arrive through the other corridor any second now…

The acrid smell of the oil brought Sokka out of his ruminations and papers: he raised his head to find the shattered lantern, and the pool of oil, right before his eyes.

"Woah… that's a weird accident," he said out loud, before stepping carefully towards the pool of oil.

He appeared to want to pick up the lantern, perhaps to inspect if it was damaged beyond repair or if he might have a chance to patch it up. And then… footsteps. A new set of them, down the other hall. Zuko's smirk widened as he glimpsed his sister's silhouette: she was as focused on her papers as Sokka had been, but the lantern wasn't within her line of sight, and with any luck the scent wouldn't reach her until she was too close to slow down, and then…

Then Sokka would have to jump out, wrapping his arms around her, ensuring she wouldn't slip and fall on the floor. And once he rescued her from what could have been a terribly dangerous fall, Azula would finally understand just how reliable Sokka was… she would fall in love with him before she even knew it! It was perfect!

She was so close now, a couple more steps… Sokka was already reacting, his eyes wide as he realized those footsteps meant someone might slip and fall over the oil…

"STOP!"

Zuko froze. Azula did, too, with a start.

Sokka gritted his teeth as he traversed the oil pool carefully, ensuring to step on as little of it as possible, before glancing over the corner to discover the person he had just saved from a bad slip over the oil was none other than Azula. She raised her eyebrows questioningly once their eyes met, and he smiled awkwardly, running a hand over his hair, before pointing at the pool of oil at his feet.

"This lantern broke for some reason? There's oil all over the place," he said.

"Oh… I see," Azula took a step back, eyeing the zone of disaster with confusion. "No wonder I thought it smelled like oil. Can you call someone to clean this up? I was supposed to send some mail…"

"I'm supposed to send some too, but this mess could be dangerous for anyone who walks around here," Sokka admitted, scratching the back of his head. "I'll go send mine after you're done, I'll take care of this…"

"I can send yours for you, if you want," Azula suggested, stretching a hand towards Sokka. He blinked blankly before grinning.

"That'd be a lot of help! Thanks, Azula!" he said, handing her his letters by stretching over the pool of oil until Azula could take the documents in her hands. "I'll go get someone to clean up right away, then."

"No problem. Try to be quick about it," Azula said, making a point to avoid the oil… and restarting her way to the communications tower indeed.

Leaving a frustrated Zuko to fume within the bushes he'd been hiding in. Great. Just… great. The one time he didn't want them to communicate like rational people to resolve their problems was the one time they decided to do it. Leave it to those two to sabotage his every enterprise, whether consciously or not…

Oh, but he wasn't done. He wasn't anywhere near done. Azula and Sokka were in for a surprise or many, depending on how many of his plans they forced him to enact.

...

"You called, Zuko?" Sokka's voice drifted from the door of Zuko's office at sundown. Zuko turned with a bright grin, perhaps too bright, for Sokka gave him that awkward stare again. "Uh… Zuko? You okay, buddy?"

"I was hoping you'd come. I have… a favor to ask you," he said, beaming as he picked up a package that had been resting on his desk. Sokka raised his eyebrows, puzzled. "It's for Azula."

"For… Azula? You bought her a gift?" Sokka asked.

"Well… yeah, but I don't want her to know it's from me," Zuko said. "I want you to give it to her? But, remember, no telling her it's from me. I… am just trying to do what you always told me, you know? Make efforts to repair the burned bridges and whatever figures of speech you used…?"

"I guess I did say that, but… what's the point of buying her a gift and not telling her it's from you?" Sokka asked. "How's that going to help?"

"If I'm not eager to take credit, she'll think my efforts are more genuine," Zuko said, with his practiced response, the one he'd decided on giving Sokka as he pondered how this encounter would unfold. "I think you two are getting along pretty well lately, right? So…"

"Are we?" Sokka asked, with an awkward smile. "I thought the incident with the hangover cure at breakfast yesterday would make her hate me forever? Is it your sister's fine with people who get her to drink things she hates?"

"No, but I meant…" Zuko started, but he held back: he couldn't reveal he had seen the lantern incident, the report he'd received about it merely stated Sokka had dealt with the matter, and Azula wasn't mentioned at all. As far as Sokka was concerned, he wouldn't have known they met at all, unless he had been there, too… "I meant you two could sit together and have breakfast anyway. It's good progress."

"Uh-huh…" Sokka said, skeptical again. Zuko snarled.

"Just give her the gift! And don't tell her I sent it!" he said, pushing the luxurious box into Sokka's arms.

"Fine, fine, whatever you say," Sokka sighed.

Zuko waited shortly before following Sokka across the Palace's corridors yet again. He moved stealthily, cautiously, hiding behind every statue that could conceal him, waiting patiently whenever Sokka got distracted, or whenever he glanced back, as though aware that someone was chasing after him. Finally, though, he reached Azula's room and knocked the door…

In a matter of five seconds or so, the door swung open. Zuko bit his thumb, watching them impatiently as Azula appeared to stare at Sokka with utmost confusion.

"Hey! Uh, someone sent you this," he said, simply, biting his lip. Zuko grimaced, hoping that'd be enough for Azula to mistake Sokka for being the one responsible for the gesture…

"Someone? What sort of prank is this?" Azula asked, skeptical, raising her hand to brush her bangs from her face elegantly.

"It's… hopefully, not a prank? To be honest, I should've checked the inside myself…" Sokka admitted, tugging the bindings of the box loose. Azula raised an eyebrow, watching him cautiously. "It's probably nothing that bad, but I can't be sure…"

"Are you unfamiliar with the sender? Took up a job delivering packages on the side? Here I thought being an ambassador paid well…"

"It does," Sokka smiled. "I'm just doing someone a favor, that's all…"

"Someone?" Azula repeated, skeptical.

Oh, it was working. It was absolutely working, she'd see the gift and assume it was Sokka's. Everything would go exactly as planned this time, Zuko was sure of it…!

"Alright… step back, in case there's some weird explosive?" Sokka smiled at Azula. She scoffed.

"I can control an explosion with my bending if need be. Just do it," she said. Sokka shrugged and obeyed.

He raised the lid of the gift's box only to find a silken dress with blue colors and white highlights. Azula raised an eyebrow, and Sokka's jaw dropped: it looked like a Water Tribe-themed dress, for sure. And the only Water Tribe person in the Palace, at the moment, was standing right next to Azula. Surely, all the suspicion would fall to him…

"Woah," Sokka said, scratching his head. "That's… fancy. Way fancier than any of my tribe's clothes…"

"Is that so?" Azula asked. Zuko nearly jumped in glee: she didn't believe him! She didn't! Had he succeeded this time, for sure…? "Well… to be honest, assuming you sent this would imply you have great taste in clothes, so…"

"Hey! I DO have great taste in clothes, mind you, and… wait, that sounds like you like it? A blue outfit, Princess? You're sure? People might start thinking you like my culture of savages, eh, eh?"

"No one would assume that, the color may be similar to your tribe's traditional colors, but the cut, and the design, are completely Fire Nation," Azula explained, unfolding the dress gently. "So, the question is… who has the means to commission a dress as fancy as this one, and request one of the most uncommon dye colors in the Fire Nation for it?"

"Eeeeh…" said Sokka, with an awkward smile.

"Not you, that's who," Azula said, sighing and shaking her head. "Whatever. Thank you for bringing it anyway."

"Not a problem," Sokka grinned, offering her a thumbs up after he handed the box to the Princess. "See you around!"

Azula nodded, and Sokka walked away. And Zuko was left crouching by the statue he'd been hiding behind, snarling yet again: why did it have to be so difficult? If he didn't know better, he'd assume they were making fun of him by playing dumb to this extent… ugh, it was infuriating.

But again, he wasn't done: something would work eventually. There was no way the two smartest people he knew would be this thickheaded and this resistant to the obvious, blatant, clear fact that they were MEANT for each other…

...

Another council meeting should be another opportunity to make the Fire Nation a better place, if Zuko was asked… but that's not how reality worked. Instead, it was merely another chance for his lords and military heads to continue antagonizing each other, constantly attempting to prove they were the most talented, the most loyal, the most impressive of his subjects. Getting anything done was, actually, as good as impossible.

Azula eyed him warily once the meeting was adjourned, waiting for him to climb off the throne, looking more drained than ever.

"Are they really getting to you that badly?" she asked. Zuko sighed and shrugged.

"I guess?" he said. "It's a drag. I thought we could make things better, you know? That a new era would begin with my rule, and it has, but… I could do so much more if I didn't have to go through so many protocols for even the smallest project."

"I suppose, but that's the way it works," Azula shrugged. "You need to learn how to slither through the cracks to achieve whatever you're setting out to do, Zuko. Most political challenges can't be handled through straightforward means, you understand…"

"I know, but it sucks," he groaned. "I… guess I just need to relax."

"What? Not getting it on enough with Suki lately?" Azula teased him. "Don't tell me you've already bored her…"

"N-no! That's not…! You shouldn't even ask that sort of stuff!" Zuko exclaimed, blushing. "Though… well, Suki's pretty busy most the time organizing patrols and working to keep the Palace safe. And ever since we got together, well…"

"You deliberately spend less time together in public so you won't alarm the wrong people about your relationship, I know," Azula recited, nodding. "You just want to see more of her, then?"

"Well, yeah, but I'm not that unreasonable, I know it can't always happen," Zuko sighed. "When I said I needed to relax, I meant more like… the royal spa?"

"Ah… sure," Azula said, nodding. "I guess you could visit it more often."

"You go a lot, right?" Zuko said. "In the mornings? Or do you go in the evenings? I just want to make sure I don't go at the same time as you, could be awkward and all…"

"So considerate," Azula said, raising an eyebrow. "I tend to go at ten in the morning, and I stay for around an hour, if you really must know."

"Cool. I'll go at eleven, not ten. Eleven, not ten. Eleven, not ten…" Zuko started, stepping towards the throne room's archway. Azula scoffed as she watched him leave.

"Keep saying that, and you'll end up mixing up the times!" Azula growled.

"I wouldn't do that! It's not at ten, but at eleven!" Zuko said, nodding. "See? I got it! Totally got it!"

Azula's judgmental glare followed Zuko, he could tell… but he could also tell she wouldn't see the mischievous smirk on his face as he left the premises, knowing exactly where he'd go next.

Sokka was training with a sword in the palace grounds when Zuko came across him. He smiled and waved at the Fire Lord, who grinned innocently right back at him.

"Say, Sokka… have you been to the royal spa lately?" Zuko asked him, once Sokka lowered his sword.

"Oh, hello, Zuko! Nice to see you too!" Sokka teased him. Zuko rolled his eyes.

"I just haven't been going often lately, is all," he continued. Sokka huffed. "It's a little weird, getting into that habit, but I think it'll help. I haven't been feeling like myself lately…"

"Yeah… you're a bit off," Sokka admitted, smiling awkwardly. "I don't really use it much, myself, but why do you ask?"

"Just thought it might be a little less awkward if I go with someone I can chat with?" Zuko said, smiling weakly.

"Really? But you've never been all that talkative" Sokka chuckled: Zuko's stomach, of course, sank. "Oh well, I guess that's why you don't like the spa, because you have no one to talk with while the procedures are being done? I suppose I can help, then, but… why me and not Suki?"

"Suki is probably busy at the only hour of the day I can afford to do this" Zuko said "I'd much rather go with her too, you know? But what can I do…? Besides, the staff members might suspect, and then everyone will know…"

"Zuko, I'm pretty sure most people already know about you two," Sokka smirked. Zuko flinched.

"Well, but it isn't official! Just rumors!" he pouted. "And I'm not ready to go public yet, neither is she. So… you know, I'd rather keep suspicions to a minimum."

"Whatever you say, whatever you say…" Sokka sighed. "What time do you want me to be there, then?"

"At ten?" Zuko smiled, again with a hint of mischief he couldn't quite contain. And it grew stronger when Sokka merely nodded positively.

"Alright. Tomorrow?"

"Yeah, let's see how it goes for one day, right?" Zuko said, casually. "Keep up the good work."

"Sure! Thanks!" Sokka grinned.

Oh, at this point he'd do better not to have high hopes, but he crossed his fingers and begged the universe inwardly to allow this one to bear some kind of fruit. If only they stopped resisting so much, damn it all… this was for their own good! It was worse than trying to get a toddler to swallow medicine, really…

On the next morning, his hiding place was the outside the Palace building itself: he stood in the gardens, surveilling the spa from a large window that allowed a perfect view of the spa's doors. He stood in place, ten minutes in advance, waiting patiently, clad in an inconspicuous black robe with a hood that should conceal his identity and hide him in a shroud of darkness, even if his sister or friend noticed he was around… he bit his lip, waiting still, knowing they'd both arrive eventually – Azula hated being late to any appointments, and Sokka wasn't the type to reject any chances to laze around and be pampered.

If all went well, they'd enter the spa together. Perhaps they'd bond… perhaps they'd do more than that, an idea that, despite Zuko's resolve to accept his sister's love life was none of his concern, was slightly unnerving to consider. All things considered, though, the two of them were too smart, and fully aware of how dangerous it could be to take a relationship too far while unprepared. They knew self-restraint, of course they did. They would, at most, go as far as to kiss… and then they'd decide on how to progress with their relationship in a responsible manner, until they eventually chose to marry, and by the time the wedding happened, everyone would be laughing as they shared the story of how their relationship began because Zuko, oh, silly Zuko, had given Sokka the wrong time for a spa visit, and Sokka had attended it with Azula instead…

Busy imagining such a joyous occasion, Zuko was snapped out of his daydream suddenly when a shadow crossed his line of sight: he shrank instinctively, but then glanced through the window once more… it was Azula. Good. If she went in now, Sokka would follow, neither knowing the other was inside, and then…!

Azula had reached for the doorknob but stopped cold suddenly… glancing at her left. Zuko grimaced. That couldn't be good.

With difficulty, he pushed the window open lightly, just enough to hear any conversations within that hallway, not enough to make noticeable noise, while watching as Azula toyed with a strand of her hair…

"… You're here? Why?"

"Uh… because Zuko told me he wanted to meet up with me for a visit to the spa? He told me to come at ten…"

"Ugh, the Dum-Dum mixed up the time, exactly what I told him he'd do! I warned him if he kept being foolish he'd end up coming here at the same time I did and… ugh, what would you do if you had a brother as forgetful as mine, Sokka?"

"Probably take advantage of that forgetfulness and prank him until he lost his mind?"

"That… isn't half bad an idea, actually. Good thinking."

"Anyway, I'm thinking Zuko just told me ten but meant eleven? You can go ahead, I'll wait for him out here."

"Thank you. Whenever he shows up, please kick him in the shin for me."

"Sure thing!"

Zuko huffed: this was impossible. They were impossible! What the hell was that?! They'd just respectfully chosen to go separately to the spa?! What was wrong with them?!

Oh, it was the last straw. He couldn't take it anymore. He was too young for all this stress, his hair would turn white, his heart was going to fail him… he couldn't stand it. He felt humiliated, despite no one had mocked him directly, but it seriously appeared as though those two knew exactly what they were doing to him. And he was definitely not amused.

"Screw it. Screw them, this is just…!" he rambled, shutting the window quietly again as he snarled. "They don't deserve each other! That's the truth! They want to die alone, fine, they can just go ahead and do that! I'm tired of trying to do right by anyone, it's a complete waste of…!"

"Zuko?"

He nearly screamed upon hearing someone addressing him directly. He didn't manage to hold back a light yelp, and a jump… as he turned to look at Suki. Who stood behind him, her Kyoshi Warrior uniform as impeccable as ever, her unyielding scowl judging Zuko as harshly as could be.

"U-uh, I… I can explain," he said.

"Right! You certainly should explain why you're sneaking around your own palace, dressed in a black hood as though you were a criminal, breaking into the place!" Suki smiled sardonically, crossing her arms over her chest. "For a minute there I seriously thought I should fling my katana at you. Be grateful I reconsidered and decided to figure out who you were, first."

"Sorry! I didn't meant to… ugh, Suki, it's just…" Zuko said, tense. "You know what it is."

"Uh, no, I certainly don't," she said, dryly.

"Well, you were there! You know, when I had that dream?" Zuko said. Suki's face was a mask of confusion until realization sank in. "Y-you know, the one about…?"

"About Sokka and Azula?" Suki finished, and her confusion was only further enhanced… while paired with not a moderate amount of outrage. "Zuko… have you lost your mind?!"

"I… hey! I'm fine, I'm not crazy, I'm just…!"

"Tell me, right now, that you didn't spend the last three days being so scarce, so distracted, disregarding your duties, simply because you were coming up with every strategy you could think of to matchmake those two without their awareness."

Zuko opened his mouth, and then closed it. Suki released a breath, covering her face with her hands as Zuko started chortling awkwardly.

"I-it's not that bad, is it?! I mean…! They get along enough that if they just give each other a chance, they'll see…!"

"Zuko: it's THEIR lives!" Suki exclaimed, stepping up to him and grabbing his shoulders. "You can't just try to manipulate people into doing whatever you want them to! That's not you, that never was you! For crying out loud, Zuko, just… be reasonable, can you? Whatever you saw in your dream doesn't give you the right to interfere in two people's lives this way!"

"But I'm not doing it to hurt them!" Zuko exclaimed, acutely aware that he sounded like a child throwing a tantrum. "Look, I just…! I want Sokka and Azula to be happy the way I am with you! I never imagined I'd care this much, but it turns out I do! And I know I sound and look like I'm losing my mind, but I just really think this could make their lives so much better! My sister has been through so much, Sokka appears to have outright given up on love because it never works for him… isn't it a good idea to help them regain hope through each other?"

"It's not a bad idea, no. But it's not up to you to decide this, Zuko," Suki sighed, taking his face in her hands. "And all this sneaking around… it's not going to help."

"I know. I know…" Zuko sighed, lowering his gaze.

Yes, the sneaking around probably was only hurting his cause further. But maybe that was the extent of the problem… maybe he just had to stop beating around the bush, and tell the pair of fools the truth, blunt and honest. If he did, surely they'd understand… hopefully, they'd test the waters of a relationship together, and that was all he really needed and wanted from them. Everything else was secondary.

"You need something else to focus on other than work, I bet," Suki sighed. "And that's why you're so hung up on this. We'll find you another hobby, Zuko, a less troublesome one than matchmaking…"

"Fine, but… I'll tell them both the truth," Zuko said, startling Suki.

"You'll… what?"

"Tell them, outright. I know they'll be the ones to decide what to do, I get it, they might say I'm crazy and that they never want to be with each other…" Zuko sighed. "But even then, I think I should tell them what I think, let them know I'm okay with it… if that makes sense."

"Well, I suppose it is better than sneaking around," Suki sighed, shaking her head. "You be careful though, Zuko. Make it clear you're not forcing anything on them, and that you just want to help. And if they reject that help, you'll put this aside, and go on with your life. Are we clear?"

"We're clear," he said. Suki sighed, pressing a quick kiss to his lips.

"I know you mean no harm. I hope they'll know it too. Just… you're too good for your own good sometimes, Zuko," Suki said, caressing his cheek. Zuko sighed, wrapping his arms around her body and dropping his head on her shoulder. "Though… well, I know I started it, but we probably shouldn't be doing this in broad daylight, should we…?"

"Meh," Zuko said, tightening his hold around her. "Just a little longer…"

She helped him ground himself, that was a certainty. With Suki's comforting presence he could come back to his senses, perhaps, and understand he'd gone too far… and that he needed to stay in his lane from now on. It was the best thing to do, the best way to proceed…

But first, he'd tell them the truth. And he knew the chance to do so would arrive within an hour.

...

"Ah, if it isn't the fancy Fire Lord, the guy who gives me the wrong time for our big spa visit!" Sokka announced, as Zuko entered the spa's corridor, five minutes before Azula's hour was up. "I nearly went in there with Azula instead, you know? She's still inside, but I think we can go after she's…"

"Sokka. We need to talk."

Sokka blinked blankly, his hand still gesturing at the spa's door. Those words were quite ominous, Zuko supposed, but perhaps if Sokka expected something too awful, he'd be much more receptive to the idea of being set up with Azula for a date, at the very least…

"What, exactly, do we need to talk about?" Sokka asked, with a slowly widening awkward grin. "I mean, you said you wanted someone to talk with while you were in the spa, but I didn't think you needed to talk while we're outside it, too…"

"Enough rambling," Zuko said, dismissively. Sokka pouted, hands on his hips. "I have something serious to talk to you about, Sokka. At least, it means a lot to me, and I hope it'll mean something to you too, once I'm done."

"Well, you're not being ominous at all," Sokka said, rolling his eyes. "Is this why you've been acting so weird lately?"

"Yeah. You could say that," Zuko admitted, breathing in. "Look, you… you're one of my best friends. And while I guess you could be satisfied with life as you are living it now, I also think there's a chance you're not satisfied at all, and you just don't want to burden the rest of us with the truth…"

"Uh… I'm not? I mean, thanks for the concern, Zuko, but I'm actually fine…?" Sokka said, eyeing his friend warily.

"Look, I'll just… come out and say it," Zuko said, breathing deeply. "I… had a vision. You were in it. With… someone."

"With someone?" Sokka repeated. "What kind of vision? Are you getting spirit-y visions these days too, kind of like Aang used to? Or is this sort of thing common for you…?"

"I don't know, I don't know, maybe I'm just losing it, maybe dreams are just meant to be dreams but this one spoke so clearly about things that I…! That I never even thought about," Zuko said, looking at Sokka almost pleadingly. "And I think it opened my eyes to the truth that… that there's someone out there who might just be everything you'd needed, Sokka. And if that's how it is, then I… I want to encourage you to go for it, I give you my… my blessing? As weird as it sounds."

"Dude… what the hell is going on here?" Sokka asked, inching away from Zuko warily. "You said you'd come out and say it, well, nothing you've said so far makes sense. Are you telling me I should date, or heck, even MARRY, someone… just because you saw them with me in a vision?"

"Well… yes!" Zuko exclaimed, with full conviction. Sokka's eyes narrowed.

"And… who, exactly, are you talking about?" he said, allowing himself a weak, sarcastic smile as he waited for Zuko's answer "Who's this person I should be with?"

Zuko breathed deeply, wishing he weren't so nervous upon uttering those syllables… but he was strong enough to do it. He hadn't come this far in life by being a coward: he'd absolutely do it.

"I'm talking about… about Azula," Zuko finished.

Sokka froze, his eyes widening in amusing, slow motion. It was as though realization was dawning on him, regarding each and every one of Zuko's actions as of late, and Zuko felt like a fool, but he didn't care. No, if this meant his sister would find peace and happiness, he'd endure whatever Sokka dared throw at –…

Sokka covered his mouth with a hand, and snorted. Zuko's eyebrow twitched.

"Did you just…?"

Another hand, and another chortle. Zuko's outrage was on the rise.

"Sokka?! Are you… are you LAUGHING?!"

There was no containing the Water Tribesman anymore: he dropped his hands and laughed so hard the entire Palace was likely hearing him. He doubled over, hugging his stomach, tears springing in the corners of his eyes…

"Y-you just said…!" he managed to utter, with a threat of a voice before he was overtaken with laughter again. "Oh…! Oh, no, I'm not gonna…! I can't…! I'm… AHAHAHAHAHAHA!"

With a strange posture, with his legs awkwardly twisted together, Sokka started jumping away, no doubt suggesting the laughter was strong enough to trigger certain, impulsive, bodily reactions that excessive amusement could sometimes result in. Zuko watched him shrink in the corridor, listening to the ongoing laughs, and shaking his head in outrage.

"YOU KNOW WHAT?! I TAKE IT BACK! YOU DON'T DESERVE THIS! YOU DON'T DESERVE HER! SCREW YOU, SOKKA!" he shouted, impulsively, angry enough that fire danced in his tight fists. Oh, how dared he laugh…? And laugh that loudly, too! Curses, he hoped to get a similar dream soon, of Azula with just about ANYONE else, and then he'd set up those two instead, and Sokka would learn, the bastard…

"And what the hell is the matter with you?"

Zuko froze: he had forgotten, completely, that he was standing at the spa's entrance… and that his sister was merely five minutes away from stepping out of it. Perhaps his outburst had even compelled her to leave sooner, and while her hair was shiny and her skin was bright and clear, her countenance betrayed she was most displeased by Zuko's loud shouting. Zuko swallowed hard, turning towards his sister apologetically.

"I… I'm sorry. Oh, hell, I really am sorry," Zuko growled, rubbing his forehead with his fingertips. Azula crooked an eyebrow.

"You're sorry…? Is this a multipurpose apology?" she asked. Zuko flinched and stared at her in chagrin.

"Why would it be a…?"

"Well, you see, I'm still waiting for a lot of apologies from you," Azula confessed, raising her eyebrows. "All the times you tattled on me as children, that time you ate my dessert and claimed it wasn't you, that time you locked me in an asylum, too…"

"H-hey, that's not…! No! I am apologizing for a specific thing here!"

"Ah! Then you truly aren't sorry for any of those things, to this day? Shame on you, Zuzu," Azula said, shaking her head dismissively. Zuko growled.

"I'm sorry because I was doing something I hoped would help you in the long run, but clearly I was wrong!" Zuko huffed. "That bastard… laughing like that? Who the hell told him he had any right to laugh at this?! I actually had to wrap my head around this idea, and to put aside my natural older-brother instincts of disgust at the thought of my sister with anyone, and he just LAUGHS?!"

"Uh… what did you just say?" Azula said, with an awkward smile… not too different from Sokka's own, earlier. "You wrapped your head around the idea that… I could be with someone?"

"I did!" Zuko exclaimed. "And then he just… threw it back in my face! Like an idiot!"

"He? Who's… he? The person you're trying to set me up with?" Azula asked, and her discomfort only seemed to increase. "Or is it just someone you were sharing your marvelous ideas with…?"

"Well… both," Zuko admitted, almost pouting now. "But I'm sorry. He's not worthy of you. Someone who hears about this and laughs like that is just… Ack! I should kick him out of the palace in your behalf…"

"I still have no idea who you're talking about," Azula reminded him. Zuko breathed deeply and huffed to release the air, averting his gaze from Azula's own:

"It's Sokka."

Azula fell silent. Zuko glanced at her quickly, wondering if she'd be disheartened, disappointed that that fool would be so dismissive of her potential as his love inte–…

She covered her mouth with both hands, and snorted.

"What…? WHAT?!" Zuko shouted, and just as before, Azula nearly lost her balance as she was overtaken by the strongest laughter spree he had ever heard from her. "OH, YOU KNOW WHAT?! YOU KNOW WHAT, YOU TWO ASSHOLES, I'M DONE! I'M DONE! SUKI WAS RIGHT, I SHOULD'VE NEVER TRIED TO HELP! YOU'RE JUST AS BAD AS HIM! I'M SO DONE WITH THIS! I'M NOT GETTING INVOLVED WITH YOUR PERSONAL LIFE EVER AGAIN, AZULA!"

He stormed off… and her laughter only seemed more intense as he left. Oh, he was seething. He was absolutely seething: what on earth was so funny?! What was wrong with those two?! He couldn't stand it. He had done his best by them, and they had laughed and thrown all his efforts in his face… how could they do this to him? He had been nothing but kind to Sokka, especially after he broke up with Suki, and even more so once Zuko was drawn to her, years later… he had been as generous with Azula as he could be, learning to be more patient, to offer her more opportunities to help run things in the Fire Nation, to find a purpose…!

And yet the pair of bastards had just laughed at him and all his efforts. The worst part was that their damn reactions had been as good as copies of each other: they were, in the end, completely perfect for one another. There was no sense in feeling bad for Azula, not when she had thought the idea of being with Sokka was just as laughable as, apparently, Sokka thought being with her was. So, they truly were as bad as the other… they truly were. It should further confirm they were perfect soulmates! But no, they'd rather just forsake all their chances at finding love… and truthfully? He was done caring. He was absolutely done. They could do whatever they wanted. He wouldn't even THINK about this nonsense anymore…

Or so he intended to convince himself of, but by nighttime, he laid in bed, arms crossed over his chest, still fuming as he went over the morning's events in his head. Suki sighed as she slipped into bed, reaching to massage Zuko's chest gently.

"You do realize you're as good as self-destructing over this, while those two are completely unaffected by what happened?" Suki asked. Zuko huffed and shook his head.

"They'll be affected enough when they die alone. Pair of idiots," he said. "So much for trying to be a good brother for Azula… or a good friend for Sokka. Is it too much to ask that they'd just take the possibility seriously? And I mean, even if they hate the idea, they could just… respectfully say "No, Zuko, I don't think it's a good idea", and that's it! Problem solved! But noooo, they just laughed like the mere image of them together was the most hilarious joke in the history of the world…!"

"I don't really know why they'd laugh that much, Zuko, but dear… I mean it. You need to stop thinking about this," Suki said, cupping his face, her fingers gently touching his scar. "We're all adults here, there's no reason why any of us ought to make choices for anyone else. I'm sorry they were so stupidly rude but…"

"Ugh. It's their loss," Zuko growled, wrapping his arms around his lover and pressing his face to her shoulder. "I just wanted to help, but…"

"Not everyone wants help," Suki reminded him, caressing his hair. "But you do want some, right?"

"What do you mean…?" Zuko mumbled quietly, glancing up at Suki to find her smiling slyly at him.

