#also prev yeah that's the vision

[lostfracturess]

symptoms and causes | ch. 11

x pairing professor!gojo x med student f!reader (medical au)

x summary he's arrogant, self-centered, and he's your professor. renowned for his brilliance in neurosurgery and infamous for his allure. too bad you have to work with him on this research team. now you're stuck with dr. satoru gojo, delving into the complexities of both the brain and the heart—and of how far you'd go for a love that could destroy not only him but you as well.

x wc 13.5 k (enjoy your meal lol)

x warnings [18+] this story contains substance abuse/addiction, overdosing, (rough) smut, mature themes, self-destructive and abusive behavior, manipulation, (heavy) angst, mentions of death / illness / blood, graphic medical procedures. reader discretion is advised.

x author's note hey loves!! thank you so much for your patience, i know it's been a while. buckle up, because we're taking another trip inside satoru's mind, so yeahhh. it's gonna be wild, oh and we're continuing right were we left off in the last chapter. this chapter is again in satoru's pov!! i've also updated the trigger warnings, so please take a look before reading (might be spoiling tho). and lastly, credit to the fanart in the cover, if you know the artist, pls let me know!! can't wait to hear what you all think & thanks for sticking with me!! ♡

series masterlist + playlist + ao3 + wattpad

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They say before you can love someone else, you have to love yourself first.

And there lies the damn problem. 

I don't know how. 

Never have.

Why am I thinking this now? 

I knew this was right. 

Right for her. 

But then why does my heart feel like it's being ripped out by the fucking roots?

Suguru will take care of her. He always does. That's the only thing that keeps me from screaming, keeps me from chasing after her.

I trust him, damn it, but it shouldn't be him.

It should be me holding her. Me, who knows how she likes to be held when the panic claws its way up. Me, holding her until the world feels less sharp, less cruel.  

Me, who knows that she doesn't want to talk about it. Me, who knows to give her space. She needs space. My strong girl needs space first. 

I hope he gives her space.

But he wouldn't know any of this. He couldn't comfort her in the ways I instinctively knew how. 

Me, who knows how to soothe the invisible wounds, the ones even she denies exist. Me, who knows the soft words she needs to hear after it passes.

It shouldn't be him. 

Sorry. 

It shouldn't have been him.

Past tense. 

It all might be past tense now.

And the thought is more than I could bear.

Shattered. 

Was that the word?

Was there even a word for what I felt in that moment?

How could I ever convey this suffocating agony that's tearing me apart with mere words?

Words are meaningless in the end.

Meaningless when they couldn't be spoken to her, couldn't reach her, couldn't make her understand, couldn't heal the wound I'd carved into her heart.

So, yeah, maybe shattered is the right word. 

The wrong word.

The sterile air was acid in my lungs. Each ragged breath felt like sandpaper against my throat. I held my breath, a desperate plea for the world to stop spinning, for the clock to rewind, for a chance to undo everything.

But time doesn't care. 

It marched on, relentless, while I stayed trapped in this hell, drowning in the mess I made. 

My lungs burned. My vision blurred. I waited until she disappeared. The world seemed to tilt sideways, losing all color and shape, leaving only the sharp, agonizing realization that I'd made her walk away.

I didn't want to breathe anymore.

Not in a world where every breath ached without her.

"Dr. Gojo?" A voice, distant, muffled. 

Irrelevant.

My gaze flickered to Sukuna. He watched, a predator savoring the kill. 

His twisted smile fueled rage within me. But there would be no fighting this. No grand defense. Not when her life was the bargaining chip.

So, I lied. 

Each word a nail in the coffin of the connection I craved more than life itself.

Each word a drop of poison forced down my throat. A self-inflicted wound, a desperate mutilation of the only thing that had ever felt real.

Her eyes, those beautiful eyes I loved so fiercely, wide with confusion and horror. The strangled gasp, the way her body went limp in Geto's arms — a haunting image that would forever be etched on my heart.

Muscles screamed, a silent protest against my own pathetic stillness. But I remained frozen. 

This was my punishment. 

I had to watch her leave, had to sear the pain into my very being, an endless penance for the choices I'd made.

The door clicked shut behind them.

That simple sound, final, absolute.

My lungs filled with air, a betrayal. Oxygen I didn't deserve, didn't want. 

My own body, this treacherous thing kept going, kept me alive against my will, kept me tethered to this cruel reality.

The room swam back into focus, the judges' accusing faces nothing but a blurry backdrop. The sounds of their inquest washed over me like meaningless noise.

"Dr. Gojo? Can we continue?"

I nodded.

They pressed on. More questions about the research, her involvement, their accusations of favoritism.

How stupid.

Of course, I favored her. 

How could I not? 

She is everything.

Oh, sorry. Forgot. Past tense.

She was everything.

Did I regret it? 

Did I wish I could go back and treat her with the same damn indifference I afforded everyone else?

Yeah, maybe.

A familiar craving stirred my senses, the desperate need for the numbing escape that would mean failing her even more. My fingers clawed at my forearm, trying to replace the hollowness with physical pain. It wasn't enough.

My responses were rote, mechanical.

Yeah, I favored her. 

Yeah, I let her into the OR because of it.

Yeah, and she outshone every damn surgeon twice her age. 

No, she didn't know I'd set it up. 

No, she never asked for special treatment. She just worked until her eyes were bloodshot, pushing harder than anyone else.

And hell no, she didn't do a single thing wrong.

Except maybe — maybe loving me. 

After what felt like an eternity, the judges seemed satisfied, or perhaps just exhausted by my robotic replies. 

They painted me the arrogant professor with a weakness for a young student, who abused his power, who played favorites.

Whatever they wanted to believe, fine.

Didn't even have the energy to care anymore.

Let them drag my name through the mud, tarnish the reputation I'd worked so hard to build. 

Because the title, the position, the facade of success meant nothing when all I wanted was to rewind time, to undo the damage I'd done to the one person who truly mattered.

I didn't feel anymore.

I was done.

─── ·✧· ───

I burst out of the courtroom.

I needed escape, not just from this sterile prison of a room, but from my own traitorous flesh.

That itch.

It was a wildfire beneath my skin, a thousand insects gnawing their way to the surface. My fingers twitched, claws desperate to tear, to bleed out the poison of this relentless craving.

My legs moved without conscious thought, pushing me towards my office. Somewhere. Anywhere I would be able to breathe again. The guilt was a serrated blade twisting in my gut, each movement slicing me open anew.

Her terror-stricken eyes seared into my very soul.

The walls of my office closed in, the familiar space suddenly too small, too suffocating. 

My fist slammed into the desk. Papers scattered to the floor, a meaningless sea of white against the dark wood.

They didn't matter. None of it mattered.

A half-finished coffee mug followed. Porcelain shattered. Dark liquid splashed against the wall. 

My blood roared in my ears. 

Across the room, my framed diploma. I ripped it off the wall. Glass smashed. Sharp edges bit into my palm, drawing blood. But it wasn't enough. I hurled the frame against the wall.

Blood, hot and slick, coated my hands, the pain nothing.

In the shattered frame, I caught a glimpse of myself — wild eyes in a sweat-slicked face, a man on the verge of collapse.

It was a stranger.

I was across the room before I even registered the decision.

The drawer.

My fingers ripped it open. 

There, like a coiled viper, the amber vial gleamed, a venomous promise of oblivion.

Don't —

Don't come at me now. 

Did you really think I wouldn't keep a backup?

My hand reached, then hesitated.

The world lurched to a sharp halt as a knock pierced the chaos. My breath hitched, the vial a burning brand in my bloodied hand.

The door creaked open.

And there he was. Sukuna. 

He leaned against the doorframe, that sickening smirk plastered on his face. It was like a lit fuse to a powder keg. The rage that had been gnawing at my insides, tearing me apart, finally found its target.

Before a single rational thought could form, I was on him. Fist to jaw, heard the crack, felt it in my knuckles. He stumbled back, the smirk finally wiping off his face.

I pinned him against the door. Forearm across his throat, crushing his windpipe. His eyes widened, but even then, there was that damn flicker of amusement.

"Well, well," he choked out, "this is a nice welcome back."

"Funny to you?"

He coughed, a harsh laugh scraping out of him. "C'mon, Satoru, relax. I did you a favor," he sputtered. "Your precious little student, she's better off now. You know I'm right."

Every muscle in my body tensed.

He was right. 

In his twisted way, he was. 

And that's what made it all so much worse.

My grip on his throat tightened. But there was nothing, no satisfactio, no release in the violence.

Sukuna saw it, the hesitation. His mouth twisted into a smirk again. "See, you get it. Sweet thing doesn't belong in this mess, does she? It's not for her, Satoru. It's for us."

His words scraped like nails on a chalkboard. 

Yes, she was safer now, untouched by the rot that festered within me. Some desperate, logical part of me clung to that. But how could I hold on to that when my heart was screaming for her closeness?

"Or maybe," Sukuna drawled, pushing the knife deeper, "maybe you wanted to see where this goes. Stain her a bit, make her just a little bit more like you."

My breath hitched. For a split second, the floor vanished beneath me.

"Hit a nerve, did I?"

"Shut the hell up!" I couldn't face it, couldn't face the ugly truth as it would tear me apart. "You twist everything. Play with lives just for your own sick amusement."

This was his game.

Sukuna thrived on chaos, on exploiting pain. 

He knew my guilt, my fear for her, and wielded it like a scalpel, laying bare the raw nerve of my fragile sanity.

"Perhaps. But ain't I right?  You needed to end it, but you lack the guts for it. Waited a bit longer, it'd be a total disaster."

I hesitated, then my grip on him slackened. I stepped back.

"You know I'm right," Sukuna continued. "You know how this would have ended. Suspension. Scandal. She'll be doomed forever for getting involved with her professor for favors. You wouldn't destroy her like that, would you? You're not that cruel."

"I'm not so sure." I ran a hand through my hair.  It had taken everything in me to push her away. 

But I can't deny that an ugly part of me wanted to keep her close. Drag her down with me. 

See her drown.

"Damn, you hit hard," he said, rubbing his jaw. "Go beat up some students again, not me."

"Stop giving me reasons to punch you."  Exhausted, I slumped into my desk chair, burying my face in my hands. My head pounded, the infuriating itch worsening with each damn moment. "Was this your plan all along?"

"What?" he scoffed.

I lifted a single eyebrow at him.

"You think that low of me? Honestly, Toru, a bit of credit, please. It was your pathetic indecision that made this entertaining. You basically gift-wrapped this mess and handed it to me."

"Besides," he continued, "let's be honest, you were holding her back. Now maybe she'll have a chance to become someone who might surpass you one day. You wouldn't deny her that, would you? No thanks needed."

He was right, and I hated that more than anything.

Sukuna sank into the chair across from me, a picture of smug satisfaction despite the visible bruise. "Damn, that punch still stings."

I opened my desk drawer and wordlessly tossed him the bottle of opioids. His eyes widened in surprise, before he gave the bottle a knowing shake. "Still on the hydromorphone?"

I didn't answer. The sound alone threatened to shatter what fragile control I had left. The itch was unbearable, each nerve ending screaming for relief.

Sukuna observed me, a predator watching its prey struggle. "Withdrawal never suited you," he said, popping a pill. "You always get so—" he paused, savoring the word, "—tense."

"Yeah, real supportive of you."

"Actually, I'm being incredibly supportive. I'm leaving for a little research trip overseas—four months. Ethics committee can't meet without me, so—" He leaned back in his chair, his grin widening. "Gives you time to get your shit together. Isn't that nice of me?"

"Shut the hell up."

"C'mon, I put in a good word for you too. No suspension for now. You can keep teaching, just no surgeries. Yaga really hates my guts, doesn't he? But hey, at least you're not totally screwed."

"You expect a thank you?"

"Relax, Toru, the show's over," he said. "Trust me, they don't want a scandal, let alone lose their star surgeon. When I get back, a slap on the wrist, maybe a semester's suspension, then you're back to the boring old grind."

A bitter laugh escaped me. "Last I checked, you were the one pushing for a scandal."

He rolled his eyes. "Someone had to do it. Knew you'd drag this out forever, playing the tragic hero. Needed a villain to get things moving." He gave a mocking bow. "At your service, my friend."

"Also," he continued, leaning forward in his chair, "the focus is off you now. The committee's sniffing around those implant engineers. Funny, isn't it?" 

Sukuna paused, savoring the moment. "Honestly, never thought there was anything wrong with your surgeries. You wouldn't make that kind of mistake. Tech malfunction more likely."

Of course. 

The bastard never doubted the damn research. It had all been a game to him — my career, my sanity, her — just pieces on his chessboard.

It should've made me furious, lash out, pound his face in again — but all I felt was a bone-deep exhaustion, a weariness that seeped into my very soul. I was too tired, too hollowed-out to do anything but swallow the bitter truth.

"That supposed to make me feel better?" 

"A little," he said, tossing the opioid bottle back. "This, though? That'll do the trick even better."

I caught it, my fingers clenching around the plastic.

He rose, stretching with a theatrical sigh. "Well, time to go. Remember, you owe me big time. You should take one," he gestured towards the pills, "you look like shit."

My grip on the bottle tightened. I looked up at him. "When all of this is done, I never want to see your damn face again."

He laughed. "We both know that's a lie. You and me? We need each other."

"The only thing you need is some damn therapy."

"Ah, Toru," he dismissed me with a smirk, "you'll come crawling back soon enough. We both know how this works."

With that, he was gone. I was left alone in the echoing silence, the pill bottle a burning weight in my hand. The world seemed to sway around me, my eyelids growing heavy.

The will to fight simply wasn't there anymore.

─── ·✧· ───

Cruel. 

Cruel how one little pill can undo everything. 

Cruel how one little pill can silence everything. 

Cruel how one damn pill can soften the world, make it — bearable, almost.

Unfair. 

It's truly unfair.

The screaming under my skin, that relentless itch — it's still there, but it had dulled to a faint hum, pushed back by the familiar numbness.

Finally.

Oh, finally some fucking silence.

I let out a shaky breath. It wasn't peace, not really. I knew that all too well. Borrowed time, each second ticking closer to the inevitable crash, the return of that relentless screaming in my head.

But for now, it'll have to be enough.

I collapsed on the couch, smoke curling lazily before my eyes.

I knew I shouldn't mix opioids with cannabis. That's something they teach you within the first year of university. What I used to teach students within the first year of university.

What a hypocrite I am really.

Another drag — harsh, burning down my throat. 

The urge to close my eyes, to sink into oblivion, was almost overwhelming. But sleep wouldn't bring respite. Only nightmares. I knew that only too well.

So, I lay there, staring up at the ceiling.

It really came down to me failing again, huh?

What was it now?

Attempt number five? 

Six?

I started losing count.

Maybe this was my fate.

A broken record, stuck on the same damn track.

Deep down, under the chemical haze, guilt gnawed at me. It was a dull ache now, no longer the searing pain of earlier, but a constant, insidious reminder. 

She were out there, her life forever marked by my choices, while I was — here. Hiding in a haze of pills and smoke.

God, I hoped Suguru was looking after her. Making sure she ate, making sure she was safe — that she didn't hate me too much.

I brought the joint to my lips again, the smoke curling up towards the ceiling. It left an acrid taste in my mouth.

I watched my hand for a second.

Bloodied earlier, the wounds had scabbed over, the blood dried. It was perfectly still now, the trembling smoothed out by the chemicals in my blood. 

I clenched it into a fist, then unclenched, watching the movement like it belonged to someone else.

Traitor.

This body was a traitor — betrayed myself, betrayed her, betrayed everything I held dear.

Weak. 

Broken.

A pathetic mess.

Was that it?

Living as a slave to these chemicals to patch up my crumbling sanity one day at a time? 

Chained to pills, each dawn a ticking clock until the next dose, until I could silence the screaming for a few damn hours?

My eyes locked onto the half-empty vial on the table. 

Took too many, didn't I?

I knew that, even through the haze. But a cold certainty twisted in my gut. There'd be more. Always more. Until there was nothing left.

Before I could think, I threw another down my throat. Bad idea, probably, after a few clean days.

Suddenly, the haze warped, twisting into nausea. Bile rose in my throat.

I lurched to my feet, the world tilting precariously with each step. Surfaces rippled, the bathroom light stabbing into my skull.

I barely made it. My stomach heaved. Each retch wracked my body, leaving me gasping, weak.

Too many. 

Way too many.

How the hell did I forget? Forget my body's limits? Somehow, I felt like some reckless student again, stumbling through experiments, blind to the consequences.

Stupid. So damn stupid.

Darkness swam at the edges of my vision.  Another wave of nausea, and I was back, hunched over the toilet. 

I hauled myself up, hands shaking, clinging to the sink. In the mirror, a stranger stared back. Eyes bloodshot, a sheen of sweat coating his skin.

This wasn't me anymore.

I splashed cold water on my face, trying to wash away the acid burn. Didn't help. Drops of water ran down my face, felt like they were melting the damn skin off.

My knees buckled. I slid down the wall, my head heavy against the tile wall. 

The bathroom light, needles in my brain moments ago, seemed impossibly distant now. Each breath was a ragged gasp, each pulse a dull throb in my temples.

I waited for it to pass, the nausea, the haze. But as minutes crawled by, a new, searing pain gnawed at me.

My fingers trembled against my abdomen, pressing into the tender spot. Liver, of course. 

Wrecked it, just like the rest of me. I'd known the risks, had ignored the warnings, and now my body was demanding payment.

How pathetic.

Darkness gnawed at the edges of my vision, pushing back against the stubborn spots of light. My head felt heavy, detached from my body. Arms and legs useless.

Each breath a battle I wasn't sure I'd win.

Time warped. Stretching, then snapping, leaving me floating in nausea and pain. Then I heard something — muffled, distant. Footsteps, getting closer.

My eyes struggled to make sense of the shifting shadows.

Then, a voice. Soft, achingly familiar. I couldn't make out the words, but the warmth of it—

I knew that voice — would always recognize it.

Cold water hit my skin. Hands, gentle, but firm, on my face. I strained to focus, to see her, to soak in the sight I needed, yet feared more than anything.

Oh, how desperately I needed to see her. Needed her to be real.

But my eyes betrayed me.

She must be so beautiful. She always was.

Then, a touch on my outstretched leg, a flash of metal — was that a scalpel?

Agony ripped through me, shattering the haze. I jerked back, my scream ragged against the tiles. My head slammed back with sickening force.

Before I knew it, a needle pierced my skin.

The room spun as whatever she'd injected battled the comfortable blur of the pills. Nausea churned in my stomach, the numbness receding with terrifying speed.

Groaning, I shifted on the floor.

My vision sharpened, my senses returning with brutal clarity. 

The first thing I noticed was the metallic glint of the discarded syringe beside my leg. 

Then the cut, a ragged gash through the fabric of my dress pants where she'd stabbed the needle in — the unnecessarily deep and brutal cut — but in the chaos, I let it slide. Didn't even register the pain as I watched the blood drain from the cut. 

I reached for the syringe and read the label. 

Adrenaline. 

Smart girl. 

But as I turned it over, a frown creased my brow. Two fucking milliliters? Was she trying to give me a damn heart attack?

I lifted my head, the question burning on my tongue. But the words died unspoken as my gaze locked on hers. 

She stood there, just a few feet away, her breath ragged, her eyes — those pretty eyes.

Terror. 

There was raw, unadulterated terror etched in her eyes. But I was right. She looked as beautiful as ever. Even with those terror-stricken eyes she was breathtaking.

She stumbled back, slumping against the wall opposite of me with a choked gasp, pulling her knees up. I didn't move, couldn't move, my gaze locked with hers.

The terror faded slowly, replaced by a weariness that was far worse. 

For a fleeting moment, I saw a flicker of that familiar defiance, the spark I both loved and feared. But even that felt strangely muted now, as if even the energy to fight had been drained out of her.

She simply watched me. In silence, in that devastating silence.

How I hated her silence.

Because her silence was far worse than anything she could have screamed, any insult she could have hurled my way. Her stillness, her silence, was the most terrifying weapon she'd ever wielded against me.

And for the first time in a very long time, I was truly afraid.

Time stretched, then I choked out, "You're angry."

Her answer was blunt, devoid of emotion. "Oh really? What makes you think that?"

I glanced down. Blood still seeped from the gash in my leg. With a trembling hand, I fumbled for a towel and pressed it against the wound. "Your cut is kinda deep. Was that on purpose?"

She didn't say anything.

It probably was on purpose.

My gaze fell on the syringe. "Where'd you get that?"

"What happened to your hand?"

"I asked first."

"Don't try to play games now, Satoru. You're walking on thin fucking ice," she snapped.

"Shattered some glass," I said after a pause ", and punched Sukuna."

"Stole it from the hospital."

"What?"

"You think I'd date an addict and not have adrenaline on hand?"

My lips twitched into a weary smile. Oh my beautiful, brilliant girl, always prepared.

"But you know, two milliliters is a bit much." I moved my leg slightly to check if she had cut any tendons, which would complicate the healing a bit. "Or are you trying to kill me?"

Her gaze pierced me, colder than any scalpel. "Looks like you're doing a fine job of that yourself."

My smile faded.

Silence.

Oh, that cruel silence again.

She didn't say anything. Maybe I should be thankful for that, because if she said anything now, I'd probably crumble completely — if I haven't already.

Ironic, wasn't it? 

How much power this woman had over me. 

Yet it was me who destroyed her.

She dropped her head, ran a shaking hand through her hair, then looked at me again. "How much did you take?"

Huh?

Why would she ask that?

Didn't she see that it's over?

That I'm too far gone?

It was unbearable.

It was unbearable, how she could still look at me and see someone worth saving. It was unbearable, knowing she believed in me even when I didn't. 

Almost pissed me off, how stubbornly she clung to that stupid hope. Because seeing that hope in her eyes — it made me hate myself even more.

I wouldn't change, couldn't. Not for her, not for anyone.

"Doesn't matter. It's over."

"Satoru, please," she choked out, pain raw in her voice, the pain I caused, "cut the crap and tell me. Now."

"It doesn't matter," I repeated, my voice cold. I couldn't bear the flicker of hope, couldn't bear to fail her yet again.

Then, the first tear rolled down her cheek and my heart shattered, the fragments piercing me from within. 

I'd never wanted to be the reason those beautiful eyes filled with pain, the reason her sweet lips trembled. Every fiber of my being wanted to pull her close, erase the hurt I'd caused.

I would have given anything, sacrificed anything, if only I could make it stop.

But I couldn't.

Because I was the problem. I was the poison.

She buried her face in her hands. "I'm tired, Satoru."

"I know."

"I'm so fucking tired," she whispered through tears.

"I know, love."

My eyes burned as I watched her fragile body shudder. Each sob of her driving a stake deeper into my already bleeding heart. I bit my lip until I tasted blood. 

I hated myself, hated myself, hated myself, hated myself, hated myself because — because I was the reason for all of this. 

She'd never wanted this, never wanted to fall in love with me to begin with, but I dragged her into it anyway.

Because I was selfish. 

Knew how it would end.

And now, I could only watch — only watch in this unbearable silence as the woman I loved wept over the man I hated. 

"It's for the best, believe me—"

"No," she cut me off.  "You're sacrificing me for this—this reputation of mine you think matters. It doesn't. I don't want any of it without you. I don't want a future where you're not in it."

She looked up then, eyes red and filled with unshed tears. "Because I love you, Satoru."

What?

The words turned my blood to ice.

After everything — the lies, the ways I'd hurt her, the desperate attempts to push her away — there it was, the confession I'd craved and feared in equal measure.

My heart was being ripped apart and stitched back together again in that very moment — vulnerable and yet so unbearably full. 

She loved me, she said it.

She loves me.

She loves me.

And I love her.

God, how I loved her. More than I thought possible.

I've never once loved in my entire life. 

Not until her. 

Not until she changed me completely. 

What is that, anyway? Love?

How can I possible describe the type of feeling I feel when I'm with her? How can I ever convey the words when they are not even clear to me? 

How cruel it is. How utterly cruel the type of feeling is, that she makes me feel.

Because how could I ever live without it.

Not when she showed me how to breathe.

How to live.

How could I ever go back to what I was before her — was there even something before her?

Not when she showed me how to breathe.

With her.

For her. 

Because she is the air that fills my lungs.

The pulse that keeps me alive.

And nothing can ever change that. So how could I ever go back to what I was before? 

Oh, how she tortures me, tortures me with feelings I rather not feel, tortures me with her love that I deserve so little. 

Nothing. 

I deserve nothing and yet she gives me everything.

Why can't I give it back? What chains me, binds this rotten heart? Why does it fail me so cruelly to love her the way she deserves? 

Because she does. 

She deserves everything. 

She is everything. 

Yet there is only my own failure in loving her. I'm failing her again and again. I hurt her again and again. I hate myself, hate myself for the pain I cause her.

Still—

How can I let her go, when she's the only good thing in my life? 

It is selfish, selfish to say the least, to want to keep her close when all I do is fail her.

Her tears were molten iron searing my insides. But I clench my jaw, refusing to let them break me. If she saw weakness, she might hesitate. Might stay and continue to be broken by me. 

Every fiber of my being wanted nothing more than to reach out, to comfort her, to tell her it would all be okay.

More lies for a heart that deserved nothing but the truth. So I swallowed down the love threatening to spill from my lips. 

I would give her anything, my life, the last shreds of my sanity — except the one thing she asked for, the only thing she ever ask for. 

Because loving her, truly loving her, meant letting her go. Even if it destroys me.

"I spare you," I rasped.

"No." She slowly shook her head. "You're killing me. Can't you see?" There was a cold edge in her voice now. "You're killing me."

"I can't change. Love isn't enough. I can't stop."

"You're the only one who thinks that." Her reply held a flicker of her old, beautiful defiance, a defiance I loved so dearly. "I'd follow you anywhere, Satoru. Even if you can't get clean, then so be it. I don't care. I won't leave you."

The sincerity in her voice was a blow, a beautiful, terrible blow. Complete, unwavering acceptance of who I was, in all my brokenness.

And in that moment, I finally realized. 

It wasn't about saving her. It was about saving myself from the terrifying vulnerability her love demanded. From the weakness that threatened to drown me if I let her in.

Perhaps I'm just a coward after all.

My heart was too damn small, too messed up. Of course I had to push her out, deny her the love she offered so freely — because it terrified me.

Her love terrified me.

"I can't do this to you," I choked out, the words scraping my throat raw. "You deserve—" I swallowed, the words catching in my throat. "You deserve better." 

"Better?" She leaned forward slightly. "You are my better."

Oh, love, that's not true.

You are my better. I'm your worst.

I wanted to say that, should've said that.

But I remained silent, unable to say anything. 

"Say something, Satoru." 

I couldn't, simply couldn't. Because mere words were too hollow, too insignificant against the depth of her pain.

"Say something, damn it!" 

"It will get easier someday," I chocked out. Each word felt like a stone I was forcing down my own throat. Each word empty — we both knew it.

"Is that what you hope for?"

"I have to."

She closed her mouth. Her silence more devastating than any scream. She didn't explode, as I half-expected. Instead, she straightened, her movements slow, weary.

I watched her, unable to move, unable to look away, as a horrifying realization bloomed across her face. It wasn't anger, wasn't sadness — it was a terrible understanding.

She knew. She always knew.

Perhaps that's what I hated about her the most.

"That's it?" she asked.

"That's it."

She watched me.  Not in anger, but with chilling detachment. Her eyes, usually so filled with warmth, were now as distant as those of a stranger. 

Still, I burned the image into my soul, knowing it might be the last time.

Then, without another word, she turned. And walked away.

When she finally disappeared from sight, a wave of crushing despair washed over me. It wasn't just the loneliness. It was the terrifying certainty that there was no going back from this. 

I had destroyed the best thing in my life — a sacrifice she didn't even ask for.

But then again, my sacrifice is really only an illusion after all, masking a desperate, terrified selfishness.

Because I'm selfish.

I do love her.  Gods, how I love her. 

But my fear was stronger.

And I was too damn weak to fight it.

─── ·✧· ───

Four weeks.

Was it four weeks?

I can't remember.

Time — it didn't tick or flow anymore. 

It was a shapeless thing. Punctuated only by the empty thump of my heart in this wrecked chest.

Those first days — or weeks, who knows? — they melted together in a haze. After she left, I was — raw. One giant exposed nerve.  

Each damn breath without the pills felt like scraping sandpaper across it, a reminder  of what I'd lost — no, what I'd destroyed.

So I was barely sober.

My body didn't even protest. At first, it was almost — nice? The rush, the way it wiped out not just the pain but any thought at all.

But the crash was always brutal. Mornings, if you could even call it that, I'd wake up shaking, sick to my stomach, and terrified of — what was I even terrified of? Somehow of everything and nothing at all. But I knew the fix for that. 

It was a sick, relentless cycle.

The phone rang, vibrated with messages. Suguru mostly. His messages growing more urgent with each unanswered text. Liver issues. Treatment. Something about irreversible damage.   

It was all white noise compared to the screaming in my head.

Her name, though, cut through the haze.

There were nights — or was it days? — when a desperate, clawing need to hear her voice, to see her face, would rise up in me. I'd reach for the phone, fingers hovering above her name. Then the fear would crush that impulse. 

I knew that reaching out to her would be the final act of cruelty.

So I stumbled on, each day collapsing into the next. 

Until the next semester started and I remembered I had an actual job.

─── ·✧· ───

I stood in the corridor outside the auditorium.

My fingers fumbled with the familiar pill bottle. Just enough to numb the edge, get me through the lecture. With a bitter swallow, I tilted the pill into my palm, chasing it down dry.

Four weeks. Four weeks of barely holding it together, four weeks since I almost OD'd, four weeks since she left, and the weight of it all threatened to crush me at any moment. 

Yet, muscle memory took over.

I limped slightly as I walked into the auditorium. My leg still hurt after she basically cut my muscle in half. 

She definitely did that on purpose. She was too smart not to not know what she was doing.

The usual chatter died down when I walked in.  Old routine. Time for the performance. Pretend I'm the professor, pretend like this whole thing isn't ripping me apart, piece by piece. It should have been comforting. 

Once, perhaps, it was.

Wordlessly, I grabbed a marker, scrawled my name on the board. Like they didn't already know who I was, right? 

Everyone on campus knows, especially after this summer's mess.

With a sigh, I turned towards the class.

And there she was. 

My breath hitched, the marker clattering to the floor. My lips parted, but no words came.

Of course.

Of fucking course. 

Second-year lecture. 

How the hell could I forget that?

She was here, after everything, right in front of me. The pain of the past weeks, that suffocating emptiness — it all melted away, replaced by a pounding headache in that one instant.

My eyes clung to her, unable to look away, drinking in the sight of her. That stubborn tilt of her head, the pain in those beautiful eyes — God, how I'd missed her. 

Yet with every beat of my yearning heart came a fresh wave of guilt. I longed to reach out, to apologize, to tell her how much I'd missed her. 

But I knew it was wrong. 

Then, it hit me. Every eye in the room was on her, following my gaze like a spotlight burning into her. Damn it.

Still, she didn't flinch.

Endured it like she has always endured everything.

Clearing my throat, I managed to speak as I adverted my gaze. "So, uh, let's start the lecture."

My voice echoed in the now tense auditorium, words tumbling out in a forced attempt at normalcy. The lecture blurred. My own words were just noise in my head. I pushed through the lecture. Don't even remember what I lectured about.

It was routine, should have been easy, but — not with her there. Never with her. 

Every damn minute, my eyes flicked towards her, drawn like a magnet. I couldn't help it. Because all I could see was her. But she avoided my gaze.

Should've expected that.

Shouldn't make me angry, right?

Still did.

Finally, thank god, the bell rang. 

I let out a breath I didn't even know I was holding.

I remained behind my desk and gathered my notes. Students surged towards the exit, a faceless blur of motion. My traitorous gaze remained locked on her as the auditorium slowly emptied.

She and her friends passed by me. Before I could even think, the words tumbled out, "Wait, not—not you, first-year."

Silence. 

Her friend's chatter halted abruptly. I hadn't meant to say it, hadn't thought before the desperate need to speak to her had short-circuited my brain.

Now, it was done.

Her eyes, those beautiful eyes, met mine. For a moment, time seemed to stand still. 

Her friends exchanged glances. I could feel Zenin glaring daggers at me, didn't even need to look. She'd always been fiercely protective.

"I'll catch up later," she said then to her friends, a strained smile plastered on her face. 

They left, leaving us alone in the vast, suddenly suffocating auditorium.

Silence again.

My heart hammered against my ribs, so loud I feared she could hear it.

Finally, she spoke. "You know I'm not a first-year anymore."

I rounded the desk, the wood rough against my fingertips. "Yeah, right. Sorry." Leaning against it, I crossed my arms.

"Didn't you get suspended?"

"They postponed it."

She watched me for a moment, those beautiful eyes drilling into me. Her eyes held a coldness I've never seen before. For a sickening moment, I thought I might throw up.

"How are you?"

"Don't," she snapped. "Don't ask me that. Don't you dare pretend to care after—" 

She stopped herself, the silence louder than any accusation. After everything you did. After you pushed me away. After you nearly killed yourself.

She didn't need to voice it.

My hands clenched into fists against the edge of my desk, nails digging into my palms in a futile attempt to ground myself. Needed to maintain this thin illusion of control.

I do care. Dammit, I care more than you'll ever know. 

I wanted to scream it, to tear open my chest and show her the bleeding wound she'd left behind. But the words stuck in my throat. 

Pointless now, anyway.

Knuckles turned white, nails digging deeper.

She stepped closer. Her hand darted into her bag, then shot out, palm open. Keys glinted in the harsh light — the keys to my apartment. 

I watched them for a second. Should've expected that. Shouldn't hurt me. Still did.

"You don't have to return them. I want you to keep them."

"Why? I won't need them anymore, will I? Or are you planning on overdosing again?"

Each word was acid on an open wound.

I deserved this, the anger, the contempt, it was all on me. But why the hell did it make me so fucking angry?

"Have you ever thought about how I felt when I found you?" she snapped, her voice rising. "How terrified I was when you wouldn't respond? When you couldn't even recognize me? When I thought you'd die on me?" She took a shaky breath. "Fuck Satoru, I held your face in my hands while you were barely breathing!"

I tried to speak, but she cut me off.  "Don't. You. Dare."

"Four weeks," she went on, her voice sharp, laced with a fury that cut to the bone. "Four weeks of silence. Ever think I might be drowning, haunted by what I saw? Or were you too busy numbing yourself with pills? Hell, I didn't even know if you'd overdosed for good this time!"

Her words hit me cold, but they weren't the storm tearing me apart. It was the image of her, terrified, holding my barely-alive body, that ripped my insides out. 

Those eyes — her eyes filled with a terror that was all because of me. The guilt choked me. Seeing my near-death through her haunted eyes is twisted a knife in my gut.

It was the look of someone who'd had a piece of her soul ripped out. 

It was the look of someone who loved me.

"But then again, you never cared about me, did you?" she added, the raw hurt bleeding beneath the anger.

My stomach twisted. "Don't you dare say that," I rasped, the words ripping from my throat. "I care so much it damn near killed me. You were the only thing keeping me alive, the only reason I fought at all! Don't you dare say I don't—" I choked, the pain unbearable.

The room seemed to tilt, my anger threatening to consume me. 

I took a step towards her, closing the distance in one move. We were so close, I could smell her damn shampoo. "Every damn thing I did, every stupid decision—it was all because I care about you too much."

Her eyes widened. But only for a second. Then, that cold defiance was back, and it cut deep. 

"You're really pathetic, you know that?" she spat. "You talk about caring, but in the end you threw everything away. Because you are too terrified to let yourself love me. Because apparently your own damn peace is worth more than me."

Her words were knives, finding their mark with cruel efficiency. 

"Shut up," I whispered. "You know nothing."

"Oh really?" She glared at me, "then let me paint the picture for you—the minute things got difficult, the second you had to face actual consequences for your actions, you used it as an excuse to back away. Shut yourself down."

She moved closer still. "Convenient, wasn't it? Pushing me away, destroying us—it absolved you from having to confront anything real."

Her accusations hit uncomfortably close to home.

And I didn't want to hear it from her lips.

Not from hers.

"Shut up," I growled.

"Don't you dare tell me to shut up," she snapped back, her voice rising. "You don't get to play the victim here. You did this. You ruined everything."

Fury ignited, not at her, but at myself. 

Blindly, I reached out, my fingers gripping her jaw so tight it bordered on violence. I forced her to look at me, my eyes burning into hers. "Shut up, or I swear to god, I'll make you."

Her chin lifted, eyes narrowing. "I dare you."

The words set me on fire. Every rational thought, every vestige of self-preservation was devoured by a sudden, desperate need. My gaze fell to her lips, slightly parted, a vulnerable target I craved to claim.

Without even thinking, my hand went to her waist, fingers digging in as I pulled her impossibly close. My other hand tangled in her hair, forcing her head back. Our eyes locked, some kind of messed-up challenge.

I could feel her rapid breaths on my skin, smell that damn perfume of hers that I'd always loved, but now was driving me to the edge of control. Her heart pounding against mine.

Everything in me screamed to close the distance, claim those lips that had haunted me, haunted me for weeks. 

I wanted to claim her, to silence her, to lose myself in her, but my last shred of sanity held me back.

Because pushing her further into my nightmare was the ultimate act of cruelty. 

"Uncomfortable, isn't it? Getting confronted with the ugly truth?" she whispered against my lips.

