#/which could have gone under a completely different path out of bitterness; in the sense of 'if i didnt have these opportunities; you wont*

[celowosc]

          ❝ You are touching the wrong buttons. It’s like this— ❞ He can’t believe he’s stepping up to do this- is no one else going to say anything???

[delimeful]

you can’t go back (4)

warnings: mentioned child neglect/bad parenting, mentioned awkward saucy teen flirting, arguing, emotional upset, the dubious ethics of over-excited teenagers

-

Roman had been acting strange, lately.

It was perhaps a harsh thing to think about his friend, especially considering he was bound to behave differently when the recent disappearance of his twin was taken into account, but it was also true.

Logan had known Roman for years, long enough that it was an effort to search back through his memories for a point that they hadn’t been together, if perhaps not always in the most amicable of circumstances. They’d gone through the entire gamut of enemies-frenemies-rivals-friends, and Logan liked to think that he had a fair grasp on Roman’s tells by this point.

All of Roman’s tells were currently telling him that the other student was trying to hide something, something big.

It wasn’t just the way that he had stopped sulking whenever something happened that reminded him of his missing brother, or that he was suddenly scrawling what almost seemed like notes in a glitter-covered notebook when he hadn’t had the inspiration to work on anything creative in weeks, or that he had all but given up on the pretense of paying attention in their shared classes.

No, the real sign that something was wrong was the way that Roman had begun to outright neglect his two closest friends.

Logan was hardly affected, of course. He was above the base emotions that so many of his peers were constantly fraught with, and less time with Roman gushing in his ear about whatever had caught his interest or complaining dramatically about those who had wronged him meant more time for Logan to focus on what was important, like his AP classes and many, many extracurriculars.

Of course, that didn’t explain why he was currently trailing after Roman on his walk home, when he really should be at violin practice. No matter how much of a soft spot the teacher had for him, he’d gained his skill through hard work, not skipping practice. Certainly not skipping practice to hound off after his erstwhile classmate.

However, he wasn’t the only one being abandoned in this scenario.

Logan Croft had been forced to sit at a lunch table with an increasingly secretive and distant Roman, and a mournful, kicked-puppy version of Patton Hertz, the most cheerful guy in their grade, if not the entire school.

Roman, stuck in his own thoughts as he clearly was, seemed to not notice the effect his lacking presence had had on Patton, and Logan was just about fed up of watching the slow decay of the half life of their little group.

The secrecy was ridiculous. They’d been there when Roman had been so worked up about the ‘police coverup’ that he’d actually considered trying to break into a government building, they could certainly be here for whatever it was that had him so bizarrely clammed up now!

Logan paused from a distance and watched as Roman hurried in through the front door of his house, counting backwards in his head. It would be a fair challenge to try and break into Roman’s room, particularly with Roman in the house, but if his deductions about the seeds constantly caught on his friend’s pant legs and the odd-colored mud left on the soles of his favorite tennis shoes were correct… There!

Sure enough, only a few moments later, Roman was pushing out through the back door, taking an unusually careful moment to close the screen door behind him before turning and walking determinedly down the path into the rural wilderness that made up half of the grounds his family’s farm sat on.

Logan waited until there was little chance that Roman would double back for something he’d forgotten, and then strode confidently up to the front door, rapping on it twice. Going by the fact that there was a car in the driveway and the door had been unlocked when Roman had gotten home from school, someone else was home to answer.

Mrs. Torres opened the door, looking surprised at the sight of him for a moment, before breaking out into a warm smile. “Logan! It’s so good to see you, are you here for Roman?”

“I’ve been meaning to meet up with him for a project, but he left school before me, so I came here,” Logan said, not above lying through omission to uncover the truth. “Is he home?”

“Oh, he just got back, but I don’t think he’s inside-- ROMAN!” she turned towards the stairs and called up them, frowning when there was no response. “He must be out in the yard again. Come in, come in!”

Logan stepped inside smugly, glancing around. The interior was much the same as the last time he’d been here. If it hadn’t been for the pile of faded missing posters under a mug on the counter and his own prior knowledge of the situation, Logan would have been hard-pressed to guess that this was the home of a recently-vanished child.

“Honestly, I’m just glad he’s not staying cooped up in his room anymore,” Mrs. Torres was saying. The woman speaking casually in front of him only added to the eerie composure of the home, and Logan made his way through the general pleasantries and politely refused any refreshments with an unpleasant feeling in his gut.

“They didn’t even bother printing out new missing posters this time,” he remembered Roman telling them with a quiet, bitter sort of anger. “He dyed his hair, and they won’t even pay to put a recent picture of him up when it could be the difference between someone recognizing him or not!”

On a logical level, Logan can understand something concerning happening over and over, repetition dulling it’s effects until it feels mundane or everyday. Roman has mentioned before how his parents believed that Remus was simply acting out for attention, mostly while thanking Roman for being above that, as though the metaphorical ‘good twin’ wasn’t currently building a career on literally acting for an audience's attention.

What Logan can’t understand is that Remus’s parents are apparently completely uninterested in finding out why Remus is so desperate for attention that he would resort to a maneuver he knows will only get him negative consequences.

Logan himself would certainly like to understand. All queries on the matter had garnered only uncomfortable evasion from Roman, as though his friend might have had an idea but wouldn’t say, likely due to irritating personal feelings that Logan couldn’t parse.

So, he’d reached out to Remus directly, on one of the few days that he’d actually attended classes.

The delinquent had been visibly confused by his approach-- the twins allegedly hadn’t had a mutual friend since the beginning of grade school-- and resistant to Logan’s questioning, which Patton had later informed him was likely far too blunt for the situation. They’d gone in circles for a bit, Remus making outlandish or confusing metaphors while Logan refused to rise to the bait, and then he’d made a simple observation about the hypocrisy of the twins’ parents, and Remus had stared at him with an odd tilt to his head for a moment.

Shortly after, he had made a very confusing comment about something that was anatomically impossible, and when Logan had enquired further, Remus had then hared off with pink cheeks and ditched school for a week. He’d asked Roman about the situation, but his friend had only covered his ears with an agonized look on his face, utterly refusing to explain.

Logan shook the errant thought away, and the odd pang of something like regret that Remus had vanished before he could follow up on the interesting interaction.

He turned his gaze away from the unharried setting. The odd dynamic between the Torres family was not what he was here to investigate, not even remotely.

There was only one Torres he was investigating right now, and he had a strong suspicion that his odd behavior had less to do with family than one might expect.

“Go on ahead, I’m sure he’ll hear you once you get out back,” Mrs. Torres encouraged, picking up a particularly irritated-looking calico cat. “Just have to make sure Lady Macbeth doesn’t escape and disturb your little session. Roman’s been worried about coyotes, so we’ve been keeping her inside.”

Logan nodded, though privately he was a little surprised. Coyotes? He hadn’t thought they would be so bold as to lurk at a farm this close to urban areas. Perhaps there had been sightings near here?

He pushed past the creaky screen door with a striking sense of familiarity, despite the fact that it had been quite a while since the three of them had gone wandering together in the foliage and dirt of the Torres farm. Patton’s allergies could be quite fierce, after all.

As expected, walking into the backyard revealed no signs of Roman, even when Logan cleared his throat and called out. He knew his friend well enough to know that he would have reacted audibly to his unexpected presence, so the only logical conclusion was that he wasn’t nearby.

Clearly, it was time to check the perimeter.

He walked in a careful, orderly line next to the old wooden fence, eyeing the peeling paint and refraining from setting his hand on it. He had more to worry about than potential splinters, such as keeping an eye out for any potential strangeness that could explain Roman’s behavior.

There was little to be found in the brush except a regrettable amount of sandburs catching along the hem of his pants, so when he spotted the barn, he felt a surge of excitement.

And if he indulged in a little bit of sneaking, hoping to catch his quarry unaware, that was his business. Roman was loud enough that he could hear him ranting a good few meters from the barn, anyhow.

He managed to make it all the way to the edge of the barn wall before the rant abruptly cut off, and he stalked forwards hurriedly, pushing the door open before Roman could hide anything incriminating.

He needn’t have worried: the evidence was standing there in the middle of the barn, strapped to a support rafter.

It also wasn’t human.

“What are you doing here?” Roman shrilled, taking a quick step to be in front of the creature. It was an ineffective method of hiding it, seeing as what appeared to be long, spider-like limbs were extending in the air a good few meters in either direction behind him.

Logan had known about Roman’s theory, the one that had been laughed right out of the police station. He’d walked with Roman and scoured the fields for any sign of what Remus had mentioned, though they hadn’t found anything. He knew his friend still believed that his twin’s disappearance had been unnatural, extraterrestrial.

Knowing was quite different from seeing an entire alien right in front of oneself.

Roman was still talking, in that nervous chattering tone that he always took on when he was working himself into a truly incomprehensible explanation, but Logan could hardly be asked to divide his attention at the moment.

Extra anterior eyes, odd shiny patches along the sides of the neck, exterior hinges along the jaw, organic plating that had visibly darkened since his first glance-- there was so much that he needed to understand the purpose of, so many questions he had about their origins. How close by was other life? Which star had they hailed from? How had they gotten here?

He was moving forwards without a second thought, enthralled by the way the legs rose up-- like a bird mantling their wings, and they appeared smooth, not hairy as an actual spider’s would be.

“Incredible,” he breathed, and then there was a hand fisted in the back of his polo and he was being yanked away. Where he’d just stood, all four of the strange limbs stabbed into the ground, their reach longer and their ends sharper than he’d anticipated.

There must have been an extra joint closer to their back, the flexible kind that would allow for such an extension. He itched to circle around and look for himself, to confirm his hypothesis before the limbs retracted, but Roman was still clinging to him like a shrieking barnacle.

“What did I just say?!” he demanded, gearing up for a scolding. “It’s not friendly! Do you want to get stabbed into next week?”

“How long have you been keeping an actual alien life form from the world at large? From scientists at large? From me?” Logan shot back, shaking Roman’s grip loose. “Have you had them strapped upright this entire time? Can they talk? How did this even happen?”

Even as he demanded an explanation, his gaze was drawn back over to the alien, taking in their every twitch with endless curiosity. He wanted to know how to read each motion, from the downturn of their chin to the scrunching of their smaller eyes to the way the flat plates where a mouth should be had seemed to twitch. He wanted to know everything.

“It’s been like a week, I didn’t strap them up they came like that, either they don’t speak English or they’re a really good actor, and they showed up in my barn after Remus was abducted, you do the math!” Roman rushed out, edging closer as though he thought Logan was about to try and get closer to the alien again. “And I didn’t tell you because I knew you would do this!”

“This is hardly the first time I’ve almost been stabbed in the pursuit of science,” Logan retorted, annoyed at the presumption that he wouldn’t risk his life for his goals.

“It’s only a little bit about the near-stabbing!” Roman’s voice cracked, and Logan finally pulled the other half of his attention away from the alien to stare. “This is my only lead on my brother, and you’re going to want to-- to-- to put it in a laboratory or National Geographic Magazine or something!”

“I’d be far more likely to write a thesis paper on the matter,” Logan corrected helpfully. Roman’s hands twitched, the body language possibly indicating that he was barely restraining himself from trying to throttle Logan.

“Whatever! The point is, this isn’t a science experiment to me!” His rival’s face was crumpling slightly at the edges. “You can’t just-- just use the alien I found as a ticket to get into some esteemed college while Remus is left to rot in the far reaches of outer space!”

To Logan’s horror, Roman’s eyes had become suspiciously shiny. He floundered for a moment, wishing Patton was there to smooth things over as he so often did, before firming his shoulders and lifting his chin. He could at least try to explain, and hope it didn’t turn out too badly.

“I’m not going to ‘leave Remus to rot,’” Logan started, remembering the recycled missing posters stacked up on the counter. “If you believe that this alien is key to finding out what happened to him, then that should be-- well, our first priority should always be furthering the advancement of human understanding, especially with a discovery as big as this, but I am an accomplished multitasker, so we can do that while we attempt to locate and recover Remus.”

Roman’s shoulders slowly loosened from their frustrated hunch. “You’re going to help me? Seriously?”

“Do you really think I’d joke?” Logan replied, gesturing to his tie. “The more information we compile on this specimen, the better we’ll understand them, and the closer we’ll be to understanding the motives behind Remus’s abduction.”

“And you aren’t going to tell anyone?” Roman asked, looking more hopeful by the moment.

“Why would I? I work more effectively on projects on my own,” Logan answered, the same sentence that had sparked a loud argument between him and Roman in the middle of Biology two years ago. This time, however, Roman looked excited rather than offended at the response. “We really should figure out something to tell Patton, though.”

“That’s… a good idea,” Roman admitted sheepishly. “There’s no way we can let him around an unknown alien fiend, especially not one so… spider-y. You almost got stabbed, imagine what it might do to poor Patton!”

“You handle our story,” Logan decided, turning to look back at the alien fully. “I’ll see what we can do about those extra limbs. We won’t be able to do any sort of up-close analysis with a constant threat hovering over us.”