"I think I have an idea or two on what to do to get this nonsense off your mind…" she whispered, leaning closer, her hand sliding lower than his chest…

And she was right about that idea, for sure: Zuko smiled for what felt like the first time in the entire week, taking her into his arms…

...

Sweat trailed between the heated bodies that swayed, thrusted, shifted together. Their rhythm only accelerated, despite her body was already weakened by a previous release… but her lover was not only generous, but resilient. He wrapped his arms around her tightly, thrusting harder as he leaned over her, nibbling on her neck, kissing her cheek whenever he eased up, embracing her from behind while relentlessly driving and plowing forward. She held herself upright with difficulty, her elbows trembling, same as her spread legs…

"I'm close… I'm close…!"

"Come for me, then… Just for me…"

Words spoken with a throaty growl sent her very soul reeling: the hand that had been fondling one of her breasts now snuck lower, finding her clit and prodding it mercilessly: cries of blissful desperation tumbled from her lips, and there was no holding on, no endurance that could withstand the rushing onslaught of pleasure. And yet she knew he wasn't done: no, he didn't like finishing this way. She shuddered and nearly collapsed, but he held her closely anyway, groaning as her walls squeezed him delightfully.

"That's it… that's my girl…"

Anyone else saying those words would have been outrageous, but not him. He tore down all her defenses, all her dignity and decorum, and she damn near thanked him for it: it was blissful to let go of all pretenses, to bare herself fully to someone, for she knew he was doing the same with her, too. As soon as this had started between them, the whole world had started taking a different shape… as though they were seeing it with clear eyes, for the very first time. As though each of their matching heartbeats resounded together, dismissing every hint of fog that sought to hinder their hearts until they had found their true selves upon finding each other…

He withdrew, but not completely: only enough to turn her around, so she could lie upon his bed's many disorderly sheets, cushions and pillows. She looked luxuriously beautiful amidst them all, her hair an unkempt mess that guaranteed she'd need another royal hair-combing on the next morning, as it ever did…

"Azula…" he whispered, setting her down carefully: only his tip lingered inside her, as his face hovered inches from her own.

Her weak arms wrapped around his neck, pulling him in for a long kiss, in which they exchanged long, throaty groans, and their tongues caressed and toyed together as much as they pleased. Wordlessly, she wrapped her legs around his waist, pulling him closer, forcing him to enter her fully again… this time, facing her. He'd definitely finish now, the way he always liked to.

"Make love to me, Sokka…" Azula said, her voice weak between so many heartfelt kisses. "I'm yours… I'm yours…"

He groaned in response and thrusted: she whimpered and moaned, and he thrusted again and again, regaining his lost rhythm in her, following suit with her rolling hips. They joined their bodies powerfully, delighted by the synched thrills that coursed under their skin…

So powerful he was, so strong with that physique worthy of a god, that he knew exactly how to hold back, how to last longer, as long as he could until she came undone around him at least one more time… and she was close to doing so, so overcome by pleasure she couldn't help but show him her most honest façade, with no lies, no deceit, no masks to hide away who she truly was… or what he truly meant for her.

Just so, he showed her his deepest self, the devoted protector, the man who only thought of others ahead of himself. The one who couldn't ever seem to think of his own pleasure, for he was that set on providing as much of it as he could to her. So many underestimated him, failing to see just how strong, how soulful he could be… but not her. She knew him, saw him for who he was, and loved him just as much as he loved her.

And so every kiss they shared was a blissful height, just as every chance to link their bodies, every caress they exchanged, brought their hearts further together, blending the limits and boundaries that existed between them, as though they were becoming but one soul, one being…

His release was impending: he let her catch her breath for mere seconds before trapping her lips again, thrusting as frantically as she did, both their bodies as good as melting together once a resounding, potent climax tore through their systems, nearly powerful enough to break their kiss… only nearly. He held on, wanting to feel her, every inch of her, and she clung to him just as well, her nails raking his back, her pelvis meeting his own with the power of their desperate thrusts.

They didn't slow down their kisses, not even when their rolling hips finally eased to a halt. Their exciting bliss lingered, as good as blinding them to anything else in the world… to the mess they'd made of the fancy bed – the servants had given both of them the stink-eye for that often, as they switched between meeting in his or her room. There was no doubt in either of their minds that the evidence of their transgressions was too obvious for the maids' eyes: they knew what the two of them they were doing… and even then, they had kept their silence, fortunately.

Or, at least, they had thought it was a fortunate thing until today. Perhaps the events of that morning had a hand in the wild tryst they'd just indulged in… but even now, a sudden burst of laughter crossed Azula's face, and Sokka didn't even need to ask what was so funny: he simply joined her too, kissing her brow softly as he indulged in the beautiful, blissful sound of her voice.

"I… I can't believe we were hiding all along… thinking he'd make such a fuss if he knew, and instead…" Azula started, before a strong spree of laughter overtook her anew.

"It's not entirely his fault that he was so clueless. You just made a very convincing hungover Princess that other morning, who would've thought you could barely walk for a much more exciting reason…?" Sokka teased her, kissing her deeply, taking advantage of her ongoing laughter to taste her smiles fully, and respond to them with his own. "I'm sorry you had to drink that mess of a hangover cure unnecessarily, though. I really thought he'd have left before I returned with it…"

"Well, you owe me seven more rounds of this before I can forgive you for that," Azula declared, haughtily. Sokka snorted.

"I thought we had agreed the fee for my terrible crime was ten orgasms, not ten rounds…" he said, nibbling on her lower lip. Azula snickered.

"Absolutely not. Ten rounds, full rounds. No half-assing it, my handsome stud," she said, slapping his asscheek lightly, and yet the spanking sound seemed to resound across his room.

Sokka laughed, kissing her again, repeatedly, a thousand times if he could. Oh, he'd give her ten rounds… and then ten more. And then a million, and even more than that… his ever-growing love for her overwhelmed him, and he was decidedly addicted to showing how much he cherished her physically. If only he could stay in bed with her for a whole week… no, even that wouldn't be enough. For a lifetime, at best… and even then, he'd want her again, on the next one, and on the next. Their very souls were bonded together, and that was how he wanted them to remain, for good…

"It's just so funny because… the maids always know," Azula interrupted his spree of kisses and train of thought, dragging her hands lavishly over his back.

"Most of the servants figured us out forever ago," Sokka confirmed, laughing. "And Toph… she knows too. I told you she started messing with me by mentioning you suggestively ever since that day at Air Temple Island…"

"Heh. And somehow your sister still hasn't unraveled the truth," Azula smirked. "I bet Toph outright told her about us and she decided it was impossible."

"Yeah, sounds like both of them," Sokka acknowledged, grinning. "But apparently our code worked perfectly, right? The hair thing… seems Zuko never even noticed it's our special warning for every suspicious situation, right?"

"He'd never be sharp enough to understand our superior intellects, are you really surprised?" Azula smirked, still basking in the sensual strength of his muscular back. "The question is, though… how, exactly, are we going to break this to Zuko now…?"

"Yeah, well…" Sokka said, chortling again, laughing as he pressed his brow to hers. "I seriously thought he'd want to kill me. I never imagined he'd… say he'd even give us his blessing?"

"He told you that?" Azula laughed. Sokka smiled and shrugged.

"Your brother's a bit silly, but I guess he does mean well. And… your question still stands," Sokka said, raising his eyebrows. "How will we tell him we've been going at it like rabaroos for about…"

"Five years?" Azula finished, closing her eyes with a proud smile. Sokka snorted and laughed against her chest. "I don't know how he never suspected it, frankly. You literally congratulated him and Suki, didn't even look like it bothered you at all once they told us…"

"Yeah…" Sokka smiled. "Because it didn't. As soon as I got close to you, I knew where I belonged. And it's right here, with you."

"Hmm, not necessarily here," Azula teased him. "You were looking into whatever excuse you could to spend time in the Fire Nation once we got started… and when Zuko asked me to be his representative in Republic City, you just happened to move there too. And now, oh, how shocking, you became ambassador for the Water Tribe in the Fire Nation exactly a week after I was brought back home… so, well, it can be anywhere, as long as we're together."

"Exactly," Sokka grinned, pressing a soft kiss to her upper breast. "You're my home. I'll chase after you wherever you may go."

"Sounds good to me, because you're mine too," she whispered, slipping her fingers through his smooth, loose hair. "Though that still doesn't answer how we'll ever tell him the truth."

"Hmm. How about we tell him we thought things over and realized he was right, and…"

"And let him believe he set us up successfully? Oh, but that's too considerate towards him…" Azula smirked. Sokka laughed against her chest again, shaking his head. "No, no, no. Letting him think he discovered we're soulmates when we first realized and acted upon it five years ago is just no fun."

"I guess," Sokka chuckled. "He was just so outraged…"

"Well, if he wants us together so badly, he should be thrilled once he finds out that we are," Azula smiled. Sokka grinned mischievously at her. "Regardless of how he finds out. Or what we say to explain…"

"We should just upfront announce our wedding," Sokka decided. Azula snorted and laughed yet again. "Oh, you think it's funny? C'mon, don't play coy now, you said you'd marry me…"

"I'm just imagining his face if we show up at breakfast tomorrow and blatantly announce we're engaged," Azula laughed, tightening her embrace around her also-laughing lover. "Though it's probably not a great idea, he'll assume we're making fun of him again…"

"He always assumes that. Your brother is hopeless," Sokka smiled. "Well, you know what? I think… we just have to stop hiding. As in…"

"Oh, I don't think I'm ready to have sex in a public place, but if you really think that's a good idea…"

"No!" Sokka laughed, shaking his head and kissing her lips. Azula snickered, letting him tickle her in retaliation for her teasing. "I mean… let's just stop avoiding each other or acting as aloof and distant as we usually do during the day. We'll just… walk out of here together in the morning, no sneaking around. Lots of hand-holding, and public displays of affection…"

"And not quite in his face, we would be doing it casually, so people start talking, and rumors reach him…"Azula smiled slowly.

"And then when he sees us being stupidly, embarrassingly romantic, he'll either be smart enough to know we've been at this forever and that we only laughed yesterday because the irony of the situation was overwhelming…" Sokka chuckled. "Or he'll be silly enough to think we got together over our shared laughter at his ideas, and assume he's the entire reason our relationship began."

"Hmm… that is a good idea," Azula said, smirking. "Then, when our wedding arrives, we can talk about how long we've truly been together in our vows… and then he'll lose his shit in the middle of the temple."

"See? Perfect. We always have the best ideas, Azula," Sokka chuckled, kissing her again.

"That's what happens when two ridiculously smart people are as compatible as we are," Azula whispered, trailing her fingers over his cheek. "Ah… I guess a new life begins now, huh? If we'll finally be out in the open about our relationship…"

"Ready for it?" Sokka asked. "I know there will be some backlash, but…"

"But if I'm the trailblazing, controversial royal who marries a foreigner first, it might help Zuko, when his time comes," Azula said, smiling a little. "Putting up with whatever judgment the people may make of us should help everyone prepare for… well, what should come one day, as long as those two stay together."

"Which means, we're even doing them a favor. Perfect," Sokka grinned. "Ah, I can't wait for tomorrow now… pretending I'm single is a pain when all I want to do is scream to the world that I love you."

"I'm glad you feel like doing that…" Azula said, caressing his arm as she pulled him higher on the bed. "Though, well, I can't promise I'll join you in screaming that way. It sounds, eh, a little embarrassing…"

"Just a little?" Sokka asked, prodding her nose with his own playfully. "That's fine by me, if it's really just a little. I'll assume it's the shouting that embarrasses you, and not saying you love me"

"Indeed," Azula grinned, resting her head against his. "Tomorrow, then…?"

"Yeah… we'll see things through by tomorrow," Sokka said, taking her hand in his, to press his lips to her knuckles. "May the world know a Princess has conquered me completely."

"And may the world know a mighty warrior has conquered me," Azula grinned. "I don't really know how big a change this will be… but I think I'm ready for it."

"So am I," Sokka said, leaning close to kiss her softly.

Whether or not their truth would sit well with Zuko once he understood it in full remained to be seen – knowing Azula's overdramatic brother, he'd probably take everything the wrong way, or at least, he would until he saw irrefutable proof that they were happy together… that they had been, for a long time. That they would still be happy, no matter if their families, or friends, or the whole world, weren't ready to accept their love yet. For their bond was theirs, and only the two of them could decide its beginning or end… though, as things stood, the latter was simply unlikely to happen at all.

For in every kiss, in every breath, in every heartbeat they shared, their love was renewed, strengthened, cemented into their hearts and souls. And on the eve of the day that would certainly bring many changes to their lives, it was doubtless that they would continue to spend a lifetime falling in love with each other, drawn together without restraint, finding belonging and peace in each other's light and darkness, weaknesses and strengths, calms and storms alike. And as much as their relationship had already blossomed across five years, it seemed to the two blissful lovers that their journey was only just beginning…

...

Zuko smiled brightly as he made his way to his office, after receiving the petitioners of the day and dismissing them with either accepted or rejected requests, depending on how reasonable they might have been. Whether they were unpleasant or not, however, his mood appeared to be impervious to anything right now, all be it the result of the most successful distraction he could have hoped for, on the previous night. He wasn't usually so cheerful, anyone would confirm as much, but Suki certainly had ways to make a brightly happy man out of him, like no one else did…

Though as lost as he was in his own thoughts, delighted by remembering the events from the previous night, he caught the voices of whispering servants just before stepping into a corridor near the gardens.

"… Are you serious? They're really doing that in broad daylight?"

"Why do you think it happened? They always keep their mischief for nighttime, what do you think changed this time?

"Beats me, but I saw what I saw, if you don't believe me you can go watch them yourself…"

"Excuse me?"

The two gossiping servants squealed and squirmed away from him by sheer instinct: the male one appeared to have been the one to witness whatever they were discussing, so Zuko glanced at him.

"Where, exactly, are you saying you saw… whatever you saw?" he asked, with an awkward grin.

"J-just… over there? By the cherry trees you planted last year, Lord Zuko," said the man, swallowing hard as he pointed in the right direction. Zuko smiled and nodded.

"Thank you."

He turned smoothly… and then stormed off at haste. How happy he'd been, his mood completely soothed, his heart rejoicing in the love of his life… and now this. That pair was up to no good again, it had to be them, they had to be doing some sort of wicked scheme together to mock him after he tried to pair them up…!

He stormed through the corridors until the cherry trees in question were in sight. There were a few more onlookers within those corridors, one who sported the familiar Kyoshi Warrior uniform, and beautiful auburn hair. Zuko snuck up to her quickly, placing a hand on the small of her back despite he probably shouldn't have…

"What's going on?" Zuko asked her, unwilling to glance at the trees just yet.

"What's with that face?" Suki asked, teasingly. "And here I thought this was exactly what you wanted…"

Her words gave him pause, and he glanced impulsively at the cherry tree…

To find Sokka and Azula were underneath its shade, sitting comfortably on the ground: Sokka's legs were spread open, enabling Azula to rest against his body, curled against him with a blissful grin on her face. And when petals fell upon her frame, Sokka would fish them out – and she returned the favor too, all between quiet laughter.

"W-what… what is…?" Zuko gasped, his eyes impossibly wide. Suki, beside him, giggled.

"I guess some dreams do come true, Zuko," she said, though she had to loop an arm around his waist quickly when it looked like he might outright lose his balance. "Zuko?"

"Th-those two…" he said, blinking repeatedly, then rubbing his eyes, as though to ensure it wasn't just a dream…

And of course, he couldn't even pretend it was anymore, not when Azula pushed herself a little higher to kiss Sokka fully, boldly, with such shameless abandon it was clear she wanted the whole world to see it. And yet… the intimacy, the way they held each other, suggested that this was no prank, no attempt to make fun of Zuko for his failed attempts to match them on the previous day. No… there was no way they'd smile at each other so earnestly if they weren't serious. He had never seen such a genuine, honest expression on his sister's face… or such a heartfelt, tender one on Sokka's. They only seemed to stop kissing to gaze at each other, and then they merely took to kissing anew, whispering words softly to each other, as though no one else was welcome to intrude… despite, as it was, most everyone in the Palace was either hearing about this or already rushing to see it with their own eyes, much as Zuko had.

"Zuko…?" Suki called him, smiling. "You okay?"

"It… it's fine. I'm fine. I… I was right," he chuckled. "Those two… they do belong together."

"I'm sorry you had to suffer so much to make sure it happened, though," Suki smiled awkwardly. "I still think it would be less rude not to intrude in people's personal lives, but… it didn't turn out so badly, did it?"

Oh, but perhaps it wasn't Zuko's doing, he had to acknowledge as much: the way they acted… it suggested a familiarity, a comfort that wasn't normal in blooming relationships. The way they had laughed the previous day… Zuko had assumed they were ridiculing him. But what if that wasn't it? What if the source of their laughter was actually that their relationship had been happening already, without his awareness, and they were relishing in such an ironic situation?

It was a possibility, most definitely. A rather blissful possibility, in his honest opinion. He'd have to ask them for more details later, he guessed… but as he watched them embracing lovingly, he knew that the most important part had happened already: his sister and his best friend had forged a unique bond, through which they had found true belonging, and genuine happiness. And he could only smile proudly for it, for this was exactly the blissful way of life he had known they could find in each other.

...

Alas, it is done! I thought I'd close my stories with a more humorous oneshot this time, rather than a wildly ambitious one. I honestly hadn't planned on going as crazy as I did with this event... but I regret nothing x'D Writing all these prompts was a blast. I'm grateful to everyone who has been supporting and enjoying my oneshots! I won't deny it, a lot of them warranted being more than oneshots, but because of a certain other fanfiction pursuit that takes over my entire existence, I'd never had the chance to flesh out ideas like Evil Ursa AU, or Azula joins the Gaang AU, or, of course, Aang breaks out of the iceberg many years earlier and saves the world with the parents of the traditional Team Avatar instead. This event presented many opportunities for me to finally put those ideas to good use, and I really think I'm satisfied with the work I did, which is easier said than done for a writer.

Thank you again for all the support, and special thanks to everyone who had a hand in making these Sokkla Saturdays a complete success. I'm beyond proud to have been worked alongside all of you, and I hope I continue to do so for many years to come! Thank you for reading, and I hope you enjoyed this iteration of Sokkla Saturdays 2020!

[angelic-serenade]

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request: 🌟 Hellou!! I love ur work!! ❤️❤️❤️ Is it possible tó ha e a Alastor and younger(like 4 years younger) reader who have nightmares of his death sonetimes, cause she saw itt Back then, and go to big bother Alastor for comfort? 🦌

requested by: anon

a/n: okay so this was supposed to be a quick one-shot but my hand slipped and I wrote 9500+ words instead. oops. anyway, I hope this meets your expectations, enjoy!

gif, original work and characters do not belong to me

pairing: Alastor x sister! reader

fandom: Hazbin Hotel

warnings: mentions of death, bit of angst, traumatic events, toxic relationship if you squint, Alastor being Alastor but softer for reader

✧༝┉┉┉┉┉˚*❋ ❋ ❋*˚┉┉┉┉┉༝✧

It never rained down in Hell, no matter how ardently you had sometimes wished to feel the drops pouring down your robes. Even during your longest nights, the ones haunted by nightmares and long-forgotten memories resurfacing at your weakest, it would never rain like it did in those Gothic Novels your darling brother used to read you back in the day: you were no virtuous protagonist and never would the skies cry for your misery. It was probably one of the worst downsides of being stuck in Hell for all eternity: the equally eternal blood red sky forever looming over your head, serving as a reminder of your infernal punishment.

When you'd wake up in the middle of the night, after a particularly vivid nightmare, there was no pouring rain to muffle the sound of your hopeless wailings, no thunder to distract your spinning mind from its panic. Therefore, you found yourself continously seeking comfort from the only person you held dear to your now dead cold heart: Alastor, The Radio Demon, whom you had the privilege to refer to as your darling brother (at least in the privacy of your own bedchamber) - older brother to be precise, even if only by a few years. You had always been extremely fond of your sibiling, looking up to him as a role model - definitely not your wisest decision since it had landed you among the sinners of Hell. That's not to say you had any regrets, Heaven seemed like an awfully dreadful and boring place if you were to be completely honest.

Alastor, on his part, had affectionately doted on you back on the surface, taking his little sweetling under his protective wing as if his sole purpose in life had been to take care of you. As a consequence, on more occasions than you cared to remember, you had felt utterly asphixiated by your brother's undivided attention all your life, and quarrels had been a daily occurrence whenever his protective behavior clashed with your own desire for freedom. Your lovely mother had always been there to try and defuse your heated altercations, the poor woman; your dear brother and you, however, both shared the same stubbornness and desire to prevail on others, so that whenever your strong personalities came to oppose, trouble was always certain to follow suit.

You wished you'd appreciated his concerns more when you had been given the chance. Now in the afterlife, shows of affection were hard to come by. Mayhap that had been the worst punishment inflicted upon you after death: the privilege of having your dear brother by your side without actually being able to cherish and bask in his caring regards. Mayhap the illustrious Dante had been right in his musings all along: the law of retaliation had taken away from you the one thing you had never really appreciated in life, making you realize just how much you had taken for granted. Now that your brother had become Hell's greatest menace, an overlord to make things worse, weakness in any shape or form could and would not be tolerated under any circumstance, for both his and your sake.

Luckily, no demon in the seven circles suspected that the feared Radio Demon had any siblings to begin with, thanks to Alastor's foresight.

Your identity was to be kept secret at all costs in order to avoid undesired repercussions. If anyone were to even suspect you had any kind of connection to the Radio Demon - Alastor had told you - overlords and lesser demons alike would be at your throat in the span of a heartbeat. If given the chance, no enemy of his would ever hesitate to stoop as low as to attack him were it hurt the most, where he was most vulnerable. And that chance, he was not willing to give any time soon. You both had already died once and you were not keen on repeating the experience.

So you had followed his every order ever since your fall into the pits, leading a life death away from your darling brother and his chaotic ways - the one thing he hadn't been able to prevent in life -, keeping a low profile as a common denizen of Hell. Alastor would unsuspiciously check up on you every now and then, but his visits had been as rare as it was to see an angel in Hell - seeing him once a year was truly an unfair torture. Time went by and you grew more and more lonely as you mostly kept to yourself and wasted your days away in a nice apartment away from prying eyes. You were a nobody in Hell, and that was how things were meant to be.

Things changed when Alastor unexpectedly showed up at your doorstep for the second time in a year, blabbering about the newest project he'd involved himself with. His words betrayed unusual enthusiasm, a mood you had learned to be usually spurred on by the prospect of carnage and bloodshed or his precious radio broadcasts. Whenever he came to see you, he always showered you in gifts and praise, but it had been centuries since you had seen your brother so excited over... anything, really. Therefore, witnessing his cheeriness brought a genuine smile on your face. You were a little jealous you weren't the reason why he felt so giddy, but you couldn't complain as spending time with him was the greatest gift you could ever ask for these days. So when he told you you'd be moving into this phantomatic Hazbin Hotel, where he'd be staying for a while as well, you were impossibly ecstatic. Alastor had gently caressed your cheek and, in one of his rare moments of tenderness, softened his voice as if to lull you away:

“My dear, it has always pained me so to leave you here to your lonesome, but I am certain you understand that I always ever meant to protect you from harm.”

Unexpectedly, as most of his actions were, your dear brother spun you around into his arms as if he were coaxing you into a dance - which would probably be the case, knowing him. His words were impossibly haughty now, as if a switch had gone off in his mind:

“But now sweetling, now the time has come to finally put an end to this painful arrangement. You'll be joining me at this whimsical Hazbin Hotel our dear princess is so enthusiastic about!”

You knew better than to question Alastor and his ways, so you simply nodded your approval, glad to finally be able to leave that god forsaken apartment you had been locked in for far more than you cared to admit. And so you moved to the hotel - still keeping your true identity a secret, mind you. You were introduced as one of Alastor's acquantances, much like both Niffty and Husk were. Nobody questioned your unexpected presence and Charlie (much more than everybody else) welcomed you with opened arms into her precious hotel. When you offered to lend a hand with whatever she needed, she was utterly ecstatic. All in all, you were quick to adapt to the new situation.

The new accommodation, however, brought about quite a lot of new issues as well.

Spending so much time with Astor, for one, even if pretending not to be as close as siblings should be, awakened long forgotten memories about your life on Earth, most of which you would have preferred to keep locked away. During your very busy days, you were able to distract yourself from your scattered thoughts and memories; at night, however, your subconscious relentlessly haunted you in the form of nightmares and there was nothing you could really do to prevent it.

It was inevitable that you'd start losing sleep, as the only way to evade the cage that your mind had become was not to sleep at all. Astor had grown increasingly worried about your sleep-deprived state, even if he tried not to show it, masking his concern with his usual smile and charming talks:

“You will chase away any potential patrons looking so disheveled and shabby, my dear. Charlie will surely be heartbroken.”

You wouldn't have put it past him to manipulate you through guilt, but you knew that Alastor was truly worried about your health. His gaze, cryptic to most, felt all too familiar to you, just like the expressiveness of his smile held no secrets from you anymore. Needless to say, as fond of him as you were, you tried to sleep once again.

Then one night everything changed: it had been the worst night of your undead life, and the best one too.

The deafening sound of gunshots had echoed through your unconscious mind, increasingly loud footsteps and dogs barking so loud that you subconsciously jerked in your sleep. A call to your name, desperate, hopeless and scared. You saw him, his beautiful maroon eyes that had once only pooled in fondness for you, now dark and miserable. But they held promise too, a promise to fulfill maybe someday, in another life.

“I'm sorry (Y/N)”

His smile had dropped.

So had you.

You woke up screaming, trashing about in your bed. Sweat clung to your brow, your mind in a frenzied panic searched for something concrete and real to cling to. Was your brother alright? Satan, you hoped so. He had to be, he couldn't leave you again, you had to go to him, to see him, you didn't want to lose him again, you wouldn't bear the pain - you almost tripped in the bedsheets as you scrambled to the door.

When you arrived to Alastor's door, you had yet to calm down. You rapidly knocked on the hard wood, agitation evident in both your jerky movements and shivering hands.

“Alastor, Alastor, please. Open up. It's me” you desperately whispered.

As the door gently opened, your brother stepped into the darkness of the hallway and you unceremoniously flung yourself to him, clinging to his neck as if it were your lifeline. Your tears wet his robes, but you couldn't bring yourself to care enough to apologize. You felt like you had almost lost him again after all those years of seclusion.

But he was alive and he was with you. That's all you could hope for and far more than you thought you deserved.

Alastor uncharacteristically started to pat your head, as if trying to console you even though he had little to no experience in that area. His movements were uncertain, but as you lifted your head from his chest to gaze into his eyes, you realized no words would ever convey as much affection as Alastor's eyes did in that brief moment. His smile never faltered - even if it had become a bit strained - but you hadn't expected it to. It made you smile through your tears, despite yourself. You realized in that moment you'll forever be the only one allowed to touch Alastor without eliciting his wrath. That fact alone enough for you to truly appreciate the amount of control he'd give up in order to comfort you. He gently brought you to his bed and sat you down next to him.

“Are you quite alright sister dear? You know, those awful tears don't suit you at all! I rather much prefer your blinding smile!”

You smiled wider this time, for him, to let him know that you were indeed grateful.

“Oh, now that wasn't so difficult, was it?”

When he kissed your forehead, you almost broke up crying once again: it had been so long since you and your brother had been so close. The gesture warmed your long dead heart and you tried to return the favor by kissing his cheek. Nobody had ever been that intimate with the Radio Demon and lived to tell the tale, but in that moment he was no demon of hell: he was just Alastor, your dear brother who had doted on you in life and kept protecting you in death too - even though his ways weren't the most orthodox.

“I missed you Al. Please, don't ever leave me again.”

“I most certainly shall not, my sweet little darling. It's a promise.”

You were glad he let you stay with him for the rest of the night. No words were needed as he brought you close and took your hands into his. You both laid on the bed, in a rare moment of peace and quiet. It reminded you of your childhood on Earth and how you'd always sneak out of your room during the night to sleep next to him - you had always been afraid of the dark after all. Only in your adulthood had you learned that there are worse things than darkness one should fear.

After eons of suffering and terrible loneliness, everything finally fell into its rightful place.

Alastor was safe and so were you.

That was all that mattered.

[tanjhero-a]

Life’s Trials to Meeting You

Pairing: Tanjirou x You (Gender Neutral Reader)

Prompt: Soulmates - Shared Scars 

Word Count: 4,502 (wow!! thats 11 fucking pages on docs yall. my god)

A/N: This is my fic based off the results of the poll! This fic was originally made as a celebration for 60 followers, and since then, this blog now has 130! I’m very thankful and flattered so many of you are here. I hope you all enjoy this rather lengthy fic- I had a lot of fun writing it!

You’ve lived your whole life in moderate peace. You lived in a modest household with several siblings and your father. Life was dull, but it was safe. Your house was in the middle of a small town and you visited the same shops every day and talked to the same people. 

You yearned for more. To travel out of town and meet someone new, do something new, something… exciting. You voiced this want to your sisters, but never your father. He loved you dearly, you knew, which is why he wanted you to live your modest and easy life. There was no danger in that.

But your father was a fool. Danger lurked everywhere, especially where you don’t expect it. It stays there, hiding in the shadows and waiting to strike. And finally, danger did come- in the form of a fierce demon that ate its way through the village in a single night. Your father had you take your sisters and run into the forest for help, making you leave him behind ultimately for his own death. 