My grip on her tightened. She really didn't know when to stop, or maybe she simply wanted to watch me burn. Perhaps both.

"Don't push me."

"Why? Scared of what you'll find if you let yourself be honest for once?" Her head tilted. Her gaze was fire, and I was already ash. "You run, Satoru. From everything, but most of all, from yourself."

"And that," she leaned closer, almost brushing my lips, "is what makes you the most pathetic person I know."

Oh, she could be so viciously cruel when she wanted to. So disgustingly cruel. It was one of the things I'd fallen hopelessly in love with. Even now, as it tore me apart, I still loved it. 

But I also wanted nothing more than to fuck that attitude out of her right then and there.

"You're right. You're always right. Maybe that's what's terrifies me about you so much."

"You're not terrified of me," she whispered. "You're terrified of yourself."

The air between us crackled. Every rational thought in my brain begged me to stop. Still, I couldn't resist. I inched closer, helpless against the force that binds and burns us both.

My hands tightened their hold as I took a sharp inhale. Her eyes fluttered shut, lashes trembling. 

Our lips hovered, almost touching, two aching souls suspended in that impossible space. So much unspoken words, so much hurt, and the destructive pull between us that had always tethered us together.

Then, the auditorium door creaked open. 

Her head snapped towards the sound. But I couldn't look away, wouldn't miss a second of her. Because this, right here, was all I had left.

Had to be Suguru anyway — anyone else would be screaming their heads off by now.

After a pause, she turned back at me. "You know, I'm still waiting."

"For what, love?"

"For it to get easier."

I looked at her, the woman I loved, and guilt clawed at my insides. That hurt, that anger on her face — I deserved it all. Because it was the consequence of the pain I'd caused.

"You said it would get easier," she added.

It was a lie. Nothing about this was easy. Nothing ever would be again. Suddenly, the room felt too small, the air thick and unbreathable.

"I don't know if it ever will."

Perhaps I was only meant to love her in silence.

In distance.

Because at least then I couldn't hurt her anymore.

Suguru cleared his throat. He stepped into the room, breaking the moment.

Reluctantly, I let go of her. She stepped back, eyes holding mine for a second, something flickering there that I didn't dare try to read. Then, without another word, she turned and walked away.

I watched her go.

Suguru approached me, stopping close by. He didn't say anything.

I leaned against the desk, running a hand through my hair. The adrenaline from that almost-kiss crashed, leaving behind a hollow ache.

The sound of the door slamming behind her echoed in the empty auditorium, way too loud.

Suguru's hand landed on my shoulder. 

"You really have a thing for bad timing," I muttered.

"Bad timing," he echoed, "or good timing to stop you from doing something stupid?"

I didn't answer. The memory of her, so close, choked every thought out of my mind.

"You know it was the right thing to do. With everything going on, letting her go was the right decision."

"I know," I said, pushing off the desk and rounding it to gather my things. I couldn't meet his gaze. "I'm trying to remember that."

Suguru then started placing pill bottles on the desk with a serious expression. The first clink of plastic on wood cut through the silence. 

"Prednisone for the liver inflammation." Another bottle. "Lactulose for the hepatic encephalopathy." Then another. "Vitamin B and K for the nutritional deficiencies."

"But you know the first step would be to—" he paused for a second then placed another two bottles in from of me. "Methadone, to manage the withdrawal and craving. And Naltrexone, to block the euphoric effects of your opioids."

Hesitantly, another bottle appeared. "Clonidine, in case you feel like you're dying."

"Suguru—" I began, but he cut me off.

"Satoru, you have to get clean. The pills won't do a damn thing if you keep wrecking your liver."

"Yeah, it's a little late for that, don't you think? It's the only thing keeping me sane right now."

He sighed.  "You're the absolute worst patient ever."

"Aw, come on, I thought you liked a bit of challenge. You're the best doctor, you'll figure something out."  I rummaged through my bag, pulling out a folder.

"Even the best doctor on earth can't help if you don't—"

I shoved the folder across the desk, cutting him off. "What's this?"

"It's a patient. An anyeurism. I'm still not allowed to do surgery, not until this thing with the ethics committee is over."

Suguru opened the folder, flipping through the pages.  "You want me to do it?  Is there something special about this patient?"

"I want you to take her with you," I said quietly. "She likes aneurysm clippings."

Suguru looked up, that familiar crease between his brows.  "She'll figure it out. Sooner or later. Latest when you're in the hospital waiting for a liver transplant, not lecturing anymore."

Silence stretched. My eyes fell on the pill bottles lined up on the desk. 

I sighed, then gathered them and crammed them into my bag.  "Let's go. I need fresh fair," I said as I brushed past him, putting the withdrawal meds back into his hands.

Without another word, I left the auditorium.

─── ·✧· ───

My eyes snapped open.

I sat upright, a strangled gasp tearing from my throat. My heart hammered against my ribs, each beat threatening to burst right out of my chest. 

For a disorienting second, the world was a blur. Sweat drenched my skin. My lungs screamed for air.

Damn nightmares. 

Another night of that shit. 

I clutched at my chest, trying to quell the frantic pounding. Cold sweat made my shirt cling to my skin. The room spun. My pulse thundered in my ears.

I fumbled for the lamp, the sudden brightness stinging my eyes. But it didn't chase away the image seared into my brain. Her face, cruel, beautiful, cruelly beautiful, twisted in absolute terror. My stomach twisted.

My fault. 

Always my fault.

I couldn't breathe right.

Sleep was a lost cause now. First decent rest in a week, and my brain decided to torment me again. Exhaustion was its own kind of hell, but it was nothing compared to this. That, more than anything, was the real torture.

I slumped forward, scrubbing a hand over my face.

I'd hurt her. 

I'd hurt her, the one person who meant something.

Every day, it felt more like I'd made the biggest mistake of my life. Letting her go, pushing her away, I—

I hated myself. 

Hated the way I ruined everything.

Hated the way I ruined every chance at something good. 

It was like a damn curse.

Nothing good ever lasted for me. I should've known that by now.

Damn it, I knew it was wrong. But how the hell could it be wrong when it'd felt so damn right? When she was the only thing, the only person, that cut through the crap, made this whole mess seem like it might have some sort of meaning?

How could that possibly be wrong?

Guilt ate at my insides. Had I been a damn coward? Too scared to fight for something that made me feel, really feel?

Perhaps.

Easier to push her away, sabotage the whole damn thing, than risk actually letting her in. Letting anyone in. Losing control. But it didn't matter now, did it? 

It was over. 

I needed out. Out of my head, out of this apartment, out of my own damn skin. 

The silence was unbearable.

I pushed off the bed, muscles screaming in protest. I slipped into running clothes, the routine automatic. As I laced up my shoes, a sharp sting shot through my leg from the still-healing cut on my leg.

That bitch. 

The more I thought about it, the more sure I was she'd done it on purpose.

Good thing I was addicted to painkillers, huh?

I drowned a pill — no two, for good measure — before stepping outside into the pre-dawn chill. 

Cold autumn air bit at my skin. Each step echoed on the empty street. The pills kicked in, dulling the sharp pain in my leg. Good. Long as the cut didn't split open, I didn't damn care.

I pushed myself, needing the burn in my muscles, the ache in my lungs, to drown out the constant echo of her voice, her name, in my head.

The world blurred. Streetlights, shadows, it all melded together. The only reality was the ache in my body, the cold air forcing its way into my lungs. My mind, for once, was mercifully blank. 

No nightmares, no guilt, no memories of her haunted eyes — just the simple focus on putting one foot in front of the other.

I didn't set a goal, didn't choose a destination. 

Just moving, pushing, escaping.

Sweat dripped, but I barely registered. With each mile, the crushing weight eased. Not gone, hell, not even close to forgotten, but  — manageable. 

I ran until the city was a smear of lights, until my legs burned and my lungs screamed. 

Finally, gasping for breath, legs threatening to give out, I stumbled to a halt. The neon lights of a Seven Eleven cut through the pre-dawn darkness. My throat was sandpaper. I pushed through the door.

Inside, the harsh lights stung my eyes. I grabbed a water, my body on autopilot as I shuffled toward the register. The bored-looking teenager behind the counter gave me a sidelong look as I fumbled for my wallet.

"Rough night?"

"Something like that." I glanced down at my leg, the still-healing cut a visible red line. Wincing, I shifted my weight, favoring the uninjured side. 

I pulled out my card to pay, but then a flash of color caught my eye. Beside the cashier's register, stacked in a gaudy pyramid, was a display of energy drinks. I starred at them for a second, the name oddly familiar.

I knew why the name was so familiar.

I reached for a can and placed it on the counter. "And this."

Outside, I downed the water in a matter of seconds. Then, I cracked open the energy drink. The first sip hit my tongue. Surprisingly, it didn't taste half-bad without a shot of stale coffee to ruin it. 

But the taste wasn't the problem, wasn't it? 

Memories flooded back. Her, hunched over a massive anatomy textbook in the dim library, those beautiful eyes ringed with exhaustion. Beside her, half-empty, a mug of coffee — spiked with the sickeningly sweet energy drink I currently held.

Just the thought of that awful mixture made my stomach turn.

Still, a smile tugged at my lips.

Dammit, I didn't want to think about her. But to be fair, thinking, not thinking — it was all the same. The dull, constant ache of her absence throbbed beneath it all.

I chugged the rest of the energy drink, crushing the can in my hand.

Ah, fuck it.

Before my sanity could interfere, my legs were in motion.

I knew this was wrong. Knew every step took me closer to more pain. Knew all along this was stupid, reckless — inevitable. 

I couldn't stop.

The pull towards her was too damn strong. I needed to see her, to confirm her existence, to know she was real, to fix — what? What the hell could I fix? What the hell did I even think I was doing?

Finally, gasping for breath, I stumbled to a halt outside her apartment building.

A glance at my watch confirmed the hour — well past 3 am. Insane. I hadn't expected her to be awake. Just needed the pathetic reassurance of her presence. But as I looked up, my breath hitched. 

In a second-floor window, a flicker of warm light spilled into the darkness. And there, etched against that warmth — her silhouette. Unmistakable.

A heavy exhale escaped my lips. 

She was there.

Here.

On this same cursed world with me.

My heart pounded against my ribs. I knew, I had no right to be here. But god, I needed this, needed to see her.

She sat on the windowsill, book in hand. My future wife. Even in the dead of night, she was studying. How I loved her.

My gaze traced the familiar curve of her shoulders, the way the soft lamplight painted her skin with warmth, highlighting the strands of hair escaping her messy bun. 

In that stolen moment, I could almost convince myself that things were different, that my actions hadn't irrevocably shattered something precious.

But then, she moved. Rising from her seat, she stretched, drawing the fabric of her shirt upwards. Before my mind could catch up, she was at the window, pushing it open. I froze.

She was staring down — right at me. 

Shit.

I held my breath. For what felt like an eternity, we simply stared at each other. A muscle in her jaw twitched. Then her gaze dropped, breaking eye contact.

"You're bleeding."

I glanced down. The edge of my shorts was soaked through, a fresh stain of crimson spreading. Damn it. The cut had reopened.

"Yeah," I said, looking back up at her, "I'm a mess."

I braced myself for whatever was coming. The anger, the disgust, the righteous fury — it would all be justified. I deserved it. But she simply watched me. Her gaze was steady, devoid of emotion. 

"You know where the entrance is," she said finally, then leaned back into the soft glow of her room and closed the window shut.

Before my brain could catch up with how wrong this was, I walked toward the apartment building.

─── ·✧· ───

I sat on the edge of her bed, she on a chair in front of me, her hands already on my leg as she pushed the fabric of my shorts up. "How could you not notice that?"

I opened my mouth, but she cut me off, "Wait, forget it." 

Yeah. Now she remembered.

With practiced efficiency, she began cleaning the wound. Her touch was surprisingly gentle, considering how pissed she must be. 

The silence was heavy, broken only by the rustle of bandages and my occasional  sharp intake of breath when the antiseptic hit a raw spot.

My eyes wandered. Her space, even small and half-finished, felt warm, lived in. Smelled like her. Books spilling everywhere, papers scattered on a desk, a yoga mat forgotten in the corner — the organized chaos was so perfectly her.

Then my gaze landed on the half-unpacked boxes stacked against the wall. She really still didn't fully move in. Occupied with my mess, huh? 

Guilt flooded me. I didn't deserve this, didn't deserve her gentle hands on me, not after everything. 

Yet, a selfish part of me wanted nothing more than to stay exactly like this, wanted nothing more than to keep her hands on me.

With a sigh, I sank back against her pillows. Exhaustion seeped into my bones. Pain returned as the effects of the pills wore off.

Her fingers brushed the reopened cut. I winced, throwing an arm over my eyes. The relentless pounding in my head threatened to split me open, spilling all the ugly thoughts onto her pristine sheets.

"You've had nightmares again, haven't you?"

Huh? 

I lifted my head a fraction, struggling to meet her eyes. She glanced up briefly, her eyes guarded, then focused back on my leg.

"Yeah, something like that." My head thumped back onto the pillow. "Hard to sleep when your head won't shut up."

"What dose?"

"You really don't want to know."

"I asked because I do," she countered. The sharp tug as she tightened the bandage around my leg was enough to make me speak.

"Ten milligrams," I admitted, wincing. "The usual."

She scoffed, then another, even sharper, tug had me gritting my teeth. "Ngh—fuck," I moaned. 

I really needed a pill now.

She stood, gathering the first-aid supplies. "Heals slowly, doesn't it?"

I knew it.

I popped myself up on one elbow, raising an eyebrow at her. 

"Don't give me that look. You know damn well you deserved it."

I let out a dry laugh. "You really are a bitch sometimes." I dropped back onto the bed, my hand reaching for my throbbing head. 

I needed two pills now.

"You've got some damn nerve. You show up here in the middle of the night, injured, high—"

"I'm not high—"

"Save it," she spat. "You know what your fucking problem is? You can't stand being alone. Alone with your thoughts, with yourself. So you run. You run to pills, to whatever distraction you can find, anything to fill the void."

Yeah, how the hell am I supposed to want to be alone after feeling what it's like to be with you, stupid.

"You're too damn scared to face your fears," she continued, her voice laced with a bitter edge, "and when someone threatens your artificial peace, someone who might actually force you to look in the damn mirror, you panic. You sabotage it, push them away before it all gets too real, too close."

She stepped closer. "Because it's easier, isn't it? Safer to stick with the misery you know than risk having to face that void."

Every word stung, but I couldn't deny it, couldn't lie anymore.

"You're right. And I'm sorry—"

"Don't." She rose a hand at me. "Don't pretend you care, Satoru. You've made it clear how little I matter."

How little you matter? 

Oh, love, you couldn't be more wrong.

A harsh laugh escaped me. 

"You find this funny?"

"No, love," I said, pushing myself up. My leg throbbed in protest, but I ignored it. Everything narrowed down to her. I moved closer, a strange recklessness fueling me. "Quite the opposite."

Something flickered in her eyes — surprise? wariness? — but the anger remained.

"Keep going," I insisted, moving closer. "Let it out. Yell at me, tell me how pathetic I am. Make me feel something, anything other than this damn emptiness."

She hesitated. Her eyes searched mine, and for a breathless moment, I hoped that her fury, her anger, would burn away the numbness, making me feel something, anything.

Because even her anger was better than her indifference.

I couldn't stand being indifferent to her.

Might as well make her hate me.

"You want me to yell at you?" Her voice rose, the first hint of the storm I craved. "Fine! You wanna be a pathetic mess? Go ahead! Piss away your career, your life, whatever the hell you care about, I don't give a damn anymore!"

Each word hit me, but there was a desperate relief in it. Finally, she wasn't looking at me with that chilling indifference, that cold pity that twisted a knife in my gut. 

Her rage, it was fire — scorching and brutal, but alive. And I loved it.

Because it was prove she still cared, even if it was just to hate me with every fiber of her being. It was better than the void, that terrible chasm that had opened up between us after I'd pushed her away.

I closed the distance, enjoying the anger in her eyes. She flinched, but didn't back down.

"More." I grabbed her waist, lifting her with ease, and hauled her towards the bed.

"You're weak!" she spat, pushing against my chest, her voice rising with each word.

Yeah, so damn weak for you, love.

"You're selfish! So consumed by your own self-pity you can't see how you hurt everyone around you!"

Her words should have hurt. They probably would have, under different circumstances. But right now, I couldn't care less.

"Keep going," I rasped, my pulse pounding in my ears. I forced her onto the bed and hovered over her, my body trapping her between the mattress and my own. "C'mon, love, let it all out."

"You don't deserve me," she continued. "You don't deserve anyone who gives a damn, because you only know how to destroy things."

Each word was a knife. Yet, with each insult, the suffocating hollowness inside me eased a fraction. I wanted her anger, the full force of it, wanted the burn only she could inflict on me.

"More."

Her breath hitched, eyes narrowing. "You keep breaking my heart over and over, then come crawling back when it suits you, like it doesn't matter!"

"You're right." I leaned in, my thumb brushing over her bottom lip. The thin fabric of her shirt did little to hide her shivers. "C'mon, love, give it to me. I know you can do better."

In one swift move, I ripped my shirt over my head, tossing it to the floor. I leaned down again, my breath ghosting over her lips. "Hate me." My hands went for the flimsy waistband of her shorts. "Tell me how much you despise me."

Her breaths came fast, quick gasps against my skin.  I could see it all over her face — the rage, the fear, and maybe — yeah, maybe that darker edge, the same desperation burning in me.

"I fucking hate you, Satoru. Hate that you made me care, made me fall for you, then crushed it."

"Don't stop," I said, my voice a hoarse rasp. "Say it again." Before she could react, her shorts were down, exposing her to the night air. My own pants followed hasty, desperate. "Say you hate me."

"I fucking hate that you treat me like I'm just another damn plaything to fill whatever void your messed-up mom or whatever left you with!"

Okay, now it gets personal.

"I fucking hate that you act like you can control me," she hissed, but her body betrayed her, shivered running down her skin as my hands gazed her collarbone. "Hate that you make my choices for me, decide what's good for me, like you got to have control over something when you obviously can't control yourself!"

Damn, Freud himself is on to something tonight, huh? She really doesn't know when to stop.

"You're a fucking hypocrite, you know that?" I leaned closer, my mouth close to her ear. "You hate who I am, but you crave this, don't you? Giving up control, being at my mercy. Admit it."

Her eyes widened, then narrowed. She lifted a hand, as if to slap me, but I was faster. I caught her wrists and pinned them above her head, pressing them hard into the mattress.

"You know it's true," I pressed, relishing the way she struggled against my hold. "It's hard always being the composed one, isn't it? The responsible one. It's draining. Maybe that's why you're drawn to me. You love the thrill as much as I do, don't you?"

She stared at me, silent, her lips a tight line. 

"Prove me wrong, sweetheart. Call me a liar, and I'll show you just how wrong you are," I leaned in closer, my voice a harsh whisper against her lips. "We're the same, you and me. We feed off each other. Even if you hate to admit it, I fill that emptiness inside you same as you do for me."

"You arrogant piece of shit!" she spat, twisting and bucking against my grip. "You think you know everything, control everything!"

"Don't I?" My grip tightened, feeling her pulse throb against my fingers. "Seems I've got you pinned pretty damn well, wouldn't you say?"

"You know it's true. You love this. Makes you feel something your books, your fancy grades never could."

"Screw you, Satoru," she hissed, venom in her voice. "We're nothing alike."

"You really are a fool, for wanting to fix something so broken it'll cut you to shreds the moment you get close and then you cry afterwards—"

Her spit hit my face. I closed my eyes for a second, then a smile twisted across my lips. 

My future wife just spit in my face — what a good anecdote on our wedding day.

"That's my girl," I rasped, shoving her legs wider. "Tell me how much you hate me. Scream it."

"I fucking hate you Satoru, I hate you—"

Her words died on her tongue as I thrust forward, filling her completely. I closed my eyes, letting my head hang heavy for a second. 

My god, the things this woman's body could do to me. I could feel her body trembling beneath me, her heart racing as she arched her back.

How treacherous a body can be, huh?

"Hate you, Satoru," she managed to say before she closed her eyes, biting down her lip as I thrust deeper still. Her thighs spread further apart, inviting me closer, urging me onward. 

She's so damn beautiful.

I grinned, my hands still holding her wrists in place over her head. "I know you do, love. But you know what?" My lips were only a breath away from hers. "I hate you, too. I hate how you make me feel, how you expose every broken piece of me, how I crave you like I crave another fix."

Hell, I might just be addicted to this woman.

I pulled out fully, before thrusting back into her. Her head fell back, pressing into the mattress as a strangled moan escaping her lips.

She felt incredible.

Pulling back slowly, I watched her body react to the absence, her eyes flickering open to meet mine. Those pupils dilated with need, mirroring my own hunger for her. 

In that moment, nothing else mattered. Not our fight. Not our problems. Not our insults that had left our lips moments before. Just us — two halves coming together in a perfect whole. 

I pushed back into her, deeper, harder.

With each thrust, I felt myself sinking deeper into her, losing myself in her. Fuck, if there was anything better than this — well, I hadn't found it yet.

This woman owned me — plain and simple.

It was madness, this pull towards her. 

Insane, perhaps.

But it was also undeniably real. So real that even though dawn threatened to break soon, stealing away whatever remnants of darkness remained, I couldn't help but chase after that high only she could provide.

Even knowing full well that when morning arrived, reality would crash down upon us, forcing us back onto opposite sides of the divide.

"Look what you've done to me, love. You're making a fool of me." I whispered against her lips without touching them.

Weren't together anymore after all.

Kissing would be too much.

Her chest rose and fell rapidly beneath me. Her nails dug into my skin where my hands gripped her wrists. With each deep thrust, I watched her face contort with pleasure and pain, her features illuminated by fleeting streaks of moonlight seeping through the curtains.

I loved that look on her face.

I wondered if I could make that look even more pathetic.

I pulled out, dragging the tip of my length across her clit before pushing back in. She squirmed underneath me, arching her back. But I denied her, keeping my unhurried pace. I wanted to draw out this sweet torture for as long as possible.

Hours passed — or perhaps mere minutes. I couldn't tell anymore. All that mattered was this woman writhing beneath me.

Groaning in frustration, she attempted to break free from my grip. "Dammit, Satoru. If you won't finish what you started, then get off me!"

I smirked. "Why so eager, love. Can't handle the wait?" I leaned in to kiss down the side of her neck. She shivered beneath me, her breath hitching as my teeth grazed her skin. 

With my free hand I reached down, running my fingers down her quivering stomach, relishing in the shivers that coursed through her body. 

She glared up at me, her eyes narrowing dangerously. "Stop calling me 'love'. I don't belong to you, not anymore—" 

She gasped into my mouth when I found her clit. Slowly, deliberately, I began to circle it with my thumb, feeling her surrender to me. I plunged deeper, thrusting into her mercilessly.

Let her hate me all she wants. She can't deny the chemistry between us — a spark that refuses to fade, no matter how hard either of us tries.

She must have hated this — hated how she surrendered to me, even with all that anger. Made me wondered if I could rail her up even more.

"You think you're so much better than me?" I rasped. "So strong, so selfless, always putting others first? It's a lie, and you know it. You're just bored."

"You fucker!" Before I knew what was happening, she broke free of my grasp and had flipped us over so that she was now straddling my hips. 

Without warning, she reached forward, gripping my throat with surprising strength as she leaned down, her hair falling like a curtain around our faces. I couldn't help but smile.

"Don't project your bullshit on me," she seethed, her face inches from mine. 

Her words sent a chill down my spine, stirring up a fresh wave of desire within me. Damn, this woman was infuriating — and captivating in the worst way possible.

We glared at each other like enemies preparing for battle. 

"Aren't you a little tired? Pulling up that act all the time?" I choked out, feeling her fingers dig in further. "Deep down, you're just as bored as me, you're just too righteous to admit it."

"Shut up," she hissed, pressing harder, choking the words out of me.

This was madness. Destructive madness. But for this one desperate moment, I didn't care. It was exhilarating, addictive. Because love, our twisted, broken love, wasn't supposed to be pretty.

It was messy, chaotic, and borderline abusive. But sometimes all you need is a firm grip around the throat to remind you that you're alive.

"Harder, love," I gasped, a laugh bubbling up in my constricted throat. "Come on, make me feel your rage."

Slowly, deliberately, she began grinding her hips against mine, setting a maddening pace that left me reeling. Fuck, I think I love it even more when she hates me.

"Ahh, shit," I gasped, clutching at her thighs as she rode me mercilessly. "That's it."

Eyes squeezed shut, my head rolled back. Chills prickled my skin, possibly due to the cool breeze drifting in from the window. Or perhaps it was merely her.

She rode me with increased speed, and I could barely contain the overwhelming sensations coursing through my body. Every fiber of my being screamed for release. 

My knuckles on her thighs turned white from the force. "Oh, shit, you're going to kill me," I moaned between choked sounds that escaped my lips. 

My lips twisted into a smile again. "Admit it. You love the chaos as much as I do. The thrill, the way it makes you feel alive."

"You're wrong," she said, increasing her pace making my cock twitch inside her. "We're nothing alike."

"Keep telling yourself that," I replied, struggling to catch my breath, as she made me lose my mind. "But I know the truth—we're two sides of the same coin."

"You really believe that, don't you?"

"Why else would you be here, like this, with me?" I countered. "Face it, we're addicted to each other—the highs, the lows, the constant push and pull. It's exhilarating, isn't it?"

"You're the only addict here."

"Liar," I rasped.

Her muscles clenched around me, drawing me deeper inside her. She was close. Each contraction of her pushing me further towards a peak that I knew would soon shatter me.

But I wasn't ready yet. Not quite.

I shifted our positions, sitting upright before spinning us around so she was now beneath me on the mattress. I positioned myself behind her, forcing her down onto the mattress.

I slowly slid my hand along her spine as I pushed her further down, feeling her tremble beneath my touch, the softness of her skin beneath my fingertips. 

It was intoxicating to watch her submit to me.

"Fuck, you'll be the death of me."

Leaning down, I pressed my lips against the small of her back, feeling her shiver once more. My hand continued its descent, stopping just short of where she needed me.

"Satoru," my name fell from her lips.

Oh, how I loved it when she breathed my name like that. I couldn't resist her — could never resist her. I was at her mercy. Even now.

She arched her back, silently pleading for me to continue. I slid my hand between her legs. "God, you're so fucking wet," I murmured, slipped a finger inside her, then another. She was so tight, so warm. 

I couldn't wait to be inside her again.

She gasped, pushing back against me. "Don't stop."

Curving my fingers, I searched for that spot that I knew would drive her mad. When I found it, she cried out, her hips bucking against my hand. Her hands scrabbled at the sheets, grasping for purchase as I started to move inside her.

"Yes, fuck," she moaned, spreading her legs wider. "Right there."

Oh, love. I know you like that.

I smiled, relishing the fact that I knew her body better than herself. I knew every inch of her, every freckle, every scar, every sensitive spot that made her squirm. 

"More," she begged.

I happily obliged, adding a third finger and thrusting deeper. She was soaking wet, her juices coating my fingers as I fucked her with my hand. Her moans grew louder, more urgent. She was close, so close.

I increased the pace of my fingers, pumping them in and out of her as I used my thumb to apply pressure to her clit. 

However, as her moans reached a fever pitch, I withdrew my fingers, denying her release.

She gasped, glanced over her shoulder at me, her mouth open, but said nothing — probably out of breath. 

I brought my fingers to my mouth, savoring the taste of her. It was so uniquely her. I couldn't get enough.

Leaning in, I pressed my body against hers from behind, my hard length probed at her entrance. 

I leaned down over her, my hand snaking into her hair. I grabbed it tightly, forcing her head up to meet mine. "I love you, first-year," I murmured against her ear.

She trembled, but her defiance remained strong. "I hate you."

I sighed — always so fierce, makes me wonder what it takes to fuck that stubborn attitude out of her. 

"It's alright, I love you enough for both of us."

With that, I pushed her head down into the mattress. Her cry muffled by the sheets beneath her as I thrust into her once more, bottoming out inside her with a groan.

I began to move in and out of her. Faster now, harder until the headboard slammed against the wall. Her muscles clenched around me, drawing me deeper inside her. She clawed at the sheets beneath her, her moans muffled by the fabric.

As her cries grew louder, I quickly pushed her face further into the mattress. "Quiet, first year," I murmured as I angled myself to rub against her G-spot, making it harder for her to keep quiet. "Wouldn't want to disturb anyone in the middle of the night, would we?"

Neither of us spoke a word — not that she could but — perhaps because there was nothing left to say. Instead, we communicated solely through our actions, saying everything that needed to be said without opening our mouths.

I increased both the pace and pressure. Nearly causing her to fall forward hadn't I held her in place with one hand on her waist and one sill in her hair. Her breath hitched, her entire body tensed as she approached her breaking point.

Oh, how I loved feeling her tighten around me.

Bringing her closer to the edge was a thrill like no other. Watching her lose control, hearing her cries and moans, feeling her body tremble beneath me — it was intoxicating.

I could feel myself getting closer to the edge, my balls tightening as I approached my own release. 

Her cries grew louder, more urgent, until finally, she shattered around me, her orgasm triggering my own.

With a final thrust, I emptied myself inside her, filling her completely. Her contractions milked every last drop from me, her body still quivering around me. 

I stayed inside her, savoring the feeling. It might be the last time.

I was panting, my chest rising and falling rapidly as I tried to catch my breath. My cock was still twitching inside her. Reluctantly, I pulled out with a low moan.

I stayed behind her for a moment longer, admiring the curve of her waist, the sheen of sweat on her skin in the sliver of moonlight. 

Don't know when or if I'll ever see that again.

Time seemed to stand still, suspended indefinitely as we tried to find our breath again.

Then she turned her head. "You're a fucking idiot," she finally said.

"Tell me something I don't know."

She shifted to face me, her expression serious.  "Promise me something."

"Anything you want, love."

"Promise me, you won't kill yourself with your pills."

I swallowed hard. That's not what'll get me, I thought, as I felt a sharp pain lancing through my right side.

I moved closer, cupping her face with my hands that trembled slightly. For an insane moment, I wanted to kiss her, but I knew I couldn't — couldn't ever again. "I promise," I rasped.

The words heavy with a lie we both knew.

<- prev chapter | next chapter ->

author's note: wooooaaa, another insane!gojo chapter lol. this chapter really killed me, was crying, screaming, throwing up while writing.

i'm equally scared and excited to hear what you think about todays chapter, ngl. originally i didn't plan a smut scene in this chapter, but you know, somewhere down that line gojo just happened and here we are. 

also like, i think now both their's darkest secrets are now out — in the worst way possible. also because i keep getting messages regarding how much chapters are left of the story, idk i write form chapter to chapter. we're down somewhere the 60—70 % line with the story i guess, but we'll see. still more to uncover of gojo's past and all that.

also sorry for the people asking of for more fluff and happy moments, ehhh, there will be some in the future?? also i'm still sticking to the plan of a happy ending, so don't worry!! gojo fucked up big time and the next chapters will center about him trying to fight his fears and get shit together — let's see if he can do that. curious myself.

so thank you so so much for sicking by with the story. sending kisses to all of you lovely people seeing me messages, leaving likes, comments and reblog stuff. it really makes my heart happy everything i see a notification. love you all sm!! ♡

okay my last note, just so you know, i'm going on vocation soon, so the next chapter will be a bit delayed again, sorraaaayyy!! wishing you a great day or night and an awesome weekend ahead! ♡

🏷️ @sad-darksoul @aerithsthingss @mylovelessnightmare @bbyxxm @musababy @neuviloved @ykehqqy @hexrts-anatomy @fvsm4x @tw0fvced @heijihattorisgf @sadmonke @thatsopanu @sirencholia @sugurusdiscordmoderator @erwinslut @shervinss @certainlysyko @mechalily @purplehallow11 @kendall0111 @bloopsstuff @therealestpussyeater @louoi7 @whereflowerswenttodie @billiondollarworth @deluluforcarlos55 @starrynight-777 @vina21 @michelleeveline @boba-is-a-soup @cre8inghavoc @love-jelly @daimiyu @d0nk3y-k0ng @mo0nforme @smolbeanzzz @oneiricals @ynishalee @gojolvrr34 @nanasukii28 @ariiiii0938 @kelppsstuff @tojisdollx @drakenswifeyy @bakarinnie @vina21 @phoenix-eclipses @nanamis-baker @neptnszn (pls comment on the series masterlist to get tagged in the future!)

#symptoms and causes #gojo saturo #jujutsu kaisen #saturo gojo x reader #jjk x reader #gojo x reader #gojo x y/n #gojo x you #gojo x female reader #satoru gojo smut #satoru gojo x reader #satoru gojo angst #gojo angst #jjk smut #gojo satoru #jjk x you #jjk fanfic

[roosterr]

white flag ✹ ch 1

note: tysm for all the support on the first part! it made me so happy to see that people were enjoying it!! also sorry if you're not british bc i'm british-ing the reader in this story lol.

pairing: ghost x gn!reader

wc: 3.2k

no use of y/n reader's callsign is 'stingray'

summary: you decide to walk to work with ghost instead of driving yourself. what could possibly go wrong.

warnings: ghost is a bit mean again, reader is going through it, some angst, a lil bit of fluff at the end

ao3

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you didn't sleep well these days. your dreams are more often than not consumed with your newfound fear of fire – something you'd be taking to the grave, rather than give ghost something new to grill you about. the memories of waking up to your house filled with smoke haunted you, ever present in the back of your mind, even as you slept. it was all you could think about. distracting yourself with work had been effective so far, so that was how you'd continue until it either went away or became a bigger problem.

in the week since the fire, you'd yet to actually see ghost in the morning before you both went to work. it was like you were living with an actual ghost. you would never see him, but every now and then you'd hear a noise from upstairs and be reminded that he exists. honestly, it was kind of a relief – he obviously didn't want to see you any more often than necessary, and as much as his avoidance hurt you, you're not sure you could handle being berated before you've had your morning coffee.

he stayed out of the living room, for which you're thankful. you're overly aware of how unhappy he is having someone who is essentially a stranger occupying his home, and you're glad he's allowed you some modicum of privacy.

today, however, you'd woken up early by some grace of the gods and decided that, instead of going back to sleep for an extra forty-five minutes, you'd get an early start to the day.

that of course meant that you encountered your ever elusive lieutenant in the kitchen, as you sit at the incredibly small table drinking your mug of incredibly sweet coffee. you'd just finished off a bowl of cereal when he appeared in the corner of your vision, and you jump slightly when you notice him.

"...morning." you utter, somehow surprised to see him standing in the doorway as if this wasn't his house in the first place. unsurprisingly, ghost doesn't respond, he simply puts the kettle on and starts making himself a cup of tea, all without looking at you once. you can't help but sigh at how he blatantly ignores you, but it's not out of character for him, so you resign yourself to sipping your coffee in silence.

you watch as he shuffles around the kitchen, his large frame making the space look even more tiny, if that was even possible. somewhere in the back of your mind you wonder if he sleeps in his balaclava, since it didn't look like he'd even washed his face since you saw him yesterday.

when he suddenly turns and meets your eyes, you freeze and quickly look down. of course he knew you were staring at him, why wouldn't he? he always seemed to be acutely aware of every mistake you make, much to your chagrin. heat rises to your cheeks and you subtly clear your throat from the embarrassment of being caught. you can't see what expression he's making, but you'd be willing to bet he was giving you that patented death glare.

"do you walk to base? every morning?" you ask, if only to break the painfully awkward silence between you. a moment passes of you looking at him expectantly as he finishes making his tea.

"yeah." his mumble is barely audible, and you have to strain to hear it despite sitting less than two metres away from him.

"but it's, like, a half hour walk," you muse, tilting your head at him. it made sense, you supposed, you already knew he didn't have a car, and it would explain why he always left so early.

"twenty-five if you're quick about it." he mutters, turning away from you to face the window. you see him lift his mask over his nose and bring his cup up to his lips. there's another beat of silence between you as you stare holes into the back of his head.

"do you, uh… want a lift?" you ask, hesitancy lacing your voice. he's still facing away from you as he downs the rest of his tea, setting the cup down in the sink. 

"no."

"okay…" your voice trails off, quieter than before. it doesn't matter that you expected it, his blunt dismissiveness never fails to make your stomach sink. as you finish off your own drink, an idea lights up your eyes. you stand up, bringing your cup and bowl and placing them in the sink, before turning to ghost. "then i'll walk with you." you give him a warm smile, taking note of how he quickly pulls his mask back down as you look at him and the way his eyes widen the slightest amount at your words.

"no–" he begins, shaking his head, but you're already set on the idea.

"just let me grab my jacket," you give him another small smile, and without another word, you disappear into the living room – your very makeshift bedroom – to search for where you discarded your jacket when you got home the night before.

when you come back out to the entryway, hiking your jacket over your shoulders, the first thing you notice is ghost's boots are no longer by the door. you poke your head into the kitchen, and find the spot in front of the sink where he was standing distinctly empty.

the bastard left without you.

with a whispered string of curses, you pull on your own boots as quickly as you can manage, and race out the door after him. you get a few paces down the path before you remember you have to lock the door behind you, practically sprinting back to it and securing it at record speed. in less than a minute, you're running down the road after ghost's retreating form, swearing under your breath the whole way.

when you finally catch up to him, he doesn't even spare you a glance as you try and catch your breath beside him.