He straightened his tie, studying the way the extra limbs in question were vibrating just slightly in the air, drawn in significantly closer to the alien's body than they had been before. Despite the movement of the legs, the alien themself was still as stone, all of their attention locked on Logan.

Through observation and experimentation, he was sure that each little motion of theirs would soon become as readable to him as everyday human body language, and from there, real communication would be in reach.

Communication with an extraterrestrial... This would truly be a project like no other.

Fueled by a thrill of excitement, Logan couldn't help but smile.

[author-morgan]

"I won't let anyone hurt you, you're safe with me" with eivor please... Maybe he rescues reader from the order after they had been used for different experiments or something

i am so sorry for how long this took, but I had to come up with the right plot bunny to pair with the prompt for some angst(tm). here you are, i hope you enjoy and don't mind the touch of Havi and Frigg, or in which Havi makes a promise to his sweet Frigg and keeps it even in the next life.

m!Eivor x fem!Reader

SÝNIN CIRCLES IN the clear sky above the longhouse of Ravensthorpe, and then you know your husband is not far now. Soon Eivor Wolfsmal will be back in your arms, where he belongs. The raven descends, coming to perch on your shoulder, nudging his beak against your temple —as much as you’ve missed Eivor, you’ve missed Sýnin in equal measure. Things could get surprisingly lonely without a tetchy raven around to croak at all hours of the night, steal your hairpins, and beg for treats. Reaching up, you scritch the blue-back feathers on his belly and are rewarded by a low, gurgling croak. “Have you been behaving yourself?” Sýnin bobs his head, but you have a gut feeling he’s lying for the chance at a few extra treats.

Taking to the docks, you watch along the river bends for the sail and masts of the longship. The blue-and-back sail and shields turn from the west —squinting, you can see him standing on the curved scorpion tail, looking onward to home. With a nervous smile, you rest your hand over your belly, knowing soon it will start to grow. You’ve much to tell him since he’s been gone the past weeks, building alliances with Saxon nobles across England.

“Eivor, my love,” you call, meeting him at the edge of the dock as he steps off the longship. His smile is tired but relieved when he looks upon you with Sýnin perched upon your shoulder —the best ‘welcome home’ he could ask for. You open your arms, embracing him as the crew disseminates among the settlement. Eivor pulls back, his hands —rougher than you remember— cupping your cheeks.

There’s something different in your expression, a new glow surrounding you that he cannot place. Regardless of his racing mind, he leans forward as you urge him down with a hand at the nape of his neck. It’s been weeks, and he sighs against your mouth, the burdens of the world washed away by your touch and kiss. “Walk with me?” You ask, holding fast to his hand. He nods, offering his arm. Word of the recently secured alliance can wait; he has been parted from his wife too long.

You lead him past the longhouse, the people of Ravensthorpe smiling as they see Eivor has returned and know what it is you’re going to tell him. Once Valka confirmed your suspicions, it hadn’t taken long for word to travel by way of two mischievous children.

Everyone is happy; and happy for you and Eivor, knowing you two had tried to conceive many times. Stopping beneath the great tree past the Seer’s Hut, you turn with a smile —hand settling on your middle. “I’ve good news to tell you.” Eivor lifts his brow, and your smile only widens as you reach for his hand, pressing it against your belly. He sucks in a deep breath, heart thudding in his chest and ears as he looks to you, his clear blue eyes wide with joy and surprise. You nod, resting your hand over his. “I am with child.”

Eivor is silent for a moment, gathering his words and emotions. He looks down at your belly, then back to you —overjoyed and uncertain. This is a moment you’ve only ever talked about; that he’s dreamt of when the gods were kind enough to let him have a good dream. “I’m going to be a father?” Eivor breathes, though it sounds more like a question. You nod again, eyes gleaming with tears as he rests his other hand on your stomach too. His smile too large to be hidden under his shaggy golden beard. There’s another moment’s pause, then Eivor slips his arms around you, bringing you into a tight embrace —his face tucked into your neck.

You lose track of how long Eivor holds you in his arms as if it all is only a dream and he may wake at any second. Stepping back, he takes your face into his rough hands, brushing away the tears streaking your cheeks. Eivor dips his head down, his nose brushing against yours before your lips meet —gentle and loving but still burning with fervor from the weeks of being parted from one another.

“You’ve made me the happiest man in Midgard,” he admits. You lean into him again, taking another kiss before he settles onto one knee in front of you, level with your belly. Eivor rests his forehead against your front, his hands loosely holding onto your hips. “Rest easy, little one.” Smiling, you brush back his golden hair —half-unbound from his warrior’s braids and knotted. “I will protect you and your mother.” It’s a promise.

“EIVOR,” RANDVI CRIES as he enters the longhouse, tears still fresh on her cheeks. She should not have let you go riding outside of Ravensthorpe alone, especially knowing you were with child. He clasps onto her shoulders, steadying her so she can gather her senses. “It’s Fulke.” The script is fresh in her memory, having read it a dozen times over to be certain of the ill-boding tidings. Randvi shakes her head, unable to meet her friend's concerned gaze. “She’s taken more than just Sigurd.”

“No,” Eivor breathes, but Randvi presents the scroll as proof. He skims the words —his worst fears coming to fruition. Not only did Fulke hold his brother captive, but now the conniving bitch had stolen you away too. You. His wife. The mother of his unborn child. He’d sworn to protect both of you with every breath in his lungs, and now it is an oath broken.

The sudden anger boiling under his skin is so hot it burns the fear freezing him, turning to determination. Eivor crumples the parchment, his expression twisting —no god can save you now, Fulke. “Send word to our allies.” Randvi nods, stepping back to the writing-table at the edge of the map room. “I will burn all of Wessex if I have to,” Eivor grits out, hands turning to fists at his sides as he leaves the longhouse to gather his men —a part of him feels as though he has walked this path before.

HAVI STRIDES THROUGH Fensalir with a deep sadness in his heart, but his agony cannot compare to that of his sweet Frigg. For three days and three nights, his queen has asked for solitude, and though it pained him to keep away during such times, he and the others respected Frigg’s wishes. Though Havi would not leave his dear wife to grieve alone, sending Huginn and Muninn to keep a watchful eye over the Queen of the Æsir. The two ravens are perched upon a stone bench at the edge of the fen. Thor glances over his shoulder at the approaching footsteps —his expression is weary and grief-stricken as he looks upon his father.

Gently, your son releases you from his tight embrace and rises, stepping back with a silent promise to return soon as he greets his father with a solemn nod before leaving. Havi pushes back his hood, seeing the white flowers spring from the earth with your tears. Baldr will be remembered —in deeds and songs and the blossoms brought forth by his mother’s tears. He kneels, reaching for your hands, and slides the bloody sprig of mistletoe free from your grasp. Through weary eyes, you look upon your husband —his expression twisted into the same display of forlorn grief. It makes your heart ache even more to have pushed him away, for he too lost a son. “Frigg,” he sighs.

“Havi,” you cry, falling into him. He swathes you in his black cloak, tucking you against his chest and holding you tight —a vow of retribution on his tongue. Loki would be punished for this crime. For all the realms felt the bitter void left by Baldr’s absence, and all wept, save for a giantess whose unshed tears doomed your son to Hel. The grief and anger simmering in his blood turn to something else —determination. He will not have his sweet Frigg endure this pain again; his one-armed embrace tightens as he cradles the back of your head. “I will not let another of our children fall,” Havi swears, lips brushing over your temple. “Not until our twilight has come.”

HE TWISTS HIS hands into Fulke’s leather-and-cloth armor, throwing the madwoman to the muddy and blood-slick ground. Fulke spits blood, pulling herself away from Eivor Wolfsmal on hands and knees only to find herself surrounded by his men and allies. All their weapons drawn, trained on her. The price for taking the Jarl of Raven Clan and Eivor’s wife is one to be paid in blood, and there is nowhere for her to run. She will have to suffer the wrath. “Where is she?” Eivor roars, kicking Fulke onto her back. He kneels, knee pressing into the bloody gash on her side, one of his throwing axes withdrawn and held high above his head —ready to strike.

There is no fear in her eyes, only bliss. Her work in this world now complete. “You made a choice,” Fulke laughs, choking on blood, “you chose Sigurd.” She coughs, blood-tinged spittle spattering against Eivor’s face, washed away by the pouring rain.

He roars, teeth bared and eyes burning hot with the rage of the gods. Lightning splits open the sky, thunder cracking like a great whip against the earth. “I will flay the skin from your bones and feed your eyes to my raven,” Eivor hisses.

Her smile is bloody —victorious. She knows you are leagues from here, and now the only ones who know are dead or dying. Eivor Wolfsmal could search the land for years and never find the seaside cave on the shores of Cent. “You’ll never find her,” Fulke says. One final victory before relinquishing herself to darkness and her wounds.

Eivor rises, his shoulders heaving and expression twisted. There is no time for a reunion when Sigurd limps from the fortress —clutching the stump where his hand and wrist once were— reinforcements from Wincestre draw nigh. The cry of war horns and drums echoing above the storm. He turns to Dag and Hrefna, eyes flitting over to his brother, unfit to fight in the coming battle. “See him back to Ravensthorpe,” he tells them before shifting his attention back to his allies. The day is not won yet, and Eivor will not rest until he has his beloved back in his arms.

ABOVE THE BREAKING waves of the sea, there is a whisper on the howling wind. Eivor looks to the sea below, then to Basim —his scouts working tirelessly since the siege of Portcestre nigh a fortnight ago to find leads. The culmination of their work leads him and Eivor to the southern edge of Cent to a cave guarded by Fulke’s acolytes. Eivor knows the gods are with him this day, as plain as if the Allfather whispered the affirmation into his ear.

The echoes of battle fill the air, and through the slivers of light above, you see shadows moving and hear the unmistakable cry of a raven growing closer —Sýnin. Rousing from uneasy rest, you clamber to the upturned bucket at the cell’s center, dragging chains behind you. Trembling, you clutch your swollen belly, then step up onto the bucket, fingers finding purchase on the metal grate above, slick with blood and excrements. Sýnin appears at the edge of the grate, his beady eyes staring down at you in the darkness, tilting his head this way and that. He hops up and down —talons clinking against the metal— before squawking wildly.

Eivor’s focus shifts from the dead littering the beach when he hears Sýnin inside the cave, and for the first time in weeks, you hear your name in his voice —a desperate plea. “Eivor!” His name is only a soft, airy rasp, not strong enough to carry with the raven’s calls. “Eivor!” You cry, this time louder, but your voice is broken, throat raw from days screaming and crying at the hands of Fulke and her enforcers. Sýnin’s squawks grow louder, mingling with footsteps.

The wave of relief almost shatters him when it hits and washes over his body and mind when he sees you —alive. Eivor reaches through the lattice, his fingers brushing against yours. “I’ve got you now,” he breathes, the torchlight showing the tears glistening in his clear blue gaze. You nod, smiling with cracked lips —thanking Frigg and Freyja that your prayers did not go unanswered. Eivor urges you to step down and aside, and when you do, he rears back, slamming the butt of his axe against the rusting lock, breaking it. With a sharp cry, he throws open the grate, sliding down into the darkness with you.

Hands trembling, he unlocks the manacles around your wrists and the shackle around your ankle. Each has left your skin red and raw beneath. Eivor gathers you in his arms. “Let’s get you out of here,” he says, lips brushing against your temple. You nod, eager to be rid of this damp and foul hole in the earth. Sýnin takes to your shoulder as soon as you are free, nudging his head against your temple and cheek. With a tired smile, you lift a hand to scritch the dark feathers of his underside as Eivor pulls himself free of the cell.

Eivor kneels, reaching for your hands, his thumbs brushing just above the broken skin on your wrists, and as you lean toward him, he swathes you with the coarse wool of his cloak —forehead pressed against yours. He feels the dampness on your cheeks as you press your face against his scarred neck. "I won't let anyone hurt you again,” he vows, “you're safe now.” One of his hands settles on your stomach, and you cover it with yours, holding him tightly with the other. “You’re both safe,” he whispers, and it’s only when he feels a light twitch against his hand that the realization breaks him. “I’m so sorry, my love,” Eivor chokes.

You draw back from his embrace, seeing the tears streak his face and the guilt clear on his expression. “Don’t blame yourself,” you plead, cupping his scarred cheek. “Please, don’t.” Eivor nods, though guilt still weighs heavily on his heart and will until he sees you safely returned to Ravensthorpe and tended to. He turns farther into your hand until his lips brush the center of your palm —a soft kiss, another promise.

Sýnin croaks, splashing in a puddle, and breaks yours and Eivor’s trance, reminding you both that you’re still in a cave, far from home and where you belong. He slides his arms beneath your knees and around your shoulders, rising with you. “You’re safe,” he repeats, more for himself to hear than you. Eivor breathes a deep sigh when he steps onto the beach, holding you close in his arms. Sýnin flies overhead, as do a pair of ravens — the same pair Eivor has seen in dreams of late. He smiles as he sets on the path carrying you up the cliffside, knowing Havi and Frigg had both heard his prayers.