Most of your sisters didn’t make it. One of them refused to leave father behind, and another one didn’t stick close to you and got lost in the ruins of your town before she was gobbled up. Your last sister, Tamako, was only three, and she was only safe because you held her so, so tightly in your arms as you kept running far from what used to be your home. 

Eventually, the adrenaline to stay alive wore out and you stumbled your way to a beautiful tree. Your vision was fuzzy as you forced your tired limbs to climb it, your sister holding you close on your back. The purple, beautiful flowers bloomed everywhere around the tree and hid both of you somewhat effectively. “We’ll be safe here,” you assured Tamako and situated her in your lap. “The flowers will keep us safe.” 

You really didn’t know that you were actually incredibly lucky and that the Wisteria tree you hid in warded off demons- you just prayed that the demon was full and wouldn’t kill any more of your family. You held Tamako all night as she cried, and though you felt like crying yourself, you kept the tears at bay. 

You had to be strong now. There was no other way.

---

When you awoke the next morning, it was because of Tamako’s cries. You immediately jolted to see what was wrong, only to wince and cry out in pain. She was crying because of the blood staining your shirt, which happened to be the problem. 

Did you get hurt last night and not even notice?

“It’s okay, Tamako, it’s okay!” It wasn’t, but what else could you say? Your body felt woozy still, probably from blood loss, but you still collected her in your arms. “We’ll be okay. We’ll find the next town and get help and food. Aren’t you hungry?”

The change in subject seemed to calm her down. She sniffles, snot smeared across her face which you wipe off with your sleeve gently. “..yeah.” 

“Me too,” you smile. “Get on my back, Tamako, then I’ll climb down.”

She clings to you tightly as you do so, and your feet slip a few times as you work your way down the trunk. Now that you’re aware of the gash in your side, it burns and screams with each move you make. Your just glad your sister can’t see the pain on your face as you finally make it to the ground with a loud groan.

“Okay, what would you like to eat?” You keep her on your back with your arms wrapped around her tiny legs, walking in a random direction. The first thing you needed to do was find a road, and then you could find a town. 

“Buns!” Tamako yells. “...Fish. Rice.”

“That sounds yummy,” you nod your head. “Maybe we can get something sweet, too.”

“Yeah!” Her legs kick excitedly and you sigh. She’s buzzing with energy so you let her down. 

“Don’t leave my side, Tamako,” you tell her gently and continue to walk forward.

Both of you walk for what seems like hours before you reach a road, and then hours after that before you reach a town. You carry Tamako at various times despite your wound, because she gets tired and you can’t afford to stop moving. You’re lucky you finally saw buildings in the distance when you did because you’re not sure how much longer you can stay conscious. 

You stop in your tracks and slowly sit on the ground. Tamako stands beside you, holding your hand. “Listen to me,” you hold her small fingers tightly as you look into her dark eyes. “I know it’s scary, but I can’t walk any further. I need… I need you to walk the rest of the way by yourself and get help.” 

“What?” Tamako’s lips wobble into a frown. “I can’t!” 

“No, I know you can, Tamako!” You pull her into a tight hug. “It will be okay. You are so strong, I know you can do it. Follow the road, and get help when you see a person. Lead them back to me.” 

Your sister holds you back as tight as she can, her body shaking with small sobs. “Will you be okay?”

“I’ll be fine. I just… need rest.” You kiss her forehead and let Tamako go. “I love you. I know you can do it.”

You squeeze her hand one more time before the little girl scampers off, running with all her might. You sigh once she escapes your view before you lay down. The best thing you can do is try to focus on your breathing, keeping yourself alert and calm as you wait. Everything in your body hurts- your legs, your side, your hands, and arms… You don’t know if you’ll make it, to be honest. 

Your eyes flutter shut as your breathing comes to a slow. It’s too hard to stay awake any longer- could you sleep as you wait for Tamako?

Something, some far off thing deep inside your head says that’s a bad idea, but you’re too far gone to listen to the warning. 

---

When you awake, you’re somewhere completely different. Inside a house, it looks like… Did Tamako get you help?

“You’re awake,” A voice comes from another part of the room, and when you look to your left you see a beautiful woman with a butterfly inspired haori wrapped around her. “Your sister was rather worried, and so was I. Your injury was dire.”

“Tamako…” You try to speak but your throat is hoarse and dry. The woman notices and takes a cup next to your bed. She gently lifts you up enough so you can drink it. It’s tea, you realize, and even though it tastes vile you down it all in one go. You grimace once you’re done and the woman laughs. 

“It’s medicine. It will help you heal, but it doesn’t taste very good.” She lays you back down and places the cup on the stand. “Now, my dear, what happened?”

You sink into the pillows with a frown. “My town… it was attacked by a man-eating monster. I… I was supposed to protect my sisters, but only Tamako and I made it. I must have… gotten hurt, but I can’t remember how.” You don’t want to remember. You don’t want to think back to that night in any capacity. “My sister and I hid in a tree for the night, and then we walked for a really long time before I couldn’t anymore. I had her find help for me…” You look around the room, noticing there are several other beds but none of them have your sister tucked in. “Where is she?”

“This is where we keep our sick and hurt. Tamako only had a few scrapes, so she’s not here. I think she’s playing with the other children.” The woman sits down on the bed next to you, looking sorrowful as she holds her hands. “I’m sorry about your town. We actually have people there now, burying the bodies… I can have someone take you there so you can mourn when you are healed.”

Something about what she said makes you wonder. “Who are you?” You ask. “Who is ‘we’?”

“I forgot I didn’t introduce myself, I’m sorry,” the woman smiles. “I’m Shinobu. I’m a part of a group called Demon Slayers… we do just that. Protect who we can and kill demons.” 

Where were you, then? You can’t help but think. Where were you when my family was murdered?

Shinobu seems to sense your thoughts. She frowns and you think it’s unfair that even when she’s upset, she still looks so beautiful. “I am sorry we couldn’t be there for you when your town was attacked.”

You don’t want to forgive her, her or her group, but you already have. You don’t have it in you to hold a grudge against these people who you don’t even know. “It’s impossible to save everyone,” you whisper. “I know that. At least you are trying to do what you can.”

Shinobu seems grateful for your comment. But then, out of nowhere, she asks you something rather bizarre. “Have you always had that scar on your head?” 

“Oh, that?” You subconsciously reach up and touch it. “Well, it’s kind of a funny story. Originally, it looked a bit different… it just appeared on me one day. And then years later, I get this headache and the scar changed shape.” Your father never liked to talk about your mysterious scar, and no one brought it up in the village. You had almost forgotten about it, honestly.

Shinobu looks at you a bit strangely. You wonder what the problem is before she sighs. “Were you never taught about soulmates?” She asks.

“Soulmates?” The word feels funny on your tongue. What on earth was that? “No… what is it?” 

“Oh dear,” Shinobu says under her breath, frowning a bit. “I’m not the best at explaining it, but everyone has a supposed ‘soulmate’. You know this because of your scars.” She stares at your forehead. “Soulmates are people destined for each other. So, technically saying, that scar isn’t your own. It’s the scar of your soulmate.” Then she looks down at your stomach. “They will probably have quite a scare next time they take off their clothes.”

You realize she’s talking about your scar, now. Quite frankly, your mind is blown. Someone meant for you? Sharing wounds? That seems so… otherworldly. Did your father know about this? Why didn’t he tell you?

You raise your hand to your head again, tenderly touching the red mark there. “Oh…” You look over to the butterfly dressed woman. “Does everyone know about soulmates?”

“It’s fairly common to know about it, I don’t know why you didn’t.” Shinobu nods. “Anyways, I should leave now. You need to rest.”

She leaves quite quickly, leaving you alone in the large room. You’re stunned still but can’t resist the alluring call of rest. Soulmates… It could wait another time.

---

The next two weeks are spent at what you learned is the Butterfly Estate. Shinobu and her team of little doctors help you heal, and they give you goals for each day. Today, you had to walk around the garden, making three laps. It drained you to your core, but Tamako ran circles around you to keep you motivated. 

It was hard not to give up, especially when you thought about what would happen once you were better. You’d have to visit your family’s graves, and then what? You and Tamako no longer had a home. What were you going to do…?

“Come on! Come on! You can do it!” Tamako cheers, shaking you out of your reverie. Well, you were far from being completely better, so those thoughts aren’t important now. 

You can worry about it later. For now, you want to enjoy your time at the estate and have Tamako as happy as she can be.

---

The day to leave has finally come, filling you with dread.

The people at the butterfly estate were so kind and helpful, so loving, that they began to feel like a second family to you and Tamako. You didn’t want to leave them at all, but it had to be done. A new, messy and worrisome chapter has opened in your life and it was time to start it. 

Tamako’s friends, the little nurses, helped pack your bags with anything you would need since you had basically nothing. They gave you food for your journey as well, rice balls and dumplings, making Tamako cheer happily. She played with everyone for one last time as you stood by the gate, watching them run around with sad eyes. 

“You’re welcome to come back,” a voice comes from behind you, and you realize it’s Shinobu. 

“I didn’t think you would be here! Weren’t you on a mission?” You embrace her tightly, glad that you were able to see her before you left. She hugs you back with gentle hands. 

“I finished up quickly. I know you don’t have a place to stay after you visit your family’s graves…” She lets you go with a sigh, looking at your scar again and touching it gently. You noticed that Shinobu lingered on your soulmate mark quite frequently, but you never knew why. “What if you stayed here? I could teach you and Tamako how to use medicine and heal.”

“But- you work with demons. Isn’t it dangerous?” You shake your head. “Tamako and I wouldn’t survive this life. We weren’t made for it.”

“But maybe you are,” Shinobu smiles. “This mark…” She taps the scar with her thumb. “It is a warrior’s mark.”

You have a feeling she knows more than she’s telling you. Shinobu’s always been that way, and it’s frustrating, but you know she’s looking out for you. “I can’t fight,” you tell her. “But… If you help me, I will try. But I won’t put Tamako through it, not for many years.”

Shinobu looks delighted by your answer as she hugs you again. “Wonderful. Then come back home safe.”

...Home. You hold her back, tears in your eyes. “I will.”

---

Once you made it back to the butterfly estate with Tamako, things got better. You trained so you could at least swing a katana and do some damage, though it felt silly since you were ultimately doing all this just to become a nurse. Shinobu pushed you though, telling you that it was better to be prepared and know how to fight than be helpless. You agreed with her, but it didn’t make the training any easier, along with studying medicine and healing techniques.

There was one night where you had trained alone, out in the forest focusing on the breathing techniques that Shinobu taught you and slashing at the trees. It was a quiet, uneventful night before you heard rustling in the distance. You were all alone, but at least you had your katana. You face the noise with a fierce grip on your weapon,  practically shaking in your boots before- wham- you’re shoved to the ground. 

Someone had run right into you, apparently, sending you both flying and rolling in the dirt. When you looked up to see who it was, you were quite surprised to see… a demon.

Your hairs stand on edge as you stare at the female demon and she stares back. Her eyes are a bright pink, her long hair colored red at the ends. And, most surprisingly, a stick of bamboo is tied around her head to cover her mouth. “Are…” Your throat is dry all of a sudden. “Are you okay..?”

You really didn’t know what to do. Your only experience with a demon was the one that killed your family, but you’re getting a whole different vibe from this one. Is that possible? 

The demon’s pink eyes look up at the mark on your forehead, her eyebrows drifting up in surprise. But whatever moment the two of you had ended when another demon comes bustling through, headed straight for you.

Without thinking, you take your sword and slice at the other demon, its arm coming right off. You take a defensive stance in front of the girl, and you don’t really know why. The demon looks outright repulsed that you stopped it, but you can tell it’s inexperienced and dumb by how quickly you managed to cut off its head. 

Suddenly you became hyper aware of your surroundings, and you knew you weren’t alone. There were more of them. Looking back to the girl demon, your eyes soften as you reach out a hand. “You were running away, right?” You ask her. “Come on, let’s go.”

Surprisingly, she takes your hand, and for some reason, she knows exactly where to go. The two of you run together, but she leads, taking you somewhere but you don’t know where. You would ask, but considering how her mouth is busy with bamboo, you decide to trust her.

Why? You really, really don’t know. Maybe you’re stupid.

More demons come, and even though you were told they don’t work together, it seems an awful lot like what they’re doing since they all seem desperate to kill you both. You fight until you’re drained, and then you keep fighting after that because it’s the only thing you can do to stay alive. You’re still inexperienced, though, and you can tell you aren’t breathing right anymore. The battle has overwhelmed and frightened you to your core, and you keep thinking, Why am I here? Why am I doing this? Who is this for?

Another figure, alone this time, jumps from out of nowhere and goes right for your demonic ally. Your body almost naturally intervenes, holding your katana up to the stranger’s neck with a fierce look on your face. You’ve already realized that he’s not a demon, but the girl is, and you can’t have him killing her. “Back off,” you snarl at him.

“Wh- oh-” the boy’s eyes go wide, looking at you in disbelief. “It’s okay. That- that’s my sister,” he stutters, and his eyes never leave you. He’s not even meeting your eyes, he keeps looking at… your forehead.

How did you not notice his own scar before? “Oh,” you mimic, the grip on your katana loosening as you point it to the ground. You look back at the demon behind you, your mind overwhelmed and dizzy. “Your sister…?” 

“Nezuko,” the boy- your soulmate, apparently- calls to her and the girl demon happily returns to his side. “I… Who are you?” He asks. 

“I’m…” You blink rapidly, looking at the ground. God, why was everything so fuzzy? “I’m…” Did you already say that? You look to the boy, concern in his gaze. 

Before you can say or do anything else, the exhaustion from running and fighting your first battle catches up with your body, and you’re falling to the ground as your brain decides to shut off. 

---

Voices are what wake you up. Angry, concerned tones that make you think that maybe people were fighting nearby. Fighting..?

“-can’t believe you got them mixed up in your mess, they aren’t ready-“ 

Was that Shinobu?

“-you knew and you never told me?” 

You didn’t know that voice, that’s for sure, but for some reason, it sent a warm feeling down your spine. 

“-not ready-“

“-not your decision to make-“

When you sit up, you’re hit with a wild headache that pounds your skull. “Gods,” you hiss in pain, and suddenly the fighting that you heard before stops. You blindly reach next to you, knowing there’s a cup of water, medicine, something, waiting for you. Someone hands you what you’re looking for and you murmur thanks as you down what was thankfully just water. 

When you finally blink your eyes open, you see Shinobu first, and a nervous boy lingering behind her. You recognize him but you can’t quite remember… then you look at his familiar mark and remember quite vividly who he is and you stop looking at him. 

Soulmate. 

It’s dead quiet before you muster up the courage to speak. “I’m fine, Shinobu,” you try to reassure her. “I know I’m inexperienced and I shouldn’t be dealing with demons… I know I’m only learning these skills for self defense, but… she needed help.” That’s all you could say.

“For all you knew, she was another demon. She could have torn you apart.” Shinobu says, anger still in her tone but you look up to her in defiance.

“But she didn’t! She… I know it’s weird, but I knew she wouldn’t hurt me.” You touch your chest, over your heart. “I could feel it.” 

Shinobu sighs, turning away from you. You can tell she’s conflicted. “You are still so ignorant.” That’s all she has to say before she leaves the room, leaving only you and your mysterious soulmate inside.

“I suppose I was ignorant. She’s not wrong. There’s still so much I haven’t seen or done…” you speak aloud, slowly working up the courage to look at him. “But I was right, wasn't I?”

The boy smiles at you so softly, making him look so trusting and handsome that your heart feels like it’s going to burst. He sits on the edge of your bed, next to your feet. You notice that his checkered haori is gone and instead he just wears his Slayer Uniform.

“You were,” he nods. “It makes sense why you would feel that way, considering…”

The both of you blush at the acknowledgment. He clears his throat with a laugh before he presents his hand to you. “I’m Tanjirou Kamado.”

It’s rather silly, but you indulge him and shake his hand. It’s firm and calloused, clearly he’s more experienced with a katana than you are. You give him your own name. “Your sister… Nezuko?” Tanjirou nods, slowly letting go of your hand. “How did that happen?” You ask, before quickly skidding to a stop nervously, “only if you want to tell me, of course.”

Tanjirou laughs, and even though you’re embarrassed, you think his laughter is beautiful. “Of course, I’ll tell you anything, ___,” he looks at you so adoringly that you’re sure that your heart really did burst by now.

The two of you spent what felt like minutes but was truly hours together, talking about your lives and tragedies, everything that led up to this. You found that you felt wonderful around Tanjirou, and talking to him was easy and comfortable. Somewhere between the stories, your hands found each other again, and they stayed linked and warm together as you talked. When you explained the demon attack on your village and how you got your scar, his eyes burned with empathy.

If anyone knew what losing your family to demons was like, it was him. Tanjirou was just sorry that you had to witness it with your own eyes- he was lucky enough to only see the aftermath. 

“I always wondered what had happened to you when I saw it on my side. It made me wonder what kind of person you were.” His thumb rubs the top of your hand gently. You can tell by his hesitation that he has something on his mind, but won’t say it. You smile and squeeze his hand.

“I’ve lived with siblings too, you know. I can tell when someone is thinking too much about something.” You try to help him relax with your comparison. Tanjirou chuckles, shoulders relaxing as he looks at you in a shy manner.

“I was just wondering if I could see it. Your scar.”

You understand why he was embarrassed and why he wanted to ask. It’s evidence of your connection. Tanjirou’s scar is so easy to see, but yours is hidden beneath clothes. “It’s okay,” you tell him, sitting up a little straighter against your pillows and finally let go of his hand. You lift up your medical garb just enough that he can see it, the smooth and light skin that covered the side of your stomach and waist. It’s big and ugly, in your opinion.

“It’s really there,” Tanjirou whispers, reaching out and touching the scar gently with his fingertips. “You really don’t remember how you got it?”

“I don’t remember a lot of that night. I think I blacked it out, erased it from my mind. To make things easier,” you whisper and Tanjirou nods in understanding, letting you put your shirt back down. “I wish I could have been like you, Tanjirou. Strong and willpowered, learning how to get revenge on demons and protect the ones I love,” you look down at your hands. They were so small and soft compared to his. “But I’m not a fighter, not really. All I can do is hope that tragedy won’t happen again.” 

“You are a fighter,” Tanjirou tells you. And when you look up at him, you can tell he’s not lying. “You protected Nezuko for me… you protected Tamako. You’re learning medicine to help others, and learning basic techniques so you can defend yourself if you need it.” You hate when he looks you right in the eye. How can one man make you feel so important? “That sounds strong to me.”

“When you put it like that…” you grumble.

“Good,” Tanjirou smiles again. You don’t think you’ll ever grow tired of how pretty he looks when he smiles. “You should go back to bed. You need rest after your fight.”

“Will you be here tomorrow?” You’re slightly nervous that he’ll leave as you sleep because his life is probably busy. 

“Yes,” he assures you. “We still have a lot to talk about.” 

You agree. The fact that you and Tanjirou are soulmates- that’s a life changer, isn’t it? Things are bound to be affected and shift. 

Tanjirou is kind and cheesy enough to tuck you in, giving you a shy kiss on your head, right next to the scar that brought you both together. “Tanjirou?” You whisper. “Is it okay that things turned out this way? That I��m your soulmate?” 

“Absolutely,” he assures you. “Things will become different, but that isn’t bad. I’m glad I found you. Or, well, Nezuko is the one that found you,” the boy laughs softly and cups your cheek. “I’m glad you’re here.” 

“I’m glad you’re here, too,” you say back, your cheeks positively warm under his touch. He kisses your forehead again before finally tearing away, exiting the room with a small ‘goodnight’ and leaving you with your thoughts.

Honestly, you feel good. Meeting Tanjirou seems like the start of something big, strange, and wonderful. For the first time in a long time, you feel like things are going to be alright. You can do this- you can fight and live. 

And you look forward to doing it all with your soulmate.

[gt-fluffy-vore]

Mindtrapped Chapter four: Pedipalps

Sanders Sides fanfiction

Warnings: Blood, severe blood loss, accidental self harm, spider transformation, fear, drider transformation, tricking people into being afraid, severed appendage

3880 words

It was nearly twenty minutes before either of them did anything but stare at the floor. Logan cleared his throat awkwardly. “I am going to find myself sustenance. Would you like to leave or remain here?”

“Uh, I’d rather not be down and… underfoot…”

“Ah. Of course.” He nodded once and began tucking the tips of his wings into the waist of his pants. After forcing his shirt back on over his wings he left without a word. Roman and Patton must have both been asleep at this hour. Even if they weren’t asleep he didn’t encounter them. When he had sat down with his meal a thought suddenly occurred to him. When Virgil and Patton had left the lab, they had been going to eat. And then the whole situation with Virgil and the spoon had happened, then… He glanced over at the countertop and his suspicions were confirmed. Neither Virgil nor Patton had eaten after the incident. Both bowls were still sitting on the counter, exactly as they had been left. He shook his head at the mess, but then again who would have cleaned up? Virgil had been with him and was too small at the time anyway, Roman was… well, Roman was a cat, and Patton was an emotional wreck. Which brought him back to the fact that they were both probably still hungry. Of course, that wasn’t his problem. They could come back and get their own food if they wanted. Oh. Except Virgil couldn’t… He stared at the miniature bowl on the counter as he ate and by the time he was finished taking care of his dishes he had decided he should probably help Virgil. But even if Virgil was still hungry, would he want to eat? Usually, after traumatic events, it was common to lose appetite or even get nauseous. Was that the case? Would he even eat if Logan brought him anything? After a moment of thought, he decided it was worth a shot. So he took care of the bowls on the counter and refilled the smaller one with just a few grains of rice before bringing it back to his room. He carefully slid the tiny bowl and silverware onto his desk, then retreated to his bed with a yawn. He hated these… bodily functions. He had slept already. Probably not long enough maybe but he shouldn’t be tired again already. He took a deep breath and slipped his shirt back off, wincing as the action pulled a few feathers out. 

Virgil stared at him as he untucked the tips of his wings from the back of his pants and began stretching them out and re-folding them repeatedly. “Sore again?”

“Ah. Yes.” He stood and collected the feathers that had been pulled, tossing them in a nearby trash can. “I wish I knew what the cause of this is…”

“We all do.” He simply nodded in response. “Ya know how you messed with Patton’s adrenaline or whatever and it changed him back?”

He hesitated. “Yes?”

“Could you do that again? Try to fix me?”

“It is likely that raising your adrenaline levels would merely shrink you further or cause a different unsatisfactory result…”

“I know.” He hung his head. That was exactly the problem. He knew. He knew it could just mess him up further, but if by chance it didn’t… if there was a chance it could return him to normal… “I want to risk it.”

After a long moment, Logan sighed and nodded. “Under the condition that you remember that you are the one who requested this.”

“Yeah, I know. It’s not your fault when it goes wrong.” At the odd look Logan gave him, he corrected himself. “If… it goes wrong.” Logan nodded again and reached out for him. He flinched back but let himself be picked up by the hood of his shirt, clinging to the rim so he wouldn’t fall out. Already his heart was racing. He had to stop himself from telling himself to calm down — this was why he was doing this. He looked around and realized he was hanging above Logan’s head, which was tipped back mouth held open. He could have sworn his heart stopped for a second, but before he could react he was airborne. He let out an involuntary scream and squeezed his eyes shut. Then he landed… on something hard? He forced two of his eyes open and realized he was on the floor. And he was normally sized! It worked! He opened his other six eyes and sighed around… what was that? There were two small appendages growing from the corners of his mouth. He shook his head and tried to focus on breathing.

“Virgil. I need you to take a deep breath and hold it for as long as you can.” He nodded and obeyed. “Good. Repeat that.” He obeyed again and kept repeating the process until he found he didn’t have to force it and finally he stopped and let himself breathe normally.

Virgil had to force himself to talk, and when he did his voice sounded odd. “Thanks.” It whistled out as if there wasn’t enough space to get the words past his lips. To test it he tried to stick his tongue out and realized there was barely enough space to do so. The new appendages on his mouth blocked the use of most of his lips, leaving just enough space for a single finger to fit between. He reached up and shoved a finger sideways into the tiny space, then reached around the appendages and his fingers bumped into something else. Something long and furry. He stretched out the new appendages, then held his arm out and realized at full length they reached just behind his wrists. He shifted his jaw and watched the new appendages shift with it — they were growing from the back of his jaw, just below and in front of his ears. Taking a deep breath and realizing it was impossibly difficult, he let the appendages rest, half curling, the tips resting against his chest. Then finally feeling started coming to his new limbs and his face went pale. 

“Virgil?” He ignored him and burst out of the room. He didn’t stop running until he ran right through the open bathroom doorway and was met with a shriek. The fact that the door was already open should have been a red light in itself. He shot straight to the mirror, ignoring the figure pressed against the back corner of the shower in an attempt to get away. His stomach dropped. From the waist up was generally human, if you didn’t count the fangs and whatever those other appendages were on his face, not to mention the eight shiny eyes scattered across his face, and the fur. But if you didn’t count any of those things, his top half was for the most part completely human. But his bottom half… He was sure Thomas had seen something like this before… what was the word for it again? Whatever. He had the bottom half of a humongous tarantula. He was so overly long and wide, in fact, that he barely fit in the bathroom comfortably. He stared at himself in the mirror. No, no, no! This wasn’t happening! What was he?! His hands shot to his hair and he grabbed it in handfuls. This was temporary. All the changes were. They were always temporary. But how long would this last? Logan had had his wings for over a week now and they still hadn’t changed! Oh, no! Would he ever be normal again? And if he wasn’t? If he was stuck like this forever? What would the others think? What would they think of him? No, no, no! What would Thomas think of him?! And even if he did change back? Logan had already seen him like this! And when the others saw him? He stumbled backward towards the door and heard a small whimper. He looked to the back corner of the bathroom, where someone was pressed into the wall of the shower. Where Patton was pressed into the wall of the shower. He shook his head, remembering how he’d reacted to the simple cartoony images on his curtains last time they had been in his room. No, no, no! He turned and ran out the door, but was stopped when he ran right into someone. Logan. He’d followed him. Why did he follow him?! No no no no no! He turned around and ran down the hallway, not to anywhere in particular. Just away. “Virgil!” Logan sighed.

“Th-That… that was V-Virgil?!”

Logan whipped his head around. Patton was slowly stepping closer to the doorway. No, his wings! He forgot to hide his wings. He would have made a run for it but by the expression on Patton’s face he had already seen them. He sighed. “Yes, it was.”

“And I freaked out like that, I gotta go apologize!”

Logan stopped him before he could leave. “Let him stay alone.”

“Did I do that? Was that because I scared him so bad? This is all my fault, isn’t it?!”

“No. That shift was not because of how you scared him… It was caused by me scaring him. He asked me to raise his adrenaline levels in order to cause an involuntary shift. I warned him of the consequences…”

“But he still wanted you to try.” Logan nodded and subconsciously fluffed up his wings. “When did those show up?” 

Logan was confused for a moment before he remembered his wings. “Yes, these… They… they appeared precisely one week and four days ago. Or given the time I suppose five days."

"What?! But the changes don't last that long!"

"They do for me."

"And… and how did you hide it this long? And why?" He whispered the last words and Logan could hear the tears building in his voice.

"I… I saw no reason to worry you with my problems. You all have been experiencing your own involuntary shifts. You had no reason to concern yourselves with my own experiences as well."

For a long time, neither of them spoke. Then Patton spoke up, glancing down the hallway Virgil had run down. "Are you sure we can't just go see him? Make sure he's alright?"

"Are you sure you want to?"

Patton fell silent, staring down the hallway. "I mean, I want to go apologize to Virgil, but…"

Logan nodded in understanding. "Both of you need time." Patton nodded, still looking solemn. “If you would like I could check on his wellbeing in your stead?”

“Aw, really?” Patton pulled him into a quick hug. “Thanks, Logan!”

Logan cleared his throat awkwardly. “I will be leaving then.” He nodded once and turned down the hall. He went straight to Virgil’s assigned bedroom and knocked once. No answer. “Virgil?” He was about to turn and go search somewhere else when he finally got a response. It wasn’t even a word. It was a muffled, whistling grumble. But a response. “Patton sent me.” He waited for a moment, no response. “He wants to apologize. He also sent me to check if you are well.”

“Well you can tell him no, I’m not. Why would I be? Half of me’s a freakin tarantula!” His voice sounded odd as if he were talking through something, but Logan could hear his voice right on the other side of the door. After a moment he realized those fangs must be constricting the use of some of his mouth.

“May I come in?”

“Why? So you can laugh at me and leave? I know it’s my own fault, you don’t have to tell me.”

“I don’t want to tell you whose fault it is, I simply wish to see you. I may be of some assistance.”

“With what? What is it exactly you think I can’t do on my own?”

“Based on my limited information, eating.”

He heard a muffled curse. “Fine.” A lock clicked and the door swung open. Virgil threw up his arms miserably. “Well?”

“Firstly, did you have any particular questions before I explain anything in detail?”

“Actually, yeah. What the heck are these?” He gestured to the long, furry appendages growing from the back of his jaw.

“Ah. Those are called pedipalps.”

“And what are they for…?”

“They are used to hold prey still while the spiders suck out their victim’s insides.”

“While they what?!”

“That is how spiders eat… Spiders do not contain teeth of any kind so they are incapable of chewing their food.”

Virgil groaned, rubbing a hand over his many eyes. “Oh, great…”

“I assumed you would have known that much.”

“Why would I know?! I get I’m creepy, but jeez! I like spiders, but I’m not obsessed.”