"damn you walk fast…" you huff, straightening your jacket and looking up at ghost. he gives you a look out of the corner of his eye, but still doesn't say anything. "well, you're not shaking me that easily, l.t."

"anyone ever told you you're a pain in the arse?" he grumbles, shoving his hands in his pockets.

you mirror his movement, raising a brow at him. "yeah, you do – all the time actually." 

his gaze darts to you for a split second, almost unnoticeable, and then he's back to looking straight ahead like you're not there. there's nothing you want more in that moment than to know what he's thinking, but you'll just have to make do with his blank expression.

"so, uh…" you clear your throat, drawing a blank on anything you could talk to him about. "so, what's your favourite colour?" you cringe as soon as the words pass your lips, but it's too late to stop yourself now. "you strike me as a forest green kinda guy."

"god, shut up sting." he sighs, glancing briefly at you with a frown you can see through the balaclava. you frown back, throwing your hands out in exasperation.

"so you really wanna just walk in silence all the way to work?" you ask, jogging slightly to catch up with him as he takes a corner you weren't expecting.

"didn't wanna walk with you in the first place." he says, his shoulders hunched with tension. "you're more than welcome to drive yourself."

"i'm just trying to be friendly."

"well… save your breath." he mutters. you think you hear a hint of sadness lacing his tone, but you can't be sure.

"then i won't bother on the way back, how about that?" you reply, hoping that your voice doesn't betray the disappointment you feel.

he doesn't say another word for the rest of the time it takes the two of you to walk to base. you're left essentially talking to yourself, while he gives you the silent treatment. it's disappointing, but not at all surprising – a feeling you've become familiar with around him.

you point out a woman walking her dog that you thought was cute, but he only hums and continues staring ahead. you comment on a fox in the road, but he pretends not to have heard you. any attempt you make to get him to engage again, he shoots you down every time. it's almost enough to make you give up, but you really do want him to like you, if only because you live together and not because of your admiration for him.

when you finally arrive at base, you don't bother trying to keep pace with him anymore. the commute, which in reality was only about thirty minutes, felt more like hours thanks to ghost's avoidance. you watch with a defeated expression as he disappears around the corner ahead of you and decide to go to the rec room, in the hopes that your more friendly teammates will be there.

"sting! there you are!" soap's voice from your left draws your attention as you walk through the door, and you give him and gaz a smile as you make your way over to where they're sitting. "was worried you got lost or somethin'."

"did you walk with ghost?" gaz asks. you nod, flopping down onto the sofa next to him with a quiet groan.

"yeah, but he basically just ignored me the whole way." you sigh, your disappointment evident in your voice. they both nod in understanding, having expected as much from your icy lieutenant.

"surprised he didn't shove you into a bush and leave you there." gaz chuckles, patting your shoulder as you rub a hand over your eyes.

"honestly? me too."

soap jumps up from his seat next to gaz and comes to sit on your other side. "how's it been, living with him?" he asks, his voice teasing. you groan again, and squeeze your eye shut.

"it's great," you grumble, resping your elbows on your knees and hiding your face on your hands, "now i get told i'm annoying at home and at work."

before either of them can respond, price's voice interrupts from the doorway "come on, you lot get a move on, we've got work to do." he commands, and with a quiet 'yes sir' the three of you get up and follow after him.

the rest of the day went by in a blur, in part thanks to the unfulfilling sleep you'd been having lately; the sofa-bed left a lot to be desired, paired with the adjustment period your body needed whenever you sleep somewhere new.

thankfully you didn't need to do anything too taxing today; paperwork, training, and due to an unfortunate bet, you were stuck doing inventory for the next month. it was your own fault, really, you should've known better than to make a bet with soap.

by the end of the day, you're practically dead on your feet and more than ready to get home and collapse into your horribly uncomfortable bed. you're on your way out when you remember, you don't have your car, because you walked here. so you have to walk back. with ghost.

as you drag your feet through the winding corridors, your eyes drift to the window to see that it's now raining – and quite heavily, at that. as luck would have it, you actually keep a spare umbrella on top of your locker for situations exactly like this. rolling your eyes to yourself, you turn around on your heel and make your way quickly back towards the locker room. the sun was already setting, and you still had to find ghost, preferably before it got too dark.

well, you didn't have to find him, but since you'd walked here together, you wanted to walk back with him too – no matter how grumpy he was. even if you walked in complete silence, you'd still enjoy the company.

you push the locker room door open with your shoulder, beelining for your locker along the back wall. you reach a hand up and feel around for your umbrella on top, cringing at the feeling of dust all over your hand. when you don't find it, you frown. you could've sworn you left it up there. you step up onto one of the benches nearby to get a better look, but it's still nowhere to be found.

someone stole your fucking umbrella.

you let out an irritated groan. did the higher powers have something against you? why has everything been going wrong for you lately? you have to take a second, standing on the bench in the empty locker room, to compose yourself before you burst into tears from the frustration of it all.

more than anything you just wanted to go home; but your home was gone, and now you live in a house with a man who probably couldn't care less whether you made it back or not, and to top it all off you had to walk back in the pouring rain with him with no umbrella.

now, as you make your way back to ghost's office, you're marching through the corridors with frustrated desperation; you needed to go to sleep and not wake up until you need to go to work again on monday. you're not even sure you could face going to the pub with the others this weekend, something you usually enjoy no matter how much you're aching.

you arrive outside his office, but the light is off and the door's locked when you try it. you get a sinking feeling in your chest as you think back to this morning. maybe he was just waiting by the exit?

as quickly as you can manage, you head to the front of the building, where you'd come in that morning, but when you round the corner, there's no one there. you sniffle, trying to bottle your frustration for when you're alone, and decide to try one last option before calling it a day.

you lean around the door into the rec room, spotting a group of a few privates you don't know the names of sitting around a table, playing some card game.

"have you guys seen lieutenant ghost?" you ask them, your exhaustion clearly showing on your face by the way they look between themselves before responding.

"uhm, yeah, i think i saw him leaving about an hour ago?" one of them answers.

"oh." you mutter, blinking dumbly as you process his words. "right, thanks."

the bastard left without you.

again.

it takes you a great deal of restraint not to scream.

the journey back in the dark, by yourself, is painful, to put it lightly. you get splashed by passing cars exactly twice, and you're practically soaked to the bone within the first ten minutes of walking.

the lights are on when you finally round the corner and have the house in your sights. you almost slip on the small patch of grass outside, but manage to save yourself that embarrassment and stay upright.

you wrench the door open, stepping inside and dripping on the entryway floor as you slam it behind you. you wipe your hand over your face, flicking the excess rain onto the floor as well before sharply tugging your boots off and dropping them next to ghost's.

you move to stand in the doorway to the kitchen, glowering at your lieutenant who stands in his usual spot by the window with a nice warm cup of tea in his hand.

well, good for him.

"dickhead." you hiss, taking note of how he seems to be perfectly content and, most importantly, dry. he sets his cup down on the counter next to him and turns his body to face you, expression consistently unreadable with the mask covering him.

"...figured you'd left already." he mutters, his eyes flickering to your soaking wet clothes and then back up to your face, not quite meeting your seething gaze.

"no you didn't." you spit, wiping your eyes sharply as more water drips into them. "you just didn't wanna deal with me. well, you got your peace and quiet, i hope you're happy."

"thought you had an umbrella?" his voice is quieter still, and you think you see his eyebrows pull upwards with what could've been concern, but you brush the thought off.

"i did, before somebody fucking nicked it."

"that's–"

you appear back in the kitchen doorway, throwing your hands out to your side with a wobbly frown. "you win, alright? i'll–" you can't help the way your voice cracks, "i'll stop trying to be friends with you. i'll leave you alone. you win."

and with that, you storm into the living room, slamming the door behind you before he can get another word in – before the dam breaks and you can no longer stop the tears from falling. your knees give out and you sink to the floor where you stand, leaning your back against the door and burying your tear-stained face in your hands.

you just want to go home, but this isn't home and you're afraid it never will be. it hurts, a lot, that no matter how hard you try, you never make any progress with him, and even though you said you'd give up trying, deep down you knew it was a lie. more than anything, you just wanted him to like you; it didn't even matter of he never cared about you the same way you cared for him, you were just so tired of being hated.

it takes you the better part of ten minutes to gain control of your breathing again, and another five to gather the strength to stand. you muster just enough energy to tug your soaked clothes off and change into your pyjamas before collapsing into the sofa-bed and burying yourself in the blankets.

you must've drifted to sleep at some point, because the sound of the door opening startles you awake. with a tired frown decorating your face, you sit up and turn around. to your utter surprise, you see ghost standing half in the doorway, illuminated from behind by the hall light, holding something out that you can't quite see in the darkness.

for a moment all you can do is sit in silence, staring and waiting for him to say something.

"...what's that?" you finally ask, your voice barely above a whisper.

"hot chocolate." he replies in a similar tone, taking a small step forward. you blink and open your mouth to say something, but no words come to mind. so instead you take the cup from him, and let it warm your hands as you take a sip.

"how'd you know i like hot chocolate?" he's about to leave when you ask, his body already poised to disappear. he turns his head back to look at you, never quite meeting your eyes.

"belarus, last year." he mutters, "you ordered it. in the caff."

you're not quite sure what to say, so you settle on a confused, "...thanks?"

"if you get a cold, it'll be your head, sergeant." he tells you, the slightest trace of something teasing in his voice, before stepping out of your sight.

"copy that." you mumble after him, a faint smile pulling at your lips as the door clicks shut again.

maybe he would warm up to you after all.

taglist: @sofasoap , @siilvan , @i-love-ghost , @projectdreamwalker , @rafaelcallinybbay , @shuttlelauncher81 , @achelois-is-here , @adamsloverboy , @thatchickwiththecamera , @chickensandwich69 , @batmanunicorns523 , @tiny-kasper , @dezibou , @pampeop , @cumbermovels , @goth-boi-atlas , @berryjuicyy

if your name is crossed out, i can't tag you for whatever reason, sorry!

#ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #mw2 x reader #cod x reader #141 x reader #call of duty x reader #mw2 #cod mw2 #call of duty #simon ghost riley #mw2 ghost #roosterr writes

[lacedinweb22]

new ride 🏍️༻ (Miguel O’Hara x reader)

🕸️ Entangled series 🕸️ ch. 3 prev part

author’s note: I had this hot vision of motorcycle Miguel last week then came across this artwork which completely cemented my idea. Check out the artist!!!! 💘🕸 ALSO this is a flashback chapter!!!

Summary: Your best friend/crush, Miguel, comes over to study with you. His arrival to your apartment surprises you, and gives you a new reason to procrastinate and get closer to him.  CW: none 

✩‧₊˚༺☆༻*ੈ✩‧₊

I looked down at our text conversation, pacing in my bedroom.

Miguel: I’m on my way from Alchemax :) give me 5

Me: Traffic is bad rn so drive safe :D I’ll be waiting in front  Me: Also it’s so dark out so drive carefully. don’t text and drive

I threw my phone on my bed and finished getting ready and cleaning up my place. I headed out and stood in front of my apartment complex, nearing the sidewalk so he could park and I could help him with his books and our lab equipment, though I knew he would reject my help.

I stared down the street waiting for Miguel when headlights approached, blinding me, and spotlighting me in the darkness. The dark blue motorcycle pulled up in front of me, parking exactly where Miguel was supposed to park. I shyly backed up into the grass to avoid blocking their path. I took a deep breath, “Sir, I was… saving this spot for a friend,” I blurted, attempting to be assertive. He took his helmet off, revealing Miguel under. "Oh yeah?" he asked, smirking as he wiped sweat from his forehead. "Miguel," I muttered, confused.

His wavy brown hair was messy, damp with sweat, cascading onto his face, and his cheeks were rosy. I admired his black fingerless gloves wrapped around his muscular hands, which gripped tightly around his motorcycle’s handlebars. He wore a compression shirt, snug around his biceps, and his dark gray pants that his crimson briefs peeked out of. He turned the engine off then got off of it. He grabbed his backpack and textbooks out from the back of the bike and slung it onto his shoulder, while I grabbed the heavy textbooks from his hands and continued to stare at him in awe.

I snapped myself out of it as Miguel looked at me through his furrowed brows, while he locked his helmet to his mirror. “Miguel, when were you going to– I mean– since when did you have a motorcycle?” I asked, interrogating him. “Since always,” he replied, shrugging. He walked past me and towards my apartment, avoiding my questions, and supporting his guiltiness. I chased after him.  

“No, you liar, I’ve never seen… When did you even…?” “Y/N, I always bring the car so you can ride with me. It would be too dangerous and… I wouldn’t want to risk anything with you,” he explained. “So you only drive your car… for me?” I asked, hiding how flattered I was. He nodded. 

“Okay but that doesn’t change the fact that you’ve still been keeping this from me,” I shrugged, “I mean, Miguel, you’ve been living a double life. You’re a double-agent, double-crossing, traitor, backstabbing, liar,” I accused jokingly, chasing after him. I caught up to him at my door, as I watched him scoff and smile, avoiding me as he opened my apartment door and entered before me.

“You have to make it up to me,” I exclaimed, “I mean, don’t you think it would be a little fucked for you to drive over here with your fancy new ride, and rub it in my face just to not let me ride with you,” I said, shrugging, blocking his way. “And that is exactly why I kept it from you,” he said, sarcastically smiling, walking around me and into the kitchen. He dropped his backpack to the floor as I placed the pile of books onto the kitchen counter. He sat at the counter, dragging the textbooks in front of him, and opening them up, ready to study. “But– but–” “It’s not safe, Y/N,” he declared, firmly. “Damn, okay,” I muttered, sitting beside him, slumping and slowly opening up my notebook. I sighed and began to write. He turned to me then hung his head low, sighing to himself, and muttering in Spanish.

“You brat,” he said, as he stood up and slammed his textbook closed. He walked towards the front door, heading back to his motorcycle. I followed happily behind him. 

He stood beside his motorcycle, his hands on his hips, “Get over here,” he demanded. I walked quickly across the grass then arrived on the opposite side of his motorcycle, awaiting his instructions.

“Get on top,” he demanded. Never thought I’d hear him say those words. “Okay, geez” I muttered, slinging one leg across the bike, trying to climb up. He watched me struggle, his arms crossed, as he rolled his eyes. “Not all of us are fucking 6’9” Miguel, help me up,” I exclaimed, annoyed.

He came to my side of the bike, and put his hand underneath my thigh, lifting me up onto it. 

I sat on his bike, as he stood tall beside me. “Nice,” I said, nodding excitedly. “Good, now safety,” he said, pulling an extra helmet out from the back. He grabbed his helmet and rested it on my lap as he helped me put the spare on. He brushed my hair back, gently moving it out of my face and sliding the helmet onto me, adjusting it. He lifted the shield up so he could see my eyes. 

“Do I look cool?” I asked, grinning with my eyes. He stepped back, taking in the view of me hovering on his bike. “So cool… and kind of…” “hot,” I finished, confidently. “I feel like all-black was the way to go today,” I said, looking down at my pants, tracing my hands along my hips and thighs. He nodded, smiling down at me, “you do look… hot,” he affirmed, nodding, his gaze soft on me. He cleared his throat then came back closer to me, adjusting the helmet. 

He traced his fingers down from the bottom of the helmet to the black cord around my neck. “You’ve always eyed this one,” I whispered nervously, as I looked up at him. “Triquetra: body, mind, spirit,” he said, tracing it. I nodded. “Your Irish is showing,” I muttered, nudging him as he smiled down at me. “Take it,” I said, as I undid it and began to wrap it around his neck. “No, what are you doing, Y/N? It’s yours,” he argued, gently pushing my hands away. “Don’t be annoying. I’m going to Dublin this summer, I’ll buy a new one,” I pushed. He surrendered, as I wrapped it around his neck. I continued, “This one has been mine since forever, so it has luck and my… essence, so you can… wear it when you’re driving or whenever you need protection,” I reasoned, clasping it.

“Thank you, Y/N. I’m never taking this off,” he said, looking down at it, his fingers caressing the charm. “So,” he took a deep breath then climbed onto the bike, now sitting in front of me. He pulled his helmet on then turned it on, now gripping the handlebars. “Scoot closer to me,” he said, reaching behind him to grab my arms and wrap them around him. “We’ll ride, but only for a bit,” he asserted. “Okay,” I whispered. He reached back and grabbed under my thighs, lifting me effortlessly up and closer to him, my thighs now completely wrapped around him. He smelled like cinnamon and… Miguel. I lowered the shield on my helmet, my face flushed. His gloved hands clenched around the bars, as he slowly started to drive. 

We drove down the street, as I held onto his muscular body tightly. I’m enjoying this a little too much. “We should head into the main city, just barely, for a little,” I whined. “We have to study,” he exclaimed back at me, through the wind. “Please, just for a bit, for me,” I said, squeezing him tighter. I felt him exhale against my chest. He dropped his head low, defeated. He headed towards the freeway. “I hate you,” he exclaimed. I grinned under my helmet, leaning my head into his back. He sped up, my hair combed by the wind. 

We entered the main city, the huge skyscrapers lit up, shining above us. I looked up in awe. “You good back there?” he called out, patting my leg. I squeezed him tightly, nodding against him. We drove through the city, then eventually headed back. 

We pulled up in front of my apartment, as he turned the engine off and got off of the bike. He took his helmet off and ran his fingers through his hair. He stood beside me, and helped me take off mine. He lifted it off of me slowly, his eyes immediately meeting mine. 

“See, not as dangerous as you thought it would be, huh?” I teased, hoping it would convince him to let me ride with him again.

“Mmmm, you are still in one piece,” he said, shrugging, helping me get off of the bike. “So, you’ll invite me to ride with you again, someday, maybe?” I asked, smiling up at him, leaning closer to him. “I’ll consider it,” he said, smirking down at me as we walked to my apartment to study. “Fair enough.” 

✧༺♥༻∞

next part

Tag List: @wingedturtledream @that-one-weeb-buts-its-the-main @infirebaby @skaochii @bat-yo-us @lostpirate79 @renn-pumkin-head @princessa-micomicona @qundadedingle11 @waiif-uwu @punpuun @migueloharaslxt @thbidkbutok @00macy2022 @acehyacinth

#miguel o'hara x reader #spiderman2099 #miguel o'hara x y/n #miguel o'hara atsv #miguel o hara #spider verse #atsv x reader #miguel x reader #spiderman x y/n #spiderman x reader #atsv miguel #miguel o'hara #miguel ohara #miguel o'hara imagine #miguel ohara x reader #miguel o'hara scenarios #miguel ohara x y/n #miguel ohara x you #miguel ohara imagine #miguel spiderverse

[luvjunie]

— Unforgettable ( 3 )

part one • part two • part three • part four • part five

pairing: e-1610!miles x fem!reader

contains: sooo much fluff, plot progression, a glimpse into reader and miles’ relationship, the moment we’ve all been waiting for 🤭, and another itty bitty plot twist

summary: a bump in with a certain boy at the bodega threatens to ruin your previously perfect afternoon until he offers to fix it. you assumed things would end there, and then you ran into him again. wc: 3,254

a/n: i know y’all ain’t think i forgot about this series!!! but here’s a long chapter as an apology since i made y’all wait so long </3 also did i say an ‘itty bitty’ plot twist? cause i be lying. recap of part two is in small italics!

prev | next

“You had her approval as soon as you called her Mrs. Morales.”

Your head tilted in question, eyes panning to the ceiling in thought. “Isn’t that normal? Calling someone’s parent by their last name?”

A comfortable silence settled, just for a moment.

“You’d think so.” A smile curled Miles’ lips, the memory of when he’d introduced the first girl he’d ever liked to his parents flashing into his mind; his interest in tossing the ball paused momentarily as images from the past flooded his thoughts.

Wait… Why was he thinking about her?

. . .

“Miles?”

“Milesss?”

“Huh?” Miles blinked quickly as he brought himself back to the present, his slightly startled gaze landing on your puzzled expression.

“Earth to Morales?” Your tone leaked with a playfulness as you quirked a brow at him. “Did you hear a word I just said?”

“Nah, sorry,” Miles cleared his throat, then scratched his forehead with a laugh he hoped didn’t sound too awkward. “Just spaced out for a sec. What’d you say?”

“I saiddd,” Laying on your stomach as your thumbs twiddled along the screen of your phone, you sent a quick text before you continued. “—It’s getting kinda late, and if I’m not home in the next thirty minutes my Grandma will alert the entire police force over my absence.” you chuckled, the perpetual buzzes of replies sounding from your phone only furthering your point.

“Oh— Yeah, you’re right. My bad, I didn’t even realize.” Miles stood and grabbed his coat from the hook off his closet door before he turned towards you with a warm grin.

“C’mon, I’ll walk you home.”

—

Miles had been staring at his ceiling ever since he got back home, headphones blasting music over his ears to drown out the inevitable. For what seemed like hours, and for what probably was, he was trapped in an endless rumination he didn’t want to be a part of.

The grace his weekend temporarily granted him had unfortunately come to an end, and before he knew it, there was a knock on his bedroom door that reminded him of the upcoming drive him and his dad had to make back to Visions.

—

“Dude, this is so stupid. My head is about to explode from all this thinking.” Clad in a wifebeater and plaid boxers as he laid on the top bunk, Miles whined out what had only been his hundredth complaint in the span of fifteen minutes.

“And I can’t find my bonnet!”

Miles’ voice was muffled by the fluff of his pillow, the same pillow that was clutched tightly and caged between his arms as an effort to cling onto the last bit of his sanity. Also the same pillow that’d gone flat nearly two months ago. How convenient.

He thought talking Ganke’s ear off about all his feelings would help sort through his thoughts, but it did the exact opposite. Miles’ feelings for you were growing, that was an undeniable fact, so he still couldn’t figure out why after an entire year, Gwen was still on his mind. Why couldn’t he just forget about her?

“I really like this girl, man. Like, really, really like her. Like, Sunflower ain’t got shit on this girl, like her.” Miles blinked, astonished at his own words as he carried on, “Like, I offered to walk her home instead of having my mom drive her, like her—“

“Bro— Bro. I get it,” Ganke interrupted.

“I didn’t even know I could feel like this for someone else!” Pulling himself into a seated position, Miles let his legs dangle over the side of the bed. “I mean, I even let her meet my parents. You know how I am about that!” He exclaimed, arms outstretched as if they would help him present his case better. Ganke, in fact, did not know how he was about that.

“That obviously means I’m over Gwen! Right?”

No answer.

“Right?”

“I dunno, dude! Now you see why I don’t even bother dealing with that kind’a junk. It’s confusing as hell. “ Ganke’s eyes darted from side to side as they tracked the video game on his PC’s monitor, tongue poking at his lip in intense concentration. His half-baked advice to Miles was as much as he could muster without losing focus on his Call of Duty mission. “That’s love for you, man.”

Miles’ eyes went wide and his heart began to race. “Woah woah woah— I ain’t say anything about love!” Technically, he did, just in different words.

With a weighted sigh the controller plunked out of Ganke’s hands and down onto the desk, ‘MISSION FAILED’ flashing in bold onto the screen.

“Alright, look,” Ganke spun around in his chair and glanced up at the top bunk. “If you like this girl as much as you say you do, why don’t you just go for it? What’s stopping you? A girl who’s not even here anymore?” he scoffed. “Quit dwelling on the past and look at what’s right in front of you. You know, someone who’s actually in this universe.”

Miles sat with pursed lips as he stared down at his open palms, treading in the water of his thoughts.

“You know what,” Head raising, he looked to his roommate with a newfound determination. “You’re right, Ganke. Starting tonight, I’m done thinking about the past.” Miles nodded.

“Great, now either let me get back to my mission in peace, or grab a damn controller and help me.”

Ganke was right. Gwen’s gone, and she wasn’t coming back. It’s not even possible.

Miles let the conclusion settle within him as he dug around in the junk drawer for the spare controller.

It’s time for him to move on.

—

As you relaxed on your back in the room you’d been in more times than you could even remember at this point, head idly bopping to an album by Tears for Fears, you thought back to the time before you knew Miles. And even though you hadn’t known him for nearly as long as you’d known yourself— maybe just caught up in the whirlwind of something new and exciting, or him in general— you couldn’t help but feel as if his presence had been missing from your life this entire time.

Spending the day with him had become as normal as breathing to you. His space had become your space (his words), and it rang true as you hummed along to the tune echoing from the record player on his desk.

“Help me to decide. Help me make the most of freedom, and of pleasure. Nothing ever lasts forever…”

The song ‘Everybody Wants to Rule the World’ wrapped you snug in a warm sense of nostalgia, it having been one of your favorites since middle school. And paired with being around your favorite person— you were sure you never wanted to leave this moment. You smiled to yourself at the upside down image you had of Miles as you let your head hang over the side of his bed, the beads on the ends of your braids clinking against his wooden floors when your head tilted with a new found query.

“Miles,”

He hummed, but it wasn’t the kind that sounded as if you’d interrupted him, or as if he were annoyed. It was the kind that let you know he was interested in whatever you wanted to tell him, and that you had his attention even if his eyes weren’t on you.

“Okay, bear with me here. And answer carefully, because this kind of decides the type of person you are and whether I’ll even speak to you afterwards.”

“Wait, what is it?” He quickly looked up at you—upside down you, at least— with concerned eyes and you struggled to hide your grin.

“What color do you think science is?”

“Are you serious?” He deadpanned.

Your brow raise was his answer.

“Green, obviously.”

“Interesting choice. Why green?”

Miles shrugged, “Cause of the environment. Plants are green. And when I think of plants, I think of photosynthesis. Photosynthesis, equals science. Therefore,” pen in hand, he made a ‘viola’ gesture. “Green.”

“Mm,” You scrunched your nose, eyes panning back to the ceiling. “I guess I can see that.”

“And math is blue.” He tacked on.

“Blue!?” You balked, flipping over onto your stomach so his face was right side-up now. “Math? Blue? Are you deadass?”

“As dead as ass can be.” Miles quipped with a snort and continued to scribble away at the page he’d been sketching on for the last half hour.

“History is blue, not math!” You scoffed.

“Alright Y/n, what other color would math be then?” He asked incredulously.

“Red, duh.”

“Red?” He repeated breathlessly. “Why would math be red?”

“Well,” you started, “Math makes me angry. And when I think about anger, I think about the color red, just like everybody else does. And I hate red, just like I hate math. Numbers and letters do not belong together, just like pineapple on pizza. Therefore,” you mimicked his previous gesture to the air with a confident grin. “Red.”

“Pineapple— Numbers… What?” Miles blinked at you with both disbelief and confusion, the corners of his mouth threatening to expose his amusement as they lifted. “That’s it? That’s your grand explanation?”

“Mm-hm.” You hummed proudly, chin perched in both your hands.

Miles shook his head as his smile finally made itself known, dimples and all the moment your lashes batted at him.

“Not gon’ lie to you, that sounded like a whole bunch’a bullshit.” He laughed at your fake offended expression.

One of Miles’ favorite things about you was how you always seemed to ramble about everything, and nothing at the same time. He thought it was adorable.

“Well, the math part I understand, I guess.” he shrugged. “But you can’t possibly hate the color red all that much.”

Your brows furrowed at him, “What makes you say that?”

“Cause,” Miles turned his sketchbook towards you, the drawing he’d been working on this entire time revealed to be a moment he’d caught of you, gazing up at his ceiling just the way you were a moment ago. “Look.”

You nearly felt your heart stop as you took in what was in front of you. All this time while you were in your own world, singing along to whatever song came and went, he’d been focused solely on you. You dragged your eyes up from the paper so they’d meet his, your calves swiftly tucking under your thighs when you rushed to sit up in a straighter position.

“I—Is that me?” You blabbed out before you could think.

“Nah, it’s Boo-Boo the fool.” Miles huffed out a laugh. “Yes, it’s you dummy.”

Gentle strokes of red to the thin paper framed your face and lips, the attention to detail he used brought your eyes to life on the page, and he’d even managed to capture the beads on the bottom of your braids, too.

“How the hell did you do that?”

He shrugged shyly and turned his artwork to face him once more, studying the page as if he hadn’t been doing just that all this time. His heart was beginning to race faster than he’d originally predicted, and he wondered if he should’ve shown you.

“It’s kind of muscle memory at this point.”

Miles heard the words that came out of his own mouth, and you did too, but it was like the both of you comprehended exactly what he’d said at the same time.

“Don’t—“ He tried, but it was too late, you were already gushing, and he was already blushing.

“Awwwww!”

“Please—“

“Milessss!” you teased, ignoring his plea.

“Stop it.” Flustered, he shielded a smile behind his hand and tried to look anywhere else but your face.

“You’re so cute when you blush.”

—

Things were beyond easy with Miles.

The two of you never ran out of things to talk about and he always matched your energy, as if he were the other half of you.

There were no awkward moments, or pressure towards the other about making a move, because deep down you both knew what this was, and that everything would fall into place with time.

It was apparent in the way he looked at you, in how perfectly you fit in his arms when he hugged you goodbye, and how you always relaxed in his embrace when he would hold onto you just a bit longer.

Your first date went perfectly. Well, not really, but that’s what made it even better.

An ominous ‘be ready in 20 mins’ text to your phone and about a half hour later, Miles popped up at your door, pink tulips in hand and a smile big enough to match his signature jacket.

The two of you decided to catch a movie after a short train ride to the theater, and he let you pick. Horror being one of your favorite genres, that’s what you went with, and like everything else that came with you, Miles agreed.

But just thirteen minutes in at one of the simplest jumpscares (if you could even call it one), Miles let out a scream belonging on one of the highest vocal registers your ears had ever heard, and it sent you into such an uncontrollable fit of laughter that you ended up accidentally spilling your fresh popcorn all over the floor.

Miles’ ego wasn’t nearly big enough for him to remain embarrassed once the tears started rolling from your eyes, and eventually, the laughter he tried to stifle made itself known to everyone sitting around you. And when you say everyone, you mean everyone.

It only took two minutes of you guys cackling and snorting before the both of you were asked to leave, and you had no idea how you made it out of the theater with how hard your stomachs were cramping.

—

Sure, the movie hadn’t gone quite as planned, but you didn’t mind and neither did he. As long as you both were in each other’s company, you wouldn’t mind watching paint dry.

The blue hue of the night had long enveloped the city, and as you and Miles sat up on the roof of his apartment, the dimmed fairy lights twinkling in the darkness from where they were strung across the perimeter, you made a mental note to study up on the movie you told your Grandma you were staying out late to see.

You leaned into Miles and rested your head on his shoulder, knees pulling to your chest as you exhaled softly.

“You cold?”

Far from it, actually.

A perpetual breeze prompted your bodies to curl into each other more, though goosebumps and chattering teeth were nowhere in sight, only fingers secretly inching closer and hearts growing fonder.

“I should be asking you, I’m wearing your jacket.” you joked.

“Nah,” he chuckled. “I’m alright.”

The silence was comfortable. You didn’t want to go home just yet and Miles wasn’t ready to say goodbye for the night, so you stayed.

This had become a new norm for the two of you, so much so that this was pretty much how all your hangouts ended. You’d stay just a little longer, and then he’d take you home. You couldn’t put your finger on it, but for some weird reason you always felt much safer when you were with Miles, like he’d be able to protect you if anything were to happen when the two of you were together.

“Y/n?”

“Hm?”

“Have you ever been in love before?”

Miles’ voice was quiet, nearly drowned out from the lively sounds of the city around you. You were surprised you even heard it.

You swallowed, and it took so much effort to form your lips around the simple word you answered with. “W-what?”

He cleared his throat as his posture straightened slightly. “Like, do you know what love is? Is what I mean...” He clarified quickly, mentally cursing himself for how badly he worded things, even if it’s what he meant. He didn’t even know if you felt the same.

You lifted your head from his shoulder, prompting his own to turn towards you, but you didn’t meet his eyes. You settled for toying with the sleeve of his jacket as your heart began to thrum a little faster.

Nibbling at the inside of your lip, you inhaled quietly before answering. “When they’re the first person your mind thinks of when you hear the word ‘love’. Or maybe when the thought of them gets you out of bed in the morning instead of your alarm clock. You know when you know, basically. That’s what I was taught, and I think it checks out.” you glanced over at him, and he felt like time stopped when your eyes locked.

“Do you?” you asked.

“H-Huh?” Miles was enthralled with how pretty you looked, and how your features were perfectly illuminated by the gentle glow of the city lights, so much so that he could hardly think straight.

Rolling your eyes and suppressing a giggle, you shook your head at him. “—Do you know what love is, dummy.”

“Not exactly— uh, I don’t think so, no.” Miles’ jaw tensed and his gaze met yours once more. The twinkle in your eyes temporarily dimming due to the fear of this all being in your head.

“Oh.” you murmured.

“But I think I know what it feels like.” He said softly.

“Really?”

Lips parting slightly for a shaky breath to pass, Miles nodded. “Positive.”

Your eyes fell down to his lips almost immediately, then lifted back up to see that his had done the same to yours.

“Well… What does it feel like?”

The question left your mouth long before you could’ve thought to stop it, yet regret was the last thing you felt. What you were feeling was something entirely different.

Your faces grew closer until your noses brushed against each others, a second spared as a chance for either of you to bail on what you both knew was bound to happen in a matter of time.

He leaned in and you let him— let your arms curl around his neck and his around your waist so your lips could meet faster. Let your lips move against each other’s because it felt right, because that’s what you knew love to be. Letting something happen because it felt right.

He felt right.

Miles pulled away, but barely, his breath warm against your lips. “Come to my parent’s party tomorrow?” He blurted.

Hands holding the back of his neck, you blinked yourself out of your daze, brows furrowed. “What?”

“My dad, they’re making him police captain. We’re celebrating tomorrow, here, and I want you to come.” Miles licked his lips. “Well I— I was gonna invite you anyway. But now I really want you to come. And I wanted you to come before this happened, obviously—“

“I’d love to.” You smiled, and let him pull you back into him the second you’d given your answer.

—

Miles remembered what it was like to be so head over heels in love with someone that it consumed him entirely. How it corrupted his days and fogged his mind with nothing but the thought of them, and he could feel himself slipping back into it again, but this time, with you. And if he were being honest, it kind of scared him, how quickly you’d claimed his heart.

But what he did know was that you liked him, and he liked you. He’ll admit, he didn’t expect his feelings for you to develop as fast as they did, for them to hit him as hard as they had. But he was past that now. Tomorrow was going to be special, and not just for his family, but for the two of you. He was finally going to take the leap he’d been too scared to make before tonight.

You were the perfect girl, that he was sure of. And who’d be dumb enough to not accept perfect when it was right in front of them?

He wanted this. He wanted you.

But any chance for another sensical thought was interrupted when the impossible happened.

‘Impossible’, being the multi-layered hexagonal portal that suddenly opened up on his ceiling, and the blonde-haired, gap-toothed girl he thought he’d never see again, appearing with it.

Bright and beaming down at him with a heart-halting grin, Miles felt his stomach drop as soon as she spoke.

“Miles!”

Shit.

taglist: @burymeinside @secret-ssociety @whatamidoing89 @urmotherswhor3 @valovesyou @inlovewithfictionalppl @edgyficuselastica @motherwanda @mybfmiles @axeoverblade @miumiulicious @sukisprettyface @gwennesy @simpnotapimp @kanvis @cleo-dearts @retirement-home @lunaramune @silas-222 @citrusequalsfrogs @itsberrydreemurstuff @spritecranverry @mewhenimanangel @wisteriaflowersss

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#junie’s works ᥫ᭡ #across the spiderverse fanfiction #miles morales x reader #miles morales fluff #miles morales fanfiction #miles morales fic #miles morales x you #earth 1610 miles x you #earth 1610 miles x reader #miles morales x black reader #miles morales x black!reader #earth 1610 miles morales x reader #1610 miles x reader

[kaeichi]

love is in the air.

. . . and maybe that's why mikage reo can view the world with such clouded, pink-hued vision, and why nagi seishiro cannot breathe at all.

series. nagi + reader + reo. no gendered terms, but some implications of m! reader. reader likes boys. bestfriend! nagi. valentines/white day. highschool setting. swearing. humor. fluff & angst.

a/n. repost bc it wasnt showing up in tags T-T i js want a shoujo anime w these two as the MLs...

prev ┊ next ┊ 01 … 02 … 03

⊹ 01 : my dear partner [wc: 4.7k]

TWO YEARS AGO

“…dude. you're scaring all the hoes away.” 

nagi watches your lips move, though he barely registers anything you've been saying since he has stopped listening a while ago—which, honestly, comes as no surprise to anyone.

there’s no real reason to be so lethargic at this hour (it's already late noon, plus he surprisingly had a decent amount of sleep the previous night for once), nor the time to think about trivial things, but he can’t help but think about how exactly every single thing stopped being so bothersome like it used to.

he can't quite pinpoint what brought on this gradual change, but if he had to, then it’d probably be three springs ago—when he’d wake up a little earlier than usual to the gentle kiss of the sun through his window and the cherry blossoms were in perfect bloom. around that time is when he’d received his quiet companion choki, he’d finally scored top 1 in the leaderboards after months and months of grinding in his favorite mobile game, and… when you’d first sat next to him in middle school.

for as long as he remembers, you were simply just there. an unexpected oddity that has not only forced its way through, but has also wedged firmly into every aspect in his life. and somehow, he’d concluded that maybe some things weren't so bad—that some things weren't such a hassle to him after all.