[taglist:  @angstygunslinger @vanillabeanlattes @withered-poppies @ananriel @itseivwhore @maximalblaze @dynamicorbit @theelvenvalkyrie @xxdearlybeloved @elizabethroestone @elluvians @letsloveimagines @finick94 @wallsarecrumbling @kitkitvm @thedragonqueenfan @callmemythicalminx @edelae @darkravenqueen98 ] if your name is italicized, tumblr would not let me tag you. if you’d like to be added to my Eivor taglist, just let me know!

[aithorin]

Chasing You - Thranduil x Reader

Plot: Imagine overhearing Thranduil’s conversation with Tauriel and running away

A/N-This fic is also posted on AO3 under the same username. I will insert a link to it below. However, this is also a slightly different version as I’ve made a couple of edits. I’ll post the updated version eventually on AO3, but for now this is the only edited version. Also, some of the lines in this are from the movies, so as a disclaimer, I do not own any recognizable content.

Archive Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21823933

Slight NSFW Warning!

The hooves of your horse thundered in your ear as you pushed it to gallop quickly throughout Mirkwood. All around, the sickened trees passed in a blur, and yet somehow they still managed to loom over you, mocking your troubles with their height. You hunched closer to your horse, looking for comfort, and threaded your fingers throughout its mane. The wind burned at your eyes, causing tears of a completely different kind to well. They mingled with the ones symbolic of your heartbreak, mixing so thoroughly that they became indistinguishable from one another. The wind pulled at both, tugging at them as they trekked down your face. The tears disappeared into the air behind you, the wind having successfully stolen them.

So distracted by your thoughts, you didn’t even notice how the wind had prematurely dried the tear tracks along your face, pinching the skin slightly underneath. All you could focus on was Thranduil. Just the thought of his name sent a fresh wave of tears to your eyes, blurring your vision even more. Moments from your relationship flashed through your mind, and confusion merged with your hurt. You just didn’t understand. All this time he had seemed so genuine. To find out it was all a farce so suddenly only made your anguish sharper. There were no suspicions at all; you had been happy, and you thought that he had been happy too. But as a sob escaped your mouth, you realized that maybe some things weren’t meant to be. Echoes of the conversation you had accidently heard rang throughout your mind, and agony grappled at your heart as you thought about Thranduil’s betrayal.

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

Having finished your chores for the day, you hurried toward the throne room hoping to catch a moment alone with Thranduil. It was difficult to spend time with him considering your relationship was a secret, so every spare moment you had to sneak with him was precious. As you passed by a corridor, muffled voices floated through the air causing your footsteps to slow to a halt. Curious, you crept towards the sound, excitement filling you as you recognized Thranduil’s voice. It was perfect! You’d just wait for him to finish and then maybe you could spend a few moments together. But as the muffled noise turned into clear voices, your excitement quickly diminished as a deep hurt took root within your heart.

“Legolas said you fought well today… he has grown very fond of you.” Thranduil’s deep baritone resonated throughout the room.

A few moments passed before Tauriel stammered, “I assure you my lord, Legolas thinks of me as no more than a captain of the guard.”

“Perhaps he did once...now I’m not so sure.” Thranduil sneered.

“I do not think…  you would allow your son to pledge himself to a lowly silvan elf.” Tauriel stuttered back.

“No, you’re right. I would not.” Thranduil declared, “Still… he cares about you. Do not give him hope where there is none”

At his words, a gasp left your mouth as your heart plummeted. Both of their heads snapped in your direction, but by then you had already turned and fled down the hall. Tears welled in your eyes as you began to understand the meaning behind his words. You were no different than Tauriel. In fact, you were inferior to her being that your station in life was that of a maid. If Legolas couldn’t pledge himself to the esteemed captain of the guard, then there was no hope that Thranduil would ever truly pledge himself to you either. All this time, you were nothing more than a fling to Thranduil, maybe even less. Did he see your feelings as a game, something to be toyed with? The conviction with which Thranduil spoke his words told you more than you ever needed to know. It was obvious he didn’t share in any of the things you felt. A choke escaped your throat as you realized your relationship was nothing but a lie.

Fleeing from the corridor, you ran to the comfort of your room. The door to your chambers creaked open, and light from the hall seeped through to illuminate it. As you stepped inside, you looked slowly around the room. Nothing seemed right anymore. You felt as though you were suffocating, and with a sudden clarity you knew what you had to do. You had to leave. The thought of staying in Mirkwood made you nauseous. Having to stay and look at Thranduil everyday, knowing that he never cared about you, would only break your heart over and over again. Leaving was the only way you had any hope of moving on. You quickly gathered what meager belongings you had, and hurried towards the stables. Climbing on top of the nearest horse, you saddled your pack and took off without a backward glance.

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

The trees of Mirkwood continued to whiz by, the tears continuously spilling from your eyes creating a distorted view of your surroundings. Thoughts raced through your mind as you tried to make sense of the situation.

‘How could he do this to me? I loved him! I gave him everything. My heart, my mind, my trust, my body, everything, and yet in the end he didn’t care at all. It was nothing but a game to him.’ A choked, bitter laugh escaped through the sobs erupting from your throat. Everything just hurt; your heart felt tight, a huge lump in your throat made it difficult to breathe, and your eyes were swollen and tired from crying.

Why, why would he do this to you! You never thought he could be so cruel. Lost in the river of your despair, you failed to notice the sound of legs scurrying across the forest floor until it was too late.

A rustle of leaves sounded to your left before a giant spider leapt from behind the brush causing your horse to rear up in fright. The sudden change in gravity threw you from its back, causing your backside to hit the floor with a hard thud, knocking the breath from you. Letting out a wheeze as you attempted to regain your breath, you looked up just in time to see your horse let out a loud whine before bolting back in the direction you came. By then, the giant spider had turned its attention towards you and moved with a speed that surprised even your elven senses. You scurried back on all fours in terror, the dead leaves crunching beneath your hands. All too soon though, your path became blocked by one of the towering, ill trees that resided in the forest. Still, your arms flailed as you tried to get away, but the spider continued to advance, slowly trapping you in your place. Your breath started to quicken, and terrified gasps resounded throughout the forest. This was it. You were going to die in the forest alone, with the knowledge that no one had ever really loved you. A few stray tears escaped your eyes as you realized just how pathetic you really were. By now the spider loomed above you, its pincers poised above you, ready to strike. Ominous hisses spewed from its mouth, and you squeezed your eyes shut, unwilling to watch it deliver the killing blow. Having accepted your fate, your body relaxed, and you waited for the world you knew to be no more.

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

“I want the watch doubled at our borders. All roads. All rivers. Nothing moves but I hear of it. No one enters this kingdom and no one leaves it.” Thranduil ordered, an unspoken warning in his tone, before walking away with a swish of his cloak.

No sooner had he left the throne room was he stopped by a servant.

“Forgive the intrusion my lord, but I couldn’t help overhearing your order and…” The elleth hesitated.

“Out with it, you insolent child! I don’t have all day! You’ve already overstepped your boundaries, don’t push them anymore.” Thranduil said, his patience growing thin.

“Well,” she began, “it’s just...I’m worried about (Y/N). When I stopped by our shared room all of her belongings were gone. I think she went into the forest, but she hasn’t come back. Will she be able to get back into the kingdom with your order?”

At the mention of your name, Thranduil’s blood turned ice cold in his veins. Where could you have possibly gone, and with all of your belongings too? You wouldn’t just leave without telling him, and you knew better than to go into the forest alone. You weren’t trained in the art of combat, and there were too many dangers that lurked in the forest these days. Thranduil’s mind became laced with panic as he ran through all of the possible things that could have happened to you. Were you lost? Injured? Dead? At that last thought, Thranduil swallowed as a hard lump of fear developed in his throat. He had to find you. Now.

He turned to look at the elleth, the cool facade on his face betraying none of the inward worry that he held.

“As king it is my duty to see to the safety and wellbeing of all that dwell within my kingdom. As such, I will personally see to it that (Y/N) is brought back home safe and unharmed.”

At his words, the elleth visibly relaxed. “Thank you my lord. You are most generous and kind.” With a nod of her head, the elleth bowed her head before walking away to return to her duties.

Thranduil turned to the nearest guard. “You,” he said, “Ready my elk. We leave at once.”

“Yes my lord.”

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

Thranduil raced through the forest, looking for any sign of a trail. Suddenly, a lone horse came barreling in their direction, rearing in a panic. The small group of guards he had with him leaped in front to calm it down.

Grabbing its reins, Thranduil inspected the horse, noticing a pack saddled to its back. Peering inside, he saw your possessions and his expression turned grim. Without a word, he swung back onto his elk and charged down the path the horse came from.

Galloping along the path, Thranduil prayed that you were okay. He would never forgive himself if something were to happen to you. Meeting you had breathed new life into him. For the first time since his wife died, he actually felt happy, something his own son couldn’t even provide him. Every beat of his heart was dedicated solely to you, and if you were to be taken from him like his wife was, he didn’t think he would ever be able to recover.

Deep in the forest now, Thranduil was beginning to doubt that he’d be able to find you when he heard noises coming from off the path. The hiss of a spider, leaves crackling as someone scrambled. His eyes widened as he realized a spider was attacking someone. Jumping from his elk, Thranduil’s footsteps pounded as he ran, and the sound of metal scraping could be heard as he drew his sword. Bursting into a clearing, he saw a giant spider above someone, poised to kill whoever was trapped. As the spider went in for the killing blow so did Thranduil. Fortunately, Thranduil was faster, and blood spurted as he drove his sword into the spider’s back. The spider howled in pain, limbs flailing as the life slowly drained from it along with its blood. All too soon, the spider dropped dead, and Thranduil hurried to push it off of whoever was trapped beneath it.

Rolling the spider’s body to the side, Thranduil was met with the sight of you curled tightly, hugging your knees to your chest with your eyes clenched shut. Dried tear tracks painted your cheeks, and visible tremors shook your body. Thranduil kneeled next to you as a big weight lifted from his chest. You were alive! Scared and shaken but alive. He had made it to your side in time, albeit he was cutting it a bit close.

Right in front of you, Thranduil slowly reached out to place a gentle hand on your shoulder. At his touch, you jumped and started to shake even harder, your eyes still shut tight.

“Meleth nin,” he spoke softly, “Open your eyes. I am here, and you are safe.”

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

“Meleth nin” you heard a soft voice whisper, “Open your eyes. I am here, and you are safe.”

At the sound of his voice, you wanted to let out a sob. It sounded just like him, but you knew that it couldn’t be Thranduil. There was no way that Thranduil was in front of you. He was back at the palace, most likely atop his throne, while you were here, probably bleeding out from a spider bite. That was it you reasoned. You had been bitten by the spider, and now you were going delirious from its venom before you died. It was the only explanation. He didn’t love you. You didn’t want to open your eyes. If you did the illusion would be shattered. At least this way you could pretend that you wouldn’t die alone, and that your love was here.

But when his hand started to shake your shoulder, the possibility that maybe he actually was here started to seem more like a reality. You reluctantly opened your eyes to see his cerulean ones staring into yours, deep with concern. You wanted nothing more than to reach out and hold him, but with the threat of death looming over you gone, you remembered why you left in the first place. You snatched your wandering arms back and lowered your eyes as more tears suddenly welled in your eyes. ‘He isn’t mine’, you reminded yourself, ‘he never was’. Having him be so close yet at the same time so far made your heart clench painfully in your chest.

“Melamin, are you alright? I was so worried I had lost you.” Thranduil whispered.

Deciding to ignore the endearment, you chose to answer the way your relationship now demanded. That of a respectful servant addressing her king. Still looking down at your feet, you replied meekly, “Yes, your majesty. Thank you for rescuing me. I apologize for the inconvenience.”

At your words, his eyes squinted ever so slightly in confusion. Why were you talking to him like that, as though you were just another one of his subjects? Something else was wrong. You couldn’t even look at him. With a wave of his hand, he dismissed the few guards surrounding the clearing leaving just the two of you.

“What is wrong meleth nin? Why can’t you look at me?”

The continued endearments caused the sob that had been stuck in your throat to escape. Why did he insist on continuing the game? Was it not enough that he had taken your heart? Must he continue to squeeze it as well? How spiteful could he be to insist on calling you that?

“Please,” you whispered “Do not continue to jest. My heart cannot take it.”

Thranduil grabbed your hands and with the sudden movement, you finally tilted your head to meet his gaze. Seeing your heartbroken face, he felt his own heart twinge within his chest. He could feel you slipping away and with every passing minute he feared that he would not be able to get you back. “I don’t understand,” he pleaded, “Whatever it is that I have done, tell me, and I will not rest until I have eased your mind.”

His words made your head droop in despair. So he was going to continue to feign ignorance until he could break your heart and see your expression for himself. His insisted cruelty caused the first seeds of anger to break through the dam of your heartbreak. Thranduil might have shattered your heart, but you’d be damned before you’d let him see the effects. You’d get through this conversation, and then part from Mirkwood and put this chapter of your life behind you.