“I apologize. I only assumed because of the decorations we witnessed when we visited your room.”

“Yeah, whatever… So what? I’m supposed to be sucking out the insides of random beetles now or something? Honestly, I would rather starve.”

“Not necessarily. You are still partly humanoid. You will likely have to make yourself protein shakes or something of the likes which is drinkable because of the restricted movement of your lips.”

He shrugged miserably. “Better than beetles I guess…”

“What would you like to discuss first?”

“Like? Nothing.”

Logan blinked in confusion. “You don’t want to know more about your new form?”

“Well yeah, I wanna know more, obviously! I just…” He shrugged.

“You ‘just’ what?”

He shrugged again. “I don’t want to talk about it. About this.” He gestured to himself. “I’ll talk about it, just… later. Alright? I’m gonna go find something to… drink, I guess.” 

Logan watched him leave, then slowly left behind him and closed the door. He went back to the hallway in front of the bathroom, where Patton sprung off the floor. “Is he okay?”

“Physically he appears well. Mentally… less so, but there does not appear to be any serious faults.”

“What do you mean ‘less so’? How less?”

“He is stressed, reasonably. This newest shift allows him very minimal use of his lips. He is unable to eat any normal sustenance. He only has enough use allowed to drink.”

“So he can’t eat anything at all?”

“Not until another shift alters his form, no.”

“Well can’t we just go cause another shift? Wouldn’t anything be better than that?”

“In my opinion, no. There are innumerable outcomes worse than what has occurred already. So if you are going to cause Virgil another shift, then I will not attempt to stop you. However, I refuse to assist. My… assistance has done enough harm already.”

“You were just trying to help.”

“I am aware of what I was attempting. And you are well aware of what came of it. If you would like to speak to Virgil I assume he is in the kitchen at the moment.” He fluffed up his wings nervously, then nodded once and walked away.

Patton hung his head in the silence. What else could possibly go wrong? When he got to the kitchen that question was answered for him. There was something spilled across the counter where Virgil had clearly been trying to make something in the blender. Virgil was currently standing near the counter, slowly inching away from it as Roman stood still in cat form on the counter beside the spill, hissing and clawing at Virgil as best he could. “What’s going on?!” They both froze and turned to look at him, and he couldn’t help but flinch at Virgil’s new form. “What happened?”

“Ask him,” Virgil growled, the sound coming out as more of a muffled blow. Roman hissed again and pawed at Virgil, then pawed gently at his tail and hissed again. “I don’t know what that means!”

“Hold on, I might… You’re saying something about your tail, right? Oh, that’s so fun to say!” Ignoring his last comment, Roman nodded, pawing at Virgil. “Did Virgil do something?” He nodded again and pawed at his tail. “He did something to your tail?” Another nod. “Well, what did he do?” Roman stomped a paw down violently, then gestured to his tail again and let out a whine. “He… stepped on it?” Roman nodded vigorously, then stomped a paw down four times in quick succession and yowled angrily. “Four times?” He nodded and hissed at Virgil again. “Well, that explains it! Virgil probably didn’t even know he did it, right kiddo?”

Virgil shook his head quickly. “I didn’t even feel anything! Then again…” He looked down at his legs. Would he have? He thought spiders’ legs were supposed to be pretty sensitive, but at the moment he still couldn’t feel most of his lower half.

“Then neither of you meant it! Virgil didn’t know he stepped on your tail at all and you were just acting out of pain a bit, right? So no one’s at fault!” Virgil could argue that Roman was definitely at fault for overreacting like that, but he kept quiet. Roman nodded silently and hung his head. After an awkward moment, Patton stepped around Virgil, maybe a little too far around, and grabbed a towel. He handed it to Virgil then grabbed himself one and forced himself to step just a little bit closer to start wiping up whatever was spilled everywhere. Virgil took a step forwards and began wiping off the counter, careful to try and keep his tarantula half still. He could tell Patton was tense. He was clearly trying not to be afraid of him, but he was, and they both knew it. “What were you making?”

“Does it matter…?”

“Oh… I guess not. I was gonna get some stuff back out for ya!”

“Oh. Sorry. I don’t really know what I was making.” He shrugged. “I’m just hungry.”

“Well, I can help! What about like a protein shake? And now that you mention it, I am too! Oh, right! We never did eat earlier, huh? Sorry about that. Again.”

He smirked as best he could around the fangs. “Could we figure out something with fruit or something at least?”

“Oh, yeah of course! I keep forgetting you don’t like sweet stuff much. Alright, what kinds?”

“Uh…”

“Oh, how about mangoes? Those aren’t always as sweet.” He set down a large can of protein powder and began digging in a basket of various fruits. “Oh, blueberries aren’t that sweet!”

“Uh, sure?” He laid the rag in the sink and began rinsing off the blender cup.

Patton put two small mangos on the counter, then dug in the fridge for blueberries. After setting those down, he turned to Virgil and flinched. “Uh, c-could I have that?” Virgil silently handed over the blender cup. “Thanks. Alright!” Patton clapped his hands together and pasted a smile on his face. “Could you cut the pits out of the mangos?” Virgil nodded and grabbed a knife. Smiling still, Patton filled the blender cup halfway with ice but heard a whistling curse when he turned back to the counter. He gasped as the knife hit the counter. One of the long appendages attached to Virgil’s face was bleeding. He had a first wrapped around it and the appendage was spasming. “Oh, oh, oh! Um… um… Okay, okay, I’m gonna go get some help or something, um… Oh, no, oh no, oh no! Um, okay! I’ll be back!” Patton ran as quickly as he could. “Logan!” He pounded on the locked door. “Logan, it’s Virge! He cut himself! He cut the-” he gestured frantically- “the things of his face!” 

The door opened and they both raced towards the bathroom. “What did he cut?”

“The long-” he gestured again- “things on his face!”

“How deep is the cut?”

“I don’t know!”

“Patton, did he cut it off?!”

“I don’t know! It’s just bleeding really bad!”

Logan cursed under his breath as they rushed back to the kitchen with the supplies. “He must have cut himself off of a break point.” When they reached the kitchen it was clear he cut himself in more spots than one. He was collapsed on the floor, forehead against the counter, each leg peaked and leaning inwards towards his human torso. He was resting in a rapidly growing pool of blood and clearly half unconscious. Roman was on the counter in front of him, his entire front half coated in blood, yowling miserably. The pedipalp that had been cut was bleeding so badly it was hard to tell how far it had been cut, but it was clearly more than halfway. Logan’s entire face went pale.

The death curl.

 “Oh, no. Virgil, no! Can you hear me?! Virgil, you need to stand back up!” He ran over and held his human half off of the counter. “Virgil! Patton, towels!” Patton didn’t move an inch. He was frozen to the spot, crying. “PATTON!”

“O-Okay, okay!” Logan took the first towel and tried to straighten the cut pedipalp, then jumped back in surprise when the entire second half of it fell off into the blood with a splat. Patton sobbed nearby. “We can’t come back like this, can we? He’s gonna die, and he’ll never regenerate! No, no!”

“Patton, if we want him to survive this you need to keep a level head. Firstly, I need a strip of cloth. Then open that first aid box. There is something in there that looks somewhat like a razor. Get that. We will also need a metal contraption that should be with it. Set those aside.” Patton tore a strip off of his shirt and handed it over, and Logan wrapped it around the severed pedipalp above the cut, pulled it as tight as he could, and tied it even tighter. Then he leaned Virgil’s human torso back until it was laying against his tarantula half and gripped a hand around the severed pedipalp, squeezing it as hard as he could. He used his other hand to press a thumb hard against the spot just behind where the pedipalp joined the rest of the scalp. After twenty seconds, finally, the bleeding stopped. “Patton, I need you to untie that fabric.” Patton nodded shakily and forced himself over to Virgil’s arachnid body. His hands shook so bad it took him half a minute to untie the fabric and remove it, and when he did the severed end spurted blood through Logan’s fingers. Patton let out a cry. “That is completely normal. It should stop again in a few seconds.” And in a few seconds, it did. Logan counted two minutes, then slowly removed his thumb, leaving just the hand around the severed end. He counted to four minutes this time before very slowly removing the hand. The wound dribbled for a few seconds before finally stopping. “I need another towel, Patton. A wet towel.” In an instant, he took the towel and began very carefully dabbing the wound clean.” Finally, he stopped and turned to Patton. “Now comes the time we will need to use those tools I asked you to remove earlier.”

Patton was still crying. “What is this one for?”

“That is called a Dermatome. It is a tool used in a surgical process called skin grafting.”

[smiths-11]

Almost A Goodbye 2 - 11th Doctor x Reader

Chap 1 - here 

Chapter 2 - Life Among Other Things

I found myself coming back to reality on the floor of the kitchen, knees tucked up to my chest and water dripping off my chin. I didn’t know how long I had walked around for or really how long I had been here. Memories insisted on flooding back to me freshly out of my dysphoria, memories not only of today but the day I never talked about. It really did seem like a long time ago. The ponds and I had been travelling with him for months again now. The glimpses of moments I forgot were always short lived but when I felt my happiest. Worrying about something that was 200 years in his future and 6 months ago in my past was frustrating and had done things to me that I couldn’t foresee until it happened. 

The way he looked at me earlier. In all the time I’d been with him not once had I seen such darkness inside those eyes. I felt like I was in trouble for saving his ganger when in any other situation that would have been him, risking his life to save another, risking his life to save me. My stomach was in knots again, anxiety clinging to my distress. 

“Y/N?” His voice, soft and whispery. Trying to be delicate. 

He’d found me. My eyes closed tightly, the last thing I needed right now was for him to comfort me. I heard his footsteps draw closer, of course it didn’t work like that. He was a stupidly good man. My head felt like it was going to explode with the intense banging behind my eyes. But I couldn’t move even if I wanted to run away from this impending conversation. If I couldn’t tell him, how was he meant to make me feel better. 

“I’ve been trying to find you for hours.” He sounded worried, I could almost feel his breath fan over my face. 

My eyes peeked open through slits, he was knelt in front of me, forehead wrinkled with concern. I glanced down at his shoes, sneakers. Ganger. 

“You haven’t swapped again have you? Not that it matters now, I just” I trailed off and took a deep breath, completely exhausted on every level, not wanting to get into my own explanation. 

“No, we didn’t swap again. I am the flesh. Obviously the doctor and I know the difference between us but as we saw before, you don’t, so I'll wear sneakers from now on, me in sneakers oh that doesn’t sound right, does it? At least I get to keep my bowtie, bowties are cool.” He adjusted the piece of material around his neck even though it was clearly perfectly in place, raising his eyebrows oozing overconfidence in a way only he could. 

“Why?” I questioned, confused. “There isn’t any difference anymore Doctor, you both are the most important men in the universe. Two of you, I just thought that over now and what on earth have I done.” A manic laugh bounced off the walls before I could stop myself for letting it out. 

“You might feel that way right now Y/N, but you’re avoiding him. If he had come in here instead would you have talked to him?” 

My head lifted to look him in the eyes. His were already on me, looking down at me intently. 

“I don’t want to talk to him right now. I know you are him but..” I sighed, wiping my face off with my hand in frustration.“It's more complicated than you know, either of you. Every time I close my eyes I-I see..” My vision blurred over as I stared off into the distance, It was eating away at me, holding this massive secret from him. I knew Amy felt the same. 

“See what?” He pressured gingerly. 

“It doesn’t matter.” I mummered coldly. Knowing I’d never be able to tell him without something in the world ripping apart. 

The conversation died with my contention, heartbeats full of silence passed. I felt a new sense of calmness flood the room after a while, making me feel safe once more. My body finally slumping on the spot. As I attempted to relax, I hadn’t even realised he’d shifted from in front of me to my side. 

“Can I ask you a question Y/N?” He was the first one to break the stillness, of course, no one could keep him for becoming antsy.

“I suppose.” My knees extended out and I could feel the muscles in my legs ache under my movement. I crossed my leg over the other and directed my attention towards him, moving my body slightly to face him better. 

I didn’t expect it but his hands grabbed for mine, cupping them between his own. The warmth of his skin made me realise how cold I was from my dissociative panic attack. It made me want to wrap my arms around him seeking out any heat. 

“I was more than happy to give my life today, It was an impossible situation. If you stayed with me you would have died and I would never forgive myself for that, I’ve told you before. You should have left me, I know am him but at the same time I will never be to you and you know that. So why would you save me?" He made sure to tread lightly with his words.

“You can’t be that daft Doctor or are you just slipping? You are the most incredible being I have ever met. The most stupid, brilliant, kind old man. If it ever came to it, I would gladly die to save you. I would give my life over and over again if it meant you kept yours for eternity. I fear the day I lose you more than dying myself. It's going to kill me when I do." I smiled up at him, sadness behind my eyes. I bit the corner of my lip intently. "You accepted death so easily, it wasn’t like you give in. Especially when safety was so close. I wasn't gonna let you kill yourself. I don't care if there's two of you. I just need you to be safe for me."

“Y/N.” He breathed out. "You don't stick around me to be safe. I am the most dangerous man in the universe."

"Yet I know that I’m safe, as long as you're here. You never give up, impossible or not and that's the best way to explain why you are dangerous." 

I knew he felt like he should fight me back on this one, yet he kept his normally very chatty mouth shut. His hands moving to grab my cheeks instead, vulnerability shining through. 

"My beautiful, generous, brave Y/N, don't ever change for anyone. Promise me that." His eyes lighting up with passion as his voice radiated throughout the kitchen in this sudden outburst. 

His fringe flopped in front of his eyes as he leaned closer to give my forehead a soft kiss. My heart swelled up at the gesture. Leaving a pleasant smile on my face and goofy one on his. Hands weakly releasing my cheeks to rest on my shoulders. 

"I can't make any promises Raggedy man." I couldn’t help but left myself grin at the pet name. 

"Oi, when will you stop calling me that? It has to get old at some point." He sounded really fakely offended for a second. 

"That's not happening." I mused back, searching his deep eyes for something. 

He attempted to say something but stopped under my gaze, holding it firmly. One of my cold hands pushing his hair back away from his face so I could see him better. 

It was stolen. This moment. Things like this never happened. Too much crazy, running, complicated, paradoxes. And although the doctor normally had no inkling on personal space this was different. 

His eyes gazed back into mine, almost as if he was searching for something as well; a moment. He placed his warm hand on my thigh, tentatively and with some obvious thought. I smiled at him lightly, getting lost in his simple yet awkward touch,uncharacteristically intimate for him. The corners of his mouth turned up in a quirky smile and I couldn't help but fall deeper into his presence. I placed my hand over his, gripping lightly and subconsciously being drawn in closer to his madness. His eyes darted down to our hands, his smile dropping into a low smirk; he knew what this was, he had a way of doing that. Our bodies gravitated towards each other unknowingly. 

“Oh go on then, what are you waiting for?” He questioned softly, his eyes exploring mine deeply. 

My breath caught in my throat as I stared up at him, my mind going fuzzy with impure longing and unaccountable worry. My hands cupped his disheveled face and I leant in tentatively, heart bouncing inside my chest. I stopped although dazed. If I did this, I don’t know if I could ever go back to my stupid normal life. And without words it meant too much. Hands sliding down to grab desperately at the collar of his tweed jacket. 

Sensing my thoughts, his hand moved back to my left cheek. 

“Y/N...” His voice shakily pleading me to continue as his hand guided me closer to his face. 

Close enough that everything I tried to see was a whole lot of blurr. Life was annoyingly unpredictable at the worst and best times. I’d already accepted that mine would probably end saving him or something worse dare I imagine. 

I pressed our lips together tentatively with a gentle hum from me, unable to resist his allure any longer. He reciprocated with just as much desire. Lips gentle and warm, the hand on my thigh grabbing tighter in the moment before moving up to my waist. Grasping it tightly coaxing my body to straddle his. 

[megers67]

My Relationship with my Ancestry

It’s not a great title for what this post is about, but I can’t think of anything else right now.

I may have mentioned on here before that I technically have native Peruvian ancestry. Now, this is to say that I do NOT in any way claim this in a way to make me seem cooler or to claim that I am Native American in any appreciable way. I was never raised to have any cultural ties with those ethnic groups (hell, I don’t even know what specific one) nor do I look anything other than a typical European-descended White girl. I say this because it is simply a fact.

So why am I saying that?

Because an opportunity fell into my lap and I’m going to Peru in December 2020 and it’s giving me a lot of conflicting thoughts and emotions that I’m trying to sort through. To understand why, I’m going to go into my family history and this opportunity. I’ll put it under a Read More since I’m on the computer now and can do that (because mobile is dumb and I can’t do it there). Normally for longer posts, I’d do some formatting so there are bold parts to make reading easier on the eyes, but I can’t be assed to do that this time. This is to get my feelings out here and MAYBE insight if anyone has any for my very highly specific situation.

I should start with my dad. He was born in Peru but grew up in New York City, joined the Navy, and settled down in Texas with my mom. His mom was the one who was born and raised in Peru and had come the US for college. I... honestly don’t know much about her. In fact, I only met her at her funeral.

She emotionally and verbally abused my dad throughout his childhood and I suspect that there was also potentially physical abuse too. She was a paranoid schizophrenic and didn’t have healthy coping mechanisms at that time from what VERY little my dad told me. He doesn’t like talking about it. He did mention that when his parents fought, his mother would put him in between her and his dad as a shield. That does a lot to a kid. He has a younger brother, my uncle, who my dad protected from the worst of it. So by the time they were adults and I was born, my dad didn’t want to have any ties to her but my uncle maintained a relationship.

Actually, side note while I’m talking about my uncle, the thing that pissed me off about my uncle (besides his pretty sexist views on domestic roles but that’s a whole different discussion) was that he was trying for years to get my dad to reconnect with their mother despite my dad telling him no. I distinctly remember being shown a picture of her playing piano while my younger cousins (who were even younger in the picture) playing around her. I was asked if I knew who this was. I did not. After being told that it was my grandmother, he asked me if I wanted to know her. No. She hurt my dad. If she hurt my dad so much that HE doesn’t want to reconnect, I want nothing to do with her, myself. 

I went to her funeral to support my dad who was, understandably having a really hard time with the mess of different conflicting emotions going in.

So for the longest time, when I thought of my ancestry beyond her, it still made me think of her and the pain she caused my dad. Like... obviously I knew that what was happening with her had nothing to do with the cultural past. At least not the stuff that ended up making the biggest impact (it seems that her mental illness wasn’t adequately being treated until at least much much later in her life if ever). But it was impossible to think about it relating to me personally without knowing that, for it to get to me, went through her. So my only way of being interested in say, Incan stuff was to completely separate it from any association with myself.

But it’s been a few years since she died and I think I’ve slowly been getting a sort of closure on the whole thing. This year in particular, I was getting a lot done on that front without realizing it. 

In the Spring, the results from my 23andMe came in and confirmed that I was about 12% Native Peruvian. My dad’s dad’s side was always into genealogy and we have this really big book of everyone that updates every few years ago and goes back to at LEAST the 1700s. Then both my mom’s parents decided to try a genealogy service my aunt’s friend was wanting to get off the ground. My dad’s mother was the only missing piece and with that 23andMe result, it was kind of an epiphany that this IS indeed a part of me, for better or for worse. 

Then last fall in my archaeology class, Incan examples came up quite a bit so that was reinforced. Also that same semester, I did a campus visit to DC and went to the National Museum of the American Indian. I didn’t realize it until I got there that they had an entire (well-made actually) special exhibit on the Inca. Then at Christmas time, apparently llamas were popular this year and I was seeing them EVERYWHERE. I don’t really believe in signs, but clearly it’s something that I’m subconsciously looking for or I’m finally noticing what’s already all around me. Like I’m ready to confront all of this.

Which all brings me to this trip. My aunt, specifically my mom’s sister, had always wanted to see Machu Picchu and found a family vacation package to go where the more people who went, the better deal it was. She offered to my mom and their siblings and one of my uncles with his wife are going, my grandparents, and my mom with my dad. My mom extended the invitation to my siblings and I and... I realized that with the amount of time I have to save up, it’s actually not that bad. I can actually go. My sister expressed interest as well and I hope she can go as well, but at least I’d be there with my dad. 

While the rest of the family are going because “hey cool vacay” my dad and I are obviously going for more personal reasons, similar ones, though he is obviously much closer to the whole thing than I am. I’ll be able to be there. Be in the footsteps of my ancestors. It won’t be just some abstract thing anymore. It will be real and in front of me.

And I’m kind of scared?

I’m not at all scared of my well-being of course. That is no issue. But I’m afraid of what it would dredge up in me.

I have so many questions. Can I really call this part of my history if I’ve never been a part of it? I’ve had the luxury to have all of the privilege associated to being White because... I mean I am in every way. But that doesn’t change the fact that, at least genetically, I do have that Native ancestry in me and not an entirely insignificant amount either. Did I miss out on that because of what my grandmother did? Does that disqualify me, then? What right do I have to any of this? Am I just another White girl clinging onto whatever minuscule speck diversity I have to seem cool? 

As an anthropologist, I’m very aware of my positionality. I know nothing and culturally I don’t belong and likely never will even if I fully embrace this trip. But personally? Where do I stand? 

I guess I have to wait nearly two years to find out.

[carousels-on-fire]

If you’re wondering why I haven’t been posting text posts or posting much in general on here anymore, here’s why.  I kind of realized one of the big depression triggers I have just stopped affecting me. I stopped clinging to an old relationship/old friendship when I realized it had always been unequal. Not by any fault of my own, but because that person is only capable of a few close connections at a time and I just wasn’t one of them. I always saw it as proof of my own low worth/value, or proof that I was unlovable, or something of that sort. But then realized, I have friends where...while I care if something happens to them, I don’t keep up with them. I don’t check in on them. We like each other’s facebook posts from time to time, but we’re no longer a big part of each others lives. I never realized this friendship had...downgraded so to speak. I always thought of them as top tier, would die for this person, while they thought of me as ‘person I sometimes hang out with when in town, and sometimes text.’ I think it had always been that way. I loved them so much, so deeply and so intensely, and they liked me but the depth was never the same. My ocean to their teaspoonful of water. But its not their fault, their ocean was for other people.  I’ve always formed intense, one-sided connections, mostly as a way of coping with the extreme loneliness and alienation I feel, even when I’m actively making friends and surrounded by people who like me. That ‘not belonging, not important’ feeling never goes away. Mostly it was with people I liked who didn’t really know or notice me, most often it was band members that I’d become obsessed with, and then with the aforementioned first love/first everything. I think that made it worse. I made it much more than it ever was in my head, because unlike the band members and the unrequited crushes, this was something tangible, something had worked for a moment, something I always thought might work out in the end. And it was always easier to cling to a ‘might be’ than it is to throw yourself into the terrifying world of ‘very likely to be’s’ if I actually put myself out there meeting people rather than projecting these introverted, one sided crushes that had no real hope of working out. But just enough hope that it felt like waiting for something real. I could say it got in the way of a lot of potential relationships, but I don’t think any of them would’ve worked out anyway. I had to make it through this. I had to realize what I was doing and be aware of it. I had to give up on them fully and completely. But I also lost a lot of years of my life to the emotional fallout of that one relationship. I lost a lot of my 20s to depression, and the worst part is...that person who caused a lot of it through sheer obliviousness, will never know. Its not even their fault really, I suppose, this probably would have happened with whoever I happened to end up with first, sparing some perfect match. And, a lot of that depression is most likely due to untreated/undiagnosed ADHD. So I can’t blame them entirely for all of it. I think I was headed down a collision path with all the trauma about my own life that I never confronted. It took a long time to realize my life wasn’t normal and that I wasn’t crazy, and that there were real reasons for how horribly things fell apart during my college years. But I think I reached a point where I realized I was dragging this on and dragging my feet one something I really didn’t want anymore. I realized I didn’t care in that way and wish them their life of happiness that doesn’t include me. I’m not even bitter, I’m indifferent now, and it took a very long time to become indifferent. I realized no one who well and truly cared would let this go on, and now it doesn’t matter. My depression was always dysthymia, triggered by a specific event, and once the event was dealt with in my mind, things got better. It didn’t go away completely, but it felt like a kind of fog lifted.   I mean I still think I’m going to die alone, but I think it’ll be because of lack of opportunity rather than subconsciously ignoring or sabotaging everything in favor of an off-chance. Or because I’m inherently unlovable. (Though I still do kind of think that the sort of woman I go for normally, probably wouldn’t go for me.) I always wanted my life to be like a movie, like a rom com, like a story of a character beating impossible odds. It took a long time to come to terms with my life potentially never being anything more than ordinary. Obscurity. Finding love with someone who’s avererage, rather than ‘epic love story love of your life.’  And that made it much less depressing to come home to an empty twin bed in my parents house, in my teenage bedroom every night, and go to sleep and get up for my average, unromantic, boring, working life. I’m learning to live with my bad choices making everything so much harder for me, and learning to live with how hard I’ll need to work to get out of here.  I’m trying to be nice to people, I’m trying to get along with the people in my environment because I’ve realized no ones coming to save me. No ones coming to make my horrible dull little life something worth living, I’m just going to have to endure until maybe, one day, I save up enough to live somewhere I can be a person. I’m preparing myself for the inevitability that one of my parents has a worsening health problem that will cripple us in a few years. 

I’m trying not to let my bitterness and despair make me an unpleasant person to be around. I used to be a much...happier person. A much more goofy, more cheerful, less guarded, more hopeful person than I am now. I don’t think I can be that person again. I’ve lived too much. But maybe I can make it close. My life isn’t happier. The depression isn’t gone. But I think I’ve stopped caring about the things that used to hurt me so deeply. I’ve stopped waiting for a fairy tale. I’m trying to read as much as I can, because that’s how I coped before when I was a teenager. Its strange, having this second adolescence where I read and draw and I sew and I wait to be allowed to be a person. Except I’m so much more tired.  I’m too tired to interact with anyone. I feel so numb, but I’m not crying about it anymore. I’m just here. Trying.  I also realized no one really reads these, and people feeling bad for me really didn’t help. It just made me feel guilty. So I’ve stopped writing sad posts with the exception of this one. I’m hoping my life will get better, but I’m also not holding my breath. But I’m also not very very slightly in love with the person I thought I was for almost a decade, and honestly, hadn’t been for most of that time. And I’m coming to terms with being older. With never being able to go back to how things were.To not being able to go back to who I was. That the world is a much harsher, darker place. But I don’t want to die nearly as much now. 

[sprnklersplashes]

Across My Memory (2/?)

Chapter 1

Emma sat in a daze, letting her past memories, her real memories, consume her. Moments of her life flashed before her eyes, her first ball, sword fighting, her coronation, the day her brother was born, the day she met Killian, the day her brother was born. At first it felt like her mind was on fire as her memories raced around in her head, slotting themselves neatly into her timeline. Her head throbbed with weight of it all. She began to feel relieved at the fact that she was no longer trapped in another body and another mind, that she was free to act as she pleased, in control of herself again.

Then another memory came back to her, cutting through the haze in her mind. The day the curse was cast.

“Mama!” Henry called as he stumbled through the smoke. Emma picked him up and held him close; his arms and legs wrapped around her body and he buried his head in her shoulder. “Mama I’m scared!”

“I know, my darling,” she told him. “It’ll all be over soon, I promise.” From outside her room, Emma could hear the clashes of swords and pained moans as men fell. She strained her ears, trying to recognise her husband or father. She kept stroking Henry’s head, in part because it would give him comfort and in part because it was keeping her grounded while grey smoke pounded outside their windows.

The door shook and groaned. Someone was trying to get in. Emma put Henry down and raised her hands in anticipation, her heart pounding as the magic built up inside her.

The Evil Queen broke the doors down and strolled into the room as if it was her own. The sight of her made bile rise in Emma’s throat. She smiled like a victor on the battlefield, and right there, she supposed that was what she was. For now, anyway.

“We’ll defeat you,” Emma warned her. “My parents stopped you before and with me, my brother and my husband we can do it again.”

“Your parents?” she laughed. “Well I doubt your father will be much help from beyond the grave.” Emma sank to her knees.

“No,” she said. “No, my father isn’t dead.”

“Who knows if he is?” the witch shrugged. “He could be. Not that it matters. In a few moments you won’t remember him. Or your mother. Or your beloved pirate.” She looked over at Henry, who was pressing his face into Emma’s shoulder. “Or your beautiful little boy.”

“My family always finds each other,” she said through gritted teeth. “And when we do we will finally make you pay.”

“I don’t doubt you will.” Regina sank to her level. In her eyes, Emma saw no kindness, no humanity. She may as well have been an animal.

“Why are you like this?” Emma whispered. Regina grabbed her throat tightly, squeezing, making it next to impossible to breathe, and pulled her close.

“I had my happiness taken from me,” she spat. “It’s time your mother had the same.” She dropped Emma onto the floor, her cheek stinging from the stone. Purple smoke crashed the windows and flooded in through the door. Henry screamed as the impact made him fall out of her arms.

“Mama, Mama!” he called. Head ringing, Emma sat up and embraced him.

“I’m here,” she said, coughing as the smoke filled her lungs. She couldn’t even see him or the Queen.

“Where are we going?” Henry asked, clinging to Emma’s arms.

“Somewhere completely awful,” Regina said. “Where the only happy ending will be mine.”

“Don’t listen to her Henry,” Emma whispered. “Because wherever we end up, we’ll win. Good always wins.”

Emma wondered if Henry remembered what she said, even subconsciously. She hoped he knew that she was going to come for him, that she would save him from Regina.