“move, idiot. at this point you might as well hold my hand.” the snow-haired male barely hears your voice over his wandering thoughts, stumbling from the light shove you give him. he has now become acutely aware of your swinging hand, wary of the close proximity and the faint buzz of static that lingers on his skin. huh. maybe it is better to move away.

still, he’d rather not reposition himself. it’s too much work, he’d like to reason, and it's certainly not because of anything else… maybe. he doesn't really know for sure. what he does know though, is that the space beside him suddenly feels strangely empty. 

when he looks at you to see a pout forming on your lips, he can't help but sigh. you're being unreasonable. there's something that's been nagging his curiosity for a while now, and it took him quite a bit to realize what it is.

“seishirooo,” you whined one day, allowing your head to sink against his mattress, taking up nearly the whole space while nagi sits at the corner of the bed. you came over to his place that day to bother him, stating that you needed some comfort because apparently, “no one ever looks at me. i feel so damn invisible.” he shrugged and offered you his controller, challenging you to a 1v1 with him as a distraction.

“…but i look at you all the time?” he replied.

“yeah, but that's different.” and he would've asked you to elaborate more, if not for the fact that you've been horribly vague about it when he does ask, and the perpetually sleepy gamer only has so much patience before he gives up and decides it's something not worth spending his energy on.

besides, you're always emotional like that. this was probably just another one of your fleeting phases.

it's not until he notices you've been longingly gazing at the couples on the campus, quietly seething under your breath that it finally clicks. now, he may not have the greatest understanding when it comes to feelings and all its complexities, but even he can tell you’re reeking with jealousy.

despite being pushed off only seconds ago, nagi shuffles closer again as he falls into step beside you. even if sparks prick his skin, it feels right in this way. “dunno why you ‘need’ hoes when you already have me.”

“just because i'm into guys doesn’t mean that i like you in that way,” you mutter, sending him an odd glance like you thought there’s something wrong with his head for even suggesting that. not knowing how to respond, he settles for staring right back without a word. 

“what's with that look? you know what i mean, seishiro.” you continue, averting your gaze from him. what look? he asks internally. “it's just, well, literally everyone is getting into relationships. and i know we're still first years, but… it just feels like i’m missing out, y’know? 

“do you really? sounds like a hassle to me,” he shrugs, and it truly does—he never saw the appeal of dumb crushes, of drama nearly every day, of possible unrequited “love,” or of wasting half your time and energy on someone just for it to not mean anything at all in the end. video games sound way more fun, and way less heartbreak inducing.

“you can't say that when you haven’t even experienced it,” you argue, still pouting.

“it’s overrated anyways. being single is better.”

“hah! of course you’d say that, you virgin.” 

“you’re one to talk,” nagi boredly quips. “i’m celibate purely by choice, but you on the other hand… if you really think about it, you're basically an incel.”

nearly choking on your spit, you exclaim, “hah?!”

“you don't even really talk to other guys except for me, and on top of that, you're barely approached by anybody,” he explains in a matter-of-fact tone, oblivious to the way his best friend’s confidence waning rapidly by the second the more he speaks.

“yeah? and who’s fault is it, you cockblocker!” 

nagi simply sticks a tongue out as you flip him off.

right after that, the two of you ended up breaking into a sprint as you heard the clicking sound of heels walking on the tiles around the corner, not wanting to get caught for skipping classes. well, you ran, and just dragged him by the wrist. he felt the warmth of your fingers even through the thick barrier of his baggy sleeve.

PRESENT

you try not to trip and fall face first as a cold hand guides you through the crowded hallway.

it's embarrassing enough as it is to be rushing through the middle of the corridor and pushing past the bodies of random students like you're a main character or some sort, but even more so when the (apparently) most popular guy of the campus that you’ve (never) seen is walking right in front of you.

and it gets even more humiliating when said popular guy has taken hostage of your wrist, leading you away to a more secluded area. shocked, harsh whispers echo throughout nearly the whole floor, and multiple eyes shoot daggers at the fingers wrapped around the sleeve of your uniform, and you’ve never wanted to bury yourself alive more than this moment.

after rounding a corner into a miraculously empty hallway, you finally skid to a stop, yanking your hand away, ready to pounce at the culprit who made you go through all that unnecessary attention. however, before you can get a word in, the refined male bows his head low in front of you, and you find yourself face-to-face with sleek purple locks.

“i’m sorry, but i have no time for dating. i’m really flattered, though. i hope we can stay friends still.” he hurriedly says, hope gleaming in his matching purple eyes.

…what. 

who is he again? and why is he rejecting you?

for some reason, you find the stranger’s gaze too bright that you have to look away; so you do exactly that, tilting your chin downwards instead and letting your hair mask your expression.

after a few beats of silence, he clears his throat. “i'm really sorry, it hurts me to see you look so down… i’m sure we can put this behind us and—”

“nice shoes,” you interrupt, still not raising your head to meet his now confused stare. “i can tell you really love wearing them, judging by the busted, worn out stitches. hey, is it just me or is that prada logo kinda wonky too?”

the male's jaw drops down nearly all the way to the floor.

“pardon me?” he says through gritted teeth, keeping his composure by flashing his usual award-winning smile, albeit a lot more stiffer. “i know i just rejected you, but you don't have to be so hostile…” 

when you finally raise your head, your expression can only be described as terribly and solemnly unamused, unimpressed beyond words.

then, you suddenly lean closer, peering closely into his violet irises with thoughtful hum. an unwilling flush of red creeps on the tips of the boy’s ears, his eyes widening comically at the sudden intrusion of space. “you’ll do,” nodding to yourself, you now grab his wrist and pull him away. “come.”

“w-wait, huh? where are we go—” 

“you're the one who made me late. let's go!”

reo isn't quite sure why he's the one being dragged away now.

he has only initially planned to gently turn down the person who last confessed to him, whose family just so happened to be related to his father’s business partners—but now he somehow finds himself on a whole date with that person? (the same one who brazenly insulted him by implying his shoes are fake, by the way!)

“i have other plans today, you know…” the heir says, subtly trying to inch away from you.

you tug him back by his sleeve, with twice as much force than he had used on you earlier. “i can imagine, my dear partner.”

“w-what?” reo stutters, and he's cringes at himself for how he's acting at the moment. the usually composed and charming mikage reo, now reduced to a stuttering and blushing mess? how embarrassing.

“normally my best friend would do this with me, but he slept in today.” leave it to seishiro to leave me all alone on the day that actually matters, you irritatedly mutter under your breath. “well, whatever. come on.”

as you and him enter the packed bubble tea shop, the fingers that were wrapped around his sleeve slides down to interlace with reo’s own clammy ones. he realizes this a second too late, and before he has the chance to let go, the clerk by the entrance greets them with an enthusiastic “welcome, lovebirds!”

“huh?!” reo’s jaw slackens, dumbfounded. he’s really starting to hate himself now—it's unbecoming of him, really, but it's hard to process everything when you're so close to him that the scent of your shampoo keeps invading his senses and subsequently messing with his head.

“here’s your special tickets for today. thank you for participating, and happy valentines!” you drag him straight to the back, where the colorful claw machines are set up. reo catches a glimpse of the pink posters set up on the walls of the quaint shop, which reads: couples get free special tickets! today only! …ah. that's why he's here.

“aoi-san… you're gripping too tight,” he says, gritting his teeth together into a forced smile. 

“aoi?” you repeat, your grip finally loosening until you let go entirely. “huh… i see. by the way, what's your name again?”

needless to say, the purple-haired male is beyond perplexed. “is this your unique attempt at a joke or something?”

“come on, rich boy. we've held hands and i don’t even know your name!” 

“right… which i totally wasn't being forced to do…” he lets out an awkward laugh. sure, some admirers of his tend to get a tad excessive, but they were never able to get far with him, much less forcibly drag him out on a date—and it's not even because they want him to spend his unlimited budget on them and spoil them rotten, but just so they can get… a free special ticket for a claw machine. how did he end up getting in this bizarre situation? more importantly, how does he get out?

you simply shrug. “your fault, rich boy. you should try thinking about anyone other than yourself for once.”

“excuse me?” he narrows his eyes, slightly peeved. he's had enough of your rude attitude; potential business partner or not, he hopes that he never has to interact with you again in the future. “stop calling me that. i have a name, and it's mikage reo.”

the way your eyes widen doesn't go unnoticed by him. “and what did you even mean by that?” he presses defensively.

you plop down on the seat, with reo mirroring you as you insert the rouge ticket decorated with pink hearts into the slot of the claw machine. “well, mikage reo. i’m sure you're aware how aoi’s family is important, right?”

yeah, this person is definitely a weirdo, reo muses. who refers to themselves in third person?

“i heard they had connections everywhere… just like you. it's crucial to maintain a good relationship with someone like that, right?” you conclude—that would explain why reo had taken the time to personally talk to “aoi” one-on-one instead of just flat out rejecting them on the spot.

reo tilts his head to the side. “i’m not following…?”

“mikage.” you emphasize, looking at him straight in the eye before turning your attention back to playing. “i’m saying that the poor kid’s still waiting for an answer. your heartfelt and sincere rejection, to be exact.”

a few seconds of silence pass. well, as silent as it can be with the loud chattering of the crowd and the mechanical whirrs of the claw machine you're currently messing with resounding in the air.

“you mean, you're not…” reo trails off, all color draining from his face. “i’m so, so sorr—”

“aoi’s the one you should apologize to, not me. oh, i got a double! how lucky.” you eagerly grab the prize, the limited edition valentine’s merch exclusive to this boba shop; a plushie collectible that comes with a redeemable code for your favorite video game. you want to collect all of them, but you’re broke as hell and you’re only here due to the free ticket. turning to reo, you shove the second plushie to his chest. “here, this is for you. since you did help me out with getting these.”

“ah, thank you…” reo absentmindedly accepts the small toy, still reeling on how he could make such a careless mistake. “listen, i do apologize—”

“i wonder how'd you even mix us up. is it ‘cause we have the same hair color?” you ask, slightly amused because aside from that, you and aoi look nothing alike. your fingers tap on the surface of the control panel, observing reo’s shame-stricken visage. “or maybe… is it because everyone just looks the same to you?”

at that moment, mikage reo realizes two things: (1) maybe he's more transparent and vulnerable than he thinks, and (2) you're dangerous, and it's better to stay far, far away from you. how could you see right through him so quickly? what if that's something you'll use against him?

he doesn't like to admit it, but it's true—in his perspective, everyone's the same. they're just after him for money and status, and at some point, they've all just become faceless, superficial pawns vying for his attention.

and of course, you’re no exemption.

noticing he’s gone quiet, you continue, “but i guess if my world was as vast as yours, i couldn't possibly keep up with everything either, so i get it. i’m not saying i’m in the same situation as you, but i can kind of relate, i guess. i only keep the ones who's important to me close, and the rest just exist and do whatever. i’m selective, but in that way, at least i can give my all to the ones that really matter.”

reo closes his mouth shut. here you are casually saying that you don't matter to him, and while that isn't a lie in the slightest, he still can't help but feel guilty. maybe it's just the people-pleaser in him, or maybe it’s the way the corners of your lips are slightly quirked up and to form a miniscule, accepting smile, but he wants to reassure you, “still, i’m sure you feel that—”

“i don’t.” you don't mind that he didn't know you, because you didn't even know him either—there’s no reason for you to take it personal. you’d be a hypocrite otherwise. “i really don’t.”

you smile at him. he thinks it's out of understanding, but unbeknownst to him you're actually just entertained by how his inner turmoil is so clearly reflected on his expression. “so don’t worry about it. plus, we’re even now.” you add, gesturing towards the prize.

hopping off the stool, you wave at him as you start to walk away. “...happy valentines. i'll see you around, mikage. maybe. er, probably not.”

“wait!” he hurriedly jumps off the stool as well, clutching the plushie in his hand as he follows after you. “i… let me drive you home.” the words stumble out before he even realizes what he's saying. you're probably just using him, and you're dangerous, and you see right through him, and he should stop wasting his time because his actual valentine's date is probably three seconds away from storming out the restaurant he's booked at—

so why is he doing this?

“drive?” you repeat, because of course he’d have a driver. damn rich people, you think internally. “nuh uh. it's like a ten minute walk, and i’d rather save the environment.”

“then i’ll walk with you.”

“you do realize i’m done dragging you for the day, right?” you quirk a brow up, amused; you could've sworn he was itching to get the hell away half an hour ago. “you're free. you can go home if you want.”

reo smiles, a more genial one this time. “i know.”

“so, you into popular guys now?” 

“hell no.”

nagi narrows his eyes at you. “you’re just into reo, then?” 

while you expected to be grilled first thing in the morning by random people about your apparent relationship with mikage reo (to which you simply replied, “i don’t know who that is, sorry,” and proceeded to run away), you didn't expect to be interrogated by your apathetic best friend as well. 

usually, nagi prefers to be completely silent during the 1st period (and actually all the way through lunch), not bothering to utter more than a few words, but today, he seems uncharacteristically on edge, waiting for you at the corner of the gym with a wrinkle between his brows.

“why are you on a first name basis with him?”

“everyone calls him reo.” he shrugs. “why him?”

“i never said i was into him.”

“then what's all that partner thing about?” he asks, which confuses you a bit. you doubt that reo would go around announcing to everyone how you teasingly called him ‘partner’ and practically dragged him to a date against his will, but it's not like him and nagi are close either, so you wonder where nagi has heard this information from. then, you suddenly recall back to yesterday, where you saw the curtain of your neighbor’s bedroom window swinging side-to-side, as if it was drawn close a mere second before you looked up. 

it seems that your mind wasn't playing tricks with you after all, and that a certain someone was eavesdropping on your conversation with reo as he walked you to your door.

“fake partners, you mean? and it was a just a joke—i met him that day.”

“that day? why are you acting so close if you've just met that day?”

“you're awfully talkative today, seishiro.” 

“i know. it's making me exhausted, and it's all your fault.” he then presses his weight against you, leaning his forehead on your shoulder—as he always does when he's tired and you're within reach. your eyes widen immediately, darting around the gymnasium to see if any of your classmates has noticed.

you don't want people to get the wrong idea about you two. it's not because it kills your chances with anyone due to the assumption that you aren't single (which you still very much are, by the way), or even because of potential issues of being a two-timer due to a certain rich boy—it's just that whenever you get asked if you and your best friend are together, you can't help but flinch from the idea, like ice is being poured inside the back of your shirt. you don’t really know what to call it, but you do know that you've answered the question a hundred times and you're positively sick of it.

“i told you to stop doing this in public,” you hiss, trying to push the giant, clingy sloth off you. “and stop whining, nagi. i’m not going anywhere. besides, i’m not even looking for a relationship or anything like that. not after… you know, what happened during our first year.”

he lifts his head up, frowning at you. “don’t call me nagi. just ‘cause you met a new guy doesn't mean you get to call me nagi.” 

you raise an unimpressed brow. what’s his problem? “only if you stop whining.” 

“…‘m not.” he slurs his words together, only proving your point.

“yes you are!”

“why do you have to be so annoying? you're such a pain,” he sighs, now walking away from you.

“i'm the annoying one?! and don't call me a pain, you—!” without hesitation, you promptly snatch a red ball from the steel ball cart beside you before swinging your arm at him, slamming the dodgeball right to his head. well, you tried to, at least; even with his back facing towards you, nagi only takes one step to the side to avoid it.

“your shitty aim sucks balls,” the tall male comments unenthusiastically, his white fringe falling over his eyes as he gazes at you over his shoulder. his nonchalance only spurs you on, now hauling multiple dodgeballs at him.

“how about you suck my ba—”

“give it up already. you're never gonna hit me.” and nagi actually has the audacity to yawn mid-dodge. of course, it only fuels your irritation even more. you eventually run out of balls to throw, so you mindlessly grab the nearest object to your right and chuck that as well.

…which unfortunately, happens to be nagi’s phone that he's snuck inside the gym, peeking under a face towel on the bench.

“oh, fu—” 

because of your (rightfully) so-called shitty aim, it swung way up high to the left, a few steps away from nagi. in less than a second, he realizes what you have flung at him, and his body moves instinctively; he throws himself towards it, swinging his leg upward and trapping it with his foot with perfect ease before it has the chance to plummet down on the floor.

“why are you making me move so much…” he sighs. “what a pain.” 

“you’re supposed to move anyways, we're in PE. you're welcome,” you smugly reason out. and then not even a second later you fold, shoulders curling inwards as you glance toward his phone; if it weren't for his godly reflexes, you would've broken it. with a small voice, you meekly add, “sorry.”

nagi shrugs in response.

when he saunters over to place his phone on the bench again, a silver glint catches your eye. a small charm swings lightly, small beads of white and black strung haphazardly together attached to the side of his phone case.

“wait, this is…” a phone charm crafted by hand, which is your birthday present for him four years ago. “i didnt know you still had that.”

“why wouldn't i?”

“where was it this whole time? this wasn't here a few days ago.”

“i just kept it in my drawer ‘cause i don’t wanna lose it.”

tilting your head to the side, you ask, “so why'd you suddenly decide to attach it to your phone now?”

he looks away, scratching the back of his neck. “…dunno.” 

eyes dropping into slits, you mutter, “you know, that kinda sounds sus—”

“hey! that was amazing! nagi, right? you should play soccer with me!”

nagi and yourself both turn to the direction of the sudden voice, seeing a familiar figure running towards you, vivid purple eyes gleaming under the gymnasium’s stark white lights.

“mikage?” you exclaim.

ever so slightly, nagi sharpens his usual droopy eyes. “nah.” he immediately says, turning on his heel.

“seishiro? wait, weren't you supposed to be looking for a club?”

“don’t really care.” you follow him, lightly jogging to keep up. as soon as you catch up by his side, the taller male glances at you as he asks, “will you join too?”

is he seriously asking you that… “no?”

“then i won't.” nagi concludes as he continues to walk away from reo.

“hey, wait up!” reo calls out, placing a hand on your shoulder. “ah, i was completely shut down… say, will you help me convince him?”

your brows shoot up as your gaze flicks down where he's casually touching you. after your initial confusion of who he is yesterday, you then recognize him after learning his name—the most popular boy in school, known for his good looks, charisma, and most especially, his wealth. he gets along well with literally everyone, and acts genuinely close with them even if they aren't.

“uh, why should i?”

“remember that limited edition merch you like? i can get you the rest of the collection. in fact, i’ll even buy out the whole place just for you.”

“wha– seriously?” you feel your eye twitch. damn rich people. “it was limited edition. they all ran out of stock already.”

“i have my ways.” well, that's not shady at all. he flashes a grin at your skepticism, winking at you, “anything for my partner.”

and you now understand why he's earned his title. this is probably how he always gets what he wants—with a smile like that, anyone would drop to their knees and do whatever he’d ask. two years ago, you would've keeled over for attention like this, but now, you're nothing but indifferent.

he places his hands on both of your shoulders now, completely stopping you from taking off. wide violet eyes scrutinize your own, making you scrunch your nose at the close proximity. “shouldn't you be begging him and not me?”

“yeah, but...” reo swears he feels an air of animosity radiating from the white-haired male, and that's why he has decided to turn you instead. “you wouldn't leave your partner hanging, right? as partners, we help each other out, riiiight?” he says, dragging his words out.

you lean as far as you physically can from his grip, but he doesn't seem to care, excitedly looking at you with stars evident in his eyes. “mikage, you—” he smiles at you, bright and blinding, and you find yourself withering under his intense gaze. “okay, fine, just—”

“well, that's settled then! they’re joining the club too, nagi seishiro. they can be our manager.” you briefly wonder why he didn't outright offer to have you join the team, but he probably saw how you threw the dodgeballs earlier… though it's not like you have to use your hands in soccer, so what the hell, this is kind of insulting.

“says who, mikage?”

“you're gonna come watch all our games?” he negotiates.

“why don’t you offer that i join the team?”

“ahahaha. haha. hah.” he laughs awkwardly, swinging an arm around your shoulder and ultimately evading your question.

because you were too busy trying to shrug him off, you miss the way nagi’s eyes zero on to reo’s arm around you, wordlessly observing the whole interaction with his lips pressed taut.

you still don’t know why reo hasn't moved away; he's so close that you can see the dark amethyst specks in his irises, the long strands that frame his face are lightly tickling your cheek, and if you lean in even just an inch, you can practically—

“you said anything i want, right?” your voice drops to a low whisper, and reo nods slowly, still seemingly oblivious to the lack of space between you.

“then... what if i said i wanted a kiss?”

reo’s smile drops immediately, recoiling away from you as if you've slapped him, his whole entire face heating up all the way to the tips of his ears. finally out of his grasp, you erupt into boisterous laughter, shaking your head as you leave the flustered boy alone and catching up to nagi.

likes/reblogs/feedback appreciated ♡

#blue lock x reader #nagi seishiro x reader #mikage reo x reader #reo mikage x reader #bllk x reader #bllk x you

[budgieflitter]

hi sorry for not posting shit heres more legacy stuff i've had lying around for a while prev

omgg congrats on transition aphrodite queen!! sorry abt that divorce though. i mean it wouldn't work out anyways

i honestly haven't planned this!! but she and frances kept flirting with each other from college up to adulthood!!! even tho frances is a lesbian and i then had this vision in mind 😁

grant is a family sim and he's really mean and jealous so yeah he was always like super pissed oops drama

they were so attracted to each other even though they had shitty chemistry i don't know what that was about LMAO i guess it was just the thrill of forbidden romance

terran is a family sim and also mean af and he kinda resents his family bc his mom abandoned him (he idolized her as a child) and now his aunt divorced too 😭 hes like I HATE PEOPLE PLANTS AND ANIMALS ARE BETTER edgy mf

thanks for reading till the end if u did

#the sims #the sims 2 #ts2 #ocs #solaris legacy

[quest-for-pluto]

Sparkles

Ao’nung x Human!Female!Reader

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Summary: You work as maintenance at base 36, a testing facility used for unethical experiments on captured local Na’vi. One day when the base’s power supply melts down and explodes, you’re caught in the flaming crossfire. In a split second decision, you also decide to free the panicking Na’vi in his glass cell.

Aged up!Aonung to 21 and reader is 20

Chapter 2: the giant blue alien in the room

You woke up to the pleasant feeling of burning agony, like you'd just skinny dipped in molten hot lava.

"G-guhhhh—" you choked out, fingers twitching and trembling against the floor as you struggled to gain some semblance of motor control. Tears burned your eyes and dripped down your cheeks. You writhed violently on your side as wave after wave of excruciating, searing pain washed over you.

Breathe, you told yourself. Just breathe through it, Y/n.

That was a lot more difficult than it sounded, especially when all you could hear was a continuous, tortured scream in your head. Your nails scraped at the cold concrete that did nothing to cool you down, trying to grasp onto something for support but only finding air between your fingers.

Never had you experienced anything so intense and all-consuming in your life. On a scale of 'Oh shit, that was a spicy cheeto' to 'Fuck I think my face is melting off', you were probably at a respectable 'I want to amputate all of my limbs and live in a freezer for the rest of my life'. Your vision dimmed and blurred as you fought to stay awake.

It was a strangled choking sound that broke you slightly out of your delirium. Your head turned slowly to see a giant blue body not too far from you, the skin on his right arm and leg raised in a pattern of angry looking blisters, but that wasn't what caught your attention. It was the frantic wheezing sounds he was making, grabbing desperately at his throat.

Somewhere in your foggy mind it occurred to you that oh yeah, that's right, his kind were not meant to breathe in your air.

Get up, Y/n, you chided yourself, squeezing your eyes shut. You need to do something.

With all of the strength you could muster, you rolled over, your vision nearly going white from the blinding pain. Slowly you staggered to your feet, pausing as a wave of nausea washed over you.

You blinked through your titling vision, eyes scanning the room for a possible solution. The only thing you could see were the supplies you had originally found, although some of them were admittedly pretty burnt now. Rebreather masks would be useless to him as well. Shit.

That left only one option. You had to figure out how to bring the native air from outside into the room.

Your eyes rose to the two, tiny windows in the room, located way higher than you could reach. You knew that every single window in base 36 was mandated to be bulletproof, so the chances of you being able to break it were thin, but—you had to try.

Staggering to your pile of supplies, you dropped to your knees, hands frantically combing through the items until they closed around the handle of the rifle you had discovered earlier. You quickly snatched a rebreather mask from the floor and secured it on your face. With a shuddering breath, you aimed the barrel at the right window, flicking off the safety and hastily pulling the trigger.

Bang.

The bullet ricocheted off of the surface, imbedding itself into the wall just over your shoulder. You inhaled sharply, turning to blink at it in shock. That was...way too close.

By now, the Na'vi had given up clawing at his throat. He laid sprawled across the floor, eyes wide and terror-filled as his chest rose and fell rapidly in short, convulsing breaths.

Damn, damn, damn. He couldn't take much more of this.

"Don't worry," you articulated the best you could, which was probably a barely understandable slur. "I won't—I won't let you die."

With renewed determination, you lifted the barrel to aim at the window again. You pulled the trigger.

Bang.

"Ah, fuck!" You cried, stumbling backwards. The bullet had grazed your burnt arm. Damn that stung like a motherfucker.

You grabbed the wound, clenching your jaw as you put pressure on it. Warm, thick blood escaped from between your fingers, trickling down your skin in rivulets.

"Okay," you breathed to yourself, supporting your injured arm with your other hand. Your whole body trembled from the pulsing pain. "You can do this, come on."

You pulled the trigger.

With a cry, you dropped the gun, clutching onto your arm in pain from the recoil.

The bullet imbedded itself in the window. You panted, watching with wide eyes as cracks began to quickly spread from the point of impact.

It shattered, pieces of glass exploding outwards and clattering onto the floor. You lowered your gaze, sighing in relief.

Your eyes flickered to the trembling form to your left. He was in terrible shape, but he hadn't passed out yet. He would survive.

You sunk carelessly to your knees, hands pressing into the floor as you struggled to catch your breath. Was it you, or was it getting suffocatingly humid in here?

Wait.

You took a deep, experimental breath, horrified to find that it didn't quite fill your lungs. Your hands quickly shot up to your mask, grasping blindly until you froze, cold realization washing over you as your thumb ran over a noticeable crack.

No, no, no. You couldn't possible be this much of an idiot.

Except you were.

You'd forgotten to properly check your own oxygen supply in your haste to make sure that the potentially homicidal alien didn't suffocate next to you. Now you were about to suffocate instead. Fantastic.

You dove back into the scattered pile of junk with desperation, your heart sinking as one by one, the rebreather masks turned up cracked or burnt. Completely unusable.

This can't be happening, you thought hysterically, a sob threatening to burst from your throat.

You could feel yourself getting lightheaded, your eyelids fluttering with the effort of staying open. It was at that moment when you finally spotted it lying on the floor, maybe a dozen or so steps away.

A completely intact mask.

Your eyes widened as you staggered forward, hand reaching out desperately. You took about two steps before your vision swam dangerously, your gaze titling quickly towards the ground.

You landed harshly on the concrete, you could tell by the way your teeth clacked and the hard jolt in your wrists, but you barely felt any pain. The only thing you could feel was the burning in your lungs and the thrumming wooziness in your head that was making everything spin.

Come on, you gritted your teeth, using the last of your strength to shimmy yourself forward, your mouth gaping open in rapid, heavy pants.

Come on....

Your vision darkened at the edges as your head collapsed against the floor, your body finally giving in to violent convulsions. You panted shallowly, your fingers twitching out to reach for something—someone.

The last thing you remembered was the feeling of your body floating steadily in the air, before relief quenched the unbearable burning in your lungs. You blinked blearily, the last of your energy drained as your eyes finally slid shut.

You dreamt of the ocean. Sea mist in your hair and salt water on your lips.

****

Sunlight shone through your lids, making you groan.

Your eyelids fluttered in irritation, before finally blinking open in defeat, giving up on the hope of getting any more sleep.

You were...not in your your room. Your eyes widened as you jolted upright in shock—or, well at least you tried to. An overwhelming throbbing pain across your chest, knees, right forearm and head knocked you flat on your back again, wheezing for air.

The second thing you noticed was the mask on your face, your breath fogging up the clear surface in small puffs. Why were you wearing a mask inside the base? What was going on?

The base collapsing in the fire. Saving the blue alien. Getting knocked unconscious by the explosion. Struggling to breathe—

Your breath shuddered as you brought your left hand up to grasp at your neck at the phantom feelings of suffocation, your fingers drifting upwards to skim the tender bruise at the back of your skull. Your heart hammered frantically in your chest.

Then, if you were here, that meant...

Your head slowly craned over to the other side of the room, a gasp leaving your throat at the sight of your new roommate slumped against the wall.

Now that you were no longer in survival mode, you could truly take in his incredible stature. It was exactly like the stories you'd been told, he had to be at least ten feet tall, if not a little more. Lucky for him though, the ceilings in the storage room were just barely high enough to accommodate him at his full height.

His skin was not the same shade of blue everywhere. You noticed that it was a lighter, sky blue color nearing the center of his body like his torso and his face, and a darker, marine blue color at the extremities. There also seemed to be a distinct stripe like pattern that you were pretty sure was natural for his species. The dark, tattoo-like markings all over his body were a different story of course. The swirling shapes and symbols extended down his biceps and climbed delicately up his neck, but seemed to be the most intricate around his left temple.

Large blue eyes suddenly snapped open, catching your stare with startling intensity. You almost scrambled backwards in a jolt of fear, but caught yourself at the last second, holding carefully still.

You didn't even dare to breathe as he narrowed his eyes at you, making no move to come closer. His right arm hung limply at his side, the blistered skin probably making it very painful to move it at all. Not that you were much better off.

If you were to take a guess, you probably had second degree burns scattered in patches across the front of your body. The only thing keeping the bile in your throat from rising any further was your immobility.

After a few tense moments his gaze flickered away, growing disinterested in your little staring competition. You felt the air escape from your lungs, your tense shoulders loosening in a discreet sigh of relief. Right, you probably didn't register as much of a threat when you were sprawled across the floor like a rag doll.

You turned your gaze back towards the ceiling, staring thoughtfully at the condensation on your mask as you contemplated your situation. The rations you'd found earlier were probably salvageable, being packed safely inside thick bags meant to withstand the elements of Pandora. As for water...well, you were just happy it rained often here. You'd have to find a way to capture the water from the tiny windows much too high for you to reach, but that was a problem for later you. As for now...

You closed your eyes, willing yourself to push up to a sitting position. Your eyes watered immediately at the intense burning pain. Okay, no, your pain tolerance wasn't that high. Gritting your teeth, you tried rolling over instead, the stretch of your skin making your jaw clench so hard you were surprised a tooth didn't crack under the pressure.

You were so concentrated on the movement that you didn't feel your stomach roiling tumultuously, or the warm bile climbing up your throat until it was too late. As you pushed yourself up on a shaky arm, your eyes widened as you felt your body violently expel your last meal. You shoved off your mask in the nick of time, turning your head to the side as gunk splattered on the floor next to you in an acrid, chunky pile.

You wiped your face with your good arm, spitting out the residue in your mouth with a grimace. Gross.

The Na'vi was eyeing you in disgust, and you were pretty sure that he would've moved away if he wasn't already sitting as far as he possibly could from you. You returned your own glare. Well, if it weren't for you, he'd currently be an extra crispy dino-sized potato chip, so he shouldn't be complaining about vomit.

Readjusting your mask, you glanced carefully around the room, your gaze sharpening on a first aid kit poking out of a ration bag. Well, patching yourself up was priority number one. You were not looking to deal with an infection on top of second degree burns.

You hissed a breath through your teeth, pushing yourself up on your elbows. Your arms shook from the strain, tears welling up in your eyes and streaming down your cheeks.

Twenty feet felt like two miles, and by the time you'd managed to drag yourself across the floor, you were pretty sure forty-five minutes had passed. The whole time, you felt a piercing stare burning into your back. You ignored it, not having the energy for another useless stare down.

Coughing wetly, you grabbed the duffel bag with trembling fingers, pulling it closer to you. It took you a few tries to pull the zipper open, but you finally managed the motion on the fourth try, freeing the white box of medical supplies from its confines.

You undid the clasps, flipping it open carefully. Bandaids, gauze, plasters, soap, alcohol wipes, sterile gloves, tweezers, antibiotic ointment, scissors, needle and thread. Perfect.

Carefully scooting yourself to a seated position and wincing at every tiny agonizing motion, you pulled on the latex gloves with a snap. A muted snarl broke you out of your concentration, making you pause.

Your alien roommate was not a happy camper, judging by his curled upper lip that exposed his giant, bat-like fangs. Okay, that was definitely not good. Those things could probably bite your leg clean off if you weren't careful.

The rumors you heard about his species still very much freaked you out, if you were being honest.

"Hey," you said lowly, raising your gloved hands. You flinched as his snarl grew more intense, eyeing the unnatural blue color on your skin in evident distrust.

Jesus Christ, you'd really done it now, hadn't you? Why couldn't you have just acted like a normal human being with self preservation instincts and only saved yourself? Now you had to deal with...whatever the hell this headache was.

"They're gloves," you emphasized helplessly, knowing that he couldn't understand you but still trying to convey meaning through your tone. "They're harmless, see?" You brought your hands down to pat your shoulders, hiding a wince at the movement. You put on your most convincing (although slightly strained), harmless smile for extra effect. A rogue muscle jumped under your eye.

His glare didn't relent but the hard line of his scowl relaxed a little. Okay rude, what did he even think you were capable of doing in this sorry ass state? Plus, if you wanted him dead you would have just let him be.

Struggling not to roll your eyes, you pointed at one of the nastier burns on your chest, where your shirt was torn to shreds and practically fusing with the reddened, bloody skin. "I'm hurt," you exaggerated the word, widening your eyes meaningfully and frowning. "This will help me heal." You pointed at the contents of the first aid kit, before pointing back at your wound with a raised brow.

The Na'vi snorted at your slowed tone, rolling his shoulder in dismissal before occupying himself with something on a distant wall.

Annoyance surged through you, but it was brief and you let it go quickly with a sigh. Whatever, it was a good thing his suffocating attention was off of you now.

He never turned his back to you though, you noticed. Even now, you could tell he was still keeping tabs on you by the tension in his shoulders.

Well, maybe it was better that he still saw you as somewhat of a threat.

Focusing back on the task at hand, you grabbed a water bottle, soap solution and some gauze, bracing yourself for how much this was going to make you want to shit yourself. And you were pretty sure that the Na'vi would muster up the last of his strength and kill you himself if that actually happened, judging by his utter disgust and displeasure at your vomit.

Wetting a piece of gauze with water and soap, you brought it gingerly to the skin over your collarbone. Striking pain erupted at the point of contact, your jaw flexing to keep in any sounds.

Patting the gauze lower, you couldn't help but screech at the utter agony of it connecting with your open wound. Fuckity fuck fuck, that hurt like bitch on steroids.

When you blinked away the confetti in your vision, you caught the Na'vi's alarmed gaze, the space where his eyebrows should have been now furrowed and pointed ears pricked up and facing you.

"Take a picture, it'll last longer," you muttered under your breath, before gritting your teeth as you forced your trembling hands to press the gauze pad over the rest of your wound. It took awhile and several rolls, but now every wound was cleaned, dressed, and if needed—stitched. Your head still throbbed uncontrollably in what was most definitely a nasty concussion, but you couldn't really ice it like you wanted to. By the time you were done, the sun had already started to set in the sky.

Your stomach rumbled in protest, and you grimaced. The intense pain had made you forget that you unfortunately needed sustenance to survive.

Time to take stock of your supply.

You dug through the duffle bag on your side, pulling out MRE kits and other field rations. You also found some plastic utensils and more water bottles and filters. Some of them were weirdly misshaped though, probably warped from the heat of the explosion.

You discarded those ones to the side with a frown. What a waste.

Ripping open an MRE pack, you mourned your microwave as you took a bite of room temperature tortellini. You just hoped that those in charge of the outer ring of base 36 came to your rescue sooner rather than later.

The rapidly familiarizing feeling of a piercing stare on you caused you to look up, your gaze locking onto narrowed baby blues. But they looked more curious than distrustful, this time.

You held up your meal pack, gesturing at him. "You want some?" You shook it in his direction meaningfully. "It's good." Lie, but he didn't need to know that.

Like most other living creatures, you were 99% sure he needed to eat to stay alive. And as far as you knew, he'd eaten nothing since you were both trapped. As long as he didn't try to eat you, you didn't mind sharing your rations. There was still quite a lot left, and you were pretty hopeful sure your fellow humans would have paid you a visit before you inevitably ran out.

His eyes widened minutely at the package, and you could see the barest predatory flash in his widening pupils, before he huffed, shooting you a disgusted look.

Your raised hand lowered as you gave him a deadpanned look. What a brat. Whatever, you shrugged, taking a quick breath as you lifted your mask. More for you then.

It was not even thirty minutes later that you realized your second dilemma.

That being, you had to tinkle. Real bad.

Goddamnit, this was embarrassing. You chanced a grimacing look at your companion, who was once again busy staring at a wall, but one ear was still turned towards you. No matter how weird this situation was, you had no desire to contribute to that factor by getting naked in front of a volatile, giant blue alien.

But you were nothing if not resourceful.

Goodbye, dignity, you sighed as you began hoisting yourself behind the pile of supplies and duffel bags you'd both stacked to take cover from the fire. You felt the Na'vi's wary gaze on you as you moved, but he hadn't felt the need to come and investigate, which you counted as a blessing.