With your newfound determination, you looked at him with your face hard and eyes steely. “Do not think me so naive that I will continue to play along with your game, my lord. You may have fooled me once, but I refuse to let you do so again. You can cease your act of mocking love and concern. Please, just go back to the palace and have a laugh about the foolish maid who believed that a king could ever possibly care for her, and I will be on my way.”

Thranduil stared at you in bewilderment. Where was all of this coming from? Just this morning, everything was fine, and in that short time you now doubted his love for you. What could have possibly happened?

“Whoever has planted this seed of doubt in your mind will wish that they had never opened their mouth,” Thranduil swore gravelly, “I do not know what has caused this skepticism, but know that my feelings for you are honest and true.” He lifted your hands enclosed in his to place a soft kiss upon them.

Looking into his eyes, you were tempted to believe him. He seemed so earnest, but the words that he spoke earlier rang through your mind, “Do not give him hope where there is none”, and your temptations were banished. You let out a bitter laugh. “Don’t be ridiculous. YOU were the one who made your feelings toward me clear as day, no one else. If you cannot bring yourself to be honest about anything else, then at least take responsibility for revealing your true feelings about me.”

“I do not know what you speak of!” Letting go of you, he stood from the forest floor and began to circle the clearing in frustration. “Care to enlighten me?”

Crossing your arms, you stood with him. “I heard you. Earlier, in the corridor with Tauriel. With it, the veil from my eyes was lifted, and I am now able to see this relationship for what it is: a complete and utter lie.”

He spun around to face you. “That had absolutely nothing to do with you! It was about Legolas. It, in no way, concerned how I feel about you.”

“It had everything to do with me.” you spoke softly. “If the prince is not allowed to pledge himself to Tauriel, the esteemed captain of the guard, where does that leave me? I am a servant my lord, the lowest of the low, and if the prince cannot be with someone who is far above my own station, why would the king of all people do any different?”

You turned to face him, and saw a guilt stricken look cross into Thranduil’s eyes as he realized the implication of his words.

“Forgive me Meleth. I did not realize the severity of my words when I spoke.” He apologized. He crossed the clearing to stand in front of you. Gently grabbing your shoulders, he looked deep into your eyes, “My feelings for you are earnest and unchanging. You have reminded me what happiness looks like. When you came into my life, I saw glimmers of light that I had not seen since my wife died. The first time I looked into your eyes, my heart thawed and began to beat within my chest again. You are the one who has breathed life back into me.”

Shrugging his hands off, you turned away from him.  “Be that as it may, you must believe it someplace deep inside otherwise you would not have spoken as you did. If it really was a mistake, then you would not care if Tauriel and Legolas were together, but you do.”

“No!” Thranduil protested, “I did not realize how selfish I was being when I spoke with Tauriel. If Legolas wishes to be with her so be it. I do not care.” Turning you back around, he gently cupped your cheek and tilted your head up to meet his eyes. “How could I care if it would cost me you?” He whispered.

Staring into his eyes filled with nothing but love, you felt the weight on your chest slowly begin to lift for the first time in hours. Perhaps there was hope after all. Yet as your overwhelming emotions faded, your mind began to clear, leaving nothing but logic and the cold sting of reality as you reconsidered his earlier words. Casting your eyes to the ground, you said, “As much as it pains me to say it, it does not really matter whether you care or not. In many ways, the words you spoke held nothing but the truth. It’s foolish to believe that we can ever truly be together. I am a maid, and you are a king. This relationship has no future for you surely cannot pledge yourself to me. The people would never accept me as queen.”

Crossing your arms, you turned your back so that he would not be able to see the tears welling in your eyes. “We aren’t even truly together right now. We ignore each other around the presence of others, stealing hidden moments in the dead of night. Do you know how painful it is? To see you look at me so coldly, so uncaringly, in the light of day, yet share in the warmth of your embrace at night. It’s exhausting. Do you have any idea how much it makes my heart ache? All I want is the freedom to speak to you, comfort you, touch you, whenever I wish, but our relationship forbids it! I can’t even send you a simple smile when I pass you in the halls! Too often, I can see the stress of a wasted council meeting etched on your face, and I yearn to soothe you and share in your troubles but I cannot. I did not lie when I said your conversation with Tauriel lifted a veil from my eyes, but I can see that it's different from what I originally thought. I think it would be best for us to part ways right here, and that way we can both move on. Elves are immortal. If I left now, I would be but a flicker on the line that is your life. I’m sure it would not be too hard to forget me and our relationship.” you mumbled quietly.

Thranduil’s gaze turned fiery. “Do what you will. But know this, should you choose to leave this forest do not think for one second that I will ever forget you. Ten, a hundred, even thousands of years from now, I will ache for you every second of every day. Not once will you ever leave my mind.”

His gaze softened, “Please… come home, and I promise we will truly be together, no more sneaking around. I am not ashamed to be with you; we will walk the halls together and share in each other’s troubles as you wish.”

“But your advisors and the people-”

His eyes flashed, “Speak no more of it. Love has slipped from my grasp once before, and I refuse to allow it to again. I am the king of this realm, and if I wish to be with you then the people will have to accept it.”

Hearing his words, you wanted nothing more than to accept, but your doubt and insecurity still lingered near the surface. How could you accept when you knew that you would only hold him back? The people would not be happy, and it would lead to unrest in the kingdom. How could you be that selfish? You couldn’t tear apart an entire kingdom for your own happiness. To make matters worse you wouldn’t even be able to help Thranduil bring about peace. You were a servant for crying out loud; you knew nothing about diplomacy!

As an internal war waged within you, Thranduil noticed the doubt in your eyes holding you back. He could sense that you lied upon a threshold and with one little push, you would surrender your doubts and come back to him. Determined to give you that final push, he glided towards you. Lost within your mind, you didn’t even notice that he had started to move until he had pressed himself against your back. The feel of his hard chest against your back brought an immediate halt to the worries swirling within you. Time came to a complete standstill, and you held your breath in anticipation, nervous yet also excited to see what he would do.

Achingly slow, he lifted a hand to gently brush your hair back, baring your neck. With the back of his hand, he started to tenderly trace a path along the curve of your neck. The hand continued downward, skimming the curve of your breasts to reach its resting place on your belly. Your eyes fluttered closed again in appreciation, and without even realizing, you leaned slightly into him, unconsciously craving to be closer. He bent down, his breath tickling the shell of your ear as he whispered, “Tell me Melamin, what troubles you so?”

You shivered as the heat of his breath hit your neck. As he started to pepper your jawline in featherlight kisses, your mind became clouded, but you still managed to share your doubts with him. “I still worry… of the people’s reaction… to our relationship.” you whispered.

Thranduil hummed in response and raised his hand to caress the other side of your jaw. He pressed himself even closer to you and with it a fire that only he could sate ignited within you. “Tell me, does it feel like I care for their reaction? Let go meleth, and I promise you everything will be fine.”

With that, he used his hand to tilt you toward him and leaned down to capture you in a kiss. It started sweet but soon an overwhelming need took over you. The kiss was transformed into a battle of passion, and you turned around to fully face him. Your hands trailed all over Thranduil’s body, sliding up his chest to eventually twist themselves into his hair. With a soft tug, you pulled him even closer to deepen the kiss. Your lungs burned for air, but you didn’t care. At that moment, all that mattered was him. With every second that passed, your doubts slowly melted away as thoughts of Thranduil consumed your mind. All you could focus on was the feel of his lips and his hands gliding over your hips. You wanted nothing more than to drown in the river of his love.

Breaking the kiss for a moment, you opened your eyes to gaze into his. Seeing the love and adoration he held for you in them, you allowed yourself to be drawn into the torrent, and you let go.

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

Afterwards, as you lay cuddled together on the forest floor, Thranduil reached down to entwine your hands together. Resting his head against your shoulder, he brushed a stray strand of hair out of the way and asked once again, “Come home, meleth nin?”

Without a moment’s hesitation, you replied, “Yes.”

[theboredwritertm]

"Oh, darling, everybody sees how you look at him" fic request with Din/reader! (Please and thank you :3)

Everyone Knows

A/N: Another request done and dusted. I’ve been getting some new prompt lists ready for when I open requests back up again (not sure what tumblr etiquette is for compiling a masterlist using other people’s prompt-lists, but I’m considering doing something like that), but I still have about 4 or 5 fics to finish off before then!

Rating: PG?

Pairing: Din Djarin x ForceSensitive!Reader

Warnings: Mentions of death, a bit of alcohol, that’s about it. 

Word Count:  4500 (Me, failing to keep a story under 2k words? It’s more likely than you think)

Summary: After taking on the krayt dragon together, you’re forced to confront your feelings for Din (with a little help from everyone’s favorite marshal).   

***

The monster was unlike anything you’d ever seen before.

There’d been times aboard the Crest, when there were still thousands of miles to go between stops, that you’d sit by Din, giving him your rapt attention as he’d recount one of his many stories about a particularly terrifying beast he’d encountered. Not that he would ever call them terrifying – the man had a will of steel when it came to facing these kinds of things. And on this occasion, in the middle of the Tatooine desert, things would prove no different. 

Only this time he had you.

You were still coming into your abilities, not really sure what they meant or the true extent of what you were capable of, and amazingly enough you found you were learning a lot from watching the Child. For instance, before he came along, you had never known you could heal people. A simple experiment with Din had proven this to be true enough – the man was prone to injury in his line of work – and though it had taken a lot of concentration, enough that you were sweating by the end, it got you wondering just what other miracles your hands could perform.

Now, standing beside Din and the man who had introduced himself to you both as Cobb Vanth, you stared down into the dragon’s lair and found yourself hoping those powers might come in handy.

“So, how’re we drawin’ this thing out?” Cobb asks.

You glance back at the dozens of townsfolk and Tuskens around you, sensing their uneasiness as they shuffle from foot to foot and cast occasional apprehensive glances in the direction of the danger and you’re surprised to see a couple of the Raiders step forward. Considering how well their peoples’ last attempt to draw out the beast had gone, you hadn’t expected any of them to be so willing to approach the pit again. 

Cobb glances over at them and cocks his head in immediate acceptance. Given his past troubles with their people, he can’t say he’s overly concerned over the prospect of losing a few more of them.

But you’ve never been one to stand by and watch people get hurt.

“No, wait.” The words leave your mouth automatically. Up until this point, you’d been feeling completely useless. Din had been keeping an even closer watch on you than usual since a stunt you had pulled back on Nevarro; one that had involved your unpredictable powers and the dozens of stormtroopers who’d had him cornered. Though he had come out of the situation a lot worse for wear than you had, he’d been hovering over you, keeping you a safe distance from any action ever since. You were starting to get sick of being kept on the sidelines. “I can do it,” you say. 

The Tuskens turn to look back at you, not able to understand what you’ve said, but sensing a potential change of plans, then their attention is drawn to the Mandalorian beside you as he quickly dashes their hopes. 

“No,” comes Din’s clear, expected response.

You turn to him. “I can handle this.”

“No. You’re staying where you are.”

You gaze at him for just a moment, anger starting to bubble in the pit of your stomach, before turning around and striding down the tall dune, towards the gaping mouth of the empty saarlac pit. You know better than to argue – you don’t have the time right now, but every time you did, he managed to use it as a way to distract you. You wouldn’t give him that opportunity now. You’d already made up your mind.

You feel the air stir as his hand shoots out to grab you, but you’re too quick; one of the things that’s managed to keep you alive this long, but now maybe the very thing that’s going to get you killed. 

“Dank Farrik!”

Cobb glances between the man beside him and your retreating form, attempting to hold back a smirk. In the short couple of days that he’s known you both, he’s already witnessed at least three separate arguments, none of which seemed to get either of you anywhere. He didn’t see this one going the big guy’s way, either.  

The modulator seems to amplify the frustration in Din’s voice, but you ignore it. You were more than capable of looking out for yourself, as you had proven to him numerous times now, and whatever problem he had with that was his own – you weren’t about to let his fears hold you back. Yet, as you draw closer to the yawning darkness, your heart begins to thud in your chest. For the first time, you feel the enormity of this creature, and you’ve never felt so small in your life. 

You sense him approach before you hear him. That was one advantage you’d always had over Din; he could never sneak up on you.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m tired of watching everyone else do everything,” you say, finally coming to a stop, your gaze still trained forward, “I want to play my part. I need to play my part.”

“No, you need to stay safe.” His words sound threatening despite their context, but you ignore him once more. This time he does grab you, catching you around the forearm as you raise your hands in the direction of the cave. “Stop!”You’re tempted to use your powers to throw him off, but you can feel how much he means it and you’re struck with a sudden guilt. He cares. That’s all there is to it. 

“Please, let me do this.” You stare up into his helmet and feel him gazing back, considering things. His fingers loosen from your wrist. 

“Fine. But I’m staying with you.”

“I wouldn’t expect anything less,” you reply, not bothering to hide your bitterness at the constant babysitting – though, if you’re being honest, you do feel better with him by your side.