That witch truly was awful. Taking her beloved son, her True Love, her lovely scrappy little monkey and turning him into her obedient puppy, worshipping and loving her, the woman who terrorised his family. Emma wanted to both cry for him and kill her for him.

“Jenny?” Robert, Jonathan, she corrected, opened the door, looking concerned. “Jen are you okay? You seemed really upset when you came in.” He came over and sat on the edge of the bed. “Were you crying?”

Emma was silent for a while, searching his face. The same green eyes, identical to hers, the same brown curls, the same freckles and long arms and legs and skinny frame. On the surface he looked just like her baby brother. But when she looked into his eyes she didn’t see him. She didn’t see the boy who passed notes to her during audiences and slid down the stairs. Robert was asleep, like she had been, and she was stuck with Jonathan.

“Jenny?” he asked again. “Are you okay?”

“Fine,” she sighed. “Just um, Mr Elliot said we had to stop our lessons.”

“What?” he asked, frowning. “Why? I thought you were doing well.”

“So did I,” she said. “But it’s just, he doesn’t have the time for all that right now, and he thinks I don’t either.” Jonathan’s face fell but she tilted his chin upwards. “No use pouting over it.”

“But you loved those lessons.” Emma felt foolish now; literature lessons were the last thing on her mind, but she kept the façade for him.

“Yeah, I did, kid,” she said. “But come on, I’ll get dinner started.”

In the kitchen, Emma stuck two chicken breasts into the oven. Despite having used this technology for some time now, she didn’t know how long she had been cursed for, she was amazed at the advancements of this realm. The chicken could be cooked to perfection in a matter of minutes in the hot box. While the chickens cooked, she set about chopping up cucumbers and tomatoes while Jonathan worked on his homework.

“Hey, look at that,” he remarked. She looked up to see that he was looking out the kitchen window.

“Thought you were meant to be doing homework,” she scolded. His face flushed red as he looked back at her, right up to the tips of his ears. She remembered grabbing his ears when they were kids and calling him “Pegasus”, making them flap like little wings.

“I know but come look at this.” She sighed and walked over to the window. She looked out at the town.

“What am I looking at?” she asked, scanning the dark Storybrooke streets for something out of the ordinary. As far as she was concerned, nothing was new. Same as it was every other day; dull orange streetlights lighting up the street, Aunt Red, now Ruby, pulling her coat around her as she hurried down the street.

“The clock tower,” he pointed out. “They must have fixed it. It never moved before now, remember?”

Emma looked at the clock tower, right above the library. For as long as she could remember it had read 8:15. And there, it said 8:30.

Emma smiled to herself. Maybe now that she was awake, things were changing. The Evil Queen’s reign was drawing to a close.

                                                        *****

Emma had never seen so many people in the ballroom before. There had been balls for the Winter and Summer solstices, for her birthdays, her parent’s birthdays, anniversaries and every other occasion she could think of. And every time there had been visitors from friends from near and far and they brought their families, from other noble families and visiting royals, not to mention armies and navies coming too. And yet there had always been plenty of room left over in the vast ballroom, giving her room to breathe.

Today the ballroom was packed so tightly she felt like she was suffocating. All she could see no matter which way she looked was people towering over her, as far as her eyes can see. The way they move around her makes her dizzy; they sway their hips, shuffle through the floor in clumps of three or four, bumping into her, pushing her this way and that. Some stop to pat her head, complimenting her on how grown up she is, how pretty her dress is, asking how old she is or how her lessons are going. She wonders if she has ever met these people before.

“Emma!” her father called. He has no need to awkwardly shoving and pushing and squeezing his way through the crowds. Even the most snobbish of Kings would know to step aside for their host, the King of Misthaven. Though he does not walk like a King; Emma sees the other men with golden crowns on their grey hair and they take their time as they mill around the ballroom, nodding occasionally for no apparent reason and keeping their hands too close to their bodies, as if they are afraid Emma or one of her friends would steal the rings from their fingers. Roland is the son of the most famous thief in the land after all, and Merida moves like a whip, so perhaps their fears are not so farfetched. On the other hand, her father almost skips through the ballroom, clapping friends on the backs or shoulders and grinning broadly at them. He swings his arms as he moves, dancing to a beat only he can hear.

When he reached his daughter, he knelts to her level, smiling at her.

“Emma we’re been looking for you,” he told her, not a trace of anger in his voice. She remembers Merida telling her how angry her father can get, saying it is “just how fathers act” but she believes her friend cannot be more wrong. Her father probably can’t get angry, certainly not with her. Instead he smiles fondly at her and smooths her pink skirts.

“Sorry Papa,” she said, wrinkling her small nose. “I wanted to talk to Merida, but I couldn’t find her.”

“It’s okay, Princess.” He offered her his hand and she took it. His hand dwarfed hers, but it makes her feel safe. “But come on. We don’t want to keep your mother waiting-or your little brother.”

“He might start crying again,” she joked. As the King and Princess walked hand in hand to the top of the ballroom, where her mother held her new brother as she stood under a stained-glass window that painted the room a thousand unusual colours, the crowds parted for them, bowing deeply, even the Kings who barely moved when she first saw them.

“Thank you all for coming,” Snow White addressed the crowd. “The birth of our son is truly a joyful and wonderful occasion not just for our family, but for our Kingdom. My husband and I have gained a son, and Princess Emma has gained a brother, but you have all gained a Prince, and a friend.”

“When we debated what to name this child, there were many to choose from,” David continued. “Between the many friends we have made both in this kingdom and from our various allies, to the heroes from legend and folktale that inspire us. But there is one man we saw fit to honour with naming our son. And that is my own father. He may not have been the strongest man I ever knew, but he was kind. And brave. And he fought for my mother and I with every bone in his body, and that is what I want for my son. To hold his family close to his heart.”

“People of Misthaven, we introduce to you our son, Prince Robert.”

The thunderous applause and roaring cheers almost knocked Emma off her feet. The sound filled her ears and attacked her brain and she wished to cover her ears and block it all out, though it is not lady like. Nevertheless, she can’t help squirming and hopes that the crowds are too distracted celebrating the new Prince to pay attention to her.

Next thing Emma knew she was pulled up in the air before being rested comfortably on her father’s hips, which happens to be one of her favourite places to be, and she is more than glad to see that at eight years old she is not yet too hold to be held. Her father moved over to his wife and lifted one hand from Emma to stroke her little brother’s face.

“What do you think, Emma?” Snow asked her. Her smile was so radiant, Emma couldn’t help but think ‘the fairest of them all’. “Does he look like a Robert?”

Emma looked over into the small bundle in her mother’s arms. Truth be told she didn’t think he looked like an anything, other than a piglet, but she knew that was rude to say, even more so when it is the royal prince. But she took a longer look at him as he shifted and yawned in their mother’s arms and his eyes opened lazily. Perhaps she could see the little prince, her brother, potential partner in crime, in there.

“Mama, can I call him Bobby?” she asked, and her mother chuckled.

“I think Bobby is a wonderful nickname for him,” she said.

                                                                                                               *****

It seemed that ever since she woke up, her luck had started changing. For one, Jonathan had asked her why she was getting ready for work when her shift didn’t start until twelve, and he was proven right by the schedule written in pen and taped to her fridge, saying “SATURDAY: Start at 12”. For one thing that meant that she could catch up on the sleep she needed after the restless night she had; her real memories spent all night rolling around her head and she kept waking up from terrible dreams of when the curse first hit. She had sat up for at least an hour just replaying her memories over and over again.

Then the crying had come. Crying for Robert, who was right next to her, but was still so far away from her in every way that mattered. Crying for her parents, who she didn’t even remember seeing. She missed her father’s comforting touch and her mother’s warm smile. They used to be able to ground her no matter how far she drifted away. Crying for Killian, whose comforting words and whispered praises would mean everything to her right then. And she cried for her son, longing for his giggles and riddles and games.

After she caught up on her sleep, she saw she still had another two hours until she was due to start work, meaning she could get down to business.

She quickly pulled on a sweater and jeans, tucked her pebble into her jeans and told her brother she had to run some errands.

Then she was speeding through the streets as quickly as her legs would carry her. The town passed her in a blur, she dodged her neighbours without even giving them a passing glance or even listening to see if they were saying hello. There would be plenty of time for hello once the curse was broken.

She soon came skidding to a halt, tripping over herself and nearly toppling onto the pavement. She heard her mother’s voice in her head, sighing fondly at her, could almost feel her picking her up and launching into a lecture about how a lady should be poised and graceful. It was a bittersweet moment for her.

She picked herself up and looked at the house before her. It was small, red brick with a brown front door and boxes with pink flowers in the windows and white lace curtains. Plain, unassuming, she may even say boring.

Which made it the perfect place for him to hide.

Emma grinned at her teacher’s intelligence before strolling up to the front door and rapping on it. She thought the whole way here she would be nervous but now, all she felt was anticipation and excitement and hope building in her. The curse was getting weaker, and with her and Merlin reunited, surely, they’d break it. His knowledge and her magic had always made a strong combination and he had told her many times what an effective team they would make in a battle. And the Queen had no magic here, he had assured her of that. It would be a swift and sure defeat, and she would be reunited with her family once more.

Merlin opened the door, wearing a red woollen jumper and black rimmed reading glasses. Confusion crossed his face when he saw her almost dancing on his doorstep.

“Jenny,” he greeted, opening the door wider. “Come in.” The inside of his cursed home was hardly what you would call exciting, certainly not befitting the most powerful sorcerer in all the realms. Dark green carpet and beige walls with paintings of flowers on them and dull orange lights. “What can I do for you.”

“It’s okay,” she said, spinning to face him. “I get it now.”

“You get what now?” he asked.

“I remember! I remember everything!” When his face didn’t change she sighed. “Look I get it. You had to break me, you had to make me miserable, so I’d remember everything. But I’m awake now!”

“Jenny are you alright?” he asked, coming over to her and placing one hand on her shoulder.

Emma’s heart began to sink when she looked at him. His eyes were clouded, confused. There was a dullness in them, not the tell-tale twinkle she was so used to.  He had to be awake, he simply had to. There was no way the Queen could curse the most powerful person she had ever met. She couldn’t take someone with that much fire and strength and make them a shell of themselves. Could she?

“It’s not Jenny,” she said half-heartedly. “I’m Emma.”

“Emma?” he echoed, but it was confusion, not realisation. “Jenny, why don’t you sit down?”

Emma didn’t even register him as he took her arm and led her to an olive green armchair and sat her down. The material was coarse and rough under her palm. She wanted to cry, she should have been crying, but there was nothing. Nothing but numbness spreading across her whole body, pressing down on her chest, squeezing all the air out of her. She pressed her hands in-between her legs to keep them from shaking.

“Jenny,” Merlin said softly, like she was a frightened animal. “Jenny if this is about the classes-”

“No, it’s not,” she replied. She pulled herself to her feet, wobbling slightly where she stood. She knew that she should have thought of an excuse, but she couldn’t; she didn’t even have the energy to think of one tiny little lie, and that used to be one of her party tricks. All she wanted to do was drag herself home and bury herself in the pillow until the pounding in her head stopped. “I’m sorry I shouldn’t have come.”

He grabbed her arm in a bid to stop her from leaving, but it slid right through his grasp as she ghosted towards the front door. Vaguely she could hear him asking her if she needed a ride home, if she was okay, what had happened, who was “Emma”, but it was garbled and distant, like her head had been shoved underwater. The bright sunlight hurt her eyes when she opened the door; everything outside was too bright, too false, only making her head throb more.

She stumbled out of his house and onto the gravel of his footpath. She didn’t even turn back to look at him while he called to her, just kept forcing herself to move until she reached home.

                                                             *****

Emma and Robert’s laughs filled the air surrounding the hills as she chased her little brother through the emerald grass, her brandishing a toy sword while he screamed. She tackled him and sent them both tumbling down a hill, their limbs tangling together, her chin jabbing into his side as they flew down, only just hearing the concerned warnings of their parents.

They finally rolled to a stop, their hearts beating twice as hard and the world buzzing in their ears. They lay there breathless, a perfect blue sky over them and the soft grass stroking their bare arms and legs. Emma feels like she may throw up after all that exercise, but she is too giddy to care. Her five-year-old brother may have much smaller legs than her, but he can run like their prized steed, but she would chase him throughout the entire realm if it would make him laugh the way he is now. She almost wants to laugh at herself, a girl of thirteen should not be acting so childishly, and yet here she is, almost certainly dirt covering her dress.

“Emma?” Robert asks, still out of breath.

“Yes?” she replies, toying with the wooden sword in her hands, pointing it up to the sky.

“When you’re Queen will everything be different?” She frowns and turns to look at him. Her brother’s normal carefree and monkey like grin has faded and he his chewing his lower lip, twirling a blade of grass around his fingers. She doesn’t know where this has come from; he has never asked about how she will be when she is Queen before, so what makes now different?

“Yes,” she answers thoughtfully. “Yes, it will be. I will be all grown up, and I will have to rule over the entire kingdom. I’ll have to send armies and write treaties and fight wars. And all the things Mama usually does.” Robert doesn’t ask another question, but she can tell what he wants to say next; the question is practically crawling out of his mouth. “But you’ll be my right-hand man. The most important person in my court. And I’ll need you to help me with everything.” She reaches out and clasps his small hand. “And everything will be different. We’ll be different people. We’ll be grown-ups. But we’ll still be us, Emma and Bobby.”

“Emma and Bobby,” he repeated, linking his fingers in with hers.

                                                                                               *****

She felt like she was wading through mud. Even breathing became a struggle as she tried to make her way back to her house, not home, that place would never be home. Home was her palace in the Enchanted Forest, with her family and friends by her side. Home was sprawling fields and thick forests, perfect for horseback rides. Home was a ship permanently sitting in Misthaven’s port, with candles lit all around the cabin and a think bed covered with blankets. Home was not a shared apartment with her brother who didn’t remember the bond they shared, while the rest of her family and friends were who knew where.

Emma was so distracted by her grief she didn’t even notice herself colliding with another person until it was too late. Their hand wrapped around her wrist instinctively, pulling her down on top of them so she fell face first onto the pavement. The stranger’s body broke most of her fall and she found herself with her face buried in a woollen jumper.

It wasn’t until she picked herself up that she realised who it was. She would know him anywhere; ocean blue eyes, so different now without black kohl around them, reminding her of much more intimate moments, black hair pulled down and almost hiding his eyes and making him look younger, more vulnerable (she knew the thought of him looking “vulnerable” would annoy him beyond all measure), pointed ears she so often teased him about, lovingly calling him an elf and flapping them like they were little wings. Still a head taller than her, skinny arms and legs and a ginger scruff she had scratched and tickled so many times.

“Killian,” she breathed softly, so softly he didn’t seem to hear her. He had the same look in his eyes as Merlin and her brother and everyone in this damn town had, not quite awake, not quite aware. Not aware that his wife was sitting across right beside him, not knowing how much she missed him.

“I-I’m so sorry,” he stammered, scurrying away form her and jumping up, brushing himself off. “Are you okay?” He offered her his hand, the same hand that had caressed her jaw and traced down her spine as they kissed passionately in their bed. Emma put her trembling hand in his and let him help her to her feet.

She felt like such a fool. She had always been so gifted with words and able to wind a man round her finger. She remembered leaving Killian himself speechless when they first met, and he had been impressed by her spirit. Yet here she was now, her mouth hanging open and struggling to get even one single sentence out. No wonder he looked so concerned for her.

“Are you okay?” he asked again, much slower this time, as if she was a child.

“Fine,” she said, hearing her own voice shaking with nerves. “I’m fine. I’m sorry, I should have looked where I was going.”

“No, no it’s my fault,” he replied. “I should have been more careful.” He took a small step backwards and immediately Emma saw he was going to leave her. Again.

“I’m Jenny.” She held out her hand and after a moment’s hesitation he shook it, albeit briefly and awkwardly. The curse must have stripped all the bravado from him, leaving this shy and soft boy as a replacement.

“Patrick,” he replied. The corners of his lips twitched up into a small smile and for a moment Emma could see the real him inside. Just make the smile wider and a bit more daring, more brash and lift the cloudiness form his eyes and she would have her pirate captain back.

Instead he let go of her hand and slipped his own hand back into his pocket. He ducked his head slightly and his eyes became hidden behind his hair. He shifted from one foot to the other like                                                     e an agitated child. Clearly, he wanted to leave her.

“I’ll see you around then,” she croaked. He nodded hurriedly.

“I suppose so, yes,” he said before dodging around her and starting to dash back to…. Wherever he was going.

                                                                                                               *****

Clarke wasn’t entirely sure where this new bout of confidence had come from, but he found himself striding into the Town Hall like it was his own home, even going as far as ignoring the receptionist who insisted the Mayor was too busy for him. He hoped to retain this confidence for a while.

When he burst into the Mayor’s office she regarded him with a raise of her eyebrow and a cool look. Heaving a sigh, she set her pen down and invited him to take a seat.

“Mr Clarke,” she greeted in a tired voice. “I have an awful lot to do today so please, keep your complaints to a minimum.”

“I’m sorry Madam Mayor,” he began. “But I feel I need to begin teaching Jenny Bird again.” The Mayor rolled her eyes ever so slightly and leaned back in her chair. It was as if Clarke had offered her a new game, and one she was too busy to play. “Now Madam Mayor I know you’re opposed to it, but she needs this.”

“We have been over this, Mr Clarke,” she sighed. “Miss Bird may well think that she needs to be taught how to read, but what she needs is a reality check. She can’t just waltz off and try to fulfil a dead dream of going to college.”

“A dead dream?” he echoed.

“Oh, come now, Mr Clarke,” she laughed. “You and I both know you were humouring her with that idea of going away to college. I mean what college would accept her?”

“She’s a clever girl, Madam Mayor,” he insisted. “Just very troubled. And she’s stretched enough as it is and it’s taking its toll on the poor girl.”

“All the more reason to let her be. Keep one thing off her plate.”

“Madam Mayor, she came to my house today. I thought she’d be begging for her lessons back, but this was different. She was talking all kinds of nonsense.”

“Well why you want to keep tutoring a girl like that is beyond me,” she huffed, picking up her pen. “I suggest you leave her where she is.”

“She was going on about how she was awake now, and how she realised why I did it.” The Mayor dropped her pen at that. It seemed finally, he had her full attention. “And she was so upset when she saw I had no idea what she was talking about. You should have seen her Miss Mills she was crushed.”

“You said she said she was awake?” she asked slowly, her fingers curling and uncurling. She seemed to get more and more tense by the second, like she would soon become too tight and snap.

“Yes,” he said. “She wasn’t making any sense.”

The Mayor took in a sharp breath and gave a slow nod.

“Thank you for bringing this to my attention,” she said. “I understand Miss Bird’s mental state may be more delicate than we first thought. A girl who has suffered so much is bound to come undone.”

“And you see why she needs those lessons?” he asked, leaning forward. “They grounded her, Miss Mills. Gave her something to hold on to. Please let me teach her again.”

“I’ll consider it,” she smiled. “But I want to keep an eye on her first. Just to make sure she’s all right.”

Clarke smiled triumphantly. It wasn’t a total victory, but you could never have one of those with the Mayor. She was made of iron and had a virtually inflexible will. But it seemed he had bent her ever so slightly, and that was an achievement, for both him and Jenny. Hopefully, he would be able to help put the poor girl back on track.

“Thank you, Madam Mayor,” he said. She gave him a warm smile, which he counted as another achievement, and saw him to the door.

                                                                                               *****

The classroom was at the top of the north tower, as per Merlin’s request. He said that it would let in the perfect amount of sunlight and give the perfect view of the stars, should they need it. It was very small, and the two wooden desks, blackboard and trunks Merlin had placed around made it even smaller, but it wasn’t restricting. In fact, Emma had always thought this was one of the places she could be truly free. Merlin had brought many magical artefacts with him, an empty globe, a huge leather-bound book she was forbidden to touch, a hand mirror, all of which he promised they would use in future lessons.

Today she was standing at her desk with Merlin, while a withered and dead rose lay limp on the wood. She was shaking from how hard she was concentrating; the blue vein on her forehead almost ready to burst. Merlin’s hand came and covered her own.

“You’re pushing too hard,” he said softly. “Just let it come naturally.”

“I’m trying,” she groaned. “It won’t come naturally.” Her tutor gave a laugh at her insistence.

“It seems your magic is just as stubborn as you are, Miss Emma,” he chuckled. He came behind her and grasped her hand in his. “It doesn’t want you to force it. It wants to work with you, not for you.”

“How can it work for me?” she asked. “It’s my magic.”

“Yes, and it is a part of you, but you’re a part of it. If you want your magic to do what you want it to, let it come naturally. Stop pushing it.” Emma screwed up her face and tried to let the magic come, but it stayed put. She could feel it, the warmth of her magic pooling inside her belly, but nothing came from her hand. “You’re concentrating too hard.”

“You keep telling me to concentrate!” she replied, almost whining. Merlin knelt and turned her to face him.

“Big deep breath, Princess.” She obeyed. “And let it out.” She breathed out slowly, counting to ten as he had taught her to do before. “Let’s do this again yeah?”

“Yeah.” Emma turned back to the rose, held her hand over it and closed her eyes. “Work with it,” she muttered. For a few seconds nothing happened, then she felt her arm beginning to tingle. She wanted to squirm and giggle at the sensation, but she forced herself to stand still and not move a muscle. The sensation trickled down her arm and flooded her hand, and she could finally breathe.

“Open your eyes,” Merlin ordered. She saw a perfect, fully bloomed pink rose sitting on the desk.

“I did it!” she exclaimed, jumping for joy. “I did it, I did it!”

“Indeed, you did,” he said, lifting the rose and placing it behind her ear. “Before you know it you’ll be doing all sorts of healing magic, just like this. The Evil Queen won’t be able to stop you.”

Emma froze when he reminded her of the Evil Queen. As far as she knew she was a long-forgotten nightmare after her parents had defeated her, but something told her differently. That something was the way her tutor spoke about her and the curse.

“The Queen can’t hurt us anymore, can she?” she asked. “She’s gone, forever.”

“Never say forever, Emma,” Merlin said as he lifted a book from his trunk. “Your parents might have defeated her before, but she could very well return.” Emma’s face fell, the victory from her magic completely forgotten. “But I’m not afraid of her. Or her curse.”

“Why not?” Emma asked.

“Because by the time she casts it, you’ll be more than ready for her.”

                                                                                               *****

For the second time, Emma found herself unable to sleep. But it wasn’t grief or sadness or horrible memories this time; she sat up for while feeling defeated. She wondered if she should just submit and accept defeat, live out her seemingly dull life with her brother, avoid Killian and her parents and accept it. Her life could have been worse, surely? Maybe lying down and accepting her fate was better, and safer, than trying to fight back.

“No!” she exclaimed, sitting up in her bed. Her heart had suddenly doubled in speed, a metallic bitter taste filled her mouth and her hands were shaking no matter how tightly she wound them into her covers. She panted heavily as though she had been sprinting.

The covers suddenly felt too tight, too restricted and she threw them off and stumbled from the bed, leaning on the wall to steady herself. The cold floor contacted her hot skin, the contrast jolting through her body.

“No,” she whispered, weaker this time. She was ashamed damn it, ashamed that for one minute she pondered giving up on her own family, on her people, the people she swore to serve and protect. Her own parents fought the Evil Queen and never once considered giving up and fleeing, what kind of Princess would she be if she walked away? What kind of daughter would be content leaving her parents to suffer? “She’s not winning this time.”

Emma flipped on the lamp on her desk and opened a notebook, flipping through pages of notes and grocery lists and bill payments until she found a blank page. In blue pen she hastily scribbled down all the curse counterparts she knew of and their real selves. Then she scribbled down what she already knew; Regina had control over everything, even Merlin, but the curse was weakening. Time was passing again.

Since she was a little girl she had heard that she was destined to be the Saviour and to break the curse. And she had always thought that she would never have to be since the Queen had been banished and they had been spared the curse. And in a way she was relieved; she never wanted to be the Saviour. The idea of being Queen was enough to scare her but having to save her people from a terrible curse was another responsibility and one she had never felt prepared for. As the days went by and inched closer to her son’s birthday they weight of her destiny had pressed down on her, harder and harder, until it wasn’t uncommon for Killian or her parents to find her sobbing on the floor of her chambers.

Destiny was unavoidable, apparently. And she was the Saviour, whether she liked it or not.

[firefairyfates]

Shinsou AU: You Were Born to be a Villain *Updated*

*IMPORTANT* This is the same story I’ve posted earlier, but I finished it, so it’s not as weird or clunky anymore, just thought I’d post this version too, enjoy!

You Were Born to be a Villain

   “This was just a waste of my time.” Shinsou sunk down onto the bench with a deep sigh escaping his lips. The mall was buzzing with people, from every store to every lunch place to cafe. “The hero course attract a crap ton of people, that’s for sure. Though I guess that isn’t news to anyone.” he looked over to the right seeing the set stage set up at the far end off the first floor with colorful lights and massive speakers pointing onto it. It was a yearly “Meet the Heroes” event where many of the U.A. students met with their first gen fans, usually gained from the sports festival. A typical way of letting them taste the life of a celebrity early on.

   “I didn’t ever care to see this stuff.. But those guys from class made me to anyway. Idiots.” he buried his face into his hands, staring down into the floor. “All this just makes me depressed.” he hissed and pushed himself up again with his hands on his knees. He looked around, for the closest exit around. The place was so crowded, it was almost impossible to see. With a deep sigh he hugged the wall and slowly started to make his way towards what he thought was an exit. Hearing the voice of Bakugo yell his stupid speech behind him.

  *It should have been me up there.*

The thought slipped through his mind but he didn’t dwell on it. It had haunted him from the moment he was born and didn’t bother him in the slightest anymore. A hero born with the quirk of a villain, just another unlucky fate in this world filled with injustice. *Maybe they should be happy I’m on their side.* his eyes by chance traveled up, paying notice to a sign above him pointing up a staircase. A tea shop. His mom did like tea… He sighed.

   “Guess I can make this trip worth something.” he slid past some people into the almost empty staircase, or at the very least, it had some room to breath. He pulled up his wallet and looked through what he had, quietly counting to himself how much he had as he walked up the staircase. Without paying it much mind at first, in the corner of his eye someone rushed past him, bumping into his shoulder as they ran past him. The wallet was thrown out of his hand spinning down onto the step ahead. Shinsou’s eyes traveled after him, they were wearing a black coat, and had long black hair (kk) and they didn’t even throw an eye back at him. “Hmph..” Shinsou then scoffed and bent down to pick up his wallet. *What was he in such a rush for? It’s not like the second floor is as cramped as the first. And there are hours left before any stores will close. Or..* he stopped his train of thought and pushed back the wallet into his pocket with an empty expression. *Who cares. This place is filled with heroes anyway.*

He reached the much more spacious floor lit with clear white lights. The stores covered the edges of the entire oval shape, and in the center part was a dimly lit cafe, with a quiet fountain in the middle, and tables all around it. He looked for the dark green tea shop sign with a stylized black dragon. It was just to his right. But as he turned from the top of the staircase, his eyes scanned through the entire area almost subconsciously. *Security cameras, patrolling heroes, around 40 people, but..* the man from before was nowhere to be seen. He took a long blink, relaxing again, as he walked into the red lit shop, with a black haired woman standing at the counter sorting bags just at the side. She threw an eye at Shinsou as he entered the store.

    “Welcome!” she smirked. Shinsou gave her a very short smirk before he started looking through the shelves.

- just a few minutes later -

   “Thanks.” Shinsou grabbed the bag off the counter.

   “Thanks a lot too!” the woman smiled as she grabbed the money. *You’d be my slave now if I were a villain.*

   “Thanks.” Shinsou said plainly,

   “Happy to help. Hope you have a nice day!” she bowed. *You’re all so arrogant.*  Shinsou walked out of the store and tucked his wallet back into his pocket. He took another step forward and suddenly froze up. The surroundings, something was different, something was off. His eyes traveled through the hall in a glance. *The cameras were still on, people were still walking around but-* his thoughts stopped. The heroes were gone. He swallowed, biting his lip. *The hell..* he looked around again, now more obviously. Were people, gathering? To his right, it seemed as though if there were more people on that side. Reasons? What caused it? Was there something going on? For what purpose would- *No.. No way..* He threw a quick glance back at the tea lady, she was standing still now.

   Being fast on his feet he tried to make it for the stairs he had just come up. Holding the paper bag tightly in his hand. It was hard not to look over there again, to see more of what was going on, but he did his best to look down into the ground without as much as an expression on his face. He hadn’t seen a thing. This way he could get down to the heroes downstairs, he could find out what was going on. But the frustration was still boiling within him. *Damn it.. Why aren't there any heroes up here. right now!? How have no one noticed what was going on?*

   “Hey, you there.”

  *Are you kidding me? Just my luck..*

  “Sorry, but staircase’s closed right now, kid.” a man's voice spoke up from behind him. Shinsou stopped himself as he was just about to take a step down into the now completely empty staircase. “Cleaning you know. We wouldn’t want you to slip and get hurt.” he threw an eye over his shoulder where the first impression became the gun pointed at him. But there was no doubt about it. It was the guy who had just ran past him in the staircase. “We advise you to take another way, like, over there.” he nodded with his eyes and the gun towards the mob of a few dozen people behind him. “And we’re gonna have to investigate that bag too, then please put your hands over your head too. You know, for safety’s sake.” he rose his eyebrows and held out his other hand to take the bag while pushing the gun forward a nod.