Grabbing one of the warped water bottles, you poured out the toxic liquid on the concrete, before getting into position. Closing your eyes, you tried your hardest to pretend that you weren't trapped in a room with a strange alien man less than twenty feet away from you. You pictured your small, but warm toned bathroom, your toiletries lined neatly on the counter and a painting hanging over the towel rack.

Pretty soon you felt sweet relief as your aching bladder finally emptied its contents into the bottle. Your eyes blinked open, and you quickly cleaned yourself up, grimacing in embarrassment and disgust as you screwed back on the lid to the bottle and shoved it away from sight.

Well, that was over with.

By now, the room was bathed only in moon and starlight, the walls almost taking up a luminescence you would never be privy to on earth.

Your expression soured at the thought of your home planet. You didn't typically enjoy revisiting those memories, mostly because they were tainted with constant misery. The ashy smoke in the air, the dirt on your skin, the pangs of hunger deep into the night—you didn't want to think about it. You were far, far away from that life.

Although, you weren't quite sure if your current situation was much better.

With a wince, you scooted forward, peeking curiously around your makeshift wall of privacy. The Na'vi was curled on his side, still facing you, but now—surprisingly, his eyes had drifted shut, his expression finally peaceful in slumber. You held your breath, taking a moment to admire him.

Now that you weren't actively fearing for your life, you could really appreciate the wild beauty of this planet's native humanoid species. He looked like a mythical creature from a fantasy story, aqua blue skin shining like the glimmering shallow waters on a beach under the sunlight. You blinked a couple of times in shock, resisting the urge to rub them. No—wait, he was actually glowing.

At first you had thought it was the moonlight shining on his skin, but he seemed to be generating his own variation of bioluminescence instead. A beacon of otherworldly beauty, just like the rest of Pandora.

Incredible, you thought to yourself in awe, unable to look away. Your fingers itched with the sudden urge to start sketching him.

Suddenly, a pale, opalescent eye snapped open, glaring at you furiously. You yelped, almost falling backwards on your elbows.

His lip curled to reveal a snarl, his ears pinning down flat against his head in warning and his thick tail whipping restlessly in the air. The message was clear: mind your own business before I come over there and gouge your tiny eyes out. I'll do it—

"Okay, okay," you sighed, raising your hands in surrender. "I get it, I'm leaving."

You scooted away, back into your little alcove of duffel bags and random burnt junk. Lowering yourself onto the fluffiest looking one, you sighed, squirming uncomfortably as you stared at the scorched ceiling.

It didn't take long before your blinks became heavier and more frequent, your eyelids lowering more with each one. It seemed you were more exhausted that you thought.

When your breathing finally evened out, it was to the distinct feeling of a strong, steady heartbeat thrumming beneath you.

************

Y'all, I had way too much fun writing Ao'nung's pissy attitude XD. I can't picture his aggressive side eye without cracking up. Don't worry though, he'll eventually come around ;)

MRE: Meals ready to eat. Packaged meals meant for quick, convenient consumption. Used in the military.

If you’re not in the taglist already and you’d like to be, just let me know in the comments and I’ll tag you in the next part :)

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[hobiebrownismygod]

(today is a day for ideas, good Jesus)

This is like my third ask today but I have so many ideas and I have to write them down or I'll forget. Sorry you have to face the blunt of it. This request is kinda sad, that's also my fault

Hobie Brown x reader but where reader had a crush on him but Hobie never seemed to notice but after she gets fed up with it and moves on. After she does this she's much more natural and sure of herself because she's not trying to impress him anymore, that's when he starts to fall for her too.

Please tell me someone else can even slightly see this vision

Thank you, take as long as you need

And I hope you a happy time

I'm gonna turn this request into a two-part fic because I don't think I'll be able to get the whole plot into one lol 😭 thank you for requesting!!

Forgotten Girl Hobie Brown x Fem!Reader Part 1/2

Synopsis: You got tired of running after someone who wasn't interested, so you stopped...only for him to gain interest right afterwards.

WC: <;1k

TW: unedited, somewhat angst/pining, femreader

Taglist: @therealloopylupin2099 @spiderrinn @l0starl @daydreaming-en-pointe @itsparis-07 @vileviale @puff-hugs @d0ubl-tr0ubl3 @lauryn2558 @sunasslut69 @ask-1610-miles @axels-garden @s6onder

PREV|NEXT(Coming soon)

TAGLIST ─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ─── MASTERLIST

He never noticed you. No matter how many times you made eye contact with him, waved at him, batted your eyes at him, put your hand on his shoulder, giggled at one of his stupid jokes, he never ever seemed to realize you were there.

Of course...he noticed you...but he didn't notice you. His head never turned when you walked into the room, he never looked at you longer than he had to, and worst of all, he called you his mate.

The most platonic term you could call someone.

Mate.

Never darling, never love, never sweetheart.

Mate.

"Oi, whatcha doin' there mate?"

You snapped your head to the side to see none other than Hobie Brown, looking over your shoulder with a slight smile on his face, squinting to read the words on the page of the book you were reading.

You flinched forward slightly, not having expected him, before giving him an awkward smile. "Just reading. You?"

"Just watching you." he replied with a friendly grin before glancing back towards where he'd come from. "You haven't seen Gwendy or Pav around anywhere, have you?"

Your expression deflated. "I think I saw Gwen walk past a couple minutes ago. She was heading towards Miguel's room." You said softly, looking back down at your book and crossing your legs together, trying to bite back the waver appearing in your voice.

"Mmm." he nodded, looking back over his shoulder at you. "You here all by y'self?"

"Yep. All by myself." You said as you cleared your throat. His expression softened slightly and he walked back over towards you, hands shoved deep into the pockets of his vest. "You alright?"

"Fine. Why do you ask?" You tried to avoid his eyes, keeping your head buried in your book.

"I just-" He hesitated, "I don't think I've ever talked to you alone before. You're acting a bit...shy."

"I'm not shy." You mumbled, glaring back up at him. "Of course not." He replied, shooting you a sly grin. "Can't blame me for wondering though. You barely say a word to me, so I can't read y'like I can all the others."

"I talk to you often."

"Really?"

"I'm talking to you right now, aren't I?"

He chuckled deeply, looking down and shaking his head for a moment. "Cheeky." You felt your face heat up and you immediately looked back down, clearing your throat. "Hobie?"

"Yeah?" he asked, waggling his eyebrows at you playfully.

"You ever thought about being in a relationship?" You asked awkwardly.

"Wot?" He blinked, a smile spreading across his face. "Where'd that come from?"

You clasped your hands together with an embarrassed expression, staring straight at the ground. "I dunno. Just did."

"Well...I s'pose. I never really thought about it. I don't think anyone'd have me to be honest." He laughed. "What about you, mate?"

"I'm sure someone'd take you." You replied, ignoring how he shot your question back at you. "I mean, look at you." You immediately swallowed, looking back down as the weight of your words suddenly collapsed onto your shoulders.

He didn't seem to notice, simply laughing and nodding. "I am a bit of a looker, aren't I?" He teased, standing up straight. "It's all part of the Spider-punk charm." he winked.

"I agree." you smiled gently, looking up at him. You were being fairly obvious at this point, but he still didn't seem to be taking the hint.

That was how it'd always been. It was like he couldn't dream of being with you. He never seemed to notice your badly-disguised glances and awkward giggles. The way you'd adjust your suit when he walked by, looking down at the ground when he was in front of you and almost always refusing to make eye contact.

It was so obvious and still wouldn't realize.

In fact, the conversation was beginning to get tiring. The two of you simply continued, with your attempts at flirting quickly being shut down by how normal he was being.

"I think you'd make a great partner." You'd say, giving him a crystal clear smile, only to be met with a, "Oh definitely. Whoever I end up with is gonna be lucky."

The conversation would continue on...

"Very lucky. I'd kill to be in their position."

"Ha! You're a funny one, mate."

There was nothing you could do in response besides nod and smile, silently begging for some sort of escape. It was so embarrassing that you just couldn't handle it anymore.

And this happened every damn time.

Honestly...was there even a point anymore? It was starting to look like he'd never catch your drift.

Maybe he knew. Maybe he just didn't like you that way.

Yes, that was probably it. There's no way a normal person wouldn't be able to take a hint so obvious...he just wasn't interested.

Sad. But understandable.

"Weren't you looking for Gwen and Pav?" You said quickly, interrupting him. He raised a brow slightly, his expression lighting up. "Oh, right! I'll go find them then. See you around, mate."

He tipped his head towards you and gave you a smile. You returned it, your expression immediately dropping the moment he turned away. You watched his lanky figure leave, releasing your breath in a long deep sigh.

There was no point.

It just...wasn't meant to be.

He didn't notice you.

And he never would.

#hahaha crying again #I love hurting myself #dw part 2 will be out soon pookies #atsv #across the spiderverse #hobie brown #spiderman atsv #spiderman #atsv hobie #across the spider verse #spider punk #hobie brown headcanons #astv hobie #hobie my beloved #hobie spiderverse #hobie x reader #spiderverse hobie #hobart brown #hobie x y/n #hobie x you #hobie brown x y/n #hobie brown x reader #spiderverse #hobie brown x fem!reader #hobie brown x you #hobie brown x female reader #x reader #atsv x reader #atsv x you #atsv x y/n

[ghosttotheparty]

holy things 9 also on ao3 // prev. // next cw: panic attack

“I like you,” Steve says in a rush as soon as the door is shut behind him, his chest tight, his hands shaking. “In a romantic way, I— I have a crush on you, and I’ve never felt like this before, for anyone, and I have no idea what’s happening to me, and I—”

“Steve,” Eddie says softly.

“—I didn’t realize until you told me because you’re also my best friend and I thought you were just a really good friend, and you are, but I don’t wanna be friends with you—”

“Steve.”

“—I want you, like— in a way that I don’t understand because I never learned about any of this shit in school, and I don’t know anything about romance, I just know that I want it, and—”

“Stevie.”

Eddie’s hands are on Steve’s face, holding it gently, warm against his skin that’s still cold from the night and the rain. He’s smiling hesitantly, eyes gleaming.

“‘S okay,” he says softly when Steve finally falls silent.

Steve exhales.

Eddie’s thumbs brush over his cheeks, and he pulls Steve’s face forward a little bit until their foreheads press. Steve’s eyes fall shut, and his hands reach up to Eddie’s waist, forming fists over the thin fabric of his shirt. He’s still shaking.

He shivers, tightening his shoulders, and Eddie exhales, his hands running down to Steve’s neck. His hands are warm.

“Stevie,” he murmurs. “Sweetheart.”

“Yeah,” Steve breathes, letting the word cover him like a blanket, soft and warm.

“You’re freezing.”

Steve nods, shivering again.

“Stevie.” Eddie’s thumbs press under Steve’s chin, nudging it up so Steve looks at him. His vision is a little blurry when their eyes meet. “You should take a shower. I’ll get you some fresh clothes, okay?”

“Okay,” Steve says softly, nodding. Eddie leans back in and presses their foreheads together for a moment before he takes Steve’s hand and tugs him toward the bathroom.

Steve waits, watching, as Eddie gets the shower ready, leaning over the tub to feel the water, and he pulls his jacket off, wincing as it peels away from his sweater. He’s trembling now, his teeth starting to chatter.

“Towel’s on the door. Leave your clothes on the floor,” Eddie says gently, taking the jacket. “I’ll bring you some clothes and put them on the counter, okay?”

“Okay,” Steve says again.

The water is hot, and he melts under it as it hits his skin. The room is filling with steam, clouding his vision. He wraps his arms around himself, letting his eyes close, submitting to the white noise of the spray of water.

The sound is interrupted when there’s a gentle knock on the door before it opens, and Steve opens his eyes. He can see Eddie’ shape through the shower curtain.

“Clothes are on the counter,” Eddie says.

“Thank you,” Steve forces out, arms tightening around himself.

“‘Course, sweetheart.”

For a brief moment Steve wants to pull the shower curtain open, to reach for Eddie and pull him under the water with him, to ask him to wash him clean.

But he watches Eddie bend to pick up Steve's soaked clothes, and then he watches him leave, hears the door shut behind him.

Steve uses Eddie’s soap. Washes the rain from his hair, from his skin, hopes he isn’t washing away Eddie’s touch.

The room feels oddly silent when he shuts the water off, almost echoing like it’s empty despite the steam. The towel hanging from the door is soft, and he wraps it around himself for a few moments, hiding his face in it. And then he dresses, smiling as he pulls on Eddie’s clothes. It’s all dry and clean and soft and warm, and Steve wants to cry again.

Eddie is in the living room, sitting on the sofa. He isn’t watching anything on the television or reading a book or anything, just staring at the ground, fingers picking at his lower lip. He looks up when Steve comes in, eyes scanning over him quickly, and they look at each other.

And then Eddie holds an arm out silently, and Steve melts again, eyes burning as he goes to him, falling onto the sofa and into his arms. He squeezes his eyes shut, burying his face in Eddie’s neck, letting his arms get tucked between them as Eddie pulls him closer, arms right around him. He feels Eddie press a kiss to the side of his head.

“I missed you today,” Steve says weakly, quietly. “So much.”

“God, I missed you too.”

“I’m sorry,” Steve chokes, fingers now gripping the fabric of Eddie’s shirt.

“For what?”

“I— I didn’t say anything,” Steve says weakly, letting Eddie pull him away to look at him. Their legs are tangled, and Eddie’s fingers are a little cold when he touches Steve’s face. “When you told me this— this morning, I just sat there, and I didn’t know what to say, I didn’t—”

“Shh, Steve,” Eddie murmurs, leaning close. “Baby.”

Steve falls quiet, his eyes finding Eddie’s lips like he’s trying to find that word, that tiny, beautiful word, in the air between them.

Baby.

“I know,” Eddie says softly, almost whispering. “It’s scary.”

“You’re not scary,” Steve whispers.

He tugs at the front of Eddie's shirt. Lets his head fall to Eddie’s, his forehead pressing to Eddie’s cheek, and listens to Eddie breathe.

They stay there for a long while, holding each other. Eddie’s fingers brush over Steve’s neck, tracing lines back and forth so lightly it makes him shiver. He traces Steve’s ear the way Steve traced his a while ago, and Steve suppresses a smile. Their hands rest on Eddie’s leg, and Steve looks at them. Their fingers lace, and he lifts his hand, spreading his fingers to hold Eddie’s hand so he can see it.

The letters on his fingers read EVIL, and the irony makes Steve smile again.

Eddie’s thumb brushes over the back of Steve’s hand. Steve looks at him. He’s smiling softly, barely smiling at all, looking at their hands, touching Steve so tenderly it’s like he’s breakable. His fingers slip up Steve’s neck into his hair even though it’s still wet, scratching over his scalp and sets going the strands absently.

Eddie looks at Steve. Their eyes meet.

Steve’s cheeks flush with warmth, and Eddie’s smile widens. He squeezes Steve’s hand gently. When he speaks, it’s in whispers.

“It doesn’t scare you?” he asks quietly, looking at their hands again. “Liking a man?”

Steve exhales.

“No,” he says softly.

“No?”

Steve shrugs a little bit. He relaxes against the back of the sofa without detaching their hands, letting one of his legs stretch out over Eddie’s lap.

“At first,” he says softly. “But…”

He trails off, looking at Eddie again. He’s looking back at him, listening intently, and he’s so beautiful Steve could cry.

“It’s not scary to like you,” he says. “I…” He furrows his eyebrows, thinking, looking at their hands. “Liking you isn’t the— the scary thing. It’s… what other people say. And think. That’s what’s scary.”

“Right,” Eddie says slowly. Steve looks into his eyes intently.

“We’re not the problem,” he says. “We’re not doing anything wrong.”

Eddie blinks his eyes, and Steve’s chest aches as he watches them fill with tears, glistening and shining in the dim light of the living room. A tear escapes Eddie’s eye, and Steve shifts on the sofa to kneel, pulling his hand away to reach for Eddie’s face.

He brushes his tears away as gently as possible, and Eddie lets him, looking up at him.

“It’s not scary to like you,” Steve says, whispering. Eddie blinks tears out of his eyes, and he looks like a damn angel, his eyebrows furrowed, tears glistening in his eyes and in his skin. Holy. “It’s easy.”

Eddie closes his eyes. Steve wipes the tears that slide down his cheeks.

“So easy,” he whispers.

He brushes Eddie’s bangs back and presses his lips to his forehead without another thought. Eddie exhales shakily. He reaches for Steve’s hips, and Steve hugs his neck, pressing his face into Eddie’s hair as he shifts to find his place on Eddie’s lap. Eddie hugs his waist tightly, tucking his face into Steve’s neck. Steve holds the back of his head, closing his eyes.

He can feel Eddie’s breath against his neck, can feel Eddie’s chest rising and falling against his. Eddie’s hands spread across the small of his back, and his eyelashes flutter against Steve’s skin.

It kind of feels like they’re meditating. Just breathing together, slow and steady and calm, like their hearts are beating in unison.

Until Eddie shifts just enough for Steve to hear his voice.

“Baby.”

He says it sleepily, mumbling, and it’s like the word crawls under Steve’s skin, makes itself a home there. He squeezes his eyes shut, suppressing a shiver.

“Yeah.”

“Bed.”

“Yeah,” Steve says again, opening his eyes, and he starts to move off of Eddie’s lap, but Eddie’s arms tighten around him.

“Mm-mm.”

Steve hums confusedly, and Eddie’s hands slide down to his thighs as he moves to the edge of the sofa, holding Steve in place as Eddie stands up. Steve lets out a quiet, surprised yelp, hugging Eddie’s neck. Eddie holds him with a hand on his bottom as he flicks off the lamp and makes his way to his room by the vague light of the streetlamps outside. Steve closes his eyes, tucking his face into Eddie’s neck.

Eddie sets him on the bed, pressing him into the mattress and resting on top of him. Steve hums again, tightening his legs around him and squeezing. Eddie’s face presses into his neck, his breath warm against his skin, and Steve blinks his eyes at the ceiling. His tears are warm on his skin as they fall down his temples, into his hair and onto the fabric of Eddie’s pillowcase.

Eddie is in the kitchen.

Steve can hear him putting away the dishes, opening and closing cabinets, carefully setting plates atop each other. Steve rolls onto his back, listening. It’s raining again.

Steve sits up slowly, blinking his eyes open, letting himself get used to the morning light. The hoodie he’s wearing is twisted, and he straightens it out as he slides off the bed.

He sees Eddie as he goes to the bathroom, and when their eyes meet, Eddie’s face breaks open in a bright smile. It’s like he lights up, and he looks away, biting his lip. Steve feels giddy. He tries to suppress a smile as he brushes his teeth, but he just ends up grinning at himself in the mirror, and he wants to roll his eyes at how ridiculous he feels. He even tries to sort his hair out.

Eddie is leaning against a counter in the kitchen when Steve comes out of the bathroom, his arms crossed, looking at the ground. His hair is tied back, a messy knot at the nape of his neck, and there are strands falling in his face. They fall out of the way when he lifts his head as Steve steps in front of him, leaning against the counter opposite him, mirroring him.

“Hi,” Steve says softly.

“Hi.”

They’re quiet. Steve looks at the ground and nudges his foot against Eddie’s.

“So,” Eddie says slowly.

Steve looks up at him, eyes wide, and Eddie is already looking back.

He’s gazing at him. Like Steve is something worth gazing at.

“So,” Steve breathes.

Eddie smiles.

“I know this is… all very, uhm. New to you.”

“Yeah,” Steve says, his cheeks flushing with warmth.

“Uhm.” Eddie pauses, and he’s so cute when he’s nervous. “We don’t have to… jump into anything.”

Steve blinks.

“I don’t wanna be friends.”

Eddie’s eyes flick back and forth between Steve’s.

“What do you want?” he asks softly, like he’s nervous, tentative. Steve’s stomach flutters.

“What can I have?”

Eddie’s eyes shine at him, and for a moment he looks like he’s going to cry, and Steve’s chest tightens.

“Anything.”

Steve looks at him. At his sleep matted curls and shiny eyes and the faint dusting of freckles that are scattered across the bridge of his nose that Steve noticed the day they met but never really appreciated until now.

The morning light is shining on Eddie and he looks so lovely that Steve’s stomach hurts.

“Can I have a kiss?”

Eddie blinks, and he looks hopeful for a moment, his eyebrows raising just the slightest bit.

“You want me to kiss you?” he whispers. Steve nods. Eddie looks at him. And looks. And looks. He hesitates when he speaks again, his eyes trained somewhere on Steve’s face before they meet his eyes again. “Can we… Can we talk for a minute first?”

“Yeah,” Steve says softly. “Of course.”

Eddie smiles at him again, and then he’s stepping closer, reaching down to Steve’s legs, and Steve suppresses a beaming smile as Eddie lifts him up onto the counter. He wraps his legs around Eddie’s hips, and Eddie’s hands slide up his thighs, squeezing gently. Steve could swoon.

“…I’m assuming you’re not familiar with the traffic light system.”

Steve blinks.

“Like… driving?”

Eddie smiles.

“Kind of, but in regards to… intimacy.”

Steve’s eyes flicker to his lips. He shakes his head.

“So,” Eddie says, his hand squeezing Steve’s hip gently. “Similar to driving. Green means go, red means stop, yellow means slow down.”

Steve nods.

“People usually use it for, like, sex,” Eddie says, his cheeks pink. “But we can use it whenever. If we’re just cuddling, or kissing.” He brushes his thumb back and forth over Steve’s hip. Steve nods again. “So every once in a while I’m gonna ask you for your color, and you tell me one of those three.”

He’s talking so softly, so gently and patiently and kindly, and it’s like Steve can feel Eddie’s kindness inside him, permeating him like mist through a screen door.

“Green if it’s all good,” Eddie continues. “If you’re comfortable, if you feel good. You say yellow if you’re… unsure about anything, or if you wanna change anything. If I do something you don’t like or if something doesn’t feel right. We’ll pause right away and talk and fix whatever it is and then we can keep going if you want to.”

“Okay,” Steve says quietly.

“If you say red,” Eddie says, “everything stops right away. No questions asked, you don’t need to explain yourself. We stop, and then we do whatever you want. Watch a movie, take a nap, whatever. And we can talk about what happened, make sure it doesn’t happen again, but if you don’t wanna talk about it, we won’t. Okay?”

Steve’s throat feels tight.

“…You’re really nice,” he says quietly, almost whispering. Eddie scoffs, tilting his head at him.

“This is bare minimum shit, Stevie.”

“I still appreciate it.”

Eddie looks pained for a split second, but the expression is gone quickly.

“Does that all sound okay?” he asks. Steve nods. “You don’t have to wait for me to ask your color, okay? If you don’t like something, you say yellow or red and I’ll stop right away. Same if you say stop, or wait, or no, or anything, okay?”

“Okay,” Steve says, his voice right. Eddie nods, his eyebrows rising like he’s saying Okay? again. “Can you kiss me, please?”

Eddie cracks a smile, and he looks teary. He lifts a hand to Steve’s face and touches his cheek.

“I’m going to be so bad at this,” Steve says as Eddie leans closer. “You’re not allowed to laugh at me.”

“Never,” Eddie breathes.

Steve’s heart melts.

“You’re sweet,” he says softly. Eddie smiles and nudges their noses together. Steve can feel his breath on his face, and it’s not a sensation Steve ever thought he’d like, but he finds himself craving it, desperate. “Please, Eddie.”

Eddie nudges their noses again, and then he’s pressing his lips to Steve’s gently, carefully. His hand lifts from Steve’s thigh to touch his face, his fingertips pressing into Steve’s cheek before his hand slides around to the back of his head like he’s holding Steve in place. Steve lets out a soft, weak noise, his eyebrows furrowing, and his hands raise to Eddie’s chest.

Eddie pulls away after a few moments, and their lips part with a slick noise that finds its way under Steve’s skin. Eddie stays close enough that their lips brush, and Steve keeps his eyes closed.

“Okay?” Eddie asks softly.

Steve nods.

“Green,” he breathes, and Eddie’s lips curve into a smile against his.

“Good boy,” he murmurs.

Warmth floods Steve’s body, and his lip quivers. He steadies it by leaning in and kissing Eddie again.

Their mouths crash together, off-center, and Eddie grins, reaching to hold Steve’s face between his hands. Steve giggles into his mouth, his fingers curling into the fabric of Eddie’s hoodie.

“I don’t know what I’m doing,” he whispers between kisses, and Eddie hums, his fingers dragging through Steve’s hair.

“You’re good,” he says softly, kissing him again, like the two simple words don’t flip Steve over. “Just do what you want,” he murmurs. “Do what feels good.”

Steve lets out a weak whine, and his face flushes with heat. His hands clench on Eddie’s hoodie, holding him tightly, and he wonders how this could ever be a sin. How God could look at their pleasure, at how gentle, how sweet, Eddie is to Steve, and feel betrayed.

“‘S okay, baby,” Eddie murmurs.

“I love it when you call me that,” Steve breathes, cheeks still warm. He’s pathetic and he knows it, but Eddie doesn’t seem to mind. His thumbs brush gently over Steve’s cheeks before his hands slip down to his jaw, and then his thumb is ghosting over Steve’s throat lightly and Steve might cry.

“You wanna be my baby?” Eddie says softly.

Steve’s throat tightens. He’s squeezing his eyes shut, and he nods, because he’s never wanted anything more in his entire damn life.

“Please,” he chokes. “Please, I wanna— I wanna be your baby, Eddie—”

Eddie silences him with another kiss, nodding, holding him tenderly. And Steve feels insane, because as Eddie’s teeth nip at his lower lip, Steve realizes he would let Eddie do anything with him; he would let him bite until Steve is bleeding, would let him lick his skin clean. He would let Eddie consume him, bones and all. Which probably isn’t normal, or healthy, but Steve can’t bring himself to care.

He’s shaking as he clutches at Eddie, trembling as he clings to him, and Eddie is so, so gentle. Running his hands over his back like he’s soothing him, holding his neck with his palm to Steve’s throat in a way that makes Steve feel helpless and small and safe. He kisses Steve until he’s breathless and panting, and he swallows the air straight from Steve’s lungs.

They part for a moment, and Steve exhales, gripping the front of Eddie’s hoodie. And then Eddie kisses him again, light and brief and soft, and his tongue brushes over Steve’s lower lip. Steve gasps and his hands jump to Eddie’s shoulders, holding him tightly.

“Is that okay?” Eddie checks, whispering, and Steve is nodding before the question is even done.

“Yes,” he says breathlessly. “Yeah, green, yes, please.”

Eddie grins.

“You want my tongue, baby?”

“Oh, God.”

Steve’s whole body aches. He lets his head fall as he shivers, his hair falling into his face as he squeezes his eyes shut, but Eddie tucks his hair back, touching his chin and gently guiding him back up to meet his eyes.

“Stevie,” he says softly. “I said anything, didn’t I?”

Steve’s vision blurs. His lip quivers.

Eddie holds his face between his hands and guides him down until their foreheads are pressed together. Steve clings to him, holds his shoulders tightly, his legs wrapped around him.

“My baby,” Eddie breathes. “I’d give you the fucking world.”

Steve wraps his arms around Eddie’s neck.

“I don’t want the world, I just want you.”

Eddie is quiet for a moment, and then,

“Fuck.”

He kisses Steve so hard it pushes Steve back, and Steve gasps, his eyebrows furrowing, his eyes squeezing shut. And it’s like Eddie is desperate now, a hand holding the back of Steve’s head, the other pressed into the arch at the small of his back, dragging him toward the edge of the counter, as close as possible. His tongue slips across Steve’s lips, and Steve whines again, burying a hand in Eddie’s hair, messing up his bun. Eddie touches his face, pulling away, breathing hard, and he touches Steve’s lower lip with his thumb, pressing until Steve’s mouth falls open.

For a moment he wants to let Eddie’s thumb slide inside, but he can’t move, can barely even think, like Eddie’s put him in a trance. Eddie’s eyes are dark, shining, and they lower to look at Steve’s mouth.

“Good.”

Steve’s chest floods with warmth.

He lets his eyes close, and Eddie kisses him again, holding his jaw. Steve tightens his legs around Eddie’s waist when Eddie’s tongue slips over his lip. He wants to beg for it, but he doesn’t want to pull away. His hand tightens in Eddie’s hair.

And then Eddie is licking into his mouth, and Steve’s never been drunk before but he thinks it might feel like this. He would fall over if Eddie stepped back even an inch, if he took his hands off of him.

Eddie hums in the back of his throat, and the sound rumbles around the wet noises of his tongue in Steve’s mouth, and Steve shivers again. It’s kind of gross, wet and messy and sloppy; their chins are slick and sliding as they tilt their heads so get closer, to kiss deeper.

But Steve finds that he loves it.

He adores how filthy he feels with Eddie’s spit on his skin, with Eddie holding him in place, Eddie humming to him and tasting him, and and and and and

Steve pushes himself forward, fist clenching in Eddie’s hair as he closes his lips around Eddie’s tongue, sucking, and Eddie’s breath catches.

“Yeah,” he breathes when Steve pulls away with a gasp. “There you go, baby.”

Steve drops his head, closing his eyes, one hand on Eddie’s neck as he slides the other back to his chest. His heart is beating fast, and he exhales slowly.

“Shit.”

Eddie laughs brightly. He slides his hand to Steve’s back, rubs a line over his spine, up and down, soothing and gentle.

“You okay?” he whispers, pressing their foreheads together again. Steve nods. “Did you like it?”

“Eddie, I feel like I’m about to pass out.”

“Please don’t.”

“No promises.”

Eddie is quiet for a moment before he says Steve’s name under his breath, and he touches Steve’s chin, lifting his gaze. Their eyes meet, and Steve melts. He presses his hand into Eddie’s chest a little harder.

“I like it,” he whispers. “Really.”

“I…” Eddie pauses, his eyes flicking back and forth between Steve’s. “I don’t want you to feel like— like you have to do anything,” he says. “If you—”

Steve leans in and kisses him, effectively silencing him. Eddie inhales slowly, holding Steve’s cheek.

Steve stays close when he pulls away, pressing their foreheads together, letting out a soft breath. Eddie brushes his thumb over Steve’s cheek.

“I know,” Steve says softly. “I don’t… I don’t feel like I have to do anything.”

Eddie holds his waist. Steve likes it when he holds him there. It makes him feel small. (Everything about Eddie makes Steve feel small.)

“I… I know you won’t force me to do anything,” he says quietly. Eddie pulls away to look at him, and Steve’s hands fall to his lap. “If I don’t like anything, I’ll tell you.” He pauses, cheeks warm. “I trust you.”

Eddie smiles. Steve looks away.

“Shut up.”

A laugh bursts out of Eddie.

“What?”

“You’re looking at me.”

“Yeah, of course I’m looking at you,” Eddie says sassily. “You’re cute when you blush.”

Steve’s face flushes even hotter, and he rolls his eyes.

“This is stupid.”

“What’s stupid?” Eddie asks, still laughing.

“Got a stupid crush on you,” Steve mumbles, ignoring the way Eddie is touching his face, trying to nudge him into meeting his eyes.

“Yeah, no shit. We just made out.”

Steve suppresses a grin and finally looks at him. Eddie leans in and kisses the end of his nose, and Steve giggles.

“I got a stupid crush on you too,” Eddie whispers.

“…No shit.”

Eddie snorts, and he digs his fingertips into Steve’s side, making him laugh loudly and hunch over, trying unsuccessfully to push Eddie away.

“Asshole,” Eddie says fondly.

“Be nice to me.”

Eddie suppresses a smile, biting his lower lip, and Steve’s stomach does a somersault as he watches, suddenly wishing he was the one biting him. He’s so beautiful it makes Steve feel crazy.

Eddie’s hands spread over Steve’s waist and he tilts his head like he knows how weak it makes Steve. He leans close enough that their noses nudge together again, and then he shakes his head back and forth slowly, brushing the end of his nose against Steve’s, and Steve feels like he could cry.

He closes his eyes, his eyebrows furrowing, and Eddie’s hands tighten on his waist.

“You’re so beautiful,” Eddie murmurs.

Steve leans in and kisses him, unable to wait any longer. He reaches to hold Eddie’s head, pushing his fingertips into his hair, opening his mouth when Eddie’s tongue brushes his lip, and Eddie laughs. Steve giggles, cheeks warm, and their teeth clash because neither of them pulls away.

“Sorry,” Steve says, still giggling, and Eddie shakes his head, catching his lower lip in a chaste kiss.

“You don’t have anything to be sorry for,” he says softly.

Steve’s eyes lower to Eddie’s mouth. His lips are shining.

“I like…” Steve starts, hesitating, face burning. “I like when you put your tongue in my mouth.”

Eddie’s eyebrows quirk up and he suppresses a smile.

“Which is an insane sentence,” Steve says, giggling again. “That I'm saying out loud and not feeling embarrassed about,” he adds, very embarrassed.

Eddie reaches up to hold his face.

“You don’t have to feel embarrassed about anything you like,” he says firmly, eyes still shining with amusement. Steve tries not to smile. It doesn’t work. “You’re so fucking cute.”

Steve rolls his eyes, looking away.

“Why do you like it?” Eddie asks, brushing his thumb over Steve’s cheek. Steve turns his face into his palm, looking at him shyly.

He shrugs.

“Feels good,” he says softly.

“Yeah?”

He nods.

“Feel… I don’t know.” He pushes Eddie’s sleeve down a little bit, looking at his tattoos, tracing a line down his forearm. “Like… Gross. And I like it.” He looks at Eddie. “That’s weird, isn’t it?”

“No,” Eddie says lightly. “Not weird.” He’s touching Steve’s cheek in a way that makes Steve feel delicate. Pretty. Like fine china. “And even if it was…” He shrugs, scrunching his nose. “I like it too.”

Steve’s stomach flutters.

He leans in to kiss him again. He wraps his arms around Eddie’s neck, hugs him to himself tightly, hums when Eddie’s hand slides around to the small of his back. Eddie tilts his head, and Steve can feel him smiling against his mouth as he kisses him deeper, licking into his mouth again. His hand slides to Steve’s hip, the other holding his jaw before it moves to cradle the back of his head, pushing into his hair and tugging lightly, like he can’t decide what he wants to hold. Like he wants to hold all of Steve.

Steve’s legs tighten around Eddie’s waist again, his ankles locking behind him, and he never wants to let him go, never wants this moment to end.

“There’s… There's something else,” Eddie says between kisses, his voice muffled against Steve’s mouth. “That you might like.”

“What?”

“You might hate it,” Eddie says, and he kisses Steve again before he can say anything else, hard and lingering.

“Wanna try,” Steve says when they part. “What is it?”

“Uhm.” Eddie’s eyes flicker across his face for a brief moment. “Some people like it when their partners… spit in their mouth.”

Steve blinks.

He’s struck first by the word partners. He’s never heard it like this, in this context. He thinks he likes it.

And then, of course, the spit thing.

It’s disgusting. Debauched. Depraved.

Part of Steve wonders how someone could ever come up with something like that, something so filthy, so unsanitary, and then another part of Steve wonders why he wants it so badly.

God, he wants it.

He nods.

“Yeah?” Eddie says softly, raising his eyebrows, looking vaguely surprised. Steve’s hands grip the front of Eddie’s hoodie, pulling him closer as he nods again.

“Please,” he says weakly, eyes flickering to Eddie’s mouth.

“Shit,” Eddie breathes. “Okay.”

He kisses Steve hard, holding the base of his head, tugging his hair, and then he pulls away enough to murmur a soft, “Tilt your head back for me.”

Steve does, his eyes fluttering for a moment, holding Eddie’s hoodie tightly, exhaling in an almost sigh as Eddie leans closer, hovering over him.

“Good boy,” Eddie murmurs softly. Steve hums. Lets his lips part.

Eddie touches his face. Runs his thumbs over his cheeks and across his lips like he’s analysing him. He looks into Steve’s eyes one more time, intent, checking, asking in silence if he’s sure, if he wants it, and Steve is ready to beg if he has to.

He doesn’t have to beg. Eddie said he would give him anything.

He holds Steve’s jaw as he spits slowly, and Steve shudders when it hits his tongue, letting his eyes fall shut. He opens them to look at Eddie as he closes his mouth.

“You don’t have to…”

Eddie trails off when he sees Steve already swallowing, his throat bobbing.

“Why wouldn’t I?” Steve asks, his voice rougher than before.

Eddie exhales

“…Fuck.”

He kisses Steve. Bites his lower lip and then sucks on it, and Steve furrows his eyebrows, clutching at him, desperate. And that feeling is back, that twisting in his stomach, that knowledge that he would let Eddie fucking consume him if he wanted to, if he asked.

It’s an odd feeling. He’s never felt it before. But he wouldn’t mind it, if Eddie wanted to gut him, to skin him. To rip him apart and pull him inside out.

A sound escapes Steve, and he buries his hands in Eddie’s hair, his fingers curling into fists around the strands. Eddie gasps and Steve takes it as an opportunity to slide his tongue messily into Eddie’s mouth. Eddie groans, wrapping his arms around Steve’s waist and holding him tightly.

They’re both breathless when they part, panting into each other’s mouths. Eddie pulls away enough to look at him, and Steve holds back a whine, not wanting to let him go too far.

“So precious,” Eddie says, still breathless, lifting a hand to touch his face, and he’s caressing him. Like he’s soft, like he’s pretty, like he deserves to be touched softly like this. “Sweet little lamb.”