You raise your hands again and close your eyes, focusing on the low hum of energy around you. You don’t feel it at first, but then its as if you’ve suddenly locked onto a connection – plugged yourself into an electric charge – and everything suddenly feels heightened. Everything feels more. You draw on from that, concentrating on the pit of darkness before you, then you push forward with your mind, reaching out. In the darkness, something stirs.

“What is it?” Din asks, as if he’s sensed the sudden change.

“I feel it,” you reply, eyes still closed, your brow now marked with a frown. 

He stares down at you and you finally open your eyes to meet his gaze (as much as you can through the helmet) but before either of you can say anything, a low rumbling begins to emit from the ground.

It had worked. 

And it was heading right for you. 

You’ll admit that, as much you’d wanted to play your part in this, you hadn’t really considered what came next once you did manage to draw the thing out. So now, as you watch the sand shift and begin to rise a hundred or so feet in front of you, you find yourself rooted to the spot. 

It’s Din who moves first.

Your hands had come up again, all you can think to do to hold the beast off, then suddenly a strong arm is wrapping around your waist and you’re being propelled into the air. You glance down just in time to see the enormous mouth erupt from the ground where you had just been standing.

This time, you don’t argue. You clutch onto him, air whipping through your hair, thankful that he’s just as stubborn as you are.

When you finally land, he sets you on your feet and quickly glances down to make sure you’re alright. You give him a quick nod, sensing the question in his gaze, and then he takes off again to rejoin the action. It takes you a moment to regain your balance, and you still feel the ghost of his arm around your waist, but when you glance back you find that he’s set you down by the landspeeder, with the Child. He’s put you back at the kids’ table. 

You give a frustrated growl and the baby blinks curiously at you, eyes full of wonder. He’s just happy to be here, close to someone he likes. You offer a reassuring stroke over his little head, then turn to stalk back down the dunes; back towards the rest of the group whose lives apparently don’t mean as much to Din, since he’s more them happy for them to join in despite them having little-to-no fighting experience. You’re not about to sit back and watch them all die. 

As the dragon bursts out of the sand once more, the Tuskens and townsfolk begin firing harpoons into its side – a desperate attempt to keep it in place – and you watch as it wrenches itself free with a simple shake of its body. There’s no way this plan is going to work.

When you arrive back by Din’s side, he simply looks at you, not even bothering to admonish you, knowing it’s not going to get him anywhere at this point anyway. But as you look at him, a silent warning to not push you aside again, he sees you’ve got that same look in your eyes now as you had back on Nevarro. And it worries him. 

You move off together as a unit as the dragon begins its assault, firing with everything you’ve got to get its attention – in your case, your trusty blaster pistol – stopping only when it opens its jaws wide and proceeds to spit boiling acid down onto anyone within its reach. You watch in horror as people are disintegrated before your eyes.

A massive explosion beneath it distracts it long enough for any survivors to get clear of its path, and the creature suddenly dives.

You wait, watching for any sign that it’s coming back up, but the smoking landscape is silent and still. Yet, something doesn’t feel right.

“I don’t think it’s dead,” Cobb says, voicing your concern, and you exchange worried glances.

“Me neither,” Din replies. His grip tightens on his blaster, waiting.

Then suddenly, up on the mountain, the creature bursts forth once more. It opens its mouth wide and you glance down at the people in its path about to be annihilated. You can’t watch this happen again. Moving as fast as your feet can carry you, you rush down towards them, shoving them aside with a powerful force-push seconds before the acid hits the sand, clearing them of its path just in time – leaving you in a tricky predicament. You’ve caught its attention now – and you have nowhere to go.

You catch the sound of jetpacks as Cobb and Din land either side of you, weapons raised and ready to come to your defense.

“Get back!” Din barks at you, and you find you have no choice but to listen to him. Failing to do so now, even just to prove a point, and you’re certain you’d be the dragon’s next meal. You’d pick your hill to die on one day, but this just wasn’t it. 

Din and Cobb take off into the air again, firing their weapons to draw the dragon’s attention away and give you time to escape. It works. The dragon, furious from the sudden new assault, turns and comes after them, spraying up sand as it whips its massive body in the new direction.  

As you watch them draw it further away, you can’t help but wonder what the plan is, since the original one has long fallen apart. They can’t keep drawing it away forever. Now that you have minute to breath, you look around for a way to help, and spot the explosives-laden bantha that had been led down as bait. It looks like it would rather be anywhere else and, hell, you don’t blame it, but glancing between it and the massive monster that currently has its sights set on the one man who never failed to put himself in the path of danger for you, you think maybe it was time to return the favor and finish this once and for all.

So, you grab the bellowing, hairy animal by its halter and do something stupid.

You start yelling. And waving your arms. And when that fails to grab the dragon’s attention, you start firing your weapon. Taking your odd behavior as some kind of cue, the townsfolk closest to you begin firing, too, and finally the dragon turns to face this latest assault, drawn to the movement of your waving arms and the scent wafting from the bantha. 

You spot the two armored men, now free of the dragon’s attention, flying up from the mountain before one in particular makes a sudden beeline in your direction. You can practically feel Din’s wrath radiating off of him before he even gets close, and it’s like the bantha can, too, as it begins to protest and pull against its rope. Or maybe it’s the giant monster coming to swallow it whole that has it so skittish.  Either way, you feel like an ass as you try to calm it down, knowing the only reason you’re doing so is to keep it in place long enough to be eaten.

You’re grateful to have the marshal land behind you first as Din drops down in front, poised to lose his absolute mind at you for your reckless behavior, but finding the situation momentarily put on-hold as Cobb asks to no one in particular, “Now what?”

Din’s staring at you, gaze heavy, burning, and humiliating all in one, but he doesn’t have time to berate you as the dragon breaks from a nearby dune. “I have an idea,” he says, and before either you or Cobb can ask what that is, he shoves you into the marshal’s arms and sets off the man’s jetpack, sending you both careening up and away from the dragon’s path – and leaving him right in the middle of it. 

You had come to suspect that you were in pretty deep with Din Djarin, ever since he had first rescued you many years ago, but watching him disappear into the enormous jaws of the krayt dragon was a lesson you had never asked for in how you really felt about him. Even as everyone around you falls into a stunned silence, your ears begin to buzz and you have to fight to keep your footing, absently leaning against Cobb for support as the energy drains from your legs. Cobb reaches for you but misses as you collapse down onto the sand by his feet. Your throat starts to tighten. Everything feels hazy. 

This can’t be it. This can’t be the way it happens. 

Then the beast erupts from the sand once more and you spot a familiar shape fly out of its roaring mouth. 

Your heart leaps into your throat. Suddenly, you can breathe again. Then you’re back on your feet and racing towards him.

The huge blast that follows knocks you back and you hold an arm across your eyes to protect them from the cloud of sand billowing from the site of the explosion, but even that’s not enough to stop you as you keep your sights trained on the metal armor glistening in the hot sun. 

When you finally reach Din, you stand for a moment looking at him, then a sound escapes you halfway between a sob and shout, and you shove him – hard. He stumbles backwards but remains on his feet.

“What the hell were you thinking?” You don’t think you’ve ever been this angry in your life. Fury radiates from every cell in your body, and still Din just stares at you. Then you hug him. Neither of you are expecting it, and his body stiffens immediately in surprise, but when you feel him relax and one of his arms comes up to wrap around you in return, everything suddenly feels right again. You couldn’t care less that he’s covered in gross dragon goo and that it’s probably getting all over your clothes, or that there’s a crowd of onlookers witnessing this moment between you – all you care about is the fact that he’s here, that he’s still alive. 

A cheer erupts behind you as you part, and it’s not for you and Din, but for the smoking remains of the dragon nearby, and it’s soon joined by the howls of the Tuskens as they raise their weapons in victory. 

It’s over. It’s done. And as you look up at Din, you can think of many things worth celebrating.

***

And celebrate, you do. 

As much as he had wanted to make a quiet exit once he had collected his promised armor from Cobb, you had managed to convince Din to stay in Mos Pelgo just a little longer for the revelries. It had been a long time since you’d stayed anywhere close to civilization, let alone had a good reason to celebrate; and though you’d grown used to the comfortable silence of the Razor Crest, there’s some comfort in being surrounded by happy, chattering people for once, instead of the lonely vacuum of space.

Cobb had asked you back personally for a couple of drinks at the bar, and though the invitation had been extended to both of you, Din had failed to take it that way. In hindsight, you suppose your initial run-in with Cobb is to blame for this sudden standoffish behavior, since your contribution to convincing the man to hand over the beskar had involved you telling him that the helmet was ‘a waste on a face like his’. You guess that comment hadn’t sat too well with Din, but it had just sort of slipped out. What could you say? The guy was a looker. Yet even now, as Cobb glances over at your table from the bar, offering a warm, friendly smile in your direction, you find yourself distracted. 

You look around and finally spot Din. He’d been radiating quiet irritation since arriving back, and stands now in the furthest corner of the room, watching the festivities with what you imagined was a sulky expression beneath the helmet. The Child sits by his feet, on the sandy floor, playing with something round and shiny, completely absorbed in his own little world.

“I take it Mandalorian’s aren’t much for parties,” Cobb comments as he finally reaches your side with drinks, breaking you from you trance. He sits down beside you and slides one of the glasses of bright-blue liquid your way.

“What do you mean?” you ask.

He nods over towards Din whose gaze is currently burning into you, and you shift uncomfortably trying to find somewhere else to direct your attention, unsure why you don’t just look at Cobb. You realize why when your eyes shift back to him and the feeling of being watched intensifies. 

“Him?” you reply, trying to sound casual, now hyperaware that Din is currently reading every detail of this interaction, “Oh, he usually just prefers the quiet, you know? Not really the social type. He’s only here because I asked.”

“Just watching over his girl, huh?” Cobb teases, taking a swig of his spotchka.

“His gir—What are talking about?”

He frowns before giving you a knowing look, then risks a quick, pointed glance towards Din, who he’s noticed hasn’t turned his gaze away from you for longer than a few seconds the entire evening. 

“We’re just friends,” you tell him, even if that label doesn’t feel quite right to you. “It’s not like that.” You take a mouthful of drink just to give yourself something to do, and wince at the unexpected bitterness. When you glance back over at Din, your cheeks heat up a little when you realize he’s still looking back. You finally drop your gaze away, reassuring yourself that the weird feeling you’ve suddenly gotten in your stomach is just the alcohol taking affect, but when you look back at Cobb you catch him smirking at you. 

“We’re friends,” you repeat, wondering who you’re trying to convince now, since Cobb seems pretty damn decided on the matter. “Colleagues, you know. We’ve just been through a lot together.” You frown as he chuckles. “What?”

“I did not just spend two days listening to the two of you bicker like an old married couple, to hear you say that you two are ‘just friends’.”

“I don’t know what to tell you. I guess I just don’t look at him that way.”

“Oh, darlin’, everybody sees how you look at him.”

You think back to the desert, to your arms wrapping around him like he might disappear again at any moment; to the arm that had pulled you closer and squeezed you in return. 

You take another gulp of spotchka to calm the fluttering feeling in your belly, and shoot a quick glance over to see if he’s still looking at you.

But he’s gone.

Panic floods over you.

You look around the room, hoping you don’t look as desperate as you suddenly feel, when Cobb nudges you. You look back at him and he nods to the door, where you just manage to catch a flash of cape and armor and Din disappears through it into the night.

Cobb smiles. “Go on. Go talk to the guy. I’ll still be here if you want another drink. If not, I hope we meet again someday.” He tips his glass towards you and you nod, managing a brief smile of appreciation as you stand. 

Your legs feel heavy as you walk towards the exit. It’s dark outside – almost pitch black aside from a scattering of light coming through a few windows, and the few fires burning outside to keep people warm on the cold desert night – and you breathe a sigh of relief as you spot Din still standing out on the road. It looks like the kid is giving him some trouble, his fussy cries reaching your ears easily in the quiet. He settles as soon as he sees you, though, and Din turns to see what has the ability to calm him so quickly. 

Of course, it’s you, he thinks. He should have known – you have the same effect on him.

“Hey,” you greet, still fighting back these unexplained nerves as you approach him. You’d known him for years, spent a lot of time in his company, and been through a lot together, but it’s the first time you feel nervous around him.

“Hey,” he replies simply, “I was just heading to take him back to the ship.” He pauses like he’s weighing up what he wants to say next, then adds, “When should I expect you back?”

“Back?”

“I can meet you there in the morning if that’s more suitable.” 

He’s acting weird, and though you know exactly why, you can’t help but frown at the bitterness in his tone. He’s trying to keep it cool and calm around the kid. You wonder what he’d be saying instead if it was just the two of you. 

“Why would you do that? Why would—” You hate what he’s implying, but you need him to say it, to admit why it’s a problem for him – to know if Cobb’s right. “Where am I supposed to be in all of this?”

You stare at him, the question written on your furrowed brow, wondering if he has the guts to admit the accusation outright. 