   “How righteous of you to be concerned.” Shinsou left over the bag, who he quickly snagged from his hands. Shinsou then moved his hands up and around his head, and started to walk.*Of course it’s villains. I knew something was going on.. But isn’t this place supposed to be cramped with heroes right now?* He forced his feet away from the staircase and walked towards the others with straight and obvious footsteps to make sure his threatener wouldn’t take any rash actions. He cut of the staircase with a chain while keeping his gun and eyes peeled at Shinsou. He threw a glance downstairs where two people clothed in guard outfits nodded back at him. They were alone on the second floor now, both of the staircases had gotten locked by fake security. And since the cameras were still on, Shinsou was left under the impression this was a heist taking place in a much bigger scale than only on this floor. Did they have the entire building locked down? What were they planning? Shinsou stopped at the mob, holding his arms up like the rest and slowly turned back looking at someone who approached them.

   “I welcome you citizens to witness a great moment in history.” he threw out his arms and walked up to the crowd. Long black hair, tired purple eyes, a rugged beard and a long black coat a few sizes too big for him. He held two long knives in both of his hands. Now it became apparent there wasn’t just a few of them either, the floor crawled with them, getting the full view of the floor, revealed that every store was being taken control off, everyone was taken to the same corner as them. Shinsou looked over at the blank eyed tea lady as she entered the crowd too, she didn’t seem to be feeling anything at the moment. Shinsou swallowed and then looked around the room. He estimated they were well over 20, all seemed to be armed with at least one firearm. Shinsou quickly tried to make an estimate in his head.

   *They must have had infiltrated the entire building to have gotten this far on an attack. Maybe the first floor is the only part they haven’t taken control of yet. But to take on all of those heroes by themselves..? They’d have to be a special kind of stupid to try that. Unless.. Maybe they’re part of that league of villains? Then this could be bad.. Damn it..* Shinsou stopped his thoughts as the man started to talk again. “My name is Hans the Grandeur. Today, I’ll show how much you really should fear us, the people that you rejected from your made up society.” Shinsou looked around again, there was something different about this guy from the rest. The others were laughing at us right now, at the children clinging to their parents, at the crying and the afraid in the crowd. Shinsou looked back at he who called himself Hans. *No.. These are just some rugged street villains that he rounded up. Him though, he might be bad news…* Hans eyes traveled quickly between the crowd and his men posing an irritated and intense look before he smiled again and took some steps forward.

   “You are all aware that the next generation is currently debuting downstairs, with their prepared speeches and quirk showcases. It’s a fun time for the entire family, am I right?” he bent his head backwards, so his long hair fell back over his head, as his eyes pulsated with his voice. “So I thought we’d blow it all up.”

   “You can’t be serious?! They’re just ki-” the dull sound of a sound-killer arm fired. And the man that had spoken fell to the ground. .

    “Sorry. We don’t tolerate any loudmouths in the today’s crowd. We like the more “quiet” types.” Hans said and looked back at them. “But don’t worry. He’ll wake up sooner or later. When he’s buried under the rubble of this entire building.” he let out a short chuckle, then gained some control again as his head twisted to the side in a jerking motion as he stopped laughing abruptly. *Ugh.. This guy gives me the creeps.*

   “Y-you killed him!! You killed my husband!” yelled a red haired woman on her knees just over the stum body.

   “We used tranquilizers you dumb wench, listen when I talk to you!” he hissed taking a few quick steps towards her, his eyes burying into hers. “But don’t start messing around, we have the real deal too, and we won't hesitate to pick you off when we need to. But for now they have hundreds of unique quirks downstairs, if any of them can sense blood or death we’d be done for. So shut your fucking trap you stupid-” he almost hit her with the back of his palm, stopping inches from her face with a twitching expression. He twisted around, making his cape spiral behind him, as he made distance between him and the crowd again, Shinsou followed his movements closely. *Tranquilizers huh? That won’t help me much. Unless.. He seems easily triggered, perhaps I could make him answer to me… But.. What should I ask..? Should I show empathy? Curiosity? Maybe I could-*

   “Then why not just send us all to sleep?” someone else asked. *Damn it. That would have been perfect..* he slit his teeth quietly as he threw an eye at the young woman who asked.

   “Now that would be an excellent idea if it wasn’t for the fact we need some people who look alive.” he licked his lips. Shinsou smirked in his mind raising an eyebrow. *This guy is too obvious.* “So don’t worry your pretty little heads, we won’t get interrupted by some heroes this time…” Shinsou who stood at the front of the crowd was only a couple feet away from him now. If he wanted to say something, now would be the perfect time. The intensity of him standing so close could make him answer rashly, he wouldn’t have time to think something was off. Shinsou took a deep breath through his nostrils. “So you’ll just be good duckies now and sit tight while we rig up the last of the bombs on this floor, to send the entire building crashing down upon your precious heroes. I bet not even All Might’s love children would be able to take the weight of a 20 floored building falling on their pretty little faces.” Shinsou chuckled in his thoughts. *You’re underestimating those bastards by a landslide… Todoroki,  that Bakugo.. Even Midoriya. They’d all protect them. But still..* he shut his eyes and collected his courage.

   “That’s a pretty decent plan you’ve got there,  I’ve gotta say I’m impressed. But tell me .. What is it you really want?” *I’ll be a hero too.* he moved his right leg forward along with his right hand. A harmless gesture, that closed the distance even further between them. Hans’s eyes twisted to Shinsou, he glared through him. Shinsou held his face, but could feel his pressure weighing him down. *C’mon.. Just say something damn it…* Shinsou felt a drip of sweat run down his cheek.

   “Don’t answer him boss! I saw that brat in the sports festival. He can take over your head if you answer to his questions or something.” Shinsou swallowed.

   “Oh is that so?” asked Hans and looked away from Shinsou for just a second before he turned back, and stared up and back into his eyes. “Dirty trick, for someone who’d call themselves one of them.” he said but got no answer, he laughed and spun away from him. “If your quirk only works when someone answers you, then staying silent won’t do you much, hero scum.” he moved away.

    “Should we tranquilize him boss?” asked one of the men pointing up his gun towards Shinsou, making the people behind him look worried, while Shinsou stood still in the same pose. *Damn it all… I was useless. This is it for me..” he shut his eyes and prepared for the worst.*

   “No.” Hans stopped him. Shinsou widened his eyes in shock, as he looked back up. And he wasn’t the only one confused. Everyone in the room looked at Hans. “I kinda like him.” frustration, anger and fear lit up within Shinsou at that moment, and he felt how his body tensed up. “He kinda reminds me of myself when I was younger.” he had a calm smile as he looked down into his hands covered in scars. Before he shut them swiftly and turned around with a snarky grin. “Either way, he’ll die like the rest. Pathetic and weak. Buried under rubble and his own failures.” he walked backwards a few steps before turning around once again. “No one speak to this purple haired freak and we’ll be fine, wouldn’t wanna mess this up, would we?” there were some chanted laughter. “I’ll kill any of you without hesitation, just so you know.” he said, and the laughed stopped. “Line em up against the wall, arms on their heads, and legs to the wall, empty their pockets and then get them on their knees.” he said as he walked away towards a couple of his men messing with something beneath a pillar.

    Shinsou was trembling, looking down on his hands. *I-is this.. Fear?* The armed men closed in, starting to push one person after another up onto the wall until they were all pinned against the wall. Apart from one. Shinsou was left, standing with a blank stare and his hand reached out twitching gently in the air. One of them pushed the gun into his back and told him something. But to him to was just unhearable rubble. *No.* he closed his fist.

    “Hey brainwash rat get moving or I’ll blast you down into the floor.” hissed the woman pinning him down with the gun. “Hey can’t you hear what I’m-”

    “I hear you loud and clear, loudmouths.” hissed Shinsou and laid his hands around the back of his head and walked back to the wall like the rest, feeling how those around him looked on, the woman from the tea shop looked at him longer than the others still seemingly emotionless. Shinsou took a deep breath through his nostrils again closing his eyes for a short moment. The woman holding the gun scoffed back at him and walked away. He’d built up some irritation again. *Calm down you idiot. Focus. This isn’t over. I’ll show him I can be a hero too even if he thinks I’m like him.*

  A man who quickly had become familiar to Shinsou approached him from the side, emptying pockets as he went from person to person. It was him from the stairs earlier, who had bumped his wallet out of his hand and taken the tea bag from him which he was still holding. He was just done confiscating the person next to him. Now. It was time to take his second chance.

   “Hey there, I think you might owe me an apology from earlier.” the man's eyes were blood coated, and looked way more tired and intense this close up. But of course he didn’t say a word to his question, Shinsou had figured as much. “You ran into me in the stairs just before, and you made me drop something really important.” this time he scoffed, most likely in disbelief, as he started to look through Shinsou’s pockets. “I had my mom’s necklace in there. It was her favorite you see.” no response. “I bet your mom had something that precious too, right? Something important to her?” silence. “Or did she leave you in the dumps where she thought you belonged?” the man pulled up a knife from his sleeve and it’s cold blade chilled against his neck. It slit gently, and it left blood after it’s cut. He gritted his teeth, but bit his lip and held it together. The man was just about to move on to the next person when Shinsou opened his mouth again. “Or maybe your mom was as much a failure as you.”

   “You’re dead kid.” the man hissed and the knife blade flew towards him . But Shinsou wore a grin on his face as the knife stopped an inch away from him.

   “So pathetic.”

~~~

   “Aren't you done soon slouches? It’s starting to feel quiet here without the hundreds of fireworks blowing up throughout the building.” asked Hans and smirked at his coworker who stood bent over the mechanism.

   “Almost there boss, just a couple minutes and we’ll have it all wired up. It just needs to link together with those hidden on the third floor vents, and we’re all set.”

   “Hmph. What a bore. I was so excited to hear the screams of dying heroes right about now.” he shrugged and was about to turn towards the crowd, when suddenly.

   “Put all of your weapons on the ground.” a gun clicked, and suddenly every eye turned towards the Hans, who had just had a gun click pointed straight at his head. A black hooded man with blood coated eyes stood there, but his expression was as blank as that of a dead man. Hans smirked and rolled his eyes.

   “No way, is it a betrayal?” asked one of the more burly villains.

   “Put all of your weapons on the ground.” the voice repeated, coming from two places, and most eyes turned away from Hans this time.

    “Well played. Mr brainwash.” Hans looked towards the wall, where Shinsou stood with his arms around his head and against the wall like the others. “I didn’t think little ol Roger here would be so stupid as to fall for your japes.” he sighed and nodded back towards him. Shinsou pushed away from the wall, and let his arms fall to his sides. He took a deep breath again. *I’m counting on you.*

   “Boss, what should we do?” one of the men asked as they reluctantly rose their gun towards him named Roger. Hans chuckled and glanced over towards Shinsou again now walking slowly through the hall towards them.

   “Don’t ask me, that’s the man in charge right now.”

   “I want everyone to drop their weapons. Kick them away from you and get down on your knees.” Shinsou kept his composure together. “And turn off whatever that is.” he added and looked at the man in front of the machine at the pillar. Shinsou concentrated on breathing at the moment, while trying to keep it as unnoticeable as possible. He had to stay calm and look to be in control. “C’mon, get to it.” he hissed impassionately. After they all had exchanged a few glances, everyone started doing as he said, but just as Shinsou took another step closer into Hans radius, he suddenly started laughing. Shinsou froze up. “Mind telling me what’s so funny?” hissed Shinsou.

   “Your quirk’s pretty damn amazing kid, I’ll give you that. But there’s one thing you didn’t account for.” *W-wait..? He just answered to me!? Was it on purpose or did he forget? Either way I can’t let my guard down. Especially not now.. She might be in-* “We all have pretty cool quirks.” he vanished from the spot in a blurry pixelated mess and Rogers gun suddenly pointed at nothing.

   “What in the..!” once again he was cut off, this time by a cold machete blade wrapping around Shinsou's already cut throat, while a hand rocked Shinsou’s head back and laid the arm around his forehead limiting all his movement. “Typical hero, overwhelmed with self confidence.” he grinned. “Shoot her down guys.” he nodded towards the side of the hall. Shinsou froze up for a short second. Where now all glances turned. There the black haired woman from the tea shop was walking, her eyes were as blank as before, but that wasn’t because she was emotionless.

   “No! Stop! She hasn’t done a thing!” yelled Shinsou, feeling the blade tighten to him.

   “Kill her.” hissed Hans and licked his lips. “Kill his puppet!” guns rose up from all around the room, pinning towards the girl. Shinsou gritted his teeth, and shut his eyes. One of the sound-killers fired with a dove sound and the bullet hit its mark. She fell against the wall and crashed down onto the marble floor. Her eyes staring emptily into the locale.

   “NO!” yelled Shinsou and reached out his hand. But he was also wearing a silent grin.

   “YES!” laughed Hans. “What a wonderful fall! Seeing a hero get one of those he was trying to protect killed! What a wonderful story for the news! You’ll be all over the first page, boy!”

   “You talk big for someone who just lost!” hissed Shinsou as he concentrated all he had on his quirk and Hans. *He’s answered to me a plethora of times now, I’ll take him over and end this quickly!* But his quirk broke the connection as soon as he tried to make it. *What!? It’s like he’s disappearing from existence when I try to brainwash him.. What’s this guy’s quirk?*

   “Confused, mr civilian killer? Well you see my quirk is something called frequency. I tap in and out of reality on a regular basis you runt, quirks like yours are what I eat for breakfast.”*Does that mean I’m outmatched then? This good for nothing quirk continues to be my curse.* “Release Roger here, or I’ll make you bleed to death here on the spot. Shinsou let out a hiss, as the man he had under his control fell down onto the ground, someone rushed over, but he just struck their hand away and took himself for his head, he looked at Shinsou with disgust and anger, Shinsou greeted him back with an empty expression.

   “But boss, what if someone notices we’ve killed her, then..?” asked one of the others in confusion.

   “Who gives a damn. This place is going boom all over in a minute. Before they’ve figured out something’s going on we’ve have killed all the ones we wanted! It’s too late to stop us now.” he laughed maniacally.

    “Then why not just kill him boss, one less hostage won’t matter.”

    “He’s a real nuisance for sure, maybe I should have taken action earlier after all.” he smirked and bent back Shinsou’s head further making him groan in pain as Hans stared down at him from above. “But he’s just so much fun. I can sense how much darkness there’s in him.”

    “People like you are trash. Worthless rats crawling our cities with your prideful ideals that mean nothing more than to make the world better for yourself.” Shinsou manage to hiss out between his teeth.

    “I suppose that’s true.” smiled Hans, his head jerked closer, and inch away from Shinsou’s face right below his. “But that makes heroes the same as us.” Shinsou jerked back, his breath smelled foul, and he was forced to look away.

   “I almost admire you, you’re all so bloated with loneliness and hate that you’d take your own lives for nothing.”

    “You pompous brat! You know nothing of the heartaches we fought for to get here! You were born on a pedestal! You never had to fight through the pain we lived through! We did all we could to accomplish something greater than what society ever thought we could do! YOU COULD NEVER UNDERSTAND!” a familiar voice cried out.

    “You idiot Roger! He’ll take you over again!” yelled Hans as Shinsou broke free from his grip and made a quick gap in distance between them.

   “Shoot this guy.” Shinsou pointed at Hans, and the command came through, Rogers eyes went blank again and he followed through on the command. Hans was forced to vanish on the spot again, he tried to attack Shinsou again, but this time he dodged taking a quick step forward. Rogers gun fired at that moment again, hitting straight into Hans’s arm. He yelled out and took himself over the wound.

    “Boss!” someone yelled, as the situation returned to a stasis as Hans started to take steps backwards, holding his hand over the scrape the bullet had made on his arm. His balance was lost, and he wavered back and forth with a drowsy look on his face. Shinsou smirked. *Your movements might have seemed unpredictable, but I can see right through them. Your blades limit your movement and you always try to strike from behind because of the nature of your quirk. And that hit was all I needed, even though I knew you might dodge it partially.*

   “H-huh..?” Hans’s eyes started to twitch as he looked down onto the wound with his blurry vision. “T-tranquilizers..?” he gritted his teeth together. His head swiftly turned to the tea shop girl laying on the ground. “Y-you didn’t..” *Figured me out, did you?* She was slowly pushing herself off the ground again. “K-kill her-” his voice was muffled by his drowsiness as he tried to point towards her, but it seemed no one got what he meant. Her eyes opened, still with a blank stare. “N-no… H-how could I loose...” he started to fall forward. Shinsou smirked at the corner of his lip. *Go, get us help. Sorry I shot you with that tranquilizer though,* the girl swiftly got up and ran into her store where she slammed her hand onto a button signaling a red flashing siren in the building, initiating panic. Roger’s eyes flashed back to normal and suddenly he almost fell forward catching himself on one leg. He slowly rose his head beneath his hair and stared at Shinsou with a pulsating expression.

   “Shit! What do we do now!” someone yelled.

   “The heroes will be here in any second!” another one cried.

   “N-no! Not after all we’ve done!” another one broke apart and fell on his knees.

   “Abandon mission, kill the hostages and get outta here as quickly as possible!” the person who had fixed with the bomb yelled out and moved his hand towards the hostages lined up against the wall. Shinsou immediately froze up slowly turning towards the people behind him. *No.. I can’t save them in time, they’re too many.*

   “Leave the people be.” someone said behind him. Everyone turned around, including Shinsou. *So you snapped out of my quirk again?* Roger was with slow steps walking towards him. “Killing them isn’t what Hans wanted us to do. It’s the heroes we want. That’s why we used tranquilizers in the first place.” he hissed tightening his hand around his pocket knife. “Him. He’s the pest that crawls over our streets. He.. He’s a hero..” his voice was screeching and his eyes filled with anger and hate. “HE’S THE ONE WHO COULD NEVER UNDERSTAND OUR PAIN!”

    “Idiot.” Shinsou let out a short chuckle and looked up. “You all really are just a bunch of idiots aren't you?”

   “Call us whatever you want, but don’t dare claim to understand us..”

   “Trust me.. I understand better than anyone else.” he made a fist. “The feeling of being left behind, of being thrown away. Torn and shattered at every step you take. When all you really want.. Is just to help somebody.” a feeling of frustration and dread filled him.

   “YOU COULD NEVER UNDERSTAND!” he threw the knife towards him and it bolted through the air.

   “Sometimes... I just wanna give up too. To just throw my life away on something… Because really, what difference does it make.” the knife was still flying through the air, heading straight for his head. *But..” with a single move Shinsou struck the knife out of it’s course and it crashed into the ground and spun across the floor. “Then I get that feeling, that feeling that somewhere out there somebody needs help.” Blood ran down his hand. “And that’s the difference between you and me. Because I chose to answer that call, and be a hero.” his expression was plain, almost emotionless, and Roger stared on in confusion.

   “Utter nonsense…”

   An explosion was heard just beyond the staircase to the first floor and suddenly police bolted up the stairs..

   “No way!? They’re already here!” yelled one of the men, and started to back away.

    “You idiots! Kill the hostages before the heroes-”

   “LISTEN TO THESE BEATS YOU VILLAINOUS SCUMS!” it was President Mic’s voice, as he flew up from the staircase, and just behind him another familiar pro hero, Eraserhead. At the moment Mic landed, he activated his ear shattering quirk. It sent everyone in front of him down on their knees holding for their ears. Shinsou being one of them, but through the pain he forced himself to look up. First he noticed Eraserhead with his quirk activated running through the room. He had to have had earplugs. Shinsou looked down for a short second, thinking it would be fine after this, when something moved past him on the right side of his vision, and he looked up after it. Someone took an escape up through the staircase just ahead. *I can’t let that guy get away..* the sound stopped, and Shinsou threw himself back onto his feet with the scream still echoing through his head like drums set on repeat. He was wobbly at first, but shook it off as fast as he could, as he made his way into the staircase and ran upwards. While his head was still throbbing in pain from President Mic’s attack. He had an understanding of why he’d done it. Using the commotion to his advantage to get everyone immobilized without any time to take cover. Even if that included the hostages themselves, but since the quirk wasn’t deadly, it had worked perfectly. Eraserhead’s power had worked perfectly along with it to, with everyone immobilised, he could easily erase all the quirks he wanted and with all that settled they had been made defenceless almost effortlessly.

But this guy, had somehow avoided Mic’s attack. And maybe Aizawa’s too.. *Frequency huh? I can see how that could make him avoid both of those quirks. If he wasn’t there when Aizawa activated his quirk, he would have missed him, and Mic’s too… He wouldn’t get rocked by the soundwaves if he wasn’t there.* Shinsou tried to collect his thought as fast as possible as he rushed up the curved staircase. *So that Hans wasn’t down for the count yet, huh?*

   “Don’t move a muscle kid!” Shinsou was just about to exit the staircase onto the third floor when he saw that the staircase was also chained off at the top, two guards pointed their guns down at him. Behind the chain stood a plethora of people in panic from the siren. He could see heroes trying to calm the situation. Further away on the floor, he could see Hans running through the crowd. He was gonna get away. Shinsou took a deep breath.

   “Oh fine, you got me. Nice job.” he smiled. *Real guards or not, you’re in my way.*

   “Don’t try to-” he didn’t let him get any further in that sentence before Shinsou had him throw himself over his companion. Shinsou set off in a run again, jumping over the chain and into the confused masses. But people were in panic, and getting through was harder than it might seem. Shinsou looked ahead in the room again. He could see Hans but... He was too far away, almost at the other side of the entire room. If Shinsou was to make it past through that crowd he’d never get there in time. *Suppose this is what I get for not getting the physical training I need. I can’t catch him on my own… But heh.. I’m not alone am I?* Shinsou stopped and looked around. He took a jump and up on a black bench sighted at the central area, where some people threw a glance at him instantly. He spread his arms wide so people would see him. Some heroes also noticed him.

    “Everyone!” Shinsou yelled as loud as he could. “Let’s show the villains that we’re not afraid! Let’s say it like the man himself… All is fine because-” yelled Shinsou and anxiously awaited an answer. *My choice of sentence could use some work, but it doesn’t matter, as long as somebody responds…*  The response was fast from multiple in the room, both those angry and those enthusiastically answering the question. *Now all I need to do is find one in that area and-*

Hans fell over at the end of the hall tumbling in through a glass window of a cafe. Just behind him stood a man with his leg held out. Her eyes were blank. Without hesitation Shinsou jumped down from the bench and pushed his way through the confused crowd, he heard heroes yelling after him from behind. *Damn it.. It was harder than I thought to pin a single person down with my quirk than I thought with so many open links at once.. But I managed to trip him.* he smirked for himself.

   “You’re the real deal, eh kid?.” Hans crawled back up from the floor and ran into the cafe now without any other options. The cafe was closed and empty of people. Hans crashed through the tables and chairs as he made his way to the glass wall out to a balcony. Hans ran straight up and tried to knock the door down  but to now success. His vision was still blurry and he started fumbling with the handle. Shinsou entered the cafe through the window and caught Hans trying desperately to kick the door open despite still being affected by the tranquilizer.

   “Run all you’d like, but heroes aren't known for leaving business unfinished. They’ll catch you sooner or later.”

   “All we want is freedom. To not live in a world bound by these so called hero ideals. So I’ll run away till the day I can make that world come true.”

        “So somebody like you can do the same to that world too? It’s like you say, you’re the same as them.” asked Shinsou.

   “Don’t try to play mind games with me kid. Or did you forget already, that your quirk won’t work on me.” he hissed and didn’t even bother to look at Shinsou anymore as he finally broke apart the window. “It’s true heroes and villains are all the same. But you...”    “Huh?

   “You were going on about what makes you a hero earlier. But I see right through you. It’s all just a facade! You were born to be a villain kid.” A weight fell over Shinsou, and he could feel that familiar darkness spread inside him. “With a quirk as devious and evil as yours. You’re destined to end up stronger than even me one day and change this world. Who knows, you might even surpass him.” he stepped out through the glass. “Despite you being the hero today, I know that sooner or later you’ll realise that this world wasn’t built for people like you and me..” he smirked and let out a chuckle and smirked at Shinsou. “But you know.. I’d welcome you. I see your strength for what it is. I won’t throw you away like they did.” he reached out his hand through the broken glass, just like the gesture Shinsou had given him a earlier but with a much different goal, or perhaps it was the same… Manipulation. Shinsou stood there with a blank stare, unknowing of what to do for a moment. *He’s desperate.* “I’ll show you how to become stronger. How to become a villain.”

   “I.. What you’re saying can’t be true, can it..?” Shinsou laid his hands towards his eyes, hiding his face..

   “Yes, all of it! You’ll surpass me! I will make you realise your true potential, I’ll make you show everyone just how great you really are!” *Pathetic.* his movements froze, and eyes blanked out in whiteness.

   Shinsou moved away his hands again with an expressionless face.. “Like I’d be one of you. All you villains are all such stupid idiots.” he said and walked over towards Hans, who stood at the other side of the glass wall. “Eraserhead got you too, didn’t he?” Hans twitched. “Why else would you have ran through the crowd, and broken the door down. When you could have warped yourself through? Not to mention trying to talk me over, you knew I could do this to you at any time, so you thought it best to keep talking not to make me suspicious.” Shinsou shrugged and leant up against the glass, feeling how Hans was staring at him in furious anger behind his mind control. “That just proved you were faking it.” he smirked.

   “But thanks I guess.. For calling me the hero of the day. Makes me happy to know at least one villain scum said that about me.”

~~~

Back outside the mall a while later, we find Shinsou with his hands buried deep within his pockets, walking away from the chaos of police cars and heroes behind him at the shopping center.

- just a moment earlier -

   “You did a good job catching this guy, Shinsou. He’d gotten away if you hadn’t been here today. And we might never have found out about the danger just above us either before it was too late.” Aizawa said as he let over the tied up Hans to the police just outside of the cafe. “It was our oversight. They took control of the security cameras, and had the entire building in their control. You did a good thing today, bet even some people would like a word you.” he glanced over where the dozens of media reporters were talking with President Mic.

   “No.” sighed Shinsou. “I didn’t do a thing.” he had his eyes peeled down scratching the back of his neck where his scar was. “All I did was put people in danger and use them.” he thought back at the tea shop girl, Roger and then the woman who he made trip Hans. He couldn’t look Aizawa in the eyes anymore, and instead stared down onto his own feet. “President Mic disabled all of them at once, and I wouldn’t have been able to beat this guy if you hadn’t gotten him with your quirk just before.” his fist tightened. “I wasn’t a hero.. Just a some guy who happened to be around, not to mention put others at risk. It would have been fine, even if I wasn’t there.” Aizawa looked down at him as he then sighed.

   “You don’t understand. This is also the specific reason we haven’t moved you onto the hero course yet.”

   “I know my quirk is useless, you don’t need to-”    “We all saw what your quirk could do today. And don’t think us at U.A. haven’t noticed that too.”    “Wait w-what..?”

   “It’s your attitude which could use some work. A hero shouldn’t doubt in themselves or their quirk, no matter what it is they have, it’s pointless.”

   “But I want to be a hero! I’ll surpass everyone, I know I will! But my quirk… It’s always held me back. It’s what makes me like them.. It’s what makes me a villa-” Aizawa laid a hand on his shoulder.

   “Prove to me you want to be more than just the best hero then. Show me the extent of your quirk, and stop limiting yourself.” Aizawa said. “Now when I think about it. You’re very similar to one of my own students. Arrogant and gutsy, but with an overwhelming way of not realising their true potential.”

~~~

   “Hey Shinsou, is that you?” a voice yelled out behind him. *Hm. That voice? That’s.. Unmistakable.* “Are you okay? I was so worried you’d gotten hurt!” Midoriya yelled as he ran up behind him. With him followed Ururka and Iida.

   “U-um.. I’m fine. But why do you ask, how do you know I was in there? I thought you all were caught up in your introductions.”

   “Oh yeah but we all heard what happened! It sounded insane!” yelled Uraraka and punched in the air. “You really got those guys, didn’t you!” she laughed.

    “Yes! It was an excellent strategy to use a fellow citizen to help you start the alarm! Definitely a well versed strategy!” said Iida doing his wild hand gestures.

    “Yeah Shinsou, it sounded like you were a real hero up there! So thanks for saving us!” smiled Midoriya.

    “And I wish to thank you too, as the representation of class 1A, we are all greatly humbled!”

    “Yeah! Thanks a bunch!” Uraraka grinned. Shinsou swallowed a well of tears.

~~~

    “I’m like Midoriya!? How so?” asked Shinsou furiously and looked up at Aizawa as they walked through the building.

    “Don’t look too much into it. But both of you have quirks that’s not the usual bread and butter hero power. Yet, you set your eyes on the same price.”  

    “But his quirk is nothing like mine, it’s strong and powerful. It’s the perfect quirk for a hero!” yelled Shinsou.