Steve exhales, his face crumbling as his eyes burn with tears. Eddie kisses his cheek, kisses away the tears that fall, wipe the salt across Steve’s face with his lips. And Steve shivers, listening to the softly slick sounds of Eddie’s kisses across his cheeks and then over his jaw and under his ear. Steve’s head falls back and his hand crawls up to the back of Eddie’s head.

Eddie buries his face in Steve’s neck. Kisses him over and over and over, slowly and gently and tenderly.

It never would have occurred to Steve that someone could kiss his neck. He’s seen it happen in the hallways at school, his eyes lingering on the couples wrapped around each other, leaning against lockers, before he looks away, guilt eating at him for even seeing them. He never thought he’d be here.

Of course he never thought he’d be here.

Sitting on a counter with a beautiful boy kissing him so sweetly.

“Eddie,” Steve breathes.

“Yeah, baby,” Eddie mumbles against his neck, lips brushing his skin.

“Please.”

He doesn’t even know what he’s asking for, but Eddie seems to understand. He lifts his head, presses his hands into the small of his back, kisses him.

“C’mere,” he says into Steve’s mouth, pulling him to the edge of the counter and then lifting him off of it, arms tight and firm around him as Steve clutches at his hoodie.

“Where are we going?” he asks when Eddie pulls away so he can see. His voice is slurred a little bit, mumbly like he’s just woken up.

“Gonna lay you down,” Eddie says, carrying Steve out of the kitchen. “So I can spit in your mouth easier.”

A sound escapes Steve; a weak, pathetic sound that he tries to bite back unsuccessfully.

“Okay.”

Steve is laying on Eddie’s arm, chin tilted up to kiss him.

It’s lazy. His lips are sore from hours of kissing, but neither of them are stopping.

Eddie keeps murmuring into his mouth between kisses, speaking so softly Steve almost can’t hear him. But he can, and every word that finds its way between Steve’s lips makes him shiver, makes his stomach flutter.

That’s good.

There you go.

Sweet baby.

And he hums quietly, smoothly, dragging his fingers through Steve’s hair. The hums vibrate through Steve’s mouth, down his throat, right into his chest. It feels good.

Eddie shifts after a while, rolling on top of Steve, propping himself up on his forearm next to Steve’s head. Steve whines pitifully, his chest tightening, his blood rushing. He likes Eddie’s weight above him, pressing him into the bed, holding him down like he isn’t allowed to move. His hand falls to the side, weak, and Eddie’s hand slides down his arm to link their fingers, press their palms.

He pushes Steve’s hand into the mattress. Steve hums.

And then his eyes are burning again, and damn it, he’s tired of crying. He doesn’t know how he’s run out of tears.

He tries to ignore it as long as he can, but Eddie notices and pulls away enough to murmur to him.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” Steve breathes, because there’s nothing wrong, why is he crying—

“What’s your color, Stevie?” Eddie asks softly, like he can feel the way Steve’s heart is suddenly pounding.

“I…” Steve pauses, holding Eddie’s hand tightly. He blinks his eyes open. His vision is blurred. “…Yellow.”

“Good boy,” Eddie says softly, and he slowly sits up, pulling Steve with him. Steve closes his eyes again. He doesn’t want to stop. He doesn’t want this to end. “What’s wrong?”

“I don’t know,” Steve says breathlessly, still holding Eddie’s hand, clutching at it.

“What are you feeling?”

Steve exhales. Thinks. Feels.

Eddie’s fingers laced with his. His lips sore from kissing, from Eddie sucking on and biting them. His head cloudy from the way Eddie talks to him.

“Feel good,” he says weakly.

He inhales sharply. Exhales. Inhales.

And then he’s breathing so fast his throat feels dry, and somewhere in the room Eddie is saying Whoa, whoa, whoa, and squeezing his hand. And Steve can’t see, can barely hear, can’t feel anything at all.

Baby.

Stevie, baby.

I’m right here.

Deep breath, sweetheart, you’re okay.

Breathe in.

Steve forces his eyes open and looks at Eddie’s blurry form. He’s in front of him, hair down, falling over his shoulders, and he looks so soft like this. Like Steve’s fingers would go right through him if he reached out to him. Like a ghost.

Steve’s hand tightens on Eddie’s, and he’s there.

“Eddie.”

“Hey, baby, I got you.”

Eddie slowly unblurs, and Steve looks at him desperately, like he’s about to fade from view. Eddie nods, rubbing the back of Steve’s hand.

“Breathe,” Eddie says softly. “Nice and slow, baby, you’re okay.”

“I’m sorry,” Steve gasps between breaths. Eddie clicks his tongue.

“You don’t have anything to be sorry for,” he says softly, squeezing Steve’s hand again, rubbing over his knuckles. “You did so good, Stevie.”

“But I—”

Eddie shushes him softly, touching his face, wiping away a tear Steve didn’t notice.

“You did,” he says gently, firmly. “You did so good, baby, using your safe words for me. So fuckin’ proud of you.”

Steve squeezes his eyes shut and leans forward, letting his head rest against Eddie’s. Eddie wraps his arms around him carefully, tentatively, and Steve melts against him, sighing, tucking his face into his neck. Eddie’s arms tighten around him.

“Okay?” he asks softly. Steve nods. “What happened?”

“I don’t know,” Steve says weakly. “I felt good, I— You didn’t do anything wrong, I— I liked everything, I don’t know what…”

He trails off, his throat tightening, and Eddie runs his hand over his spine.

“Steve?” he says quietly.

“Yeah.”

“Did… Did your parents give you that talk, when you hit puberty, about, like… your body tempting you and stuff?”

“…Yeah?” Steve says, and oh.

Eddie shifts, turning a little and nudging Steve so he lifts his head. He pauses, biting his lip and looking at Steve, scanning his face.

“You…” He hesitates again. “…You were raised to think that you… that you don’t deserve pleasure. That you don’t get to feel good.”

Steve’s eyes flicker.

And that’s it. Somehow Eddie figured it out from outside Steve’s head, realized what it was that consumed him so quickly, so abruptly.

Guilt. Shame. Steve thinks there are too many words for a feeling so ugly.

“Babe,” Eddie says softly, holding Steve’s chin, looking into his eyes intently. “You haven’t done anything wrong. You understand me?”

Steve looks at him. He can’t say anything.

“Steve,” Eddie whispers. “Do you understand me?”

He nods.

“Good,” Eddie says softly. He pushes Steve’s hair back and kisses his forehead. No one’s ever kissed his forehead before. The only touches it's ever received have been the gentle presses of priests’ thumbs, the smudging of ash against his skin. Somehow Eddie’s lips feel more holy.

“I…” He stammers silently for a moment, looking at Eddie desperately, wishing he could just think it, wishing Eddie could hear from his mind somehow. “…I like this,” he manages. Eddie blinks, listening. “I— I want this.”

Eddie smiles a little bit, nodding.

“And I don’t— I don’t want you to think I don’t want it,” Steve says anxiously. “It’s just—”

“I know,” Eddie whispers. He holds his cheek and Steve turns his face into his palm. “It’s not gonna be easy.”

“It is, though,” Steve says weakly, whispering. “I like you. So much. I just…”

“I know,” Eddie says again, and Steve can’t help but frown. “I get it, baby, you don’t— you don’t have to explain yourself.”

He caresses Steve’s face. Looks at him. Kisses his forehead again. He moves so their legs are wrapped around each other, so close their chests are almost touching, Steve’s hands hanging loosely between them. Eddie takes them and runs his fingertips across his knuckles gently before he lifts them to his lips and kisses them.

“You can take your time,” he says softly, still holding Steve’s hands like he’s about to lead him into a dance, looking into his eyes. “As long as you need. I’ll be right here.”

It makes Steve ache. He kisses Eddie, lowering their hands and tilting his head, and Eddie lets him. It’s a softer kiss than before, gentle and lingering, and they stay close when they part to breathe. Steve squeezes his eyes shut and presses his forehead to Eddie’s.

“I want you,” he breathes.

Eddie’s hands tighten on his, and he shifts so their noses nudge together.

“You have me.”

♡ permanent taglist: @estrellami-1 @theplantscientist @spectrum-spectre @carlprocastinator1000 @starman-jpg @romantiklen @imhereforthelolzdontyellatme ♡ holy things taglist: @stevesbipanic @pearynice @ao3whore @slowandsteddie @swordsandflowercrowns @dragonmama76 @mikeys-thoughts @sofadofax @cyranyx @kazalohiku @lostonceandneverfound @strangerfreaks @bitchysteveharrington @nailbatanddungeon (comment to be added/removed to/from either list!!)

♡ art of steve and eddie ♡ pinboard // playlist ♡ buy me a coffee

#!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! #IT HAPPENED #<333333 #steddie #steddie fanfic #steve harrington #steve harrington fanfic #eddie munson #eddie munson fanfic #a mess of holy things

[pandemonium-kidz]

Alright so someone shared the leaks available, it was around 17mins long between the two first eps so I'll discuss what it was said below the cut.

Spoilers obviously.

Mind you the subtitles were Ai generated, while they seem to be mostly correct there might be mistranslations and botchered parts.

So first of all song intro is the same (sad) but the intro seems pretty good imo albeit a bit shorter from the one of the previous season.

Okay so so Euphrasia starts by visiting the Ninja that lead to a flashback of Ras and the team entering he cloud Kingdom in search of the archives so they can get info on the Forbidden five.

Euphrasia escapes, tries to fly all the way to the monastery, fails and she's brought to the Ninja by Percival.

We discover Ras is the one that cursed the worms so when certain info is searched for they will attack.

So yeah, Ninjas arrive, get absolutely wrecked by Ras and escape (and by absolute wrecked I mean it, they get beaten up badly by Cinder)

Confirmation that Cinder seems to be the new master of smoke btw. Kai mentions he has beaten him (as in the prev elemental of smoke) before.

They're also writing something when the Ninja arrive and Zane identifies the language as "something evil" and that he can't read it.

Ras says Shatterspin is a more advanced technique that has long been banned.

Kai: "Come on he can't stop us all", Cinder proceeds to clean the floor with them, not even kidding, Zane even starts glitching after one of those hits.

Anyways, it seems Cinder is capable of using Shatterspin everytime Ras hits the gong.

Well, they escape, otherwise they would be fucked, is not even funny how fast that went from a normal mission to being fucked up.

So Ras now has free access to the archives, Euphrasia stayed at the cloud kingdom btw.

Next Ep.

Nya searched through scrolls but can't find shit about Shatterspin, Kai is practicing with his mech so the sibs are talking.

Arin is in his shared room practicing, explaining is kinda the best he can do as everyone's mood is dampen, Sora is there well, inventing gadgets, she isn't happier about the lose either.

Arin explain Lloyd is in the courtyard meditating and such that's why Arin is practicing in his room.

Lloyd gets tired because it's been hours meditating and he can't just get any info so he calls to the source dragon and that's when he has the vision of all the source dragons talking to him.

The one that Loyd let free explains that Lloyd is descendant of one of the first conduits, he controls a very specific element and that he is no ordinary mortal, while the others don't seem to happy about it they in the end agree to help Lloyd (the vision clip u know)

Wyldfyre is having trouble sleeping (we can see she sleeps in the Dragons stable besides Heatwave)

Kai goes to see Wyfy (he wakes her up) and she is genuinely happy to see him, he explains she has to rest for her own good and she can't come with them and well, Wyfy isn't happy but agrees (reluctantly), she also says she hopes the mission is very changeling, out of spite ofc.

Anyways they are preparing for the trip, Zane is staying in case something happens, Frohicky too and Kai asks the frog to keep an eye on Wyldfyre.

We see Ras gang searching for info and Jordana comes up saying she has found the last components they needed, Ras is pleased and says she's mastering better and better and praises him, you can see Jordana and Cinder's bitchy rivalry.

Here actually is when we see them separating one piece of the cloud kingdom.

Back to the Ninjas we see Wyfy is discovered, Kai is not happy, well no one is but Kai specifically is not happy and scolds her.

They don't have time to take her back because they reach a mountain and get inside, Sora tells a story of her not wanting to do chores and making a robot that could make them for her, once her mother found out she got furious and Sora escaped to the.. sewers/tunnels? She explains she went so deep she got lost for two days, all that to explain that whoever they're searching for probably doesn't wanna be found out.

And that's where the vid footage ends. :3

Some other stuff mentioned (not in clips but from the leakers)

After vid ends they are attacked by tentacles, a creature that can give them illusions. We've:

Jay forgetting Nya

Loyd not living up to wu

Beatrix returning

Also apparently there's another Pixal mention.

#ninjago #ninjago spoilers #dragons rising spoilers #ninjago dragons ring #ninjago leaks #dragons rising leaks

[gold-rhine]

Inazuma Rewrite Act 3

Please start reading from part one before reading this. It will make no sense otherwise.

Act 3 pays off for Acts 1 and 2, and I made some major changes in them, such as change to reasons of vision hunt\Raiden motivations, Ayaka arc, entire resistance storyline, Transience setup, Yoimiya arc setup, so without reading them first, this part will not make sense.

In this installment:

Transcience pay off

Yoimiya arc

Kazuha conflict

Raiden confrontation

Kujou Sara arc

and more

All disclaimers from part one also apply, I’m not gonna copy paste them.

Yae Miko \ Raiden Preparation Training

ok, let’s start with the fact that current “raiden fight training” sucks. Like I get what they’re going for, and training episode idea is very anime, but like. Running in circles around a trashcan that hits you with boss moves is not fun. it is, in fact, super annoying. 

i want to keep the training angle, but make it more... spiritual. and thematic.

so, yae miko is like blah blah, you need to prepare to face Raiden, and I will train you, as the person who knows her the best.

Paimon is like wow, you’re gonna teach us to fight??

Yae Miko is like haha you’re so stupid, no, of course not. Your goal is to change raiden’s mind. For that, you need to know and understand her and where she’s coming from.

We will know you’re ready, when you can pass the Sacred Sakura trial

she leads traveler to the sacred sakura. there are like stone plates with symbols at the base, you know, the puzzle ones.

Yae goes like, do you know what Transience means? Transience is the dream of the nation of thunder. We find the greatest joys in mortal life in fleeting dreams, for is life itself not like the shadow of the thunder? Pursue your dreams into the clouds if you wish, and enjoy the unexpected silence of the dim lamp-lit nights.

traveler and paimon is like yeah wait, we saw smth like that in inazuma shrines and ruins

yae is like great, then show me the symbol of Transience. traveler looks at the puzzle stones, but there weren’t really anything like this in the prev locations which mentioned transience

player can fiddle with puzzle stones, but whatever combination they try, it doesn’t work

after a couple of tries, yae is like okay, it seems you still have much to learn! lets go, i’ll teach you

you go through the inazuma city with her, but seemingly only do bullshit. like, eating ramen, shopping, doing some light novels bs, and like traveler is paying for everything. not too long, like just few minutes, with a couple phrases per activity and fading to black, kinda montage of more and more exasperated and confused traveler and paimon until they’re like wait what the fuck is this. how is supposed to teach us anything??

yae does her signature bullshit smirks like hehe you’re too close-minded, you clearly haven’t understood ~Transience~, so buy me more stuff

paimon does her Angry Stomp, you know the one, like ugh! you’re just fucking with us to get us to pay for stuff, we’re done!

yae narrows her eyes menacingly with a smile like haha is this how u wanna talk to me you little flying shit, paimon hides behind traveler like oops sorry i didn’t say that, but then like, resistance messenger runs up to the traveler and traveler and paimon use this us an excuse to fuck off

Kazuha conflict\ Reveal of the true reasons for Raiden Gokaden fall

turns out messenger is from Kazuha. we meet up with him. he’s in the city despite being fugitive bc he’s heard some maniac is killing ppl, searching for the last scion of the Isshin school bloodline

listen, i love kazuha and i overall like his story quest, but it ends up being more character development for the cursed sword, not kazuha. and like i get it, it’s hard to write conflict for Kazuha bc he’s already escaped samsara, he’s the sole receiver of all therapy in genshin, he rolls 20 on every Wisdom roll, etc etc. 

but that doesn’t mean we can’t explore his character more in depth and give him a conflict, even if his beliefs do not change as the result, but just better articulated.

We’re keeping the quest mostly same, as I said, I like it fine, it’s still about kazuha going on a therapy tour with the cursed sword, but with like. actual stakes

because in canon, when the sword says like oh, together we will have power to defeat raiden, its obviously not really a temptation for kazuha. bc like. the war is already over! kazuha has already won! AND he personally blocked legendary ublockable move that his friend dreamed of doing. why would he go back and fight raiden again?? it makes no sense

so it ends up being just like. kazuha psychoanalyzing cursed sword the entire time. which cool and all, but i want to play quest about kazuha and not the sword??

but, if it happens DURING the war, it’s much more impactful. this is not just revenge, there are lives on the line and no way to fight raiden. so when the sword is like I will give you power to stand up to raiden, then its not only in memory of his friend, but to protect the resistance. It is now a believable choice that can give Kazuha a pause, because situation is dire and they need every advantage they can get

this is also to rhyme with the Delusions motif, the “my own strength is not enough, so I must turn to the corrupted source of power for which i know i will pay”

of course, in the end kazuha decides to not give in to the cursed sword, bc he sees through its facade that the sword is actually weakening and falling apart, but also because he is narrative foil to both scara (scara believes in doing anything to gain power to pursue his obsession, even at great pain to himself, this is why he’s tied with delusions, and then in sumeru quest gets into dotorre’s torture mecha) AND raiden, which i think fandom largely misses. 

both Kazuha and Ei had friends and loving, supporting family, but were kinda sheltered and isolated from people. Ei because she was Makoto’s shadow and didn’t really interact with public, and Kazuha because he was an heir of a falling noble house and he was feeling trapped and focused on trying to live up to his own expectations and anxieties (this btw was beautifully dramatized in his domain in prev summer’s golden archipelago) 

both of them were quiet and kinda introverted, Ei allowing her sister take a central stage and Kazuha admitting that ppl with grand aspirations always captivated him, which obv references his friend. then, they lost everything in one fell swoop. 

Ei lost her friends in the cataclysm and then, her sister. Kazuha’s family died, and later he had to flee his estate, becoming fugitive and then his friend was killed in a duel with Raiden. they both had their small-ish isolated worlds and lost them violently 

and Raiden tried to catch the shards of her falling world and keep them in place, cover them in stasis, as if it could restore what was broken. She saw eternity as the lack of change and decided to never change herself. She closed off from the world, literally destroyed her physical body and isolated her mind in a little locked world, focused solely on “preserving” herself.

in contrast, Kazuha opened up to the world. He didn’t try to stop the winds of change, he followed them. One of this themes is being a part of the world, “One with wind and clouds”, “One with the nature”, “Life has just begun and maybe, the whole world can be my home,” this is why his kit heavily features element absorption and his character stories emphasize how he’s sharp, notices little details in surroundings, even has sharp sense of smell. 

He reached out to people instead of isolating himself, and so he found new friends, he saw the endless beauty in the bigger world even after his own cozy snowglobe was shattered. 

His theme is not only about being open to the world, but also bringing different elements together, and he’s the one who brings people in inazuma arc together. He brings traveler to Thoma, then through him Gorou reaches Beidou and the mercs, etc. this is why he is the one who blocks raiden. 

he is her foil precisely because he can let go and doesn’t let his grief blind him, he will fight her because she needs to be stopped, but not because he wants to take revenge or fore her to suffer. He is the breaker of cycles of pain, not perpetuator

so kazuha refuses, like in original, sword deteriorates more and more, and in the end, becomes weak, but regains memories about his creator in exile in snezhnaya. 

but, with the added twist to the scene where kazuha sees memories of the sword. In our version, Shogun instituted vision hunt decree because vision holding blade smith collaborated with fatui and led to the fall of Raiden Gokaden, 5 sword art schools. 

But now we learn that Kazuha’s ancestor who made this cursed sword, was this very vision-holding blade smith, and he never betrayed Inazuma, instead, he was slandered by Fatui and it was all Scara’s plan on his misguided revenge against Raiden Gokaden.

as in canon, Kazuha reforges the sword with the last shreds of its power. It does not hold its previous cursed strength anymore, but it is a last sword made in lost technique of Kazuha’s family tradition and he swears to restore it, just as he does in canon

Vision Loss exploration\ Yoimiya was always relevant

after this, paimon and traveler are like ugh, we don’t want to go back to yae, we don’t know the answer to symbol of transience puzzle and she will just mock us more. Lets go see how Yoimiya is doing instead!

ok so, I want to address what I see as a problem in how genshin handled vision loss. like obviously, vision loss stands for trauma. and “wow after their vision was taken, they turned into a completely different person” works as initial impression, bc often when someone you know changes drastically, it can feel this way

where this narrative fails is that it never explores further, bc all characters we meet with vision loss are random NPCs we see for 15 minutes, so it ends up being shallow “this guy was very kind and selfless before, but after losing vision he completely ignores ppl he helped with “new number who dis” response”, which like???

framing ppl who are already going through inner turmoil and struggle as like, complete strangers who are not themselves anymore and also completely lose positive qualities tied to their visions, is so tactless and wrong. It’s still the same person, no matter how drastically changed, and they need support, not demonization like “inherently incapable of caring about people after losing vision”.

this is why i think its better to focus on one character players know and care about instead of several NPCs no one gives a fuck about

so we go visit Yoi and meet her with her dad during discussion. it’s festival time and their family always made fireworks for it, they have several orders now too. But, due to Yoi being caught as part of resistance, her family was blacklisted and they can’t get necessary supplies to create fireworks, specifically like special chemical powder. 

so now, Yoi needs to go to all the clients and tell them there will be no fireworks for them for this festival.

Yoi’s dad is very supportive and doesn’t blame Yoi, but she still feels its her fault. She’s not a firecracker she was before, now quieter and harsher, and it does feel like she’s someone new, who traveler and paimon do not know.

we go to the clients to inform them with Yoi, and while doing so learn what fireworks meant for each of them. for some, it was friendship, how now matter how different their lives were, they would get together and celebrate with fireworks. for old couple, its ritual to celebrate their marriage and so on.

they are all sad, but understanding, and supportive and concerned about Yoi. she puts on brave face, but its obvious for the traveler that its hard for her to pretend to be fine.

on the way back, they have a convo about how its tacking a toll on Yoi, and how she feels bad, but also hopeless, and it also feels like something as joyous and frivolous as fireworks is meaningless in the middle of the war and vision hunt

we get back and find Yoi’s dad talking to customers. Its a refugee family, they explain that they live on another island, but once in a few years would visit Narukami for the festival and buy fireworks. They were forced to go to Narukami right now bc of the war, but since they are here already, they want at least something good to come out of it. And they have a cute little girl who is too young and never before saw fireworks and she’s sooooo excited, and the whole time they were running from their home they were consoling her by saying they go to Narukami to see the festival and the fireworks 

Yoi’s dad starts defeatedly explaining that unfortunately they cannot make fireworks right now, but Yoi interrupts him, and for a moment she’s her old self, bright and joyful, she reassures the little girl that its okay, they will have fireworks for sure, and these will be the prettiest fireworks ever!

family leaves, excited, and Yoi drops the facade. she wasn’t “cured” in a moment, but she is determined 

traveler and paimon are like - oh but how will we get fireworks??

Yoi is like “tenryo commission has this confiscated powder in their warehouse and we are raiding it, bc this little girl is getting her family fireworks if its the last fucking thing i do”

bc she realized, viscerally, that actually, fireworks will be more meaningful now BECAUSE of the dark and uncertain times, not despite of them, and whether its someone childhood OR last years of life, time is fleeting and impossible to get back, so giving people joy and hope is more important than ever

she’s not “healed”, she’s not back to her old self yet, but we see that there’s still spark in her and hope for recovery, even if she struggles, and deep down she is still same kind and caring Yoi we’ve met at the start

we do the warehouse domain, fight, do puzzles, get powder, Yoi and her dad make fireworks, we watch basically same cutscene as of the end of Yoi’s first quest now, with ppl looking up at the sky and seeing fireworks and Yoi and traveler watching from the hill.

at which point i want to mention that like, despite some part of fandom calling canon Yoi irrelevant, she always supported inazuma themes, which i will illustrate by using the dialogue from the quest verbatim and showing how i don’t even need to rewrite it to make it fit

Yoimiya: It was by chance that I happened to be born into the Naganohara family, so it was by chance that I ended up learning this craft from my pops.

Yoimiya: It's also by chance that I've met so many people, learned so many things, and discovered that people associate watching fireworks with the things that are most precious to them. 

Yoimiya: Fireworks that disappear in a flash of light are probably the furthest thing away from the eternity that our Shogun desires. 

Yoimiya: But people's feelings don't just disappear, and it's those feelings that give fireworks their purpose. If nobody wanted to watch fireworks, then they wouldn't exist.

Traveler: That's another kind of eternity.

boom! Yoimiya was always a representation of transience philosophy, hoyo just didn’t dramatize it properly and without transience explored during main quest, she felt like she doesn’t belong, while she was an actual Inazuma spiritual end game goal all along.

Makoto Reveal

anyway. traveler, pauses, repeats themselves. “Another kind of eternity... Eternity in fleeting things, because people’s dreams give them meaning...”

they get up and run to yae, looking determined, confused paimon following behind

“i know the answer,“ traveler tells to yae and she smirks, leads them to the puzzle stones near Sakura

“So, show me the symbol of transience“

but instead of fiddling with the stones, traveler gestures at the sakura petals, gliding on the wind and people watching theim

“This is the eternity in transience“

yae chuckles in delight “oh, finally, i thought you’ll never get it. How could be fleeting dreams be captured in stone puzzles?”

paimon is like ooooh is this why you led us around eating ramen and shopping? you were not just fucking around on our money, you wanted to make us think about enjoying momentary fleeting things?

yae gives her signature facetious response like oh of course how could you think i was scamming, how ungrateful of you etc etc, but its clear that she both actually was trying to give a hint AND enjoyed scamming them for free stuff

then she gets quieter, says pensively “but it seems the company of your friends was better help with figuring it out... She always did say that we immortals cannot understand beauty of transience the way humans do...”

paimon and traveler are like “She???”

thats when the cutscene revealing that there were two shoguns and that raiden’s sister died at the cataclysm plays. nothing much to add here, i think the existing cutscene works well, but because in canon it’s played AFTER raiden’s defeated, it feels a bit weird, like post-factum excuse.

like raiden goes oh well ok, i’ll get rid of vision hunt decree, by the way i had a twin sister who died, like?? i think pacing-wise its better to learn why raiden is Like That before “punch her until she changes her mind” fight than after she had already changed her mind

so, paimon is like ooooh, so this is why it seemed that raiden changed so much! she didn’t change, we just saw the ideas of the first shogun

yae is like yes, ei’s grief for her sister and differences in their views is important for you to understand for when you will try to change her mind in her hikikomori mind palace

Storming the palace\ Signora interlude

then yae does the ok lets get Kojou Sara quests, which I don’t really feel like changing, bc like. it does its job fine enough. we need to establish that tenryou commission was corrupted and working with fatui AND that kujou sara will go against her only family for justice

the ayato infiltrating like 5 rebellion guys with gorou and kazuha to take the palace is kinda dumb logistically, but tbh this is not game of thrones. genshin works mostly on anime logic where things happen bc its cool and fitting for the character\narrative beats. making actually realistic attack plan i feel like would be too long, complex and derail from the storyline, so i’d say lets keep it roughly same

What I’m gonna change is Signora cameo. And by change I mean remove it completely. I spent a lot of time trying to make her death work, but it just doesn’t. She has nothing to do with Inazuma story or themes, shows up for 2 seconds and dies immediately. This is a shitshow, like, we’d need to derail whole archon quest to insert her and it still wouldn’t be good. 

if Signora has to be dead for like, the strategic plot reasons, here is my version of how it should go down

ok but we need an opportunity for raiden to do her one hit boob kill move, and how are we gonna do this if we remove Signora?

easy, sara confronts her tenryuo adoptive dad in front of raiden. like, rn she runs to him, he has a speech about how he basically doesn’t care about raiden herself, but really only worships the Boob Nuke. he gets defeated and then sara runs off to raiden and gets knocked out off-screen, like??? this is so awkward. what the fuck is the point

instead, sara is like right now is the time when Tenryuo chief is reporting to raiden, we need to tell her he’s lying to her!

we follow sara to the palace and confront tenryuo dude in front of raiden. he’s like you have no proof u insolent girl and this is after everything i’ve done for u! 

sara challenges him to a duel before the throne and raiden agrees. 

we fight the dude and defeat him. he launches into basically same unhinged speech, but now raiden is here to hear it. 

She realizes that even those who she considered the most loyal of her servants worship not her, but her power, because she removed herself from inazuma and all people know of her is to fear the Boob Nuke. this is a important step in her development that we will explore a bit later

then she annihilates him which i think is much more thematically relevant bc he died from the same blade he worshipped

then, raiden is like well, i’ve dealt with a traitor, but don’t think that it gets YOU off the hook, a criminal is a criminal and I’ll destroy you

then we duel, bc like. her using boob sword at the start of battle is thematically wrong. its a finisher, a kill move. in the first duel she used it at the end. she needs to charge her burst first, you know

so, we go to the plane of euthemiya and fight. it basically goes the same, first traveler has elements disabled, then wishes of inazuma people awaken and empower them.

raiden is shaken, but not convinced. bc this is the Gives a Fuck raiden, it’s not that she didn’t know her people had ambitions, tho she could underestimate them, its that she thought these ambitions can only lead them to ruin and she, as an arbiter of eternity who sacrificed her body to lock her mind in a sword and evade “corruption“, is the one who knows best.

she rallies up and counter-attacks. similar scene as in the first duel happens, she throws traveler to the real world and follows, readying the kill move

and thats when kazuha blocks her 

i think in canon this isn’t given appropriate weight for raiden. bc like. that was her legendary UNBLOCKABLE strike. she one-shot gods and monsters with it. this was her personal proof of perfection, she knows she might not be a philosopher and leader like her sister, but she is The best warrior. like if you want to change her mind, you have to fight her in a duel, her mastery of sword is how she justifies that she’s right to herself

and now a mortal blocked her most perfect move

and not just any mortal! She recognizes the style of the blade he wields. Isshin blade, even though Isshin art died as Raiden Gokaden schools fell

she asks him how did he get this blade and he tells her the truth he learned from the cursed sword

her people never betrayed her. instead, she was mislead by the fatui and pushed her own subjects into running away to the enemies because they didn’t believe she would listen and be merciful to them

the worst thing is that she knows they were right. she would not have been merciful.

and now she watches the bitter irony of how her eternity crumbles.

tenryuo commission, who she thought of her most loyal and closest servants, upholding laws and traditions, in truth were corrupted from the inside, tradition nothing but a hollow form, a fake shape kept just to appease her, with no true soul or meaning, lusting only after power

but the last scion of the clan she though betrayed her, an exile and criminal, a vagabond and pirate, is the one who embodied isshin art she thought lost wholeheartedly, the one who preserved the last true blade of his school. the one who blocked her strike that she thought of as the truest.

and with the vision of a man she had once already defeated in a duel

with all of that, with countless visions rallying up to support an outlander against their own god, with the proof that even killing rebels would be useless because ambitions of the dead will be picked up and reignited again by the living, with proof of the corruption rotting in her government, she cannot see herself in the right anymore

this is why she lifts the vision hunt decree

Raiden’s First Story Quest 

I think there’s general agreement in fandom, even among raiden fans, that her first story quest is one of the worst in game. its so boring and pointless. you go on a date with raiden and then she fights some nerd in a duel. who gives a fuck.

it also takes for granted that all players even WANT to hang out with raiden, which like, at this point she was only a giant dick to everyone around and not everyone is a boob worshipper. for people who already disliked her, being forced to babysit her around and take her photos only feels more annoying and antagonizing

Again, our main change in characterization for raiden is that she actually gives a fuck. like, in canon her country is on the brink of complete collapse after civil war and fatui schemes, 2 out of 3 commissions are barely functional, her robot-sona is malfunctioning the storm, and she not only does not give a fuck, but traveler has to jump through hoops to get to her. and she just goes on a date, trying sweets and light novels. like. guuuuurl. come on, get a grip for 5 fucking minutes and do your damn job. we had to randomly stumble into tenryuo nerd being bullied for her to take ANY part in inazuma’s politics

so, logical thing to do for Raiden Who Gives a Fuck is to go out and try to sort out mess she’s now learnt her country was turned into. 

like, she summons traveler and goes hey, i know we’re not exactly on bestest terms, but I need to root out corruption and fatui’s shit specifically, and i don’t trust my government officials right now, so i need your help in being a guide bc i haven’t left the room in 500 years. 

kujou sara is also there since raiden deemed her trustworthy bc sara was the one who exposed tenryuo corruption to her

i got an ask about how canonically Kanjou commission was in a vulnerable state due to commerce falling with sakoku decree,  and so they could be an easy first foothold for fatui to get themselves into the country, and i think raiden quest would be a good place to explore it, while she’s investigation corruption.

i’m not gonna write the whole plot, it doesn’t really matter, the main points is that raiden sees isolation actually doesn’t protect her ppl, but harms them, that when ppl are not allowed to do smth that they want, they will turn to illegal and much more harmful ways instead, for which delusions are an allegory.

raiden can still do fluffy stuff like trying mango milkshakes or whatever, but while going from one commission to another instead of just wandering around on a date

tenruyo nerd can also be there if hoyo wants to include him for some reason. they can even have same useless duel with raiden at the end that makes her appoint him head of commission

Kujou Sara

as I said, Sara is also there, going with raiden on investigation, showing her competence, until its clear that she’s the sole hinge on which entire tenryuo commission depends.

raiden praises her for her loyalty, and Sara, incredibly earnest and grateful, explains her backstory, how she was a kid falling to her death from a mountain while enemies were storming it, and how she received vision during the fall and thus survived, so she now not only owes her life to raiden, but can’t imagine better cause to serve, as clearly, raiden is omnipotent and all knowing and caring enough to save an insignificant tengu child like her

raiden frowns. she does not grant visions herself, in fact, she is not even aware when electro visions are granted - this is canon btw, it’s from raiden’s own voicelines.

tenryuo nerd sees that raiden is about to speak up, and even though he obv doesn’t know vision secrets, he realizes from her expression alone that she’s about to contradict sara’s story

he interrupts her, apologizes profusely, but takes her aside and begs her to not say to sara anything that can shake her loyalty, because again, this commission is going to crumble without her. These are temoulteous times and they need sara the most, raiden can tell her whatever she wants after inazuma is stabilized

but the thing is that being truly honorable is supposed to be raiden’s redeeming grace. she might be stubborn and inflexible, ruthless and inept, but she is straightforward and honorable, she cannot accept loyalty given on false premises, and we need to show that in action

raiden tells sara bluntly that she did not give her a vision, that she was not aware that sara was in risk of death at all

sara is shaken. her world crumbles before her. this is not just bc of her own vision and life that she thought she owed, but in fact, did not. no, much more it’s about vision hunt decree. its about all the people she was sent after, talked to them and their crying families for hours, telling them that this is for their own good, that shogun knows better, sara herself is an example, is a proof. it’s about all the people she didn’t convince and had to take their visions by force, comforting herself in the knowledge that she personally might not understand shogun’s plan, but what she knows is that is infallible.

and now it turns out it’s not true at all.

this, she cannot take. she asks raiden to free her from service. and bc again, raiden is honorable, even knowing the damage it will do, she lets sara go.

after that, she shows up in events and side quests, showing her on a journey to find herself.

we see her in yae miko’s story quest, protecting ppl from the guy who was possessed by the oni spirit, and later, watching yokai spirits dance in the skies and yearning

we see her in an event with a ghost umbrella, being strict and cross with yokai kids for causing so much ruckus, but secretly fond and protective of them, and playing off her funny rivalry with itto

we see her in itto’s quest, in a part where traveler asks ppl about itto’s character, and she’s being fair, says that he might be an idiot and hooligan, but he would never harm or kidnap innocent ppl

we see her in irodori festival, organizing the community, bc she knows how to do it and she’s good at it and *someone* has to (and bc she cares about ppl without any order telling her to)

then, she’s in kokomi quest, bc kokomi asks her to be present at negotiations, bc she’s the only one from tenryuo in whose honor kokomi can really trust. sara tells her that she has no official standing anymore, but kokomi asks her to be there anyway. later, when dishonesty from tenryuo side is revealed and sara helps to stop the ppl who are trying to sabotage negotiations, kokomi asks sara to vouch for what happened in report to raiden, so that this is not blamed on watatsumi and fair deal can be cut

sara says again that raiden has no reason to listen to her and take the worse deal just on her word. and yet, after a couple of days, report comes back. raiden listens to sara’s word and does not force watatsumi to accept the bad conditions. we can see this affecting sara, her being conflicted

sara\kokomi shippers, ur welcome btw

then, raiden’s second story quest. it starts as of now. we accept commission to deal with abyss wolves spawning, go to the mountain of sacred sakura. but instead of just meeting raiden, we first see kujou sara.

she’s there to protect people because this is who she is, this is the ambition that summoned her vision to begin with, and no lies and manipulations can change that.

like at the beginning of her story, she’s on the mountain, protecting her home from the enemies

like at the beginning, she falls and survives the fall, but she’s too injured and about to be killed by the wolves

but this time, inazuma’s archon has not locked herself in a room.