He looks back towards the bar and then back at you, cocking his helmet as if he’s expecting you to be the one to make the confession, even if there is a low rage bubbling away inside of him at the thought of it. He thinks back to the desert, to the feeling of your arms wrapped around him, to the way his own arm had come up instinctually to hold you closer, and he thinks of how much he wants that again.

“I’m coming back to the ship,” you tell him.

“Don’t do that on my account,” he replies, and you swear he says things like that just to piss you off. 

Before you can formulate a response, he turns away and starts walking towards his borrowed landspeeder. The Child looks back at you over his shoulder and stretches his little arms towards you with a cry, but Din ignores it.

You almost shout his name, forgetting for a moment where you are, and instead splutter out an awkward ‘Mando!’, which you haven’t called him in over a year; not since he entrusted you with his true name. He stops and slowly turns back. By now the kid is wriggling and fussing so much in his arms that he has to put him down, and the little one immediately heads towards you, reaching up to be held. You scoop him up and Din watches as the kid coos happily and buries his face in your hair. He’d thought they were leaving without you, Din realizes, and he can’t help but wonder if the kid’s picked up on his own emotions too – at his own distress at the thought of leaving you behind. 

He watches you for a moment as you soothe the Child, observing the tender way you fuss over him, and feels guilt start to creep over him.

“I am doing it on your account,” you tell him firmly, after a moment, finally looking back at him again, and his helmet tilts slightly as he stares back at you. You screw up your face like you hate the idea of having to say the next words out loud, but you do anyway for his sake. “I’m not interested in the marshal.”

He makes a non-committal noise like he either doesn’t believe you or he’s pretending it’s not a big deal, and you roll your eyes, turning your attention back to the kid. 

You wonder what you can say, how you’re going to make him understand what you’re feeling, because you can’t go back to the ship like this – things can’t just keep on going how they have been, with the arguments and all these unspoken words that are causing them. So, you step forward, closing the gap between the two of you as you rest a hand against his chest plate to get his attention. 

Din stares down at you, heart thumping as he tries to read your expression and figure out what you’re going to say before you say it, hoping he’ll be less caught off guard this way.

You reach up to the back of his helmet, guiding him down towards you, muttering, “Come here, you idiot.” Then you press your forehead to the cold beskar of his helmet and find a way to tell him.

“Where you go, I go.”

He seems to understand that well enough. 

[cherrywoes]

dark sun. (ryoumen sukuna x fem! vessel! reader x oc.)

iii. yugen.

— a profound awareness of the universe that triggers feelings too deep and mysterious for words.

rating: mature.

warnings: mentions of forced child bearing, violence.

YOUR NEW HOME was small, but much larger than the tiny closet that you had been sleeping in for the past several years. A bed with a mattress lay in the center of the room, the headboard pushed against the wall, and a desk and nightstand were the only other furniture to occupy it. It was much more modern than you had expected, but still kept to the traditional layout that most of the campus had to begin with. It smelled of wood polish, cleaner, and a faint incense that was making your stomach roll unpleasantly.

“They burned sage here,” Sayaka explained quietly. She stood behind you right before the threshold of the door, holding your bag while you scoped out your new abode. The rest of the ten minute walk had been silent between the both of you, filled with Ama-no-Kagaseo’s malice, Sayaka’s worry, and your disturbing apathy at the event. She kept running her fingers over the rope handles of your bag, working at each stray strand until it fell apart. “The previous tenant passed away violently and had lingering energy in the room.”

It was a convenient lie. Sorcerers didn’t ‘haunt’ in the same way that humans would haunt their homes, families, or killers; they did not remain behind at all. Wherever they went, there was no trace of them left behind. You knew that much from a book you’d snuck from Yaga when you were younger, before you were ever a vessel. Sayaka likely didn’t know that you were aware of that fact, nor would you allow her to be. You had to be clever now; you weren’t going to lose your freedom so easily now that you had it. And if that meant hiding things from Sayaka for now, then so be it.

“I see.” Ama-no-Kagaseo’s energy swept through the room and extinguished the incense burning in a corner. The smoke dissipated as quickly as it had appeared, floating up between the slats in the ceiling and encouraged to vanish by an incorporeal hand. You would have a headache later because of the smell, but you already felt better because it was gone. You, like Ama-no-Kagaseo, had an extreme sensitivity to anything purifying or cleansing in nature—although it couldn’t kill you, it could severely cripple your senses enough to the point where you would black out. Whether or not Ama-no-Kagaseo took over was his choice after that. You had discovered that little factoid after accidentally touching a blessed object in an elder’s office. “What am I to do here? I know they wouldn’t just let me stay here without some caveat in return.”

Sayaka followed you inside and set your bag beside the door. “There were whispers of having you keep an eye on Gojou and Itadori Yuuji, but I don’t know if they ever came to an actual decision over it.”

Oh, it was too convenient—in the off chance that Gojou would wield Yuuji to take down the elders and crooked system of clans and power, you would be there to keep them in check, to counterbalance the scales into neutrality’s favor. It was a good plan, a smart one, but you highly doubted they had factored in one thing: Ama-no-Kagaseo did not follow orders.

“Right. Of course not.” You pressed your fingers into the mattress, testing the softness. Beneath the fabric, your fingertips gave way to springs, hard and slightly broken in from where someone else had slept in a specific position. It groaned beneath your slight weight and you pulled back, eyes darting around the room to search for a futon—that would be infinitely more comfortable than this bed. “So, if I’m not going to do that, then what am I going to do? Sit here and rot until they call for me?”

You were bitter, and understandably so. Your freedom was on the leash of the elders who held the other end, usually with an iron fist and heavy hand. You were always raised to never bite the hand that feeds, but it was looking far too tempting right now. You could understand Gojou, just a little bit, and his frustration with the way things worked among the sorcerer society, but it did not make you feel guilty for what Ama-no-Kagaseo did to him. Not quite.

“Just…” Sayaka sighed and sat down on a cushion at the foot of your bed. She hid her hands in her pockets, fiddling with something that sounded vaguely like a chain or chain links clinking together like windchimes. She didn’t seem nervous, for once, but more exhausted—lethargic, even. The dark circles under her eyes were more pronounced than usual, her cheeks sunken and a little wan in the light. You hadn’t paid much mind to the changes in her appearance, but when she let her guard down it was apparent that she was tired. “Be careful. The president of the Kyoto campus is coming soon for the events—no, I didn’t ask—and he’ll want to see you, presumably.”

For just a moment, you had thought she would open up to you. Your gut tumbled with disappointment.

“When am I ever not careful?” With a slight scoff and a roll of your eyes, you evaded the cushion next to her and opted for sitting at the windowsill instead. It offered a perfect view of the courtyard and a small garden out behind it, flowers just barely peeking out over the stone paths. The wood was rough and unsanded, but you tolerated it just to maintain distance between yourself and Sayaka. “My entire life has been nothing but ‘careful’. You don’t have to tell me that, Fujiwara-san.”

You could feel her flinch at the sound of her last name. You never used her last name, at least not in private, much in the same way she only ever used your last name and never your first. It was new, bizarre, and foreign, because she knew, just like you knew, that the tiny chasm that Sayaka herself had made was starting to fissure into something bigger, something that wouldn’t just close on its own.

“Right. What was I thinking?” The sorcerer rubbed her face and exhaled a long breath. With a second glance at you, she got to her feet, shrugging off the vulnerability she had shown and replacing it with the Sayaka you knew. “I’ll leave you to unpack. Dinner is at five; you can join Gojou, Itadori-san and I if you’d like.”

With that offer lingering in the air, she stepped outside your room and shut the door behind her with a quiet ‘snick’ of the lock. It wasn’t locked, but the idea was there—after all, there were no tumblers on the inside of the knob.

“Indecisive.” Ama-no-Kagaseo manifested before you in a bright spurt of black flames, stars writhing inside each individual lick of heat. You reached up to allow him to hover over your palms to which he did so gladly, the fire oddly cold against your skin in comparison to the heat in the air around him. “She knows not what she wants.”

You huffed a breath. “I know. It’s her choice to make, though.”

“Mm.” A brief flash of fire and he was reaching for his human vessel against your chest. He lingered close to it for a moment, but you could feel his thoughts churning in the connection you shared, ponderous and curious. “Interesting.”

“What is?” You inquired, watching as he allowed his human body’s eyes to slide open for the first time in decades. They were completely black and enveloped with stars, much like you had been told how you appeared, and a single blue dot appeared beneath his eye.

“Nothing. For now.” The eyes slid shut and the flame retreated back into your open palms. “Hungry?”

Your stomach was rumbling, but a glance at the clock on your new desk revealed it was just four-thirty. You wondered if you could get away with eating early and retreating to your room again without ever having to run into Gojou or Itadori, although that was highly unlikely. Avoiding anyone here was as impossible as the moon rising before the sun.

“It’s a bit early,” you said instead, leaning against the windowsill and tucking your knees to your chest. You rested your hands on your knees, watching Ama-no-Kagaseo flicker curiously at your denial for food. “It’s okay, I’m not that hungry.”

A quick rush of flames indicated he didn’t believe you, but he went incorporeal afterwards, reverting back to a cool breeze that lingered in the air around you. He likely had nothing else to say or nothing on his mind that was important; he had a habit of doing such lately, though you could never pinpoint why. You supposed that it was not important for him to retain some physical manifestation while he was thinking, or that it was not his priority if he was too deeply in thought.

With a sigh, you sat back and stretched out your legs. You weren’t sure what to do now; years without freedom had put limits on your movements and hobbies. To now be handed that freedom on a silver platter, probably with later conditions, you almost wanted to go back to being stuck in that closet room all day and night. But you couldn’t do that, not when opportunity was already in your grasp.

What did people your age do? You stared outside the window at the stone path, eyebrows furrowed in thought. You were certain they didn’t have a Curse, that’s for sure, and they definitely weren’t a vessel for the world’s most evil being in creation. They also dressed differently from you—you, who looked like you had stepped out of a mystical, traditional Japanese fantasy novel—even when they were required to wear uniforms. Their sense of style and overall mood, just from meeting Itadori Yuuji, was different from yours. You wouldn’t fit in in modern society, or even the sorcerer’s carefully monitored one.

You were stuck, in a sense, in an era that you weren’t born in.

Ama-no-Kagaseo lifted a strand of your hair with an invisible hand in comfort. He was not quick to offer a solution and merely left you to ponder on all of the possibilities within your combined power. After all, they had to be your decisions to count to the council, not his. Any hint that he was persuading you in any way would force them to lock you up in a sealed room and execute you on sight.

But that was the issue, wasn’t it? There weren’t any other female descendants. You were the last remaining female Shiraishi. The men in your clan, while unrelated to you and having married in, were too old or uninterested in obeying the whims of the elders, as was their right. You had no choice in the matter. If you wouldn’t produce an heir willingly, they would make you do it by force—you had been told that they would sweep the women away to a clinic in Tokyo and create a child artificially, guaranteeing a female offspring. You weren’t, but your father was nonexistent in your life and may as well be as dead as your mother.

“Then I’ll just have to end it,” you mumbled to yourself. It was the only right conclusion. You would stop subjecting innocent girls to being vessels and you would simultaneously release Ama-no-Kagaseo in the process. But to do that, you would need help and information from Ryoumen Sukuna. He was, after all, the one who developed the technique to seal Ama-no-Kagaseo into a human body in the first place. He would be gone as soon as all twenty fingers were found, anyway, so there was no risk for him to be resealed again. You would just have to bide your time and wait carefully until the time was right. “What do you  think, Ama-no-Kagaseo?”

In your connection, you felt him full heartedly agree—but there was also reluctance there, hesitation.

“What is it?” You inquired softly. He surprised you by completely manifesting—a childlike version of his personal form, indicative of his tumultuous emotions because, even though he was a god, he experienced emotions on a childlike level, experiencing them for the first time—and pushing himself into your arms, uncaring of his actual physical form against your chest. “Amatsumikaboshi?”

His white hair, turning a dark blue and then black towards the ends, brushed against your arms as he further wormed his way against your side, just small enough to fit on the window seat with you. He wore a drastically oversized yukata decorated with a dragon scale design, expensive, and of the same fabric as your kimono. A golden eye, as gold as doubloons, peered at you from behind a fringe of snowy white strands, and atop his head sat two sharp horns, each as white as his hair and darkening to blue towards the points. He was not as intimidating like this, but you still held the same respect for him, and he you.

“No.”

Amused, you raised an eyebrow and rested a hand on his head, combing through the strands soothingly much in the way he would yours when you were tired. “‘No’, what?”

Amatsumikaboshi—not Ama-no-Kagaseo, for this was no normal representation of a false identity—fixed you with a determined stare. He was of so few words that you only understood him through his emotions, new and unexplored as they were, and he was keeping them from you for some reason, fixed on the idea that he was going to tell you himself.

“No separation.” He frowned, then, and reached for your heart, and traced it back to his. “No split.”