    “How so? Then why were you the hero today and not him?” he asked and looked intensly at Shinsou over his shoulder. Shinsou was almost taken aback by the question. “The only difference is that he chooses to change, while you insist that your quirk is holding you back. In fact I’d say, you’re the one holding your quirk back.”

~~~

   “H-hey Shinsou..? A-are you crying..?” Uraraka asked and tilted her head.

   “Oh you just shut up and leave me alone.” he hissed between his teeth and spun around and started to walk away.

   “But Shinsou, we-”

   “Don’t speak to me again, Midoriya. I’ll take your place in the hero course if you let your guard down again. I’m gonna surpass you, and become the greatest hero.” he had a smile on his lips even though he was crying.. Midoriya smiled too.

   “I’ll do my best too!” he smiled back. When his eyes and mind suddenly went blank.

   “... You idiot.”

[builder051]

Who are the stars (MCU Captain America fanfic)

Title from (and whole fic very much inspired by) Through Glass by Stone Sour.  (Honestly it just came on the radio and I listened to it and was like, well this is very literal.)

This is a lot more along the lines of what I usually write (MCU/Captain America/ Stucky/sickfic).  This one is sort of hurt/no comfort, so I apologize if that’s not your jam.

Also, I am brand new to Tumblr, so if there’s a better way to tag this, please let me know.  I’m used to AO3, and this platform is still quite alien to me.  I’m learning!

___________________________________________________________________

I’m looking at you through the glass

Don’t know how much time has passed

But it feels like forever

___________________

The first day, Steve can’t leave the room.  It’s uncomfortable, freezing with humid air conditioning.  The plastic chair is so uncomfortable it’s practically bruising his sit bones.  There’s no reason for him to be there, but he can’t drudge up anything more important.  Nothing comes close to being as important as this.

Steve breathes in the slightly-antiseptic scent of the air.  His eyes burn faintly, but whether that’s from the presence of a chemical or just pure exhaustion, he’s not quite sure.  It’s probably the latter; he just doesn’t want to admit it.  Steve drops his elbows to his knees and his head to his hands.  There’s a bed waiting for him somewhere in this lavish building.  He just can’t will himself up on his feet to point his boots toward the door.  He can’t leave the glass tube that’s become the center of his universe.

Bucky looks so peaceful.  He could be asleep, gently dreaming and tucked safely under Steve’s arm, were it not for the light dusting of white-blue ice dusting his features.  The tiny crystals cling along his hairline and in his eyebrows and along his cheek-brushing lashes.  The image is imprinted on the back of Steve’s eyelids.

He leans forward in the painfully hard chair so the top of his head wedges against the freezing glass.  He imagines his head in Bucky’s lap, sharing warmth and receiving comfort from the tears that are threatening to leak from the corners of his exhausted eyes.  But the real sensation couldn’t be more of the opposite.  The tube is frigid and devoid of the soft give that makes human touch so soothing.  The position brings him physically closer to Bucky, but the insistent presence of the barrier makes him feel as though he’s miles farther away.  It makes Steve’s stomach churn.

T’Challa’s promised to keep Bucky safe.  Steve has no reason not to believe him.  He and the king hadn’t gotten off to the best start, but they’d finished on the same side.  And this, the offer of shelter, of whatever he and Bucky could possibly need, it’s impossibly generous.  And now, especially after Bucky’s already made his choice, it seems impossibly rude for Steve to just keep sitting here.

Time seems not to have any meaning.  He meant to stay with Bucky for a few minutes.  When T’Challa came to check on him the first time, he knew it had to have been a few hours.  Now it’s come full circle and Steve’s second guessing whether an eternity’s passed or just a heartbeat.

But time has to be moving; there’s more evidence than Steve wants to admit.  The spectacular view outside the windows of the medical wing is growing dimmer.  It’d been barely morning when he’d held Bucky’s hand tightly and asked for the final time if he really wanted to do this.

So he’s lost a whole day.  But what’s a day in a life better described in decades?  Or in a life when he just got Bucky back, and now it’s possible he’ll never have him again.  Never get to hold him, feel the warm touch of his skin…

The back of Steve’s neck prickles.  He’s almost shivering, but feels like he could be sweating too.  The tremor in his fingers is more than it ought to be from just cold.  Steve’s memory stirs, and through the haze of Bucky and Brooklyn, he realizes the fight at the airport and then the fight in Siberia took place in the last 48-odd hours.  They feel so much further away than, say, the last time he hugged Bucky to his chest before the war.

His accelerated healing’s taken care of most of the bruises on his body, but it’s exacerbating the throb behind Steve’s forehead.  He takes a second to try and recall the last time he took a drink of water, but everything’s a blank.  Nothing’s mattered but Bucky.

“Captain Rogers.”  T’Challa’s deep vice floats across the room.

Steve doesn’t answer.  He re-stacks his posture so he’s leaning into his chair rather than up against the cryotube.  He’s still hunched in on himself, and he’s doubtful that the shift has made him appear any less pathetic.

“You’re still with him.”

Steve isn’t sure if he’s supposed to take it as a statement of the obvious or as a reassurance.  He raises his head an inch or so, but regrets it when gravity catches up and increases the throbbing of his headache and the pressure behind his eyes.  “Yeah, I…” He starts, not sure what he intends to say.

“I admire your commitment,” T’Challa says.  “He’s lucky to have you.”

“No, it’s, I’m lucky to have him,” Steve stammers.  The heaviness starts pooling in his bottom eyelids.  He wipes at the impending tears with one shaking hand.

“You’re not well,” T’Challa observes.

“No, I’m fine.”

“You haven’t eaten.  Or slept,” the king insists.

“I don’t need…” Steve trails off.  But with each passing second, it’s becoming more apparent that he does.  The view out the windows has gone completely pitch black.  Sunrise has to have been just moments ago…

“You need to care of yourself,” T’Challa says.  “I have your room prepared on the floor above.”

“I appreciate it,” Steve whispers.  “But I can’t leave him.”

T’Challa takes a long pause, pressing his fingers together.  “You are determined.  But I can’t allow you to harm yourself.  I can have the doctor give you intravenous fluids.  That can get you by for a short while, but eventually you’ll have to rest.”

The offer is tempting for a moment, but Steve imagines Bucky laughing at him, calling him a punk.  Telling him off with a playful swat to the back of the head.  Then turning his voice serious to make Steve promise to take better care of himself.

“I, god, I just…can’t leave him”

“He will be safe.  You have my word,” T’Challa says.  “I’ll sit with him myself for the night.”

Steve sighs.  It’s an impossible thing to ask of someone else, even though Steve was planning on doing it himself.  “I…”

T’Challa’s hand materializes under Steve’s arm.  “Please,” the king says quietly.  He doesn’t twitch at how much weight Steve puts into him on his way to standing.

“There are basic provisions in your room.  Please, use the intercom to order whatever you’d like to eat,” T’Challa says.

Steve lets him escort him to the elevator.  “I’ll be back, as soon as-as it’s morning.  I—”

“Don’t concern yourself.  Everything will be fine.”

Steve steps reluctantly into the elevator.  He watches T’Challa stride toward the cryotube and pause behind the chair where Steve’d been sitting.  When the metal doors slide closed, he lets himself lean into the wall and acknowledge how horrendous he feels.  The headache and clamminess are quickly giving way to nauseous heart palpitations.

It’s part hypoglycemia and part panic attack (and part raw unadulterated emotion, but Steve doesn’t want to touch that part).  The motion of the elevator softly jerking upward has him cupping his hands over his mouth so he doesn’t dry heave in the modern metal box.

The guest room is as luxurious as his room in Stark Tower had been.  Steve hardly takes it in, though.  He has to sit with his head between his knees because the walls threaten to close in.

As soon as he’s sure he’d not going to vomit, he inhales a quart of Gatorade and half a dozen protein bars.  Then, still sitting in the middle of the floor, he lets the tears fall.

Steve hadn’t had time to mourn Bucky when he’d first lost him.  The fall from the train had been in the middle of the mission against Red Skull, and Steve couldn’t afford to stop and let the insurmountable avalanche of emotion smash into him.  Then after he’d been rescued from the ice, Steve’d been confused.  The passage of time was hard to follow.  And then in the blink of an eye, Bucky had been back.  And then there were the years of tracking him down.  And now he’s gone again.

Not gone in the way he’s been gone before.  He’s not dead.  He’s not tortured.  But he’s still gone.  Inaccessible for the entirety of the foreseeable future.  And it’s with that thought still in his mind that Steve’s exhaustion takes over.  He falls asleep on the rug.

The second day, Steve starts his watch beside the glass tube early in the morning.  It’s still dark when he takes the elevator down one floor to the medical wing.  T’Challa is in the plastic chair Steve vacated the previous night.  He’s flipping the pages of a novel, but his expression’s too glazed for him to actually be reading.  A cart laden with a teapot and mugs has been pulled up beside the cryotube.  It’s as if T’Challa and Bucky have been sharing the libation.

“You’ve rested?” T’Challa checks as soon as he sees Steve.

“Yes,” Steve affirms.

“But not in the bed.”

“What?”  Steve subconsciously brushes his hand down the side of his face, and he finds the sharp imprint of the textured rug.  “Oh.”

T’Challa gives the ghost of a smile.

Steve turns his gaze to Bucky’s serene face behind the barrier of the glass.  He’s not sure why he feels like it’s so necessary to check; Bucky looks exactly the same as he did the day before. Peaceful.  Sleepy.  Like Steve is supposed to be feeling, up early after spending the night in T’Challa’s palace.

“I will bring up a more comfortable chair,” T’Challa says as he stands up and stretches, rubbing a hand over his lumbar spine and the curve of his ass.

“It’s ok,” Steve murmurs, looking back to Bucky’s delicately closed eyelids.

“It’s not,” T’Challa says.  He drops his book onto the tea cart and lifts the plastic chair to tuck it under one arm.  “The staff will replace it with something finer.  In the meantime, please, join me for breakfast?”  The king looks hopeful.

Steve glances from T’Challa back to Bucky.  The logic in him says he needs to re-assimilate.  Learn how to be around people again after three days of utter disaster.  But in his heart, there’s no contest.  “I’m… I just can’t,” he whispers.

T’Challa sighs.  “Alright.  I’ll have a different chair brought in immediately.”  There might be an undertone of disappointment.

Steve stands beside the cryotube as the king and the plastic chair disappear into the elevator.  He lets his forehead and right hand plaster to the glass.  Bucky stays peaceful and beautiful. Steve imagines drifting his fingertips through the ends of the long hair, trailing across the empty metal shoulder.  His hand goes white from contact with the tube’s frigid exterior.

It’s been over 70 years since he really touched Bucky like that.  It was hard to be together physically during the war, what with the close quarters and constant presence of others.  For the past few days, priorities have gotten in the way.  Steve’d tried to invite Bucky into an embrace the night before he’d gone back into cryo, but tensions had been too high.  Bucky’d bristled in Steve’s arms, and Steve’d been forced to let him go.

True to T’Challa’s word, the improved chair is brought in immediately.  Two uniformed men bring a claw-footed and richly upholstered armchair from the elevator with enough noise to make Steve raise his head.

“Oh, geez,” Steve mutters, torn between rushing to help, telling them to take it back, and exploding with a thousand thanks.  He ends up standing awkwardly in front of the glass tube as they maneuver the piece of furniture across the medical wing.

“You will be much more comfortable now, Captain Rogers,” one of the workers says as he angles the bulky chair so it’s positioned directly across from Bucky as if he and Steve are want to play cards or have a therapy session.

“Yeah, thank you,” Steve manages.  “This is…totally not necessary.  I’m fine, I just…”

“Are you in need of anything else?”

“No.  I’m fine.  I—this is too much already.”

Both workers nod and retreat, leaving Steve alone again.

Steve stays on his feet for a moment before taking a step back to relax into the chair.  It’s only a matter of inches further away from the glass, but it may as well be a mile.  Steve grips the seat by its plump arms and noisily scoots it along the tiled floor until its close enough for his knees to touch the cryotube.

Time settles into its usual rhythm, but to Steve it’s still unnoticeable background noise.  The quality of light streaming through the windows changes, and two or three times someone comes by to refresh the tea tray with hot water and plates of cookies.

Steve’s barely aware of what he’s doing as he sips warm liquid from the mug between his hands.  It does feel much better to be properly hydrated, but the dull ache in his head and sharper one in his heart remain unchanged.

It’s dark again outside when he bows forward with his hairline jammed against the glass.  A fresh cup of tea sends swirls of steam into clouds of fog on the outside of the tube.  A single tear adds to the accumulating moisture on Steve’s cheeks as he whispers, “I miss you, Buck.”

On the third day, Steve brings his sketchbook.  He means to capture the paradise of scenery out the window, or maybe some of the ridiculously futuristic machinery within the medical wing. But he can’t bring himself to turn the chair around.  He can’t even force his head to turn away from the sight of Bucky’s serene face.

So that’s how the picture starts.  The soft outline of his pacifically closed eyelids graces the paper first.  Then the gentle curve of his nose and the peak of his cupid’s bow.  The features come to life before they encase themselves in the shape of face.  Each stroke of jawline, hairline, and cheekbone brings another modicum of impossible beauty to Bucky’s likeness.

Steve can’t make his hand draw the stumped metal shoulder or lines of the cryotube or the hard seat that props Bucky up.  It would bring in the darkly transparent barrier that’s a reminder of everything bad that’s ever happened to them.  So instead, Steve sketches in a plumped pillow under Buck’s head, a tangle of blankets around his bare chest.

To Steve, there’s no sight more perfect.  He clearly remembers the last time he really saw it, the morning before Bucky shipped off back in ’45.  He remembers the feel of Bucky’s slightly stubbly cheek and his soft lips and even the subtle breeze of his breath.  The only real change now is his hair.  And Steve longs for the chance to run his fingers through it.

He pauses and lifts his pencil from the page where he’s been shading the shadow of bedding against Bucky’s pectoral muscle.  Everything feels so perfectly right that it has to be all wrong. The room’s suddenly hot even though it’s freezing.  And Steve’s jeans are too tight in all the wrong places.

He raises his eyes to make contact with Bucky’s closed lids through the glass.  He wants so badly that he’s ashamed of himself.

The elevator doors sliding open sounds distant.  Heat is rising from his crotch up through his stomach and chest and up to his cheeks.  Steve hears his own blood pounding in his ears, and all he can think to do is get out of there before T’Challa comes up behind him.

“Captain Rogers?”

Steve’s already sprinting into the bathroom, slamming the door shut and locking it behind him.  He backs up against the heavy carved wood and breathes heavily.  He shouldn’t be feeling like this about Bucky when he’s frozen and unable to speak for himself.  He shouldn’t feel this way at all according to the outdated logic that still smites his thoughts, even though he knows better.

“Goddamnit,” Steve mutters into his fist.  He puffs out a gust of air and cups himself through his jeans with his other hand.  Mad impulses of desire mix with desperation and shame, and Steve doesn’t know what to do.  He’s disgusted with himself.  He’s about to give in and yank down his zipper when his body changes its mind and he’s suddenly gagging morning tea into the toilet instead.

When the wave of sickness ends, Steve’s thankfully flaccid again.  But he’s dizzy and prickling and suddenly hit with the realization that he hadn’t so much as closed his sketchbook before he ran away from T’Challa.

“Shit,” Steve whispers.  He runs the sink, gripping the basin with both hands and doing his best to both hurry and buy time.  He shouldn’t be humiliated.  He didn’t do anything.  But the cloud still hangs over him, and the urge to cry joins the nebulous swirl of everything else still playing around his brain and hollow chest.

He doesn’t look at T’Challa when he steps out of the bathroom.

“You’re still unwell,” the king states.

Steve isn’t sure if he’s referring to his depressed mood and loose emotions or the recent sounds vomiting or the unfinished sketch still sitting in the lavish armchair.  But it all adds up to the same thing.  He’s on the opposite side of the cryotube from where the chair is positioned, but he can still see the curve of Bucky’s ear and the dark curtain of hair obscuring the edge of his face.  And it’s again as if that’s the only thing in Steve’s entire existence.

“Yeah,” Steve chokes.  He leans back until he catches the wall, then slides down it.  Steve masks his face in his kneecaps, but he still hears T’Challa do the same.  He’s not sure how much longer he can do this.

On the fourth day, Steve leaves a thank-you note.

Then he walks purposefully down the hall of the compound, not pausing to look through the window of the medical wing.  If he does, he’ll never leave.

And now what he needs most is to step back out into the world and face the future.  Which feels like it’s poised to be this way forever.

___________________

But no one ever tells you that forever feels like home

Sitting all alone inside your head

[jkgrl]

Say You Wont Let Go

Jungkook x Reader // oneshot // 5k words

Summary: Jungkook just wanted to have one night where he didn't think about you, but unfortunately for him that can never happen.

Warnings: Angst, Fluff, mentions of alcohol and vomiting

A/N: SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG OMG!! I feel so bad but ive spent a long ass time on this so I hope you like this oneshot!!! Its inspired by the song say you wont let go by James Arthur I literally love that song so much. enjoy!

 Jungkook was hellbent on not going to the club that night. He really was. After an extremely long, and tiring concert all he wanted to do was crash in the dorms, and play Mario Kart with the rest of his band mates while consuming a copious amount of junk food. Unfortunately for him, his hyungs were all riding their post concert high and wanted to finish the night with shots and girls.

After getting back to the dorm Jungkook dove straight for his room, avoided the pestering comments from his friends about how he ‘needed to get out more.’ And ‘it wasn't healthy to drink straight from the two liter pop bottle.’ Yeah, okay as if that were true.

Once Jungkook was in his room he body slammed onto his bed. He pulled out his phone and scrolled through the many messages, subconsciously telling himself he wasn't hoping for one certain message from one certain person.

He was cut off by a repeated rapping sound from the door. Jungkook buries his head into his pillow and groans. Why couldn't everyone leave him in his depressed state alone?

“Let! Me! In! Kookie!” Shouts a deep voice with fervent purpose.

“Yah, Taehyung I just want to be alone right now.”  He grumbles while trudging his way to the door unlocking it and peering at the tall boy with sad puppy eyes in front of him.

He jutted out his bottom lip in his signature pout, and that was enough for Jungkook to let him in. Sad Taehyung never failed to make Jungkook into a big puddle.

“Come to the club tonight with me? It'll be fun yeah?” He grasped Jungkook’s arm and ran past him, wrenching him deeper into their shared dorm room.

Once in the middle of the room Taehyung started to twirl around still arms linked with Jungkook laughing jovially. Moonlight from the window cascaded them in shadow as they pirouetted and pirouetted.

“Alright, alright. Let's stop now.” Jungkook said through breathy puffs of air that fanned over Taehyung's face. Pulling his hands out of Taehyung's he flopped down on the bed into a pile of pillows and blankets. Yeah, there was no way he was going to go clubbing when he had such a comfy bed.

Taehyung flitted around their dorm room, grabbing what he called ‘the essentials’, which basically meant breath mints, and a change of clothes in case he vomits on himself. Jungkook let out little grumbles of protests when he was suddenly being pulled him from the solitude of his warm bed by Taehyung.

“Yah! Leave me alone I'm comfy!” Jungkook groaned as he rolled onto his side clinging to his bed for dear life. Taehyung was having none of that as he grabbed Jungkook’s blankets and ripped them off him in one swift motion.

“You know what you need tonight?” He asked as he got real close to Jungkook. That shit eating grin plastered on his face that always seemed to be there when he was up to no good. “To. get. laid.” He said enunciating each word slowly so the point stuck in Jungkook’s brain.

He flopped back down on the bed, staring up at Taehyung’s boxy grin. “Damn you're right.” Jungkook sighed out.

“Of course I'm right! I always am! Now if you'll excuse me…” Taehyung trailed off, pulling his shirt over his head, and grabbing a bottle of cologne. He doused himself entirely in the smelly perfume while making sure to flash Jungkook his tan exposed torso.

“Make sure to do that at the club. The ladies will be all over you if you do a strip tease on the dance floor.” He giggled as he poked Taehyung’s squishy sides.

“The ladies would be all over you too Kookie if you just tried.” That comment wiped the smile from Jungkook’s face completely, his giggling long forgotten as his face formed into one of anger.

“You know why I don't try.” He grumbles pissed off to the point of no return and pointing his finger into Taehyung's chest forcefully. “Don't fucking bring her up again.”

He felt shitty. He really did. Especially when he saw the way hurt flashed through Taehyung's puppy eyes, but he couldn't help it. The boys knew not to bring you up around Jungkook in fear of sending him back into a downward spiral.

It's been exactly eight months since you left him, and with each passing day Jungkook has been able to breath better and better, but that's only because he has wiped away every reminder of you. The only thing he can't seem to get rid of is his memories of you.

But his image of you has faded. When he tried to picture you all he got was blurred lines and fuzzy features. He's forgetting the way you looked in the morning sleeping next to him. He's even forgetting the way you smiled at him like he was your everything. When you left, you burned everything he thought he knew about you, leaving him grasping for any idea of you. Now it's been months, and he's finally getting better. He's even thinking about hooking up with someone just to feel some type of love again, but then Taehyung had to go and mention you. He didn't even have to say your name, all he had to do was give Jungkook that signature look. It's the face that says ‘I'm sorry someone fucked you over to the point you can't go out anymore.’ Jungkook has become very akin to that look.

Sighing heavily he looks back at Taehyung's sulking figure leaving the room. “Wait Tae, shit I'm sorry I'm such a mess.” Jungkook garbled out, his voice breaking towards the end.

“It's okay man,” Taehyung says as he nearly runs back towards Jungkook, enveloped him in a great, big bro hug, with a pat on the back and everything. “You've made so much progress Kookie. I hate to see you waste away in this room, playing Mario Kart and thinking about some girl.” He mumbles, pulling Jungkook almost impossibly closer to him.

“You're right. Time to move on, am I right?” Jungkook laughed, shaking his head as he pulled away from Taehyung's tight grip. “Come on. Let's go.” He said finally.

Taehyung's eyes bugged out of his head and he grasped Jungkook by the shoulders. “You mean it? You're actually gonna go clubbing with us?” He shouted.

“Yeah, I'm over her. Let's get shit faced.” Jungkook said with a definitive tone. Taehyung whooped and hollered, grabbing his Kookie by the neck, and dragging him down the hall, and out the dorm with the five other boys. All of them chanting about how smashed they were going to get.

As the door to the limo closed Jungkook had brief thoughts of you flashing through his mind, but he quickly washed them away with a shot...and then another… and then another...

---

By the time they reached the club Jungkook was on top of the world. That was probably due to the fact that he had downed a few and was possibly going to get alcohol poisoning by the end of night, if Yoongi hadn't snatched the bottle away from his needy hands.

Jungkook had let out a whimper of protest before he groaned and pressed his head against the cool glass of the window. He stared at the people who shook in the cold weather, waiting desperately to get in the club, and maybe it was because he was smashed, or maybe it was because deep down he missed you, but he thought for a split second that the girl standing just beyond the window, in line was you.

He shook his head, letting his fringe fall down in front of his eyes, glancing back up and taking a good look at the girl not twenty feet away. Her hair hung just below her shoulders, curled and pinned into a half up half down. Jungkook knew how she always loved to do her hair like that. She was clad in a navy blue dress that was so unbelievably tight in the chest but flared out as it hit her mid thigh and he shamelessly pressed his nose to the glass, scanning her up, and down, because the eight months did her so well. It did you so well.

Your friend whispered something in your ear and you burst into that familiar, bright smile that Jungkook spent months trying, and failing to visualize. He really couldn't explain what it felt like to see you again after so long. In one way it felt like he could breath for the first time in months, but in another the weight of knowing that you looked so happy without him felt completely suffocating. His chest tightened and he had to take a few calming breaths before he felt like he could move again.

He sat there, glued to his seat with his unresolved feelings on his sleeve. It wasn't until Taehyung was pulling Jungkook by the shirt, forcing him to leave the comfort of the car that he realized he was going to have to face you for the first time in what felt like forever.

Stumbling out of the car he felt like he was underwater. Pressure built in Jungkook ears and the dull screams of the fans were muffled to him as he searched the line for you.

He didn't love you anymore. He didn't. He was positive.

Everything after that happened in slow motion to him. You turned towards the sound of the excitement, a smile still plastered on your face, that is until you saw Jungkook. Immediately you paled, eyes widened, an emotion he couldn't quite pin point flashed through your eyes, and god, you looked just as beautiful up close and it made his heart sting  painfully in his chest before he stopped it. Jungkook took a deep breath that burned in his chest as memories of that night when you left him flashed vividly before his eyes. He’d be lying if he said that didn't persuade him into doing what he did next.

It was petty really, but it was all done from a place of deep hurt. He made sure that when you two made eye contact that he looked as unimpressed as possible. His eyes flashing over you like you were never anything to him. Jungkook was sure he was not drunk enough for this because the look on your face made him feel ill. Really, really ill. Even though he though a part of him kind of hated you for what you did, he never wanted to hurt you. He was just too self consumed in the moment, thinking only of keeping his image together.

It was a low blow, he thought to himself, but what was even lower was the way he blew past you, acting like you were just another crazed fan. He walked straight into the club following his 6 band members like he couldn't be bothered by your presence at all. His eyes were so trained to their back’s he never saw how your face fell, and how you had to take a minute to stop the tears that threatened to spill at the near sight of him.

Standing outside the pulsing club you reflected on the progress you had made over the past eight months. It was filled with many breakdowns that left you hyperventilating and grasping for any small reminder of Jungkook. All that time was supposed to have made you strong. It was building you up to the moment when you finally ran into him again and were able to not lose it at the sight of him, but here you were crying on a curb about a boy who just didn't care anymore.

You wrapped your arms around your torso struggling to keep it all together. Pressing your hands into your sides to try and stay grounded you repeated one thing like a mantra.

You didn't love him anymore. You didn't. You were positive.

That's why you pulled yourself together in a moment, and you turned to your friends and became the life of the party again because if Jungkook couldn't find it in him to care, then neither could you.

---

Jungkook sat stewing with anger as he watched you from the VIP section. His eyes possessively following you around the club, watching as you downed shot after shot. His anger growing each time you carelessly tossed your head back to the point he had to clench his hands into fists at his sides so they didn't shake.

Seeing you after so long was a thousand times harder than he thought it would be. Jungkook had really thought he had made so much progress in moving away from you. He had spent months pushing all aspects of your existence out of his life, from throwing away the little presents you had bought him, to burning the letters you had written him. Jungkook had gone completely cold turkey, and now his body was reacting to the process of having to see you again in the worst possible way.

It was tearing him up really, how bad he wanted you. From the moment he saw you from behind that window he felt like jumping from the moving car and clinging to you, his body craving your presence so much he felt like dying on the spot.

Watching the way your hips swayed in time to the music, Jungkook let out a string of obscenities. His gaze glued to you as you let your body feel the music, you were dancing like a stripper, and it was fucking pissing him off, and also turning him on. Which was very confusing for Jungkook.

Even when dating Jungkook you were always a source of male attention. So it came as no surprise to him when your dirty dancing caught the eyes of many suitors across the club.

Jungkook shook with anger as he watched the way others lustfully gazed your way. His nostrils flaring as he clenched and unclenched his grip on his beer. He wasn't sure why it bothered him so much but it just did. He hated this absolute power you had over him, always making him worry, and always causing him hurt.

He promised himself he wasn't going to intervene. Telling himself that you weren't his problem anymore, he tried to pull his gaze away from you. He thought he'd focus his attention on the group of girls that had been invited up to the VIP section by his friends, but as he gave hem a once over he realized none of them had half the appeal that you possessed.

Jungkook sighed deeply and raked his fingers through his black hair, pulling at his roots. Something he did when he was particularly agitated. Looking back at the dance floor he suddenly felt panic rise in his chest when he couldn't spot you. He scanned the throngs of people desperately searching for any sign of you.

All he could see was people's bodies grinding against one another. The thought of you being one them made bile rise in the back of his throat because even though eight months had passed just thinking of you with another guy kept Jungkook up at night.

Everything comes to a complete halt for Jungkook when he sees you backed into a corner by one of the men who had been shamelessly staring at you just moments ago. The look on your face was one of complete revolt as your tiny hands shoved weakly against the large man’s chest.

Bolting past Taehyung and his friends, Jungkook takes the stairs from the VIP section two at a time. Once the ground he rips through people on the dance floor. Keeping in mind that each step is taking him closer to you he runs at a speed he didn't even know possible.

By time Jungkook shoves the last person out of the way his black hair is matted to his forehead with sweat and he was breathing heavily.

The man’s hands groped your sides aggressively as he continually tried to grind against you despite your repeated protests. Your hands were slamming against his chest as he pushed into you, but in a moment his heavy weight was lifting off of you, your hands flailing against nothing.

Opening your eyes you're met with a scene you never expected to see. Jungkook has your assailant pinned to the ground. The vein in his neck pronounced and his face all screwed up into something nasty as he gripped the man by shirt speaking to him in a very deep, malice filled tone.“Don't fucking touch my girl ever again. I swear to god the next time I see you I'll kill you. I fucking will.” His voice dripping with enmity for the man below him as he tightly gripped his shirt, pulling it so taut that it was starting to rip.

“Jesus man, we were just having some fun! I didn't know she was yours I swear!” The man shouted clearly afraid from beneath Jungkook.

Letting out a bitter laugh Jungkook stood up, pulling the man with him in one swift motion. Dusting off his shirt and fearfully glancing between you and Jungkook your attacker scurried away with his tail between his legs.

If you were being honest Jungkook's raw fury had scared the hell out of you, but before you knew it his soft side was back and he was pulling you into his chest gently. Cradling your head into his shoulder and running a hand over you soothingly as you felt goosebumps rise on your skin like a map of where he was touching you.

Jungkook pulled back and looked you in the eye. Even in the dark you lit up his entire world. Club lights bounced off your features causing him to feel illuminated just by your presence. Touching your skin sent jolts of electricity through him leaving him feeling slightly buzzed and even more intoxicated. He couldn't help himself as he ran his fingers through your hair, pushing the strands away from your face so he could see you more clearly.