raiden appears, destroying the wolves and saving sara. this time, she is not just an idea based on false belief of a child. she is there in flesh to finally take action that sara believed she was doing so many years ago.

as in canon, raiden says that she will fight the monsters alone, bc its her duty to protect inazuma.

and this is when sara pledges her allegiance to raiden again.

raiden tells her that her saving sara’s life does not mean that sara now owes that life to her, as raiden’s duty is to protect all of her people

but this is not why sara wants to follow her now. finally, she sees real raiden and not childish illusion of an omnipotent goddess who always knows better. but real raiden is honest, honorable, and despite being strongheaded and often misguided, someone who cares deeply for her ppl and is driven by the same goal to protect as sara

sara tells this to her, asserting that she will not serve her out of obligation or with blind loyalty like before, that she will now think critically and question and tell raiden if she believes she;s wrong, but she will believe in her nonetheless as long as raiden cares about inazuma over herself

raiden says that then they will share an eternity in service of inazuma people, as they should

as sara is injured, raiden sends her to organize evacuation instead of fighting, and quest goes on as in canon

sara\raiden shippers, ur welcome btw

Ancient Sakura Blooms Again

I don’t want to change much else about raiden’s second quest, bc its already pretty fucking good and manages to speedrun raiden’s character development in 45 minutes.

instead, all of my rewrite is meant to be a setup to establish both raiden’s conflict and makoto’s personality and philosophy beforehand, instead of getting infodump from old man ghost in 1.5 scenes

this way, raiden coming to accept the eternity as transience is natural progression instead of speedrun and makoto’s appearance has bigger impact, since she was haunting the narrative from the start and we came to know about her gradually

also, irodori festival can go pretty much the same. scara being behind raiden gokaden fall is now more significant, bc for our version it was inazuma’s inciting incident, and now just like. random lore bit.

also, both raiden and yae miko show up in comedic cameos during festival, but after they learn it was scara, there is a brief serious scene as raiden realizes that while she was blaming fatui for corrupting inazuma, it was only possible bc she neglected her own creation, which is a metaphor for inazuma’s isolation as a whole. she doesn’t explain that ofc, just looks striken

“i thought i’m giving him peace...“

“i’ve told you we should’ve destroyed that puppet“, yae miko spits out (she did canonically wanted to off scara after raiden decided he’s not fit for gnosis bc he cried)

ofc, we won’t give proper backstory before sumeru, but it would be a nice tease that will get deeper meaning once we do know, and also illustrate that both raiden’s solipsistic abandonment and yae miko burning bridges instead of dealing with ppl is not great governing strategies

also, irodori has additional ayaka storyline about how she got involved in all this investigation stuff as a distraction to get away from the house bc ayato asked her to wear family jewels for the festival finale and she sold them in act 2, but she’s too afraid to tell it to ayato

finally, after learning of kazuha’s family keeping secrets from each other that hurt them in the long run, she finally gets brave enough to tell ayato what she did

he stops her mid-sentence and tells her to go check the chests

she’s confused, but obeys. she runs back holding the jewelry, being like oh my god what?? how is that back?? did u buy it back??? did u know the entire time???

of course he knew the entire time. he’s proud of her. he only wished she trusted him enough to ask for his help directly.

you didn’t use the commission funds for this, right? ayaka hesitates for a second and ayato laugh.

of course not. why would he need to steal from commission when there are so many fatui assassins to loot

oh, i always knew you wouldn’t. wait what....

ayato’s quest i’d rewrite completely. he’s still manipulate mansplain manslut, but in better political machinations then sabotaging a wedding of npcs and giving hannibal lector speeches to random goons

we’ve scorched out inazuma’s corruption in raiden first quest, now is the time to restructure and modernize commissions which were gutted by said corruption, for which raiden assembles yae, sara, traveler and ayato, who is the head of only commission that did not sell out to fatui

ayato and yae miko are incredibly petty cunts to each other in a very smiley passive aggressive manner, but they team up to come up with devious machinations for the greater good

sara is there not only for military expert role, but also to speak up for the common ppl which she is finally closer to, and to ground the schemers

raiden sometimes thoughtfully says “why don’t we duel them to death?“ as solution to many problems, and when everyone yells no, shrugs

overall, its kinda rough going and obvious that there are a lot of problems ahead, but also clear that inazuma did change and grew, raiden is no longer a solipsistic tyrant and she has a diverse council she listens to and actively engages with her country’s problems

btw, in ayato vs yae miko schemes off he gets to win and be smug bc its his birthday story quest

Yoimiya’s second story quest

Yoi’s second quest is already v good and obv has a lot of soul in it, i wouldn’t change too much, except for the premise

bc this quest is the reason i decided to make vision loss plotline at all. bc this quest is already perfectly written to be culmination of that plot line, and frankly, gets a lot of ??? without it

like, it starts bc yoi just randomly decides to go on vacation to wish on falling stars. like ok i guess. and she’s like i didnt really care but the whole village really got into it and want me to see it, so i’m doing it for them. like?? why would they be invested in random vacation like that?? mb ok they just love yoi

but then traveler goes to nahida and she’s like sorry, meteor showers happen like once in 200 years. but traveler and paimon are very insistent that they have have to do it for you, they can’t disappoint her. when like. its a random vacation! and yoi is not a type of person to be like ugh i didn’t get to see falling stars, my trip is RUINED

but no, they beg nahida to help like its big deal, and nahida agrees to involve aranara, despite no adult being able to see aranara is a big deal in lore. and then they have a whole conversation about is it ethical to trick yoi into believing this meteor shower is real if it’s just a dream, even if she’ll learn truth later, when like.... it’s a vacation????? she’s just there to have fun???? why are you all so serious

basically, beginning of this quest makes little sense, bc it has no actual stakes until girl in a wheelchair shows up, but narrative treats it very seriously when like “yoi has fun on vacation“ is the only stated goal for the start

BUT, if taken as part of vision loss story, everything snaps into place.

after vision hunt ended, visions were returned to their owners. but not all of them reignited on the spot, and Yoimiya is one of the people whose vision did not activate

and is it any surprise? after all she’s seen in a war, all she’s been through, how could she go back to believing that the world is a good and happy place, in the inherent wonder and joy of it?

her vision stayed grey and silent in her hands. she feels bad and guilty that she can’t be happy go lucky as before, when her father and all of the villagers care so much about her

they nudge her to go on a trip to see the falling stars, inspiration for fireworks, in hopes it will remind her of why she loved them so much before

this is the stakes, this is why inazuma ppl care, why traveler cares enough to ask nahida and why nahida would be moved to break tradition and let yoi interact with aranara, why they have this long convo about if it’s right to trick yoi. bc f it’s about reigniting her belief in world’s miracles, then yeah, it makes a lot more sense to worry about truth of it

not only this, but the disabled girl turns from just random npc to a mirror parallel to yoi. both of them were harshly and suddenly hurt by the world, both lost will to live. and the kicker is that yoi is going along bc she feels bad and bc her family and friends are worrying about her, but she only *really* get into this when she meets this girl

because this is what she was always about, not just happy go lucky girl, but a gold koi, a light of happiness and luck talisman for other people, especially for kids. for this girl, she will believe is the wishing stars

of course, her vision reignites when in aranara dreamland she takes girl’s hand and jumps onto the falling stars to fly across the sky. because it’s not about how the world is cruel. its about how good we can be to each other. what if it’s just a shared dream? We find the greatest joys in mortal life in fleeting dreams, for is life itself not like the shadow of the thunder? Pursue your dreams into the clouds if you wish

#genshin impact #genshin #rhine talks #kujou sara #raiden shogun #inazuma #inazuma rants

[skiyoosmi]

if fate permits

⤷  chapter thirty three: the beginning of the end, ii.

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marga's notes. hehe (: 

The snow has begun to descend all over Japan and almost all the things your eyes stop on are colored in white, from the roads, the barks of the trees, to the roofs of your homes. The view was accompanied by the feeling of coldness that hugs you every time you leave the comforts of your warm house and step out of the door. It was pleasant, regardless of the sore joints you get every winter. The sound of snow crunching for every footstep makes up for it, which you enjoy even better when your companion joins you in trying to skip over the uneven ground.

“Come on, Hajime, you slowpoke! We’re going to be late,” you giggle as you pick up a bit of snow and chuck it towards his direction. The past week hasn't been that eventful for the two of you, but there was still progress anyway. You two went out and traveled to various areas in hopes of obtaining more inspiration for your writing, which almost felt like a couple’s date, at least that’s what it was for him. The blurry images and incomplete voices are etched in your mind though and you find yourself lost in your train of thoughts from time to time, at least until Iwaizumi snaps you out of it and brings you back to the present.

“If you trip, I swear I’ll only laugh at you,” he jokingly warns, laughing handsomely when you stick your tongue out to him as a response.When you arrive in the middle of the campus field, you slow down and stop, catching the attention of the boy with you.

“You okay?” 

You hum and take in the view as much as your vision lets you. Your eyes twinkle with childlike wonder and you exhale, releasing a fog-like breath which makes you giggle once more, “I like winter.”

“Yeah?” 

You nod and feel your heart beat with excitement, “yeah, it’s really fun. I hope it’s always like this.”

He grabs your glove-covered hand with his and smile, “me too. I hope so too.”

Contrary to your words, an oddly familiar warmth that nestles its way to your heart when your eyes settle on a familiar figure idly standing from afar and you start to think that maybe… just maybe, you might actually like the warm summer better than a cold winter. As if there’s a force pulling you, your feet start to walk towards their direction, the previous stable beating of your heart becomes erratic the more you come near.

“Hey, the party’s in that direction, where are we–” Hajime starts to ask, before he stops when he feels your hand letting go of him and sees who you’re approaching. His heart drops because there goes his peace once again, replaced by the agonizing torture of watching you naturally gravitate towards your fated one. He doesn’t think you realize this and somehow, that knowledge makes it more excruciating. 

He stays behind you when you stand giddily in front of the blonde boy who has not yet took notice of your presence, too busy enjoying how he was playing and kicking the snow with his feet, eyes also filled with childlike wonder. And Hajime wants to lurch because Atsumu’s scarily just like you. You two were just made for each other and it gases up Hajime’s insides with bitterness. 

Because, why do I have to go against the universe for this, he asks no one in particular.

He watches when Atsumu mindlessly kicks and the snow hits your direction, making you squeal-giggle due to the cold sensation. Hajime thinks your happiness was mostly due to the delight of seeing the blonde. And he wants to just disappear because, how can Atsumu make you laugh like that without even trying? And fate was just so, so cruel and unfair he can barely be graced with your smile. 

As you stand in front of him, it dawns upon you that looking at him magnifies the warmth you feel amidst the coldness of your surroundings. You watch the surprise that forms on Atsumu’s face when he realizes it was you who he kicked the snow to before he dumbfoundedly asks, “YN, y-you’re here?”

You gently nod and make up the excuse that you got a bit lost on your way to the direction of the café where the christmas party was supposed to be. Perhaps, for now, you’d keep to yourself the fact that you went over to him on your own accord. It would be a bit difficult (and weird) to tell him that your feet just pulled you to him, after all. 

“We’re not close enough for me to say this but I think you’re too stressed to not even see me in front of you, Atsumu-san. Are you okay?” You ask with genuine concern as you take in what seems like fatigue and melancholy plastered all over his face. 

“Oh… not close, huh? Well.. yeah, training for the V-League has just been hard,” he meekly replies while rubbing his nape sheepishly, “I thought ya wouldn’t be able to come, so I’m honestly surprised right now. Ya said you were going to prepare stuff for the launching of your book, right?”

As you open your mouth to respond, you hear Iwaizumi call your name. You swiftly look back and smile before returning your gaze on Atsumu, “Well, I was planning to go back to Cali for a bit but figured I wanted to launch it here, in my hometown. Besides, this boy right here was persistent on convincing his…” you halt, feeling nauseous as you pick your words.Oddly enough, you think you want to puke out the brunch you had with Iwaizumi a while ago. Traitor, traitor! The voice at the back of your mind screams at you but you try to ignore it and force a smile as you gestured to the boy beside you, “soulmate to stay home.”

The black haired lad’s arm wraps itself around your waist and nods at the blonde in greeting, “it’s nice to see you again, Atsumu-san.”

Atsumu forces a tight-lipped smile and replies with a heavy accent (and a heavy heart), “nice to see ya too, Iwaizumi-kun.”

There’s an aggressive tension between them that you try not to acknowledge, but it fills the air among you three with awkwardness. You feel a sense of tightness within you the longer Iwaizumi holds you so you step out of his hold, not noticing the hurt that passes so quickly in his eyes before he looks at the blonde whose eyes were already on him. 

You think you’re threading into something that may blow out to become an ugly fight, so you fake out a cough, “ehem, so I assume we’re all heading towards the same place? So let’s all go together?”

Atsumu nods and joins you as you walk towards the campus, steps becoming more light and alive as compared to how he was walking a while ago. Hajime closely follows behind you, slowly drowning in the bitterness.

The sourness of it all engulfs him whole but as you continue to talk with Atsumu while walking, he sees that your smile was too beautiful to ruin the moment. So he only gulps it all up and walks near the two of you as you converse with each other. He ignores the pricks and needles of anguish, praying it doesn’t eat his soul, doesn’t consume his heart. Your smile was too beautiful, happiness looks good on you and he’d be damned if he’s the cause of its downfall.

You relish in the familiar faces that fill in your vision as the Christmas party and mini-reunion goes on. They talk about how they can recall the incidents that happened before and during the Cinderella play you did, how magnificent you and your co-stars were, and so many more. You try to go along the flow of conversations, but there’s an itchy and uncomfortable thought that tickles your mind as you try to recall the play. Who was your partner in the play again? 

Unfortunately, whenever you try to ask, they only laugh and think you were joking. Only statements of ‘Silly YN, that’s a nice joke!’ but no names are dropped. Somehow, it feels like your heart is screaming that it was the blonde standing just on the other side of the room, laughing and interacting with the other partygoers as well. His eyes travel around the room before they meet yours and light up, he waves while you blush like a high schooler. You bashfully wave back before you drop your arms when he approaches. 

“Told you it would be fun,” Atsumu exclaims as he leans near your ear for you to hear over the loud music playing all over the gymnasium. 

You laugh and nod, “Fine, you win! Can’t imagine if I didn’t come and stay bored at home.”

“You’d probably be missing me,” he jokes, but the way he looks at you makes you think it’s far from being a joke. 

Your heart skips and you gulp, “Probably.”

He blushes and smiles widely at your reply before he lightly takes your hand and pulls you near the center of the gym, “let’s dance!”

You shake your head ‘no’ rapidly and stop him, “Nope, not a chance. I’d rather die, Tsum!”

Despite your attempts at rejections, he succeeds as you two stand facing each other. You hear awws from your acquaintances when the music suddenly changes from a lively song to a slow romantic one. He bows like a prince before offering you his hand, “may I have this dance?”

You stare at him and he stares back as he awaits your response.

Miya Atsumu was a wonder to your eyes, enchanting you with magic you would’ve never imagined you’d feel as he holds his gaze on you, as if to say: “I’m casting a spell on you. You won’t be able to get rid of me now.” And suddenly, he’s holding your heart in his palms, taking it, keeping it. And you’re letting him. Because if he cherishes it, you’d be thanking the heavens above. And if he breaks it–

“It would be my pleasure,” you tell him as you put your hand in his. And then, your heart warms, dances with him in this beautiful, cold night. It goes on for what feels like eternity before the song finally comes to an end. You two stay still in the middle of the floor, almost as if no one was there with you. He opens his mouth and closes it, no words coming out despite the abundance of it within him. You encourage him silently, smiling fondly as if you were saying “I’m waiting, just take your time.” And he feels so bad, to have always been the one to make you wait so he speaks.

His voice, full of emotion, wavers and cracks when he speaks, “I’m sorry… for everything.”

Your face morphs into one of confusion, not knowing why was suddenly apologizing, “why are you apologizing? You didn’t do anything, Tsum.”

“You’d hate me if you knew,” he whispers and then, you hear the lively music come back as the crowd returns to the dance floor. He releases you from his hold and sadly smiles at you, “and I’d rather die than see you hate me, YN.”

And as he disappears into the crowd, he takes your heart with this and leaves you in a void.

“That was a heartwarming dance,” a girl’s voice from behind you comments. You turn to look back and see a very familiar face.

“Yui!” you exclaim while she raises an eyebrow at your enthusiasm .

“That’s a rather happy way of greeting me. Aren’t you supposed to hate me?” She furrows her brows this time when she sees confusion on your face, “huh, that’s interesting. I guess you don’t know anything yet?” 

She looks around and back at you, rolling her eyes at your very much lost self, before pulling you towards the girls’ bathroom, “wipe that dumb look on your pretty face and come with me.”

Feeling overwhelmed by the suddenness of Atsumu’s emotions and Yui’s confusing words, you follow her like a lost child. She lets the bathroom door close automatically and you two stand by the sink. She places her bag on the dry part of it and brings out her make-up purse, handing a pressed powder to you before turning to the mirror and taking out her gloss to retouch her lips.

“Freshen up yourself, Cinderella Number 2,” she says oh-so-casually. You snap out of your confusing thoughts and look at her through the mirror.

“What do you mean by that… why am I supposed to hate you?” you ask her as you try to open the container of the pressed powder.

“Because… I ruined everything for you,” she sighs and helps you open it before going back to doing her thing.

“Huh?” she rolls her eyes at your response.

“You’re not stupid, YN… you know he isn’t your soulmate, right?” she tells you, looking directly into your eyes through the mirror, “you know Hajime isn’t your soulmate.”

She stops for a while as she observes how you’re taking in the information she’s saying before continuing, “it’s anticlimactic, I know. You’re supposed to get this thrilling or surprising revelation for your soulmate searching agenda, but you already know who it is deep down, don’t you? So, it doesn’t really matter if I spoil it for you.”

You meekly nod and whimper a quiet ‘yeah’ as you feel your chest throb, in relief or in pain? You have no idea. The emotions you feel are threatening to oversurge form your heart as you feel your eyes well up with tears.

“You don’t need me for this but I guess I wanted to feel like a good person somehow. So, I’m telling you.. what… or rather, who you feel, who you’re thinking of… you’re right, it’s him.”

She says it with so much finality and for some odd reasons, you feel like a pain wretched deep in your heart was loosened and freed.

“So my memories are not all fucked up? I was right, wasn’t I? You were Hajime’s soulmate,” you ask her, making her laugh.

“Of course, your memory’s not fucked up, sweets. It’s him who’s fucked up, but I guess he just loves you that much, even way beyond his feelings for me as his soulmate,” she sadly smiles, “though that doesn’t mean it was alright for him to lie about that.”

“But… why are you telling me all this? Aren’t you supposed to hate me too?” 

She shrugs, “I don’t know… I guess I just don’t want to feel shitty anymore. Guilt’s a very heavy thing to carry. I think that goes the same for Atsumu.”

She checks her face in the mirror and smiles in satisfaction when her lips are glossy again. She looks at you through the mirror once more, “anyway, soulmate or not, your heart is yours to decide with, YN. Just remember that.”

You go to the bathroom, feeling lightheaded and overwhelmed from all the events that just transpired. You clumsily walk back to the gymnasium, everything just feels too fast, too sudden, too relieving, too maddening all at the same time. You lean against the walls of the hallway and take a deep breath to calm yourself down, but tears start to escape from your eyes.

Atsumu.

You stand up once again and continue to walk, going inside the gymnasium. 

Tsum.

Your eyes scan the crowd but you find it difficult to see the blonde, not when the only light source you have is the mirrorball hanging in the middle of the gym. 

Where is he?

“YN, I’ve been looking for you! Where have you been?” Hajime asks, deep relief in his voice. You freeze and feel the anger bubbling within you. You glare at him, much to his surprise before you hastily walk away from him.

“Hey, YN. Wait up!” You don’t but unfortunately for you, Hajime’s strides could easily catch up to you and so, he grabs you by the arm, to which you harshly pull away from.

“Don’t touch me, don’t even think about coming near me, you… you liar! How dare you?” you ask him vexingly. Some of your companions in the party turned to look at the commotion as soon as the music toned down to a slow song once again. 

“What’s wrong? What happened? Are you okay? Calm down, love,” he tries to talk you through it but to no avail, your anger has gotten the best of you. You hold a finger up and point it at his chest.

“Don’t–! Don’t call me that,” you whisper with all the loath you feel, voice coarse and broken, “you.. you don’t fucking love me. You just like the idea that I was like you, unloved and pushed aside by my soulmate. You… you traitor..!”

He tries to act all confused, despite the erratic beating of his heart. He can't lose you, not now. You were both doing fine, what happened? Did you know? Did you get your memories back? No, you're not supposed to. His frantic eyes and pale face betrays him as you humorlessly laugh, "I fucking know everything, Iwaizumi."

#atsumu x reader #haikyuu x reader #atsumu smau #haikyuu smau #iwaizumi x reader #haikyuu headcanons #iwaizumi smau #miya atsumu #iwaizumi hajime

[idyllic-affections]

i love “a winter nights lazzo” that you just posted!!! now all i’m thinking about is childe being kind and caring towards the kid the second they get to liyue. and the kid immediately figures out where his money is going when he gets them nice weapons/meals and gets them quality clothes suitable for liyue (and potentially other regions if they wish to go).

summary. a general expansion on what childe's relationship with pantalone's kid is like.

trigger & content warnings. mentions of childe (accidentially) injuring reader.

tropes, pairings, fic length, & other notes. fluff, found family-ish. childe & pantalone's child!reader. 0.3k words. they/them pronouns for reader. prev | next

author's thoughts. REAL!!!! i don't usually write for childe, since i'm still working on getting his personality right, but these are just some of the thoughts i've had about him and pantalone's child.

among the harbingers, it is a well known fact that childe absolutely spoils [name] (as if their own father doesn't do that enough...). he is the closest in age to them and tends to view them as if they were another sibling of his, so it's no wonder that he's so... doting.

i like to think childe is an impulse spender tbh, especially when they arrive in liyue. he pays close attention to the little things they mention. he listens and remembers. if they express interest in something, he'll absolutely get it for them, even though they are capable of paying for themselves.

he def gets them cool weapons idc!!! should he be giving a 16 year old this really dangerous sword? no, probably not, but it's fine!!!!! he spars with them on a regular basis anyways!!! he knows what they can and can't handle!!!!!!! actually, childe was forbidden from sparring with them after he accidentially hurt them one time. he got his pay cut in half that month as a consequence... now arlecchino is the only one allowed to physically train them, but still!! childe does pay attention to their physical state. he swears he knows what they can and can't handle.

(childe also encourages them to take on weapons they aren't good with. i personally think they have a weak upper body, so things like claymores, bows... yeah. they refuse to work with claymores, but admit that knowing how to use a bow might be useful. childe isn't allowed to teach them, but he is thrilled nonetheless.)

he totally does get them really high quality clothes made only from the finest silk flowers. of course, he also gets them clothes that have good functionality. they can't really say they mind this, because... i mean. they are a debt collector. they need clothes with good functionality.

he's also rather fascinated by their ability to use pyro without a vision. he knows someone else like that... he doesn't dare compare them to the traveler, though; childe knows that they'd be pissed if he so much as implied that they're anything like the vile one responsible for their mother figure's death.

overall he's just a pretty kind, doting brother figure that treats [name] like a normal-ish kid, and honestly?

i think they'd appreciate that a lot.

please consider reblogging, it helps me out quite a lot!

#aphelion brainrots 🌸 #favoniuslibrary #astronetwrk #platonic genshin impact #platonic genshin x reader #platonic genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #childe x reader #tartaglia x reader #platonic childe x reader #platonic fatui harbingers x reader #fatui harbingers x reader

[harringtonstilinski]

Always The Babysitter - Chapter Twenty-Eight: The Monster and the Superhero

Author: @harringtonstilinski​ Characters: Steve Harrington x Olivia Henderson(OC) Word Count: 2,964 Warnings: fluff, angst, olivia being protective, Smut: no | yes; 18+ MINORS DNI: A/N: Hi, friends! We getting more Eddie in this chapter!! Also, see gif below for fic title inspiration <3 If you like this chapter, please do not hesitate to reblog and give some feedback, whether it be in the reblogs, comments, or my inbox. As always, read at your own risk and enjoy 😊

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Getting a decent night’s sleep is starting to be hard to come by since we figured out another D&D monster is an actual monster. I knew about Vecna from reading Dustin’s D&D manual when he first got it and refreshed myself when he joined Hellfire.

We decided to get Eddie some actual food… or what we thought was actual food from the grocery store, taking it over to Reefer Rick’s, where we told Eddie to stay hidden.

Steve parked the car around where he did last night, all five of us piling out and walking to the boathouse, walking in once we made it. Only this time, Eddie was ready with his sharp glass bottle, pointing it at us at our intrusion.

Dustin and I held up the plastic bags, smiling while saying, “Delivery service.”

Eddie sighed before I shook my bags, setting them down on a table and pulling every item out of the bag. I felt Eddie behind me after a moment before the box of Honeycombs and Yoo-Hoo was removed from my vision.

He sat down in the boat with the box, opening it and tearing the bag open, dipping his hand inside to start munching on the sugary cereal while Robin and Max stood or sat to his left, Dustin, myself and Steve standing or sitting to his right.

“So we got, uhh, some good news and some bad news,” Dustin said. “How do you prefer it?”

With a mouth full of cereal, Eddie said, “Bad news first, always,” before taking a swig of his glorified chocolate milk.

“Alright,” I breathed. “Bad news; Dustin tapped in the Hawkins PD dispatch with his Cerebro and, and they’re definitely looking for you, and they’re pretty convinced you killed Chrissy.”

“Like, 100% kind of convinced,” Max added.

“And the good news, oldest Henderson?” Eddied asked, looking from Max to me.

Smiling, I said, “Your name hasn’t gone public yet. But if we found out about you, it’s a matter of time before others do, too, and once word gets out, everyone and their pea-brained mother is gonna be hunting for you.”

“Hunt the freak, right?” Eddie enunciated. 

Scrunching my lips, I closed my eyes and nodded. “Precisely.”

“Shit.”

“So, before that happens, we need to find Vecna, kill him, and prove your innocence,” Dustin said.

“That’s all, Dustin?” Eddie and I asked. “That’s all?”

“Yeah, no, that’s pretty much it,” he said, pretty sure of himself.

“Little brother, ‘tis not as simple as you think,” I said. “When has it ever been that simple?” I rolled my eyes at his delusions, feeling two hands on my shoulders, pulling me back into a chest; Steve’s chest.

“Listen, Eddie,” Robin said. “I know everything Dustin’s saying sounds totally delusional, but we’ve actually been through this kinda thing before.”

“Well, she’s been through it once,” I said. “Max twice, Dustin, Steve and I three times. Robin’s was more human-flesh-based, while ours was more smoke-related.”

“Bottom line is, collectively, I really feel we got this.”

Wrapping his arms around my middle and resting his chin on my shoulder, Steve said, “Yeah, see, we usually rely on this girl who has super powers. But, uhh, those went bye-bye, so…”

“So, we’re technically more in the–”

“Kinda.”

“Brainstorming phase?” I asked.

“Brainstorming,” Steve repeated, snapping his fingers. “Good one, babe.”

“There-there-there’s nothing to worry about,” Dustin said. 

Steve scoffed behind me, his head moving just a little in curt nod.

I closed my eyes and took a deep breath just as I heard sirens, and Steve whispered, “Shit.” 

Moving towards the boat, I said, “Eddie, tarp.”

He looked at me, questions floating in his eyes.

“Get back under the tarp.”

“You owe me, Henderson,” he said, my response being “I know,” before Eddie grabbed the side and laid down with the cereal box in his arm, moving the tarp over himself.

The rest of us moved to the windows, watching as police cars and ambulances drove by. As a group, we decided to be nosy as fuck and follow them to see where they were going. Once we found the area, we parked behind a truck, the five of us getting out.

Nancy was standing in the middle of the road, talking to Powell, who took over for Hopper since he… well, since he died. She looked over at us, bringing her fingers up for a small wave.

I looked over at Steve, seeing him wave back at her. I know he doesn’t love her anymore, but there’s always going to be that part of me that thinks he does and always will. Looking back at her, tears welled in my eyes before I could stop them and looked down. Sitting back inside the car, I sniffled lightly, brushing the tear that had regrettably fallen onto my cheek.

When everyone got back in the car, all I could do was look out the window at the trees passing by. What made my anxiety worse… was that Steve didn’t rest his hand on my thigh like he always did. Taking off my right shoe, I sighed, bringing my foot to rest on the seat, lacing my fingers together and resting them at the junction where my foot and calf meet.

Once we made it to the trailer park, Robin, Max and my brother got out of the car, meeting Nancy at the picnic table while Steve and I stayed behind.

He sighed, “I know what you’re thinking, and no.”

I looked down and nodded. “I know. It’s just my stupid brain. You know how it gets.” I crossed my arms, sinking down into the seat a little more. “It just… I saw the way you looked at her.”

“With concern?” he asked. It wasn’t in anger or irritation. His voice was calm and controlled. There were a few times when I had this concern after we got together, and he was always reassuring. Kind of like he was being right now.

Once the reasonable side of my brain caught up and took over my unreasonable side, I sighed and rested my head on my knee, whispering, “I’m sorry.”

Grabbing my hand to lace our fingers, he said, “Her and I are friends. Nothing more. You’re the girl for me.”

I looked at our hands, watching as he brought them up to kiss the back of my own. Smiling, I connected our eyes, seeing those hazel orbs I loved so much. “I love you. And I’m sorry.”

“I love you, too. Let’s go.”

We both got out of the car after I put my shoe back on and retied it. He met me at the front of the car and held his hand out once he saw me round the vehicle, our fingers lacing together as we made our way to the picnic table. When we sat down, we all explained to Nancy what’s been going on.

“So, you’re saying that this thing that killed Fred and Chrissy, it’s from the Upside Down?” Nancy asked.

“If the shoe fits,” I sighed, leaning back against Steve, who wrapped his arms around my middle. 

“Our working theory is that he attacks with a spell or a curse,” Dustin said. “Now, whether or not he’s doing the bidding of the Mind Flayer or just loves killing teens, we don’t know.”

“All we know is this is something different,” Max said. “Something new.”

“Doesn’t make sense,” Nancy said.

“It’s just a theory,” Dustin said. 

“It’s not supposed to make sense,” I added.

“No, Liv,” Nancy said. “Fred and Chrissy don’t make sense. I mean, why them?”

“Maybe they were just in the wrong place,” Dustin said. “They were both at the game.”

“And near the trailer park,” Max said.

“We’re in the trailer park,” Steve said, holding me a little tighter. “Uh, should we maybe not be here?”

As we all looked around, Nancy said, “There is something about this place. Fred started acting weird the second we got here.”

“Acting weird as in…?” Robin asked.

“Scared, on edge, upset.”

“Max said Chrissy was upset, too,” Dustin said.

“Yeah, but not here,” Max said. “She was crying in the bathroom at school.”

“Serial killers stalk their prey before they strike, right?” Robin asked.

“Affirmative,” I said.

“So, maybe Fred and Chrissy saw this Vecman–”

“Vecna,” Dustin corrected.

Carrying on like nothing happened, Steve said, “I don’t know about you guys, but if I saw some freaky wizard monster, I would mention it to someone.”

“Maybe they did,” Max said. “I saw Chrissy leaving Ms. Kelley’s office. If you saw a monster, you… you go to the police. They’d never believe you.”

“Except Hopper,” I said. “Who’s inconveniently dead.”

“But you might to your–”

“Your shrink,” Robin said.

 Max nodded her head and we all formed a plan on what to do. Once the plan was made, we all got up from the table to walk back towards our vehicles. Nancy started walking back towards her car before Steve’s voice stopped her.

“Whoa, whoa, Nance,” he said. “Nance!” He stepped up to her as she turned around, asking, “Where you going?”

“Oh, there’s something I wanna check on first,” she replied. 

“Something you maybe wanna share with the rest of us?” Dustin and I asked. “I don’t wanna waste your time. It’s a real shot in the dark.”

“Yeah, okay,” Steve said. “Are you out of your mind? Flying solo with this Vecna creep on the loose? No, it’s too dangerous. You need… you need someone to…” He turned walking up to me, handing me his keys. “Here. I’m gonna stick with Nance, alright? Take the car, check out the shrink. Go back to your house, and I’ll have Nance drop me off there.”

“Why? Why can’t Robin go with her?” I asked, gesturing to our high school friend.

“Yeah, why can’t I go?” Robin asked.

“Liv, if you don’t want to drive, I can,” Max said.

“No,” Steve and I said, looking over at Max.

“No. Never again,” Steve added. “Please. Anybody but you.”

“Come on,” Dustin said.

“No.”

“Okay, this is stupid,” Robin said, grabbing a radio from Dustin’s bag. “Like Liv said, I’ll go with Nancy because us ladies need to stick together. Steve, you stay with your girlfriend.” When she made it to Nancy’s side, she turned back around to face us, saying, “Unless you think we need you to protect us.”

Robin turned on her heel and started walking towards Nancy’s car, the eldest Wheeler taking a moment, looking at my Stevie. I rolled my eyes and got in the car, not meaning to slam the door shut as Steve shouted at them to be careful.

“You just gonna stand there and gawk at your ex-girlfriend, or sit next to my sister and gawk at her?” Dustin said.

“Shut up,” Steve said. “I love your sister. She knows that.” “Why don’t we go?”

“Shut up and get in the car.”

I heard the back door open behind me, so I looked to see who it was before saying, “Dusty, wipe your feet.”

“On the outside, not the inside,” Steve groaned, getting into the car. “Always the babysitter. Always the goddamn babysitter.” He started the car, putting it in drive and riding past Eddie’s trailer that was marked off by police tape.

~~~

Max gave us directions to Ms. Kelley’s house, Steve parking at the end of her driveway on the other side of the street. 

“Okay, she’s in,” Steve said, arm resting on the door, the window rolled down. 

“I’m missing collarbones,” Dustin said. “Not eyes.” A few seconds later, he said, “So… are we gonna talk about… it?” Turning to face him in the backseat, I furrowed my brows. “What?”

Pointing in between Steve and I, Dustin said, “You two.”

“Again, I ask… what?”

“The tension between you two. I can feel it from here.”

“Feel what?” Steve asked.

“The sexual electricity?”

“Oh, my god, Dustin!” I exclaimed.

“Your sexual tension was pretty public,” he said. “There’s witnesses. Have you two even–”

Turning back to face the front with my hands up, I said, “I am not having this conversation with you.”

“Are you implying that we haven’t had se–” Steve said.

“Steve!” I interrupted. “We’re not having this conversation with him right now!”

“What about when he was gonna go with Nance instead of staying with you, his girlfriend, my dearest sister?” Dustin said.

“I was trying to protect a friend,” Steve said. “A friend, Hendersons. Okay?”

Turning my head to look at Steve, I gave him a what the fuck look. “Hendersons? As in, plural? Don’t bring me into this, I didn’t say anything.”

“Okay,” Dustin said, amused.

“I don’t wanna find her in the morning with her eyes sucked out of the front of her skull by this Vecna creep,” Steve said.

“Steve, baby, I love that you’re wanting to protect a friend and being all defensive, but now isn’t the time to do that, especially when your anxious girlfriend here is freaking out about you and Nancy, okay?” I said.

“Yeah, what’s wrong with my sister?” Dustin asked.

“Nothing’s wrong,” Steve said. “I love your sister very much, and I especially don’t want anything to happen to her. I’d die if anything happened to her.”

I smiled at that, feeling all the love from him just from those two sentences.

“You’re blushing,” Dustin smiled.

“Drop it, or I’ll punch you so hard in your face your teeth will fall back out.”

“Whoa,” Dustin and I said. “Too far.”

“Not cool. Sorry.”

“Not cool, babe,” I said.

“It’s okay,” Dustin added.

Steve brought his fist up, Dustin hitting Steve’s with his own before Steve held his hand out, looking at me. I laced our fingers before he brought the back of my hand to his mouth, placing a kiss near my ring finger.

I heard the door open, Steve’s attention right on Max as she made her way back to the car, Steve repeating, “Here she comes.”

Max got in the backseat with Dustin, my brother asking, “What’d she say?” “Nothing, just drive,” Max said. “Steve, drive!”

“Okay,” he said, letting go of my hand to start the car and drive off. 

Max told us to drive to the high school so that she could snoop through Ms. Kelley’s files for hers and Chrissy’s. Dustin’s walkie went off, a familiar voice coming through.

“Dustin? Olivia? It’s Lucas. Do you copy? Dustin.”

Dustin hit the button on his walkie, speaking into it, “Lucas? Where the hell have you been?”

“Just listen,” Lucas said. “Are you guys looking for Eddie?”

“Yeah, and we found him, no thanks to you.”

“You found him?”

“He’s at a boathouse on Coal Mill Road. Don’t worry, he’s safe.”

“You guys know he killed Chrissy, right?”

“That’s bullshit. Eddie tried to save Chrissy.” “Then why do all the cops say he did it?”

Max took the walkie from Dustin, pressing the button and saying, “Lucas, you’re so behind, it’s ridiculous, okay? Just meet us at the school. We’ll explain later.”

“I… I can’t.”

Taking the walkie from Max, it was my turn to speak into the mouthpiece. “Come again, Sinclair?”

“I think some real bad shit’s about to go down, Liv.”

“Spill it.”

Static sounded from the walkie’s speaker for a moment before I hit my palm against it a couple times before saying into the mouthpiece, “Lucas? Lucas! Shit.”