“Oh.” You blinked at him, then, tilting your head to further meet his eyes. His pupils were unusual slits now, some link to a dragonic form you didn’t know of. “But we will part some day, Amatsumikaboshi. I’m only human.”

He seemed angry at that fact, eyebrows furrowing at being reminded of it. He never liked being reminded of your very finite life, at risk every time you got sick or ate something that could have been laced with poison. He glared—glared at his human form—and all at once, seemed to come to a conclusion. Some invisible future began playing out in his head, all of his own creation, and whatever it was, it made a smile appear on his face. It was the first time you’d ever seen him smile out of happiness, at least in a physical body you could see. You’d felt the others against your skin or hair, but seeing it was a different thing entirely.

“Do not worry,” he said after a few moments of silence, meeting your concerned gaze once more with disturbing intensity. “I can fix it.”

“Fix it?” You echoed. You reached forward and adjusted a fold of his yukata that threatened to crease, usually out of habit of doing it to your own. He grabbed your hand and placed it back on his head instead, waiting patiently for you to resume petting him. “What do you mean?”

“Nothing. Yet.” He rested his head against the juncture of your shoulder and chest, a hand creeping up to rest against your heart and feel the gentle beat against his fingers. “For now.”

Blinking, you were about to question him further when your stomach interrupted you. A loud growl tore through the momentary silence and Amatsumikaboshi snickered, sitting upright, all questions and thoughts forgotten—or at least ignored.

“Eat,” he said, a hint of a smile still on his face, and leaning forward, brushed a kiss against your cheek. And then he was gone in a rush of blue, black, and white sparks, as incorporeal as he was before.

You sat on the windowsill, a blush creeping up your neck, and touched the tingling skin on your cheek in slight shock. You knew he was watching you, amusement rushing through your connection, and something else—so fast you couldn’t even guess as to what it was—and probably laughing to himself.

Embarrassed, you got to your feet and slipped on your shoes, heading down the hall towards the room where Sayaka had invited you to eat with her, Gojou, and Itadori Yuuji. Hopefully they didn’t mind you being a little late.

Before you could even turn a corner, a man was staring at you—dressed entirely in black and wielding a dagger in his right hand.

“Who are you?” You demanded. He didn’t answer.

Instead, your vision went white, and before you knew it, you were back inside your consciousness, inside Ama-no-Kagaseo’s domain, except you were keenly aware of your physical body hitting the floor and Ama-no-Kagaseo’s true form standing right beside you.

“Ama-no-Kagaseo,” you whispered, shock weaving into your voice as he carefully enveloped you into his arms, much like you had earlier. He was two heads taller than you in this personal representation of himself, warm, and lean. “What happened? Why am I here?”

He hummed against your head thoughtfully, dark and insidious. “Someone is trying to break my connection to you.”

“What?” You pulled back to stare him in the face, watching those golden eyes flicker over your face as if memorizing a dream. “What do you mean ‘break’ it?”

“Don’t worry.” Ama-no-Kagaseo smiled indulgently and pulled you closer again, your ear pressed against his chest—and to your shock, the steady beat of a heart sounding against your ear. “No power in this universe will ever separate us.”

And for once, you didn’t really believe him. 

                                   < back | masterlist | next >

                                   taglist: @picturethosesmiles​ (open)

[chokemeanakin]

idk if you do like song request sorta things, but could you do a fic based on the song "night bus" by gabrielle alpin? especially the "suddenly i know that i'm on my way home to you for the last time" part--maybe an angsty sort of thing where the reader and anakin's relationship gets discovered and she gets sent away or smth? idk i couldn't stop thinking ab it last night and i have no motivation to write it myself and i love your writing so maybe?? tysm!

Oh sis this was so much fun to write. Even though it is sad... idk i liked getting in the feels. Anyway I hope it meets your expectations. If it didn’t, well, pls write it yourself and tag me! I’d love to see what your vision was ❤️🤗

Masterlist

Read it on ao3

WC: 1.8k

Night Bus - Anakin x gn Reader angst

You swore this would never be you. You promised yourself it would last. If two people love each other, there should be no reason you couldn’t be together.

That’s childish thinking, you tugged your jacket tighter around you. Your boots dragged through the grey sludge of the sidewalk, remnants from a lazy downpour of wet snow a few hours before. Your mind whirled and stomach churned as the streetlights began blinking on one by one, the markets closing up for the night. 

It should have been a peaceful thing, but you felt sick. With each step closer to your destination, you felt as though a current was dragging you back, the darkness closing in around you. You knew as soon as you reached him, it would be for the last time. Your fairytale would come to an end, and as you walked through the bitter streets of Coruscant on your way to the Jedi temple, you prepared yourself to say goodbye to your prince charming. 

“It’s selfish, what you’re doing,” Master Windu had hissed at you. You were still reeling from his admittance that he knew about your and Anakin’s relationship. You had been so careful to keep it a secret, you had no idea how he found out. 

“Obi-Wan told you,” your lips felt like rubber.

“He did not,” Mace leveled his gaze at you. “He knows, I’m sure of it. But he respects Anakin too much to give him away like that. A flaw on his part, which will be dealt with later.”

Your head was swimming. What did this mean for you? For Anakin? For the both of you together? Obviously you knew what was next, but your mind couldn’t wrap around it, couldn’t accept it.

“You need to let him go,” Mace declared, not a hint of mercy detected. 

“I can’t.”

“Then he needs to let you go.”

“He won’t.”

“Then you will be the fall of the Jedi!” His sudden outburst made you flinch. Your heart beat fast, blood swishing in your ears. His body was still as a statue, but his eyes were wide and his chest was heaving with an anger that was barely under control. Master Windu was of the more… pessimistic Jedi, but you had never really seen him lose control so completely. Now, you could see he was overwhelmingly stressed. No, not stressed-- panicked. 

“He needs me,” you replied shakily, unwilling to stand down. Anakin had made it clear over and over again that if you just said the word, he would leave the Order for you. The only reason he was still here was because you wouldn’t let him abandon his purpose for you. Windu may think you would be the downfall of the Jedi, but you were the reason it hadn’t completely fallen yet.

“You’re a poison to him.”

It looked like neither of you would be backing down. Windu saw this, and took a deep breath. He closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. When he opened them, he strolled to his seat, and then motioned for you to take the one beside him.

“Let me explain myself,” his voice was much calmer now, but the hard look in his eyes remained. “Anakin is important. Not just to the Jedi, but to the balance of life itself.”

“He never asked for any of that.”

“But he still is,” Windu argued. “There’s no changing that fact. He is powerful. He has potential. And he’s unstable. He was before he met you, and he is now-- even more so.”

“Because of me?”

“Because of how he feels about you.”

You clenched your fists and glared at Windu. “How could being in love ever be a bad thing?”

“Love is an attachment. When one is attached to something, it can be taken away. When it is taken away, it breeds anger and hate and resentment, a path to the dar--”

“Oh, spare me the lecture,” you spit. “I know of your Jedi laws and morals. Now tell me why our love is so forbidden if all it’s bringing him is happiness and peace?”

“For now. It’s happiness and peace for now, because it’s new. I should have stepped in sooner, should have stopped it before it was too late. But with the start of the war, I lost sight of it, got too distracted…” Windu shook his head. “If you end it now, he’ll be able to move on. The damage won’t be permanent.”

“I don’t understand,” your chest stung. 

“He loves you. Any Jedi can sense that. And you love him, too.” You couldn’t meet Windu’s gaze. “If something happens to you, and you are taken away from him, or-- Force forbid-- you die, it will break him. He will be consumed by anger and hatred and he will fall to the dark side. His emotions are strong, far too strong to be handled easily. If Anakin goes to the darkside, the Jedi will be no match for the Sith. We will perish, and the war will be lost, and so will any semblance of peace that exists in this life.”

Mace’s tone softened as he saw the tears build up in your eyes. “This path is inevitable, and it needs to be prevented. The only way we can be sure is to remove you from his life. It was a mistake letting you two get so close, and the Council takes full responsibility. But now, you must let him go.”

“How certain are you,” you forced the words from your aching throat. “How certain are you of this future?”

“Yoda had a vision.”

Your breath left you like a balloon deflating. You were glad you were sitting now, because you didn’t think your legs could handle the weight as you felt your world crumble around you. Anakin’s smiling face flashed through your mind, and a tear trailed down your face.

“You have until sunrise to leave Coruscant,” Mace’s tone was back to authoritative, formal and commanding, leaving no room for argument. “You can never return. Not as long as Anakin is here. You may never come in contact with him ever again.”

“And who’s going to stop me if I do? Who’s going to stop him?”

“If you have any respect for every innocent living being in this galaxy, you will do what needs to be done. Now go. You have a job to do.”

You swore you could hear your heart drop and shatter to the ground in a million tiny pieces as you stood from that chair and walked out of the council room. You spent the day mulling over your conversation, crying, pacing, and pulling at your hair. You tried to think of anything you could do to be with Anakin-- pretend to leave him and be even more secretive, get a different identity so you could stay on Coruscant, run away together. You knew he would if you asked.

But deep down, you knew Windu was right. The Jedi needed Anakin, and you were his weakness. If Anakin left, or fell to the dark side because of you, it would be the end of the galaxy. Just because it wasn’t a possibility now, doesn’t mean it wasn’t one in the future. Yoda had a vision, after all, and the fear in Windu’s eyes told you it was serious. 

Now here you were, walking to Anakin’s place to spend one last night with him before you had to leave him. Forever. Your body ached from the cold, the grief, and from packing your belongings all afternoon. You could barely form words as you booked a ship off the planet for early next morning. Then, you had numbly pulled on your jacket and boots, and began your trek to Anakin one last time. 

Cars whizzed overhead, the honking distant in your hollow ears. You were shaking, but not from the cold, as you caught sight of the Jedi temple ahead. The entrance was only a few feet away. You just had to walk through the door, sneak down the hallway, and you’d be there. He’d open the door, offer you a blinding smile, pull you inside, and warm you up with a drink and a kiss. You would put something on the holonet like you always did, just for background noise, and lay down on the bed and just be together. Talk, or kiss, or hold each other. Feel his laugh vibrate through your body because he was pressed so close to you, watch his curls bounce as he shook his head, listen to the soft sounds of him sleeping. The moonlight always made him look like some sort of space prince as it glistened off his cheekbones, painting him in a pale blue. You would trace your fingertips along his face, and he would pretend to still be asleep as he smiled and kissed your fingertips. So happy, so at peace, so in love--

You stopped in your tracks.

I can’t do this.

The pain was building up again. You thought your heart had already shattered, but the ghost of it kept cracking. Something awful was breaking in your chest with each breath, each second, each step toward your goodbye. There was no way you could face him and be okay tonight. The tears were already making an appearance.

“You need to let him go,” Windu’s voice battled your sorrow. “You will be the fall of the Jedi.”

The breath you took was like swallowing razor blades as the cold air filled your lungs. Steadying yourself on the wall of the temple, you pushed your way past the entrance and entered the main hall. The familiar smell worsened your nausea, and you kept your hood up and head down as you walked the familiar path down the hall, taking the elevator up, and then crossing the last hallway before you found his door.

You schooled your features and shoved down the swirling tempest threatening to spill out of you. Once your hands stopped trembling, you brought a fist up and knocked on the door.

Anakin opened the door. He was smiling brilliantly, blue eyes sparkling in the light. The image of his face falling, eyes clouding over in confusion and hurt as he searched for you the next morning and found you gone flashed through your mind. You knew he would never stop searching for you. This is not what he would have wanted. But Mace was right-- he would heal, in time, and he could live the life he was supposed to live; as a Jedi, a General, and the Chosen One. 

“Anakin,” you forced yourself to smile. “Hi.”

His smile turned from charming to soft, hands immediately moving to pull you into his room for the last time. “You’re freezing, my love. Let’s get you warmed up, I already made you something to drink.”

[redgillan]

Under Pastel Skies - 2

Sugar daddy!Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: Modern!AU Bucky doesn’t need anyone, especially not a sugar baby. He isn’t that desperate… but she smiles so sweetly and she’s endearingly awkward, and he’s so lonely. She’s an artist, a painter, the type of person who always puts others before herself. Throwing caution to the wind Bucky offers her a place to live, a place where she can finally paint whatever her heart desires. He doesn’t need much in return; a friend, a muse.

Word Count: 2,024

Warnings: none

A/N: I’m just going to remind you that this sugar daddy fic isn’t about smut. I love smut but it’s not what I’m focusing on here. 

Bucky stood under the glass awning in front of the hotel, the neon green light illuminating the path to the automatic doors. He forced his eyes closed and listened to the sound of rain hitting the glass shelter.

It was just after 6:30 in the morning and he had been standing there for over ten minutes, trying to work up the courage to enter the building. He was sweating, trembling, breathing like he’d just run a marathon. Every sound around him seemed amplified; cars honking, people talking or listening to music. It was hell.

He desperately wanted to take a cab ride back to Brooklyn and hide in his apartment. Bucky had a strict routine -get up at six, eat, shave, shower, go for a walk, etc- and he needed it to keep his mind focused and his body healthy. Though lately, his therapist had encouraged him to stray from his routine if he felt like it. And he wanted to, but his body wasn’t cooperating.