“Are you okay?” He whispered into the shell of your ear while grasping your hands in his. “Please tell me he didn't hurt you. God, I couldn't live with myself if he did. Just-” Jungkook broke off his sentence by pressing his forehead against yours while closing his eyes and fighting back tears at the thought of someone else touching you.

You both stood there for minutes just drinking in each other's presence after not seeing each other for so long, and maybe it was because you were drunk or maybe it was because you missed him but you breathed him in, your hands grabbing at his jacket, his arms, his hair until you pulled him into you, crashing your lips against his.

Jungkook immediately moaned into the kiss, reaching his hands up to tangle in your hair as he pushed you back against the wall. The music was blaring into both of your ears but the sound was muffled to you two as you fell deeper and deeper into each other.

Jungkook swiped his tongue across your lower lip begging for entrance and you happily gave it to him, remembering just how good Jungkook was at kissing you. It was as soon as you tongues collided though that Jungkook could taste the alcohol on you.

Realization hits him like a freight train because he knew you didn't want this. He remembers how you told him just eight months ago that you didn't want him anymore. It was something that really stuck with him and pained him to ever think about, but in this moment he can even hear your voice as you screamed those awful words to him.

And that's why he pulls back. Narrowly avoiding the way your hands try to pull him back into you because even though he knows all he wants is to kiss you right now,  he's not so sure you want that too.

“Jungkook…is something wrong?” Your words slur together and he realizes that it’s the first thing he's heard you say all night. And it's fucking tearing him up because literally everything is wrong.

It's wrong that he kissed you, and ruined all his progress, and it's wrong that you don't actually want him he way he wants you. It's wrong that he just took advantage of you in your drunken state and it's damn right upsetting that you look so beautiful tonight that it physically hurts his heart.

The funniest joke of all though is the fact that you look truly hurt by his rejection as if you actually wanted him,  but he knew that it's just the alcohol talking.

“What's wrong is that tomorrow you're gonna wake up and regret even seeing me here let alone kissing me.” Jungkook runs his fingers through his black hair and lets out a deep sigh feeling his insides curl at the look of pain that runs across your face at what he says next. “And I'm gonna wake up tomorrow in the same place I was eight months ago.” He chokes out.

You tentatively take a step forward and press your hand against Jungkook's cheek. He jerks back at the sudden contact almost as if your touch had burned him, but when you prevail he leans into your touch. Fat tears were clumped in his eyelashes and you hold back a sob at the fact you've caused this all.

Because you let go. You let go the love of your life because you were selfish and couldn't stand dating an idol. Your told yourself that by cutting things off in such an aggressive manner Jungkook would stop loving you and be able to move on with his life. Even though it really killed you to see him with someone else, you loved him enough to let him go, and to be happy. You knew it killed him that he couldn't take you out in public, and you knew he hated having to sneak around with you into the night. So you decided what was best was to cut it all off. Get rid off the source of the pain. You being the source.

Painting yourself in a horrible light wasn't that hard, what was hard was seeing the pain it had caused Jungkook. Even now as he stands in front of you, months after your breakup you still see that wrecked boy in front of you, who was letting out whimpers of ‘don't let go’s and ‘I love you’s.

With his cheek still warm in your hand, you close the gap between your bodies. Hot air swimming around you both as you stare into his eyes remembering why you love him so much.

Holding onto your wrist, Jungkook stares completely captivated by the color of your eyes.

“Stay with me tonight, and I'll show you in the morning that I won't regret this.” You whisper pressing your forehead into his and breathing in his scent, the strong smell of Jungkook filling your senses.

His heart sped up in his chest, beating widely as he stared down at you. Before he knew what he was doing he was pulling you out of the doors of the club. The cold air hit him like a ton of bricks but the feeling of your hand in his was enough to keep him warm.

You crawled after Jungkook into the waiting taxi and as soon as he door closed safely behind you he was lifting you into his lap and nuzzling his head into your shoulder.

“I missed this so much.” Jungkook mumbles into your neck as he presses open mouthed kisses onto your skin, your head lolling back, and your eyes fluttering shut.

Jungkook was positively on fire. Wherever your hands hands touched ignited a flame under his skin and he squirmed to press himself closer to your body, craving that heat you provided. Your dress worked its way higher and higher up your thighs as you straddled him. As soon as a he got a view of your lace underwear he let out a strangled moan that made a you feel empowered.

You had always been a great dancer, and Jungkook soon remembered your skills when you started to circle your hips against the growing bulge in his pants. Jungkook couldn't breathe when he looked at you swinging your hips back and forth against him, drinking up every ounce of pleasure you provided him and feeling dangerously intoxicated by your presence. Heat swirled between you as you both filled the car with intimate sounds, not even embarrassed by the flustered taxi driver who got you to your destination as soon as possible.

Rolling out of the car, a tumble of limbs, and hot desire, you pulled Jungkook up the many stairs to your apartment. Stumbling along the way, because you were so blasted out of your mind. You didn't even know what was happening. All you knew was Jungkook was finally here again, and fuck you weren't letting him go for the second time.

Your hands were everywhere as you entered your bedroom, gliding over the expanse of his chest, up his sides, cupping his cheeks as you pulled him closer to you. Your kisses were rushed, a mess of heavy breathing and mumbled curses throwing Jungkook into a frenzy as he tried to undress you as fast as possible. His hands shaking in the process because he was so drunk off the alcohol and your body.

Suddenly you placed your hands on his chest as a feeling of dread crept through your body and up to your mouth. “Jungkook-” you whispered the room spinning as you pulled out of his grasp. “I think I'm gonna be sick.”

Jungkook's hushed responses went unheard to you as you bolted to the bathroom. Collapsing near the toilet and heaving out a whole bucket of alcohol. Your body totally rejecting the poison you had put into it.

Jungkook was quick to move to your side, holding your hair back as you heaved and heaved, repeatedly emptying your body of its contents. His heart constricting with worry for your well being as he soothingly ran his hand up and down your back drawing circles into the skin to try and soothe you.

Suddenly you stopped, turning and smiling over your shoulder. It was a thankful, shy smile that blossomed on your cheeks making your eyes crinkle, and successfully knocked the wind out of his lungs. Jungkook could swear that moment he was completely stone cold sober, all his alcohol consumption long forgotten, because you looked just as beautiful as ever.

He forgot a lot of things when he looked into your eyes. He forgot that he was older than you, that he was an idol, that you had broken his heart, all he knew was that he wanted to dance with you right now. He knew that every day from here on out was going to get better, because it would be spent with you. You made him feel like he was enough and that was all that mattered.

“Stay over. Please?” You whispered as Jungkook slowly pulled you closer to his chest, hugging you to him on the cold tiled floor.

“I think you should get some rest.” Jungkook hushed as he silently rocked you back and forth.

As he gazed down at your features and everything came crashing down on Jungkook. He felt like he was drowning in a sea of his emotions, being completely taken over by the fact that he loved you. He really, really loved you. When he was with you felt safe, almost as if you were his home, and all this time he'd been away from you all he needed was to come back to you, because he had found what he needed in a person.

If he was being completely honest it absolutely terrified him. It scared the shit out of him that in one second he found a love that will take him a lifetime to get over.

You fell asleep like that, in his arms on the floor, completely exhausted from being sick, and Jungkook carried you to your bed, tucking you under the covers gently. Smoothing the hair back from your forehead he pressed a gentle kiss to you cheek.

You smelled just like he remembered and it caused him to laugh. Some things really never change he thought to himself. You were always such a constant for him, even when you left he could never rid you from his senses. It's you. It's always been you and it says will be. The hurt you had caused him was temporary but his love for you wasn't. He tried convincing himself that he was fine but that was just denial and seeing you tonight confirmed for him that he'd truly never get over you.

He was prepared to leave. He gathered his things and was ready to go back to the dorms when he heard you stir in your sleep, letting out a small cry for Jungkook.

Rushing over to you he sat perched on the side of the bed. You groggily opened your eyes reaching for Jungkook's waist in the process. Pulling him down next to you and snuggling into his broad chest.

In your sleep ridden state Jungkook could only make out snippets of words. Whimpers of “don't leave me”, “I need you.”, and the one that rang most clearly in Jungkook's ears were “I love you.”

His heart beat loudly in his chest. Every fiber of his being on fire. He loved you and all he wanted was to be there for you. To be able to love you till his lungs gave out and till you were both gray and old. The past was in the past. He couldn't change the amount of time you two lost but he could sure as hell try and make up for it. He didn't know what the future held for you two but as long as you didn't let go again, as long as you loved him that was enough. 

[big-stupid-jellyfish]

man, why is there so much words to say about some stupid kids

part 1, part 2

3,5 words, bnha, still unrated and painfully unedited,  kirishima, bakugou, other kids, mortal kombat as plot device, some descriptions of abusive parents, etc

mmmmmaybe it’s time to put this on ao3 or something but fuck no, i am not ready to edit any of this or come up with a name, or figure out the chapters outta this mess, really

There was another videogame night at dormitory.

Tetsutetsu found some worthy competitors among their class, or at least that's what Bakugou got. He knew about this because this time Kirishima invited him. After brief consideration (and a good look at Kirishima's hopeful expression) Bakugou accepted the invitation.

There wasn't any reason for him to get involved into this kind of thing, but at some subconscious level Bakugou understood that a "why the fuck not" was as good reason as any. Social contacts before he moved into the school dormitory were almost exclusively out of necessity, rarely a pleasant business for him, the only satisfaction he got from which was victory - over something, anything. There was something slightly intriguing in how these highly competitive kids that were gathered in U.A. also willingly spent time together.

It was also rare for him to not be in the center of attention. Bakugou didn't like it, his instincts screaming to stand out, to have every pair of eyes on him, to prove he is worthy of the spotlight. He learned to appreciate the good observation point that the sidelines made, and he was making notes on the information he got on other people that couldn't have been obtained from his favorite method of learning, direct confrontation.

He clinged to these points to save himself from realizing that maybe, just a little, this whole thing was kind of fun.

He wasn't even particularly annoyed at occasional case of dumbassery or even presence of Todoroki. The latter seemed to be in similar position to Bakugou, quietly sitting in the chair by himself, observing the group and the game with his freaky cold eyes. For all his declarations of how he wasn't there to make friends, Todoroki was impressively bad at not socializing with his classmates in a friendly manner.

Bakugou kind of hoped he didn't start giving off the same impression of an impossible loser as Todoroki.

After a while, when the game mechanics were more or less absorbed by Bakugou's sharp mind, his thoughts turned to Kirishima, as if gravitating towards him. He seemed truly in his element in the group of his friends, loud and bragging about his skills and victories, but at the same time subtle and filling between the sharp edges of the people here.

Bakugou wondered how much of his classmates' friendliness towards each other was actually Kirishima's doing, and how much they weren't even aware of that. Was Kirishima himself aware of that effect he had on them? Watching how Kirishima calmly talked Tetsutetsu down from fuming at Kaminari who tried to recharge the controller with his quirk without watching his output, absorbing the negative emotions and turning them into smiles and jokes, Bakugou concluded that he knew very well what he was doing.

This felt almost relaxing, to know that personality crashes were being actively smoothed down by someone like Kirishima. Bakugou didn't care about chaos he frequently caused by simply being himself around people - but he found he didn't mind the absence of it.

He tried to distract himself from thinking about his classmate, suddenly uncomfortable for no reason, and turned his attention back to the matches. Currently, Uraraka, under Ashido's guiding, apparently, was kicking Sero's ass. It was somewhat painful to watch.

"Block low, holy shit," Bakugou muttered to himself. Uraraka seemed to deploy the ancient and very effective technique of button mashing, obviously new to the game herself and incapable of performing juggling combos that were hard to break from. Sero just needed to find the block button already.

"He'll get hit with overheads immediately," Todoroki suddenly answered him.

Bakugou didn't mind distractions from thinking about Kirishima, but he minded Todoroki.

"What the fuck do you know? You don't even play," Bakugou glared at him. Those complicated moves of mixed up hits were pure luck on Uraraka's side, and that seemed like a reasonable margin of failure.

"Yeah, you don't play either, Bakugou," Sero grinned to himself. Bakugou noticed he followed the advice, to Uraraka's dismay.

He also noticed Kirishima paying attention to them now, ready to intervene.

Uraraka broke through Sero's defenses with an overhead hit and claimed the victory. For some reason she decided to glare at Bakugou with a frown, as if he was somewhat hindering with her game instead of pointing out the obvious things.

"I think this dispute should be resolved in a friendly match of Mortal Kombat," Kirishima declared, waving at Sero and Uraraka to get up. Next thing Bakugou knew was that he was sitting in Uraraka's place, controller shoved in his hands, and next to him was Todoroki, in the same position with the same puzzled look.

"Watch out your quirks, you jerks," Tetsutetsu said, ever worried for the state of his console and controllers, but much less livid about either Bakugou or Todoroki than ever.

"I never played this kind of game," Todoroki said, slight change of his even tone indicating shyness. He was examining the controller buttons as if this was a snake.

"Mash the buttons, sometimes you'll get it right," Kaminari said, taking place by him, while Kirishima sat on the sofa handle next to Bakugou.

"Before that, basics," Kirishima said. "This part is movement, this part is hits, this is block, like that you grab," he quickly went through the sets of buttons on the controller in Bakugou's hands. "The rest is up to the characters you pick."

Bakugou couldn't care less about actually playing or what character to pick and everything else, but he was pitted against Todoroki of all people - the only worse case scenario would be to be set up against Deku. The concept of backing off ceased to exist.

"I don't give a fuck. This one," he grumbled and pointed at the very first fighter. Some ninja again.

For some reason, this choice was met with giggles.

"Scorpion! Oh my god it fits," Kirishima openly laughed. "He is angry and sets people on fire," he explained under Bakugou's hard look. Unspoken "Just like you" followed.

"Can I pick something fitting as well?" Todoroki played along to the nonsense.

More giggling.

"Yeah, you're looking at your fit," Kirishima was unambiguously enjoying this. "Sub-Zero, freezes people and makes tea."

More giggles. Todoroki looked pleased.

"A fated fight between the rival clans," Kaminari exclaimed dramatically as they went through the boring intro scene and looked through movesets with Kirishima raving about some combos and Tetsutetsu butting in with his own advises. To Bakugou's relief Todoroki seemed to be as confused as him about what was so funny about their fight.

First thrity seconds or so went quite horribly, both boys unfamiliar with controls and not having a slightest clue how the buttons they pressed corresponded to the movements on the screen. It was enough for Bakugou to have a displeased scowl on his face, ready to throw the controller away, but oddly nobody minded them being clunky with the game, cheering on the occasional move being successfully pulled off.

Bakugou wouldn't say he understood the hype over watching a shitty fighting match.

"Button mashing is pretty fucking boring," he said after two rounds. He won the first one, Todoroki won the second one, and it pained Bakugou to look at how gracelessly and ineffectively both did it. He could consider this fun only on two conditions being fulfilled simultaneously: him winning and him being good at winning.

Todoroki seemed to have some complicated emotion about this, as well, but Bakugou was out of patience of guessing what, given that generally Todoroki's expressions were a game of "spot the difference in two completely identical pictures".

"It just takes some practice," Kirishima replied, nonchalant. "Do you mind?" He directed the question at Todoroki, to which he nodded, without needing further explanations, and Kirishima slid off the handle to take place behind the sofa. "With some practice you can pull off something like that," suddenly, Bakugou heard that in his ear as he felt Kirishima's hands on both of his sides, placing them on the controller over Bakugou's.

Kirishima started pressing buttons over Bakugou's fingers and, judging from the hitting noises from the display, that connected, but Bakugou found himself staring at Kirishima instead of the fight. He was close, bangs of the ruffled hair touching Bakugou's face, grin so bright that it was a little blinding in such close proximity. Kirishima looked proud, showing off, and it probably would be for the best to turn and look at what he was showing Bakugou, but he found himself unable to do so.

"Ah! Dropped it," Kirishima exclaimed, face lively with emotions, and pouted for a second. "Thirty five percent, though, not bad!" Another smile full of sharp teeth and some warm emotion Bakugou couldn't name. "Then you can do this," Kirishima said, eyes glued to the screen, still unaware of how little attention the game was getting. Bakugou blinked, unsure how to process what he was feeling.

He wanted to tell Kirishima to knock it off, that he didn't need this patronizing attitude, but he was stuck in this Kirishima-gazing. So many of his thoughts were dedicated to this idiot lately, Bakugou was belatedly realizing, he recognized the tiny shifts of his expressions now, the concentrated frown oh these funnily looking eyebrows, jaw jutted forward as he was pulling off something amazing on the screen - Bakugou wouldn't know, he was too preoccupied with watching Kirishima's feautures relaxing into a victorious smile.

"See? That wasn't that hard," Krisihima pumped his fist in the air and now grinned /at him/, and yeah, how did intruding his personal space become such a problem for Bakugou?

"I see," Bakugou said flatly, feeling his ears burning, betraying his facade, acutely aware of Kirishima's hand gripping his shoulder while the other one was on the controller over his own.

It took him hearing snickering around him to snap out of this weird state, and suddenly he remembered about existence of other people. Todoroki was the first one to resume existing in Bakugou's world, and the bastard pointedly looked at the screen, face perfectly void of any emotions which was an indication good enough that he noticed. Then, Uraraka came into his line of sight, and she was doing that thing with her eyebrows that resembled caterpillars mating.

/Then/ there was Ashido giggling and Tetsutetsu asking what happened, and that was enough.

"This shit is not worth investing time into," he said and got up, hearing a light-hearted "Fair enough" from Kirishima. His heart was pounding with emotions as Bakugou tried to pound them back, risking to explode them all.

Without other words, he left the common area, in sore need of solitude and space to think.

* * *

Kirishima was in this hiding spot again, back pressed hard against the fence. He felt like he couldn't breathe, not with Yaoyorozu's hand on his chest like that, not with Midoriya petrified by his side.

Why couldn't he breathe? He was allowed to do that. He wasn't allowed to be there, to reach out to his classmate in trouble, he was not allowed to fight. He was allowed to breathe.

Kirishima forced a gulp of air into his lungs with a sob, and it didn't help.

There were noises - the fight broke out, and the terrifying presence of this unnamed somebody was diluted with chaos of the battle. Kirishima heard voices - of heroes, concerned, careful, of villains, crazed and unintelligible. The oppressive atmosphere exploded - that was the sound of Bakugou fighting, desperate and furious.

Bakugou was not allowed to fight either, Kirishima thought, but what other choice did he have? What other choice did /they/ have?

Suddenly, Kirishima was lying in a bed, in a room that might have been his. What happened? Was it over? Did they get everyone out? He couldn't breathe again, fist clutching his t-shirt against his chest. He tried to fight this paralyzing helplessness, aware enough to realize that was a dream (another bad one), but did they got everyone out? Was Bakugou okay? If he went and checked Bakugou's room, would he find him there?

Kirishima woke up fully in the exact moment as he banged on Bakugou's door, loud and desperate.

He took a step back, movements still stalled from the sleepiness, almost tripping on the blanket he took with him again, and thought if the situation was still salvageable if he just went to his room, hoping he didn't wake his classmate up.

The door opened, putting an end to Kirishima's cowardly thoughts of retreat as he was faced with Bakugou's displeased expression and the urgent need to find words that would resolve this situation. He didn't find any, not in this short time, so he just stood there, wrapped in his blanket, feeling dumb.

Bakugou scowled and, after a pause, stepped from the doorframe and made an inviting gesture. Surprised, Kirishima followed him inside the room.

In confusion, Kirishima watched Bakugou promptly falling on his bed, not paying the late intruder attention. After some consideration of what to do, still at loss of words, he sat on the floor next to the bed.

"Nightmare again?"

Kirishima startled at the question.

"Bad dream," he corrected Bakugou stubbornly. "Sorry to wake you up," he finally said, rubbing his eyes, and- hell no, they weren't wet, were they?

"I wasn't sleeping."

"Oh."

Kirishima wondered why. The atmosphere in the room was weird, and he wasn't sure if he could attribute that solely to the late hour. He tried to not get too comfy with his blanket, feeling it would've been pretty stupid to fall asleep on the floor. Bakugou was quiet on his bed, silence uncomfortable and thick between them.

This day, Bakugou's parents visited him. Kirishima caught a glimpse of them and overheard everything else too well for his liking. It was somewhat expected for Bakugou have relatives as explosive as him. What Kirishima didn't expect and wasn't prepared for was the sheer animosity he felt from Bakugou's mother towards her own son when she demanded from him to introduce Kirishima to her. Nonchalant smiles on both parents' faces weren't really making up for the harsh words they used.

He played it safe, bowing as deep as he could, speaking as respectfully as he could - and all that got him was a praise from Bakugou's parents at expense of his son.

"So nice to see a boy who knows how to make a good impression," Bakugou's father smiled warmly. "I hope our Katsuki doesn't give you too much trouble to deal with, given his lack of manners."

Bakugou glared at his father with a deep scowl.

"Not at all!" Kirishima waved his hands before him, gesture defensive and calming, even though the adults before him were smiling at him. "It's always good to work in team with Bakugou! He's smart and strong." He smiled sincerily. He hoped it worked.

"Cut the crap, kid, you don't have to flatter him just because he's a loud-mouthed and spoiled brat," Bakugou's mother said, and the words sent chills down Kirishima's spine. What in the world was /wrong/ with these people?

He looked briefly at Bakugou in that moment, asking silently for any kind of hint of what to do. Bakugou's expression was eloquent: it told him to run. Kirishima excused himself, making up a pile of homework he needed to do and retreating to his room.

He hadn't done any homework that day, walls between his and Bakugou's room not too thick to drown all the yelling. It was impossible to make out the words most of the time, though, and in a sense, it was a blessing.

So much for being "good with people".

"What did you see in your bad dream?"

Kirishima snapped out of his thoughts, his mind returning to the room of his classmate he was dozing off in. Bakugou's question caught him off guard.

"I told you already," he said, ruffling his hair. "Just me and the others, hiding and feeling helpless as the others were fighting."

All these thoughts and memories weren't really helpful in dissipating the morose mood. Now, Kirishima thought, he also had a good chance to be laughed at for being such a wuss.

"Why the hell does it bother you so much?"

If Kirishima knew himself, then it wouldn't pose such an issue for him.

He heard Bakugou's frustrated sigh.

"You still went for it, didn't you? All those fucking rules of not involving yourself be damned." Funnily, Bakugou took the lack of response for invitation to explain his question better.

"Yeah, only after Midoriya came up with a working plan," Kirishima shrugged, too caught up in his anxious post-nightmare state to hear the subtle praise in Bakugou's voice. "Before that, I just realized that I dragged my friends into a situation with no idea how to get you out. Everyone was fighting, except us. You were fighting, too," he added, needing Bakugou to know how much difference that made.

The silence that followed was loaded with emotions too heavy to process this deep into the night.

"Why did you come for me?"

Kirishima blinked.

"I couldn't sit there and do nothing while my friend was kidnapped," he muttered, thinking about how instead of that, he got to the place where things were happening and would be doing nothing /there/ if not for Midoriya's plan. "That was worse than... now, I guess." He meant his current dreams of helplessness.

A pause.

"What, no second thoughts about me maybe switching sides?"

At that, hearing the veiled sneer in the question, Kirishima turned to see his classmate. Bakugou was lying on his back, hands under his head, pretendingly relaxed. When he heard Kirsihima moving, he side-eyed him, expression unreadable.

Somehow, this sight helped to read the atmosphere better. This weird feeling of peacefulness in the room was fake. Bakugou seemed calm, emotions muted, no outbursts, no insults.

Except Kirishima saw Bakugou actually maintaining calmness in the midst of his outbursts, like an eye of the storm, successfully harnessing his emotions, reckless just enough to be more efficient. He was skilled in controlling his rage, making it serve him just like he used his explosions to gain him superior mobility. What Kirishima was seeing was Bakugou being subdued, extinguished. Upset even, maybe.

He wondered why Bakugou even let him see him like that.

"Dude, these guys were idiots for thinking that you are villain material. Don't imply that anyone who actually knows you is /this/ stupid," Kirishima tried to keep his tone even to match his words, harsh and true. Now that he realized how unwell Bakugou looked, he wanted to fix that. He guessed that as with everything involving Bakugou, the methods would be unconventional.

Kirishima heard a surprised chuckle, and counted that as a win.

"And really, even if anyone /would/ have these second thoughts, seeing you fight these guys would be enough to smash these thoughts into pieces," Kirishima added for a good measure. He knew that Bakugou was paying attention to his words now, and it seemed fitting to express his admiration for Bakugou's strength in this moment. He felt warmness in his chest as he was saying that.

"Seems like some people are that fucking stupid," Bakugou said, voice finally colored with some emotions.

Kirishima took that piece of information close to heart, examining it.

"Like your parents?" He took the bite, hoping very hard that he made the wrong assumption.

Except that it made sense - Bakugou's parents' attitude, him being uncharacteristically quiet, as if drained, these weird questions, and the most telling of all, silence that followed this reply. Righteous fury flared in him.

"They had teachers' word that I didn't go to them willingly," Bakugou finally said, voice steady with contained anger that Kirishima was familiar with. "Still fucking rubbed it in my eyes like that was necessary."

"No offense, but your parents do sound stupid."

"No shit."

"And they thought I would lie to flatter you!" Kirishima couldn't help mentioning it. He turned to see Bakugou again, to articulate how much that bothered him properly. Bakugou had a strange expression on his face, looking as if he was biting down some mean remark, strangely vulnerable.

"I don't wanna talk about them anymore," he sighed and rubbed his eyes sleepily.

"Okay," Kirishima still sounded indignant, but he dropped the topic, looking straight ahead of him once again.

This time the silence was more comfortable. Kirishima liked the change of the mood, glad - even relieved - to actually do something to mend Bakugou's miserable state, and without tripping the landmines of his classmate's ego, it seemed. It felt important to let Bakugou know that he was willing to help him out whenever he needed, that he could rely on Kirishima.

Before Kirishima could come up with words he desperately wanted to say, unsure of this urgent need to do so, he heard Bakugou's breath calming down. He turned to Bakugou for the third time and saw him fast asleep.

"Yeah, good idea," Kirishima muttered to himself quietly and got up to leave, convincing himself that they could talk like that again later, feeling hopeful, looking forward to it.

[majehfuntimez]

I know this is sudden but i became a demon lord

Alright plictiseala mea a ajuns la noi culmi asa ca voi posta web novels de acum incolo

Volume I

Chapter 1 : This is a dream so...can anyone please tell my why I can't wake up from it?!

A strange voice beckons to me "Are you tired of living?" before i completely lose sense of my self

"Ugh" I groan aloud as if something hit my head forcing me awake and causing me to open my eyes .Surrounding me for as far as my eyes can see are people. A LOT of people all grouped up together.Most of them appear just as confused as I am.If looked from above we look just like one of those pictures with a bunch of frenzied shoppers preparing to assault a mall on Black Friday.Well unfortunately for us there is no mall surrounding us , nor even streetlights with only darkness all around.The strange thing is even if the surrounding are absent of light i can still see clearly around me. Could this be a Kidnapping? Ah but why are there so many people around surely they can't all be kidnappers from how confused everyone is.Have we all been kidnapped? but who could kidnap so many people at the same time ..aliens?...it couldn't be right?... Let's just shelf this for later and start considering the other options as to why else could i be here? 'Have i been sleepwalking?' Despite no prior occurrences I've read about how sometimes stress could lead to that  ,but even so how far would I have to walk to reach such a remote place with no lights around it.Furthermore it doesn't explain the hundreds of people who are sharing the same predicament as I do unless they were sleep walking too.....and  just so happened to arrive at the same place as I did.....yep, impossible, next option. 'Hmm could this be one of those lucid dreams i heard about , ahh but then why are all these people here' Well since i became conscious of it then maybe i can manipulate it 'Heheheh this just like Inception' . Now time to get rid of these annoyances and maybe change the setting a bit, it's a bit too dark for my tastes . 'Shoo. Shoo get out of my dreams you bunch of freeloaders go find your own dreams' ............Huh...That Didn't quite ..... work. I concentrate and try again but other than giving myself a minor headache nothing of sort happened. Huh..WAIT wasn't I supposed to NOT feel pain inside a dream? Ah but then again maybe headaches don't count and I could just be imagining them.Yep that's totally what's happening.   While I was giving myself imaginary headaches trying to figure how to run this show the freeloaders started a commotion ,panicking and shouting things such as "where am I?" "what is this place?" "who are you people?" were thrown about. Some of the more rowdy one even started swinging punches,luckily I wasn't near them.Still  I must say that  I'm impressed with my subconscious to create such realistic AI.There are even different nationalities,despite this I can still clearly understand what each and every one of them is saying. Yep this clearly means only one thing , this is a dream,it's definitely a dream.Please be a dream.Please. "Greeting all ye lost souls,all 500 of you stand before the purgatory" A somber voice heard from above instantly shattered the delusion I was clinging ever so desperately.Rest in piece mental sanity , I shall never forget thou. My mental sanity aside  the voice did mention "500" and "purgatory" that must be how many we are and the place we are in , but wait,  purgatory according to Christian religion the place where people go after they are dead to face a trial then be sent to either hell or heaven?.....Why am i here then?............Can i please wake up now?I'd really REALLY like to wake up now . Can I get the kick now? Leo? D?...