~~~

It was dark by the time we made it to the school, Max using the keys she stole from Ms. Kelley’s house. Walking down the hallway, Dustin’s walkie went off again, this time Robin’s voice coming through, saying, “Hendersons, do you copy?”

“Yeah, we copy,” Dustin and I said in unison.

“So, Nancy’s a genius. Vecna’s first victims date back all the way to 1959. Her shot in the dark was a bullseye.”

“Okay, that’s, uh, totally bonkers,” Dustin said.

I took the walkie from him, saying, “But we really can’t talk right now.”

“Wait, what are you doing, female Henderson?”

“Breaking and entering into the school to retrieve highly confidential and extremely personal files.” This felt like Sophomore year all over again when I broke into stores. Looking up at Steve, I said, “If I get caught this time, I’m going to jail.”

“We won’t,” he said, shining his flashlight around, looking for any type of security.

“Can you repeat that?”

“Just get your ass over to the high school, Buckley. Stat. We’ll explain everything… if I don’t get arrested again and start living in a cell.”

We found Max at Ms. Kelley’s office as she was just opening the door to walk inside. 

“It’s like a mini-Watergate or something,” Dustin said.  “Hawkinsgate!”

“Wait a sec,” Steve said. “Didn’t those guys get caught?”

“Holy shit,” Max said from the opened filing cabinet.

“You found it?” Steve asked, walking over to her.

“Yeah, and not just Chrissy’s file,” she said, taking a file out of the cabinet. “Fred was seeing Ms. Kelley, too.”

We all looked at each other, trying to find out what it meant with our eyes until I spoke up. “Well, I’d compare the files, see if the three of you had any symptoms in common.”

We did just that, bringing out her file, Chrissy’s file and Fred’s file. Max sat at the desk, looking at Chrissy’s, seeing the handwritten symptoms on a white sheet of paper. When she asked to see Fred’s file, I handed it to her, moving to stand beside her with my body facing Steve, who was leaning against the desk.

Max was looking as if she were lost in a trance of some sort, so I put my hand on her shoulder, asking, “Max, are you okay? Max? Max, honey, what is it? Max. Max!”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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~~~

A/N 2:  hi, friends! pls be kind and reblog! it really helps us content creators out <3

Additional Note:

~~~

Forever / Everything Taglist: @stiles-o-dylan24​​ @stixnstripesworld​ @fandom-princess-forevermore​​​ @quanticobae​​​ @mischiefandi​​​ @kellyashcroft @lauren-novak​​​​

Steve Harrington Taglist: @madaboutjoe

If you’re tagged and didn’t want to be, please let me know.

~~~

*Please don’t post my writing anywhere else without my consent. The author of this work will always and forever be @harringtonstilinski​.

All characters, story lines, and plot aside from y/n and her storyline & plot, are all of the work of The Duffer Brothers.

*These works contain material protected under International and Federal Copyright Laws and Treaties. Any unauthorized reprint or use of this material is prohibited.

No part of these works may be reproduced in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without express written permission from the author / publisher.

Posted on May 6, 2024 *Happy half Birthday to this series!!*

#steve harrington x olivia henderson #steve x olivia #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x oc #steve harrington #olivia henderson (oc) #stevia #always the babysitter #atb #dustin henderson #lucas sinclair #erica sinclair #mike wheeler #nancy wheeler #will byers #jonathan byers #joyce byers #chief jim hopper #eleven hopper #eddie munson #max mayfield #robin buckley #venca/henry/001 #henry creel #vecna #season four episode three

[coffeehighallthetime-blog]

I Am Kind not Complacent Chpt 8

chpt 8

word count: 6K

pairing: gow heimdall x reader, young

A/N: hello, again. it's been a minute. I'm sorry this is late, I have been going through it 👉👈 again! just busy end of the year craziness. also everytime I opened this document it made me want to scream. I still don't love it???? but I guess that's ok. this is for fun and I need to remember that. thank you as usual to everyone who likes and comments and thank you for your patience, I hope you enjoy it <3

P.S: I named our reader for this chapter. Her name is Yen, it's close to YN for ppl who still want to read it that way but is also more of a name for people who have an easier time with that. let me know how you guys feel about it and I can change it or not. i just wanted to test out a "name" to make the writing feel a little less clunky but idk :\

@engardeitsme I'm back!! i missed you :..) i hope you enjoy and thank you for talking with me a couple weeks ago!

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“Why are your teeth gold?”

Heimdall turned his head to look at the girl, a brow raised.

“What?”

“Why are your teeth gold?” The girl repeated, tapping her incisor with her nail. He snorted, shaking his head.

“ I heard you. It’s just a stupid question, so I was allowing you the opportunity to change it.” 

“ Oh,” she took a moment to ponder and spoke again, “Are they solid gold, or are they just gold plated?” She smirked at him. Heimdall rolled his eyes, folding his arms behind his head.

“Didn’t your mother ever tell you not to say things about a person’s appearance they can’t change?...oh, wait! I guess she couldn’t.” Yen’s mischievous smile quickly pulled into a pout. 

“Hey!” Heimdall cackled as a hand came down to smack his chest, and he grabbed the girl’s wrist to stop another blow. 

“I let you get one in out of pity.” she pulled her wrist free. 

“Yeah well, didn’t your precious All-Father ever tell you-... oh wait, that’s right he’s too busy ignoring you to teach you any manners.” Heimdall frowned, looking up at the girl. Yen sighed, shaking her head. “Poor poor Heimdall. You have all the training in the world on how to be a spoiled prince and a warlord, but you don’t know the first thing about how not to be a prick-!”

The wind was knocked out of her as she suddenly hit the grassy floor, and the two were rolling to the bottom of the hill, a jumble of loose limbs and shouting. Their bodies settle at the bottom, and Heimdall and Yen lay sprawled out next to each other. Heimdall looked at the girl, grass in her hair and a smear of mud across her right cheek. She had green stains on her shoulders and pebbles bunched up in the folds of her shirt. He did not look better, with dandelion seeds in his braids and rocks digging into his back. His pristine white shirt was covered in yellow, green, and brown. Their chests heaved and giggles started to bubble before they were both aware. Heimdall heard Yen’s first, her laugh bounding out of her head and out her mouth, between fits of snorts and chuckles. Heimdall found himself mirroring her, his laughter thrumming in his ears as they looked at each other. 

“ They’re solid gold,” Heimdall mumbled through a laugh. Yen calmed her own giggles and nodded. They looked up at the sky, watching the clouds shift past their vision. On slow days they had started sparing together, then stopped to talk, sometimes about how bad the other was, sometimes about how they had slept. Yen would offer a walk into the surrounding wood and the boy would refuse, ending their meetings. At some point, however, he started to say yes, despite the idea of stumbling together in twigs and bushes. At some point in the passing days, when the leaves had started to fall and the air had gotten cooler, they would meet at dawn, walk through the woods into a clearing, lay in the tall grass, and talk for as long as they could before their guardians would look for them. Yen would talk endlessly about her different plants and collect cuttings as they walked. Heimdall had somehow found himself holding her pack for her collected specimens. 

Yen grabbed her bag and sifted through the plants they had found, humming as she sorted them by type. 

“Do you know what those all do?” the boy asked, leaning up on his elbows. 

“Vaguely. I’ve learned about some of them. But I also see what the animals in this area are eating and take them home to test them!”

“Test them?”

“Mhm,”

“Like what, you eat them and see what happens?”

“Sometimes,” Yen shrugged, looking over to see Heimdall glaring at her, “What?”

“That’s idiotic! You could get sick, eating random things from the forest floor,” he shivered at the thought, grabbing the pack. Yen frowned and held it farther away from him. 

“A little late to be worried, Weasel. Besides, I only test what I’ve seen other animals use. Worse case, I induce regurgitation.” The girl explained that this is how she’s been able to make new medicines and learn the toxicity of poisons to develop antidotes. She let him read her notes and the extent of her research on the Asgardian flora. She was very passionate about her findings, though Heimdall could not stop the sinking feeling of worry. How many times she had gone into the woods alone before he started coming with her. 

“ You know we already had a lot of good Asgardian medicine right? There is no reason for you to be doing this.” 

“Well that’s not true, “ she smiled softly, pointing to her older notes, “ I’ve had to do this since I lived alone in Vanaheim. It’s important I know myself. When you are alone, who is going to help you?” she shrugged, “ sure it’s a little risky, but to be able to depend on myself? That’s not something I want to give up.”

“But-”

“Besides,” she held a hand up, urging him to let her finish, “ We will be working together in the future, right? If we end up in the middle of nowhere and you get hurt, I want to be able to help you when we don’t have access to Asgardian medicine.” He faltered. She surely couldn’t know more than their medics. Heimdall swallowed a shallow breath and looked away.

“Well… now you’re just being ridiculous.”

“How do you mean?”

“Obviously by the time we will be old enough to go on missions, no enemy will be able to lay a hand on me. So I’ll never be hurt.” Heimdall smirked and Yen snorted, shoving his shoulder lightly. Heimdall pushed his shoulder back against her hand and she giggled shaking her head. There was silence, and he could hear her thoughts swimming. She wanted to show him everything from the past week, but she felt nervous after their conversation on the medicine. 

“Right then, show me what you’ve learned,” Heimdall sat up, a small smirk on his lips. Yen frowned, sitting up on her elbows. Heimdall rolled his eyes. “Come off it, you’ve wanted to show off your little trick since we got here.” She bashfully sat the rest of the way up, fiddling with her hands. He looked at her expectantly, hearing her nervousness spinning as she siked herself up. “Any day now.”

“Okay, okay!” She grunted more to herself, shaking her hands to loosen up. She slowed her breath, holding her hands over the grass. “Rót,” she whispered, her palms glowing a violet light, the earth rippled apart as a single vine sprouted slowly, winding up and curling around the girl’s wrist and out. Heimdall’s smirk fell and he just stared as the vine wound around on itself. Leaves and small purple blossoms sprouted from it as it grew thicker. Yen let out a final breath, relaxing her shoulders as the glowing stopped and she looked at her creation, smiling as it flexed and relaxed in the cool breeze. Heimdall leaned forward, getting a better look at the plant. 

“ A root?” he asked, reaching to touch it, and had to hold back a laugh when it seemed to reach back out to him. Yen nodded with a small smile. 

“Yeah, cool right?” Heimdall shrugged, his lip once again quirked as he teased.

“Eh, sure. Would be better if it did something though. Is it for you to make flower crowns for everyone while they sign peace treaties.” He raised a brow as the girl matched his grin, raising a hand. 

“Not exactly. “Rót,” She repeated, snapping her fingers. Heimdall barely took in a breath by the time the vine had darted at him, winding around his leg and lifting him into the air. His body spun stiffly in the air as the root suspended him. A hand reached up to his shoulder, stopping the motion, and his magenta eyes met hers. He looked like a carp out of water, trying to come up with something to say. Yen giggled at the boy’s speechlessness. “You shouldn’t judge things at face value, Heimdall. You of all people should know that.”

“Put me down.”

“Oh, but aren’t you having fun up there?”

“Watch yourself, Songbird,” There was no venom in his words. Nonetheless, she put her hands under him, helping him lower back down into the grass. As he brushed himself off, her magic dissipated and the vine shrank back into the dirt. Yen rocked on her heels, a nervous grin pulling at her cheeks. Heimdall shook his head with a snort. “Okay, yes. That was fairly impressive, and can actually be useful.”

“Even though it's Vanir magic?” she shifted her weight, looking at him nervously. Heimdall’s face softened slightly. He had so many preconceptions before the two had met. How they were savage warriors. Stupid, tricky, untrustworthy. She wasn’t like the Vanir people his father had spoken to him about, and Odin wouldn’t lie to him, right? So that meant the girl must have just been different from them. An exception. 

“Don’t make me compliment you again. Once was enough.” Yen knew it was reassurance in his own way, and let it go. Heimdall nudged her shoulder, already starting to walk. “Come on, let’s start heading back.” She smiled and nodded, falling in step with the boy. Heimdall swallowed, his shoulders stiff. “So…what else have you learned?” “Well,” The girl pondered for a moment, thinking through her past lessons. “ Freya showed me how to leave markers to amplify magic, which is pretty neat. But I still need to work on my aim for it. I also know how to grab small objects without touching them now, and I can hopefully do bigger things soon…” She trailed off.

“What?”

“I just… feel like she doesn't want to teach me anymore. She keeps me at basics, but I know I understand it already… I just don’t know if she’s grown tired of it or if I’m just not getting it like I should…” Heimdall frowned. This was not the first time Yen had brought this up. 

“She’s always been a stiff. It’s not you.” 

“It’s not just her though…” Yen rubbed the back of her neck, looking away as the boy stared.” Don’t do that.”

“I wouldn’t have to if you stopped and just told me what was bugging you… I didn’t know the old goat had started shutting you out too.” Yen swallowed a shallow breath and nodded. 

 “He’s just… He won’t tell me much more about the other realms when I ask anymore. It’s like they gave me a hobby and dangled it like a carrot for a horse so they could take me away from some bigger picture…when he and Freya started teaching me about plant life and then left me to my own devices… “Yen plucked handfuls of grass from next to her and dropped it just as fast, over and over until there was dirt under her nails as she spoke. “ I wanted to be useful… I drowned myself in it… I wanted to see if it could help me in some way…Odin came to me, congratulating me on my new ‘goddesshood in medicine” she scoffed as she repeated the words. “...I could just tell he was filled with disappointment… at my uselessness. And who can blame him!”Heimdall rolled his eyes.

“You are not useless. Those two are just holding you back. Don’t blame that on the All-Father.”

“I’m not! I just-” She groaned, raking her fingers through the dirt, “Mimir says there’s a lot I don’t know still…but he’s also not showing me things. he says I’m doing well at controlling my powers but I’m just worried that even if I’m not trying… it’s hard wanting to talk to people and not knowing if they agree with you or being nice to you because they want to or because…” she trailed off, looked at the boy next to her, “I don’t want to be… I want…” she struggled to find her words for a moment, “ I want to earn trust, not take it.” She spoke finally, after trying to catch her words. Hiemdall looked at her for a moment, before shrugging. 

“I trust you.”

“You do?” she asked, caught off guard by the response. “I guess…I just am worried that-”

“That my change of opinion was your doing? Don’t flatter yourself, Songbird.” Heimdall snorted, bumping her shoulder with his own. “Maybe you can control those braindead Einjhar to do your bidding and treat you like a princess, but I’m a god.”

“So?” Yen frowned, glaring weakly at the boy.

“So?” So, I am the god of foresight. I cannot be swayed by petty tricks. I can sense intention, and since the beginning, I have never felt… uh..” his face grew a light pink as he realized his point. She stared at him, a brow raised, waiting for the end of his thought. Heimdall coughed into his hand, feeling the warmth radiating off his cheek, “I’ve… never felt uneasy around you…I trust you… we were using each other, and we still are,” he looked at her, his lips lifting into a shy grin, “But I don’t mind it anymore…”

Yen’s cheeks started to grow red, her eyes widening slightly and she looked away, feeling herself warm up despite the fall air. Heimdall swallowed, walking faster ahead of the girl. 

“Come on, you have your lesson with the old goat and I have a meeting with the All-Father.” Yen grinned. She quickly recovered, coughing and starting a chuckle.

“Oho! So you aren’t being ignored.” She teased, hands crossing behind her back. Heimdall sighed, his hands squeezing at his sides. Odin had wanted to talk to Heimdall about how Yen had progressed, and when she would be of use to him. She caught up the the boy, softening her posture, and nudged him with her elbow. “It’ll be fine. You’ll see. I’m sure he just wants to tell you how well you’re doing!” 

“Well of course, I’ve been doing well in my assignments, it’s just a regular report. Nothing to worry about.” Yen chuckled, reaching into a pouch on her belt. 

“Hey, I know you may not want to. But I’ve been working on this medicine for your migraines.” she held out the little leather sack to him. He hesitated looking to her for some kind of reassurance. Her thoughts were full of nothing but the want to help. “Don’t worry, it’s just Feverfew and Butterbur mixed with some mint and juniper. Steep it and drink a cup before bed.” He sighed and took the pouch, tucking it into his pocket. 

“ You’re pushing this “trust” envelope, and I’ve just admitted to it. I shouldn’t have to take anything for help. I just need to get through it until it doesn’t bother me anymore.”

“Humor me. Try it once, and only if you really can’t handle it yourself. Oh, and if you could maybe tell the All-Father how hard I’ve been working… I would appreciate it…”

‘I don’t want to be left behind.’

Her voice echoed in his head. Heimdall looked at the girl as they split ways in the large cabin

“I will.”

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“It’s been eight months!” Odin’s voice rattled through his study. Mimir stood still, hands behind his back as Odin paced to and fro. Hugin and Munin sat in the rafters, their eyes glowing as they peered down at the men. “ Eight months! And you tell me nothing is progressing with the little thing?”

“Apologies, All-Father, but it appears she is still having a hard time adjusting to Asgard.”

“Pah!” Odin grunted, leaning on his desk. “I’ve seen her, Mimir. She must be holding out on you, or something! Being extra clever. Hiding her powers. Munin has seen her in the woods a few weeks back, using magic. And we know what she is capable of. The question is why is she hiding from us all of a sudden,” Odin paced towards his desk, uncorking a pot of mead. he poured a goblet at held it out to the Goodfellow.

“Ah, no thank you, All-Father,” Mimir waved a hand. Odin huffed and slammed the bottle onto his desk, taking a deep gulp from the goblet. 

“She was doing so well before. I offer her safety, offer her family, I offer her trust! And then her progression just halts.”

“Freya has been teaching her, and she has been practicing. We have both encouraged her not to use any magic until she can control herself.” Mimir tried to reassure him without bringing too much attention to the fact the girl was gifted enough to use magic without help. The two had done their best to hide the progression of her gifts to stop the All-Father’s advances from using the girl. But with how strong she was already getting, it was getting more difficult to hide, especially while keeping her in the dark about the fact she couldn’t show her true potential. It had gotten to the point even Mimir and Freya could not keep up with the pace of the girl’s learning. As though she spent hours outside of lessons practicing the control of her magic.

“Well, it’s not working. If anything she’s become stir-crazy. I don’t care if she loses control. I can do damage control! What I can’t do, is use a scared little girl that’s too afraid to use her powers, to help me gain control of the realms! She tried to use it against me! To get me to, what, compliment my son? useless! Don’t you see? We need to get this under control so we can use her, and so that she will not be a threat. It’s already starting to get out of hand. If only we had tracked her down sooner,” Odin’s voice was rough with frustration as he pulled at the ends of his beard. “ She doesn’t even know the extent of what she is. She’s a silly little child, who sees the world as back and white. And I’d like to keep it that way until she fully trusts us. Then we can finally-” Mimir was about to interject when the door to the study opened. 

“ I’m here for my report, All-Father,” Heimdall spoke with a short bow. Mimir stiffened and looked at the boy from the corner of his eye. The two gods turned to Heimdall, their figures dark and towering in the candlelight of the darkened amber of the study. They knew. They knew he had heard, how could he not? Heimdall stood ridged at the door, his eyes glowing in the darkened doorway. 

‘ The boy will ruin everything,’ Heimdall heard Mimir’s thoughts rattle into his skull. The Goodfellow’s anxiety came off in waves. ‘protect Yen… keep her safe… the lad will say too much…’ 

Heimdall looked up at Mimir, his brow cocked. Keep Yen safe from what? What wasn’t the old goat sharing with the All-Father? His father would be the one who knows best how to protect the girl if she was in danger. Odin straightened, rolling his shoulder back and nodding his head to his son.

“Come in, Heimdall. Mimir, my friend, we will talk more later. You may leave. You have a lesson with the girl now, don’t you?

“Yes, All-Father,” Mimir bowed, ready to take his leave. As he started to shut the door on his way out, Odin called out.

“And Mimir, please try to push the girl further. I’d like for her to be able to aid in the Jötunheim treaties. It's either that, “He sighed, “ or we may have to call the whole thing off… put her back where she came from.” Mimir nodded, hoping that he could keep the visage of the girl’s powers useless just long enough for Odin to lose interest. Odin however knew something was amiss. He knew just from the small passings with the child that she was brighter than his allies claimed. And he knew exactly who to ask to get the feast of information he craved. Anyone would need to be blind to not see that the two children had grown close. The whisperings from Hunin and Mugin of the two sneaking off to the others’ room in the night, to being spotted in the woods. Odin was pleased, thinking his son finally stepped up to the title of his spy and learning all he could about the Vanir creature. Still, he was worried that the girl may have also tricked his son as well, so he needed to make Heimdall give any information willingly. He picked up a scroll and licked the tip of his quill before dipping it into a pot of ink, scribbling away as he spoke to his son.

“I’m sorry, Heimdall, but it seems I’ve called you here for nothing. Mimir has shared with me how our guest has been doing and it seems the lessons aren’t going anywhere.” Odin rubbed his temple, taking a seat in his chair, “their reports say she is unable to grasp basic concepts, her understanding of both Vanir and Asir magic is only basic, and she seems to be causing more trouble than the entire debacle is worth. I think you were right before, my son. She’s truly better off back home.”

“That’s not true!” Heimdall’s voice carried through the room with an echo.  He composed himself, swallowing. Odin looked up from his reports, staring at Heimdall with his good eye, head tilted. 

“Not true?” Well, I will say she has been improving her skills of manipulation. What with trying to use them on me? I wouldn’t be surprised if she’d gotten to you, boy. She’s just not worthy to be among us.”

 Heimdall swallowed. “She has been doing remarkably well, All-Father. I’ve seen it.”

“Seen it?’ Odin replied, pushing himself from his chair. “Tell me, Heimdall. What Mimir and Freya refuse to.”

“I have gained her trust, All-Father. Mimir and Freya are not being fully honest with you…” The boy’s eyes glinted as he looked at his father across the room, “But I’m not sure why, yet.”

“You are suggesting that my most trusted allies are not being truthful with me, Heimdall? This is a very serious accusation, you understand.” Odin sauntered over to the boy, making him take a step back on instinct. He swallowed, pushing himself back forward, hands behind his back. 

“I simply believe she may be… too anxious to show them what she can do. But I have heard from her myself that she is eager to serve Asgard, father. She wants to be of use to you.” Heimdall urged, taking another step closer to his father. Odin hummed, his hand tightening around his staff. Why was the old goat not telling him any of this? 

“Heimdall,” Odin started, stalking closer to the boy. “Have you noticed anything in peculiar about the child?” he circled the boy, never looking him in the eye. “Has she shown you things behind closed doors? Anything of use?” Heimdall swallowed, concentrating on his heartbeat. 

“ She is… she is able to quiet the mind, All-Father…” Odin halted his steps behind the boy, glancing down at him from the corner of his eye. Heimdall continued. “I’ve seen her… calm people, quiet unruly thoughts… I… she’s done it to me, before.” Odin scoffs. 

“I don’t need my soldiers softened.”

“I think it can be of use to you, All-Father.” Heimdall spoke quickly, turning to face the man. “To… to manipulate the other side?” Odin hummed, tilting his staff the boy to urge him to continue. “She also… She also has been studying Asgardian and Vanir magic and has been able to start creating hybrid potions.” Heimdall pulled the medicinal tea from his pocket, turning to hand it to Odin. “She made this, just today… she said it’s for headaches. It’s made from things she studied herself in the woods with the help of Queen Freya’s knowledge. With help… She could use her medicines to strengthen Asgard and weaken enemy forces. I do not know why your allies are hiding this from you, All-Father, but I assure you she is worthy of staying here.” Odin’s lip curled into a grin and he hummed, reaching out to grab the pouch. He took a whiff of the tea. What else were his dear wife and friend hiding? And was it truly even their fault, or was this girl able to weasel her way into their heads?

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“Mimir, did you know that if you mix yarrow with the inner bark of birch trees, it will cure nearly any stomach ailment.”

“Oh? And did the queen teach you that?”

“Well, sort of. She taught me about yarrow but then while I was with Heimdall in the woods we found some rabbits scratching at birch trees,”

“What were you two doing in the woods?” Mimir interjected, a brow raised. The girl frowned, as she thought this unimportant to her explanation. 

“We were brambling,” Yen said, as though this were a normal thing for two twelve-year-old gods. “So anyway, I told him, “Wonder why they’re doing that” but he didn’t seem to care. But I kept watching them and they were licking at the inner bark! so then I collected a sample and see what it could be used for, and guess what!”

“Wait wait, you tested this on yourself?”

“Well I didn’t want to poison anyone,” she shrugged, then pointed at her findings. “look see? I tested it with different plant combinations and by itself.” she rolled her sleeves up to reveal some light scares. “I tested to see if it could used for physical injuries, but it didn’t do much. So then I thought, “Maybe it’s for internal problems?” so then I ate some nightshade berries-”

“You did what?!”

“It’s ok, it was just a couple-”

“Lass, lass…” Mimir rubbed his face, trying hard not to shout with frustration. She truly had turned into quite the little scientist, and though most of the time Mimir found her brilliant, it was not hard to also easily find himself drowning with worry. Like when she had measured the amount of toxicity needed to be consumed from said nightshades to cause death and even made some medicines from the poisonous plant as well. All this to say, this was not a special occurrence, but it worried the Goodfellow just the same every time. “You are… quite the little toxicologist,” he chucked through his nervousness, reading the girl’s findings while wringing his hands together. “I thought we talked about this. About being more careful about-” he sighed, “About not using yourself as an experiment. We have all the medicine you would need here, why go and try to make more, hurting yourself in the process?” Yen’s excitement wilted as she wrang her own hands out, a tick she had picked up from the man, gods forbid he ever lost his hands. 

“Well… what if we don’t have anymore? What if someone gets hurt and the medicine we have doesn’t work? What if someone accidentally eats nightshade?... I just want to be prepared. Help people…be useful…” 

“You are useful, Sweet girl.” Mimir assured, “ And despite my points… you are right… you have found many interesting findings and new medicines for Asgard.

“ Then why won’t the All-Father show any interest in me? Has he forgotten about me?” She looked up at the man, her eyes pleading. “ Does he not see I’m willing to sacrifice myself to be of use, here? You tell him everything I’ve done right?” Mimir swallowed and nodded.

“Of course, Daughter. I tell him all the time about how much you’re progressing.” his lies stung his throat, but not as much as knowing what Odin would use her for if he knew her actual potential. 

“Then… I’m just not good enough, then…” She whispered to herself. Mimir shook his head, unable to hold in his utter disbelief. 

“Not good enough? That’s not even a funny joke, Lass!” she looked up at the puck, confused.”

“But I’m not-”

“Nope! Surely you’re mistaken. It must have been a joke. Because I’m sitting in front of a child goddess who’s been here less than a year and already knows more about medicine than most of our damn medics! A girl, who can command the attention of an entire room! A girl who put that little brat prince in his place and even became his friend!”

“I-I wouldn’t say we’re-”

“That boy would not bother walking into the woods and waiting, albit annoyed at your birch bark notes if you weren’t friends.” she shut her mouth, a flush on her face. Mimir chuckled, crouching down to her level. “ You are fiercely kind in the face of the strange and taxing, you are sharp as a blade and undeniably brilliant. And the All-Father will see so soon enough.”

The girl left after her lesson and Mimir dropped his hopefulness, falling into his chair and grabbing his book of observations. A list of words describing his little companion.  his face faded as he read down the list after a few months of teaching the girl.  his hand trembled as he wrote down his recent evaluation. Odin had been right. She saw the world as black and white, and truly wanted to be good. But the truth was simply not that simple. Nothing ever was. Mimir had wanted to keep her in the dark for just a day longer. Let her see herself in the sun for one more day. But that was dangerous and he knew it. Mimir moved to the margin, where he had her goddesshoods marked, on the first day, he had written her base abilities and what they thought she was at first. “Goddess of peace, goddess of logic…goddess of medicine…” goddess of…

He needed to speak to Freya. She would be better at giving Yen the news. Tell her that everything has a shadow.

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“I need to show you something,” Yen looked up from her notes to see Freya standing in front of her. Her face was stone, and the shadows of the sun through the window fanned over her face, painting her worry marks. Yen frowned, sitting up a bit straighter and setting her pencil down.

“Show me what?”

“ Just come with me, and we'll talk, alright?” Freya offered a steady hand, and Yen took it, her little fingers enveloped fully in the Valkyrie’s gloved hand. She ushered her tenderly towards the fireplace and they sat down on the bundle of furs and tapestries on the floor. Yen sat across from Freya and watched as she pulled some research journals, illustrations, and scrolls. “When you are ready,” Freya spoke, sliding the scrolls to Yen. There was not another word between the two, just the crackle and pop of wood splintering in the fire. As Yen stared at the pages, Freya was patient, watching and waiting for the girl to start reading when she was ready. Yen finally picked up the journals and did not finish reading until she had gone through every document.

 The day her village had burned to the ground. 

The first time she told Freya she should have died, were she mortal, but didn’t.

 The resources of different towns and villages, of a girl wandering into their domain and leaving without a trace. Some spoke of her kind words and the peace she brought to them. But in the timeline, soon it was nothing but stories of ruin. Of villages filled with nothing but drones. shells of what were once beautiful towns and cultures reduced to nothingness. What was once left to be peaceful and logic-built structures soon dissolved into a spiral of selfish behaviors. Stealing instead of trading, abandoning children, and killing people to take their land. How was a child to know such loose rules would lead mortals to find twisted loopholes? Then again isn’t that what mortals are best at? 

“Why are you showing me this?” Yen whispered, rubbing at her eyes as her vision got blurry. “I know all this already, I know that I made a mistake b-because I was stupid, why are you doing this to me?” she spoke, her voice harsher this time as she finally looked up at Freya, who sat still, keeping her eyes cast down.

“Because you need to know why you can do these things,” Freya spoke, sifting through the journals, bringing one up and flipping through to a page. “Here. this one. What did you say to this village before you left them?” 

“I don’t want to do this-”

“What did you say.” Freya’s voice boomed against the walls of books surrounding them, and Yen squeezed her hands against the knobs of her knees. 

“I said…” she mumbled, trying to remember her last commands, “I told them to  walk away from the battlefield….to take care of themselves…”

“And they did…” Freya spoke softly now, “And when they take care of themselves, they stop taking care of their community. They left each other for dead.”

“I didn’t mean to,” Yen’s voice crumbled into sobs, her shoulders shaking, “I-I didn’t want them to-”

“Breath, Yen…breath,” Freya rested a hand on the girl’s head, letting her take her time to ground herself. “Your words have power, but so do your intentions. If we can practice properly, we will be able to give simple demands without worrying how they will be interpreted. On the other hand…” Freya continued, pointing at a different passage. “It almost seems as though your powers currently default to pushing people towards disarray… which means I believe we have found for certain the two sides of your coin.” she grabbed the girl’s shoulders, squeezing just slightly. Yen looked up, her tears slowing. Freya sighed, calming her heartbeat. “Yen, ever since you came to Asgard,…even before we met, I have seen you. You are the goddess of peace and logic and that can be seen from your ability to defuse altercations and to calm even the most ill-tempered…but I’ve also seen how out of sorts your own temper can get…how angry you are inside…”

“I’m not angry,” Yen whispered, but Freya shook her head, shushing the girl.

“You are angry, and in pain and uncertain. You use logic at one turn and act on impulse at the other. You are a paradox, sweet girl.” Freya held the girl’s face in her calloused hands. “ And I know you know…you are a smart girl, and you’ve been putting the pieces together yourself.” Yen placed her hands over Freya's, and she could feel her little fingers tremble over her own.

“I don’t know what to do…”

“Chaos is not something to be afraid of…” Freya smiled just a bit, holding the girl’s face tighter. “It is the order of the world. It is an order of all things. And it is also not all that you are. Do you remember what I said before? About how we were going to find all your sides and help you put them together?” Yen could barely nod with her face trapped in the woman’s hands. The Valkeryie laughed, pressing their heads together. “You will be ok, goddess of peace, goddess of logic… goddess of medicine and healing…” She offered, to soften this very blow, “goddess of chaos, goddess of discord.” 

A Cocauphany. That’s all you could call it. As sobs reverberated through the room, thrumming between the two until there was nothing left.

⋆⭒˚｡⋆☾⋆⭒˚｡⋆

#gow x you #heimdall gow #heimdall x reader #god of war ragnarok #god of war x reader #gow heimdall #heimdall x you #i am kind not complacent #god of war ragnarok x reader #coffeehighallthetime blog #this chapter was so hard for no reason #i still hate her #but i'm trying to not care and have fun

[discar]

HZD Terraforming Base-001 Text Communications Network

Chapter 29 | Prev chapter | Next chapter Chapter Index

Zo: Alva, I wrote up those agricultural practices you wanted.

Zo: [UtaruAgriculture.pdf]

DIVINER: Oh, thanks!!

DIVINER: I hope it wasn't too much trouble!

Zo: No, it was simple enough. Though I think you will find it a little disorganized. I've never had to actually write it down before.

BoyNextDoor: What's all this about? It thought you had already learned more than enough for your people, Alva.

DIVINER: I have! I mean, I think so? I'm still looking. But this isn't about the agriculture, really, it's about comparing what the Utaru have retained or learned over the generations with what the Quen have learned from the Ancestors!

HIMBO: PEER REVIEW!

DIVINER: Not quite, but sort of! I just wanted to see exactly what the differences are!

DIVINER: We can't be sure, but I think that the Utaru are completely divorced from the Ancestors!

β: isnt everyone

β: youre all descended from the cradles no one is technically connected to before

DIVINER: Well, yes, but I mean most other cultures have clear influences from the Ancestors! The Carja developed their religion from ancient books, the Tenakth have their Visions, and the Oseram learned at least some things from ruins.

BoyNextDoor: The Nora didn't learn anything from the Old Ones. The ruins of the Metal World are forbidden.

DIVINER: True, but we don't know exactly to what extent! After all, we know you have at least ruin, the exterior of the Cradle facility!

DIVINER: Besides, the Quen didn't learn hunting from the Ancestors, so there's not an easy point of comparison.

FlameHairSavior: So you want a pure sample. Why, exactly? I mean, I understand getting more information that you might be able to use, but you don't sound like you're looking for better farming techniques.

DIVINER: If I can identify the differences, I can make all sorts of interesting inferences! Maybe improve both of our techniques, if I can see what works in one area and what doesn't in another!

FlameHairSavior: I think you're just having fun.

DIVINER: That too!!

Zo: I suspect that you'll be less impressed with Utaru practices. We do, after all, have a major advantage with the land-gods.

DIVINER: Don't sell yourselves short! Agriculture was never so central to our culture as it is for you! We revere Eileen Sasaki as a great Ancestor, but it was always just a means to an end! We grow food for our population. Nothing more and nothing less.

DIVINER: Your children probably know more about growing plants than most of our experts!

Zo: I suspect that is an exaggeration.

Zo: But thank you.

MARSHAL Kotallo: Do not underestimate the value of specialization. How do you think that the Tenakth were able to fight back the Carja?

BoyNextDoor: Sheer charger-headed stubbornness?

HIMBO: NO, THE OSERAM ARE THE STUBBORN ONES.

MARSHAL Kotallo: [B99SelfBurn.gif]

DIVINER: You used one of mine!!

MARSHAL Kotallo: I've used several of yours already.

MARSHAL Kotallo: Regardless. The point is that, as Alva noted, while the Utaru have some advantages that might have kept them from being pushed to truly innovate, their deep devotion to the very idea of agriculture must have led to some advancements that other cultures would never have discovered.

HIMBO: THE CARJA STILL USE SOME UTARU TO FARM THE MAIZELANDS. EVEN WHEN THEY WERE SLAVES, THEY WERE APPARENTLY THE BEST THAT THEY HAD.

β: they put slaves who hate them in charge of their food

β: couldnt they just sabotage everything

HIMBO: I'D CALL IT CRAZY, BUT IT WORKED.

Zo: No Utaru would sabotage a field. It would be an affront to everything we believe in.

BoyNextDoor: I bet they worked harder once Avad freed them, though.

HIMBO: YEAH, HE TOLD THEM ALL THEY COULD GO HOME, OR STAY AND BE PAID. I THINK... HALF TOOK THE JOBS? ERSA WAS CAPTAIN BACK THEN, SO I DON'T REMEMBER FOR SURE.

Zo: Utaru also become very attached to any fields they sow. They would not leave them easily.

BoyNextDoor: Are you saying they... put down roots?

HIMBO: HA!

DIVINER: Surprise pun from the Nora brave!

MARSHAL Kotallo: [DisapprovalDog.png]

Zo: [ForumWeaponHeadShake267.gif]

FlameHairSavior: It's the quiet ones you have to watch out for.

Zo: That's because the quiet ones understand the value of patience.

β: they know if they wait long enough it will bear fruit

DIVINER: [DeadpoolGasp.gif]

MARSHAL Kotallo: In some parts of the Clan Lands, puns can get you executed.

FlameHairSavior: Really? One little pun? Even for the worst of the Tenakth, that seems a little much.

MARSHAL Kotallo: Unfortunately, yes. My people do not appreciate those who go against the grain.

FlameHairSavior: …

FlameHairSavior: I'm coming back with a ravager cannon and I'm going to shoot you.

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#horizon #horizon zero dawn #horizon forbidden west #HZDBaseChat #aloy #zo #varl #erend vanguardsman #beta horizon #alva #kotallo