Instead he just stood here, stuck between two choices that terrified him. He could go back home and hate himself for taking the ‘easy way out’, or he could take the plunge and enter the building. He had come here on a whim, but now that he was here he felt as if he really needed to see you. He didn’t even know if you were working.

He looked over his shoulder, he could almost see the metaphorical pack of wolves waiting for him. It would be easy to give in and let them take him. He could go back to his old life, his old habits, or he could jump off that metaphorical cliff and hope for the best.

Your chances are infinite. Anything can happen.

“Can I help you, sir?”

Bucky greeted the receptionist with a smile. He asked if he could have breakfast at the hotel restaurant and she agreed before leading him to the Bar Lounge.

The room was large, with row after row of square tables perfectly aligned. There were a few more private seats close to the bar and an oval buffet in the middle of the room. A woman in a dark grey suit scooped a small portion of scrambled eggs onto her plate next to two slices of toasted white bread. She raised her gaze to his and nodded in greeting.

The swing door that led to the kitchen burst open and Bucky turned his attention to the sound. You were carrying a large tank of orange juice to the buffet table, a pen tucked behind your ear and a piece of paper between your lips. There was a slight furrow between your brows as you set the tank on the table.

Your scuffed boots were gone, replaced by black ballet flats. Your pencil skirt rose up as you stretched to reach the highest part of the buffet. Bucky hastily looked away from your bare legs, not wanting to look like a total creep. Once you were done, you smoothed down your skirt and tucked your white shirt into your skirt.

Your hair was brushed away from your face and your lips were painted red, something dark and empowering, and it contrasted beautifully with your strict, uninspiring uniform, which only intended to erase any sense of individuality.

“Hi, how can I h- Hey, I know you,” you said, approaching him. “You’re Bucky.”

He bashfully looked at his shoes. “Yeah, hi.” He cleared his throat and raised his gaze to yours. “I was hoping to run into you. I, uh, I can’t stop thinking about our talk.” He ran his hand through his hair. “I was rude and brusque, and you were incredibly nice. I really feel like an ass.”

You chuckled. “It’s fine. Honestly, I was nervous, too. You should have seen me –I was a complete mess.”

“Could have fooled me,” he replied with a grin. “Though you did say that meeting me was like choosing between a pack of wolves or jumping off a cliff.”

“Gosh!” You facepalmed. “See? A complete mess!” You gestured to the table behind you. “Have you eaten yet? Sit down, it’s on me.” He opened his mouth to protest but you cut him off. “You paid for the taxi. It’s only fair.”

Amused, he shook his head and followed you to the buffet table. Everything looked and smelled delicious. He spotted several glass cereal dispensers filled with frosted flakes, Cap'n Crunch, Lucky Charms and good old Fruit Loops.

“We also have French toasts, pancakes, croissants, turnovers, omelettes, eggs, four different types of bread with margarine, butter, jam, Nutella, or marmalade,” you said without pausing for a breath, “freshly sliced fruits, a variety of yogurts, granola, oatmeal, orange juice, apple juice, Danish pastries, muffins and a great selection of teas.”

“And that’s it?” Bucky asked, his face breaking into a teasing smile. You liked the way his eyes crinkled at the corners right before he smiled.

You pouted your lips while you thought. “Actually no, we also have scrambled eggs –which, frankly, I don’t recommend. They come in a plastic bag and we have to heat them up in the microwave. It’s a little gross. You can try the sausage and bacon though, unless you don’t eat meat.”

“And coffee?” He found your flustered reaction to his teasing absolutely adorable.

“Yes, of course,” you said, biting your bottom lip. “Sorry, I get a little excited sometimes.”

“I understand,” he nodded. “That’s a pretty great buffet, though I’ll stay clear of the scrambled eggs.”

You took a few steps toward the kitchen and turned back to him, a little apologetic cringe on your face. “Um, how do you take your coffee? Expresso, Americano, latte, cappuccino, macchiato, mocha, ristretto-” you paused to take a breath “-or iced coffee?”

A laugh bubbled out of him. He couldn’t help it, you were just too endearing. “Black,” he said, grinning. “I know I’m boring.”

“Oh, no! You’re not boring,” you rushed to say, then realized what he was doing. “Ugh, you’re messing with me, aren’t you?”

“A little.” His nose scrunched up as he said it.

You went to the kitchen to make his cup of coffee and Bucky began to browse the length of the buffet table. Scooping food onto his plate with only one hand proved more challenging than he expected, and he was glad that the lounge was mostly empty.

He could feel the lady in the grey suit’s eyes on him as he moved around. He set his plate on the bar, removed the glass lid, scooped up two hefty pancakes and stacked them on his plate. They looked pretty fluffy, it wouldn’t be hard to cut them with the edge of a fork. Then he replaced the lid and moved his plate closer to the maple syrup bottle.

He glanced at the woman who hastily looked away as if she hadn’t been staring at him the whole time. Annoyed, he kept looking at her while he poured maple syrup over his pancakes. He hated when people stared at him as if he were a freak. He narrowed his eyes menacingly and grinned to himself when she started fidgeting in her seat.

“You must really love maple syrup.”

Bucky paused at the sound of your voice, his features immediately softened. He looked down at his plate and realised he had drowned his pancakes in a gooey river of maple syrup. He must have spaced out during his staring contest with the business woman.

He had a strange look in his eyes, his expression a mix of confusion and anguish. Finally his eyes found yours and you smiled warmly at him, making him fight back a blink. You pried the bottle out of his rigid hand, and he let you take it.

“Thank you,” he said, his voice weak.

You weren’t sure what he was apologizing for but it wasn’t something you were going to analyse right now. “There’s a cup of coffee waiting for you. Best cup in Manhattan.”

He laughed, the crinkles were back. “You’re an angel.”

Bucky returned to his table and loaded his coffee with three teaspoons of sugar before he took a sip. He had always preferred sweet to savoury, and coffee was way too bitter for him.

There wasn’t much to do in the lounge. The television was behind him, the sound kept to a minimum. The lady in the grey suit left soon after and Bucky watched you clean her table.

You moved back and forth between the main room and the kitchen, going about your work and occasionally shooting him a smile. The food was good, not spectacular, but still better than his usual breakfast –two slices of toasted white bread with butter and a cup of coffee.

“Do you need anything else?” you asked, standing next to his table.

“Company?” he said with a hopeful look. “Please.”

You offered him a pained grimace when he gestured at the seat across from him. “I’m not allowed to sit. Sorry.”

It was hard to resist his puppy dog eyes but you needed to keep your job if you wanted to be able to afford your own place.

“Do you like working here?”

“It’s okay,” you shrugged. “I’m glad I have a job.”

“Sam mentioned you’re an artist.”

You shyly looked around you, you were the only two people in the room now. “I haven’t painted since I got this job,” you revealed. “I’m pretty sure my artist membership card has been cancelled.”

“Nope, those are for life.”

You laughed. “I hope so.”

You looked at each other before he asked, “Do you have any pictures of your work?”

You were genuinely surprised that someone wanted to see your work. Usually people offered a half-hearted ‘oh, that nice. I paint, too, occasionally” and changed the subject. You patted your pockets, searching for your phone, and groaned when you remembered that it was in your locker.

“I don’t have my phone with me but wait-” You took a napkin from the table and started writing. “This is my Instagram. I do a bit of everything, mostly landscapes and portraits.”

Bucky took the piece of paper and, before he could comment, a family of four walked into the lounge area. You apologized to him and walked over to the family, greeting them with a smile and asking them if they had a good night’s sleep.

The children looked like walking zombies until they spotted the cereal bar, and then chaos ensued. More people went down to breakfast and you didn’t have time to chat with him anymore.

He stayed a little longer, watching you help the kids pour cereal and milk into their bowls. A man who didn’t speak English very well asked you a question and you froze, trying to make him understand since you didn’t speak his language. Bucky smiled when you mimed the answer. The man laughed and gave you a thumb’s up.

There was something about you, something soft and caring, that made people at ease. Even when people started complaining that the platter of scrambled eggs was empty, you defused the situation so smoothly that they left with a smile on their face. It was the kind of person you were, kind-hearted and willing to help.

An angel.

When you looked in his direction again, Bucky was gone. You felt a pang of disappointment that he hadn’t said goodbye, but you had been so busy that even if he had been trying to get your attention, chances are you wouldn’t have noticed him.

Pouting exaggeratedly to yourself, you went to his table with your tray and a clean rag to collect the dirty dishes. You moved the unfolded napkin and what you saw underneath made you stop. You blinked, once, twice, three times, certain that you were hallucinating. You scooped up the bills and counted them.

$300

Your eyes were the size of saucers as you ran back to the lobby. You checked outside for Bucky but he was gone. You stood there, under the glass awning, with a bewildered look on your face, still clutching the bills.

Part 3

[hello-im-not-a-possum]

20. Sin

One of the greatest sins is blasphemy and one of the greatest forms of blasphemy is declaring yourself a god in front of your former god. What makes it worse is that Allison and the Ink Demon know for a fact he’s not bluffing, at least, not anymore. (Set in FIFE, the end of the cat and mouse game between Allison and Sammy.)

“I still think you should’ve stayed, Inky.” Allison stated as the cold air bellowed on her face. “If there’s anyone Sammy hates more than Tom... it’s you.”

“That’s WHY I need to come!” The Ink Demon protested from within the large inkwell underneath her arm, completely unaware that the wingless angel was rolling her eyes. “I need to apologize to him! I never got the chance back at the motel, I was too focused on the questions I had for him whenever he was with us, and… and if he didn’t do it already, he might not even survive this. ...Let alone make it back home…”

The strong smells of bleach, citrus, and smoke wafted through the area, only growing stronger the deeper they descended into the ex-prophet’s final destination.

“If he did the ritual already and didn’t survive it, then what would be the point of you coming here?” She dropped the inkwell containing the demon as he grew so heated it burned her skin as soon as the question left her lips. It proceeded to roll a bit and prop itself upright in front of her. “He’ll never forgive you as a corpse, ...but I don’t think he’ll forgive you if we find him alive either.”

“If he’s dead, I’ll still apologize to him, but I’ll also add that I’m sorry for never telling him that while I had the chance.”

As much as she wanted to argue with Inkwell, knowing that the Demon would only aggravate the musician more and turn this already delicate and stressful situation into another “Molotovs at the Motel” incident... 

...The Ink Demon’s presence was the only thing keeping her from passing out from all the blessed bleach dripping down from the ceiling and pooling on the floors.

“Let’s just keep moving,” she sighed. “We have to be close to him by now...”

“At the forking path, take a right turn by the runny and mostly erased ink message that used to say ‘You don’t NEED a prophet when every prophecy you tell is self-fulfilling’. Well %&#@ me with a crucifix...”

“What’s wrong?”

“I still feel him, but he’s getting fainter and fainter as we speak! And I hear the Ink machine running, but it’s not pumping out ink!” The Inkwell flopped down on it’s side and rolled down the halls at an intense speed. “Don’t just stand there, run like #&!!, woman!”

“Sammy, why are you even doing this?” Allison muttered under her breath as she sped down the dripping halls after the Ink Demon.

While the holy liquid intended to erase ink had managed to nibble away at the soles of her boots, and at the sturdy glass of his inkwell, the pair’s race through the musician’s maze rewarded them with a faint song in the distance.

“Don’t weep for me my sheep, as I descend the abyss so deep…”

“Sammy!”

The pair shouted in unison as they chased after it.

“No matter how low... I’ve been cast below the sea, I’ll rise back up, as a Lent Lily...”

Allison scooped up the Ink demon’s inkwell as the bleach spread out more and more, shallowly covering the floor.

“As dreams are burned to ashes, and hope is left to die, I will keep on going onward, I will look up to the skies.”

The smells of bleach and citrus were growing so strong that it made Allison nauseous, her eyes were watering and she felt like she was in a room that was full of thick, unbreathable smoke.

“As sweet citrus boils black and bitter, as the mighty willows wither… There’s no fear that I have no more, I’ve seen it all before.”

The Prophet’s faint voice was getting louder and louder the more they ran.

“Even if I answer, the calling of the earth… I will not sleep for long as I sing the song of rebirth.”

The bleach level began to rise a bit more, but she saw the Ink machine through a doorway.

“So sing your happy songs, and whistle your happy tunes, if you wait for my arrival, I will be there very soon...”

The pair had finally arrived to the ritual site; a gigantic, rounded room with enough bleach on the floor for it to go up to their ankles, a relatively small transmutation circle was painted in the very center of it, the damaged looking ink machine was suspended by chains with it’s nozzle pointed at the circle. But no one besides them was in the small coliseum.

“Sammy?” She looked around the hollow stadium and called out again. “Sammy, where are you?”

She scanned the room once more trying to see if anything moved, and was greeted by a groan from above her head.

Allison jumped back from the splash zone of the wheezing Ink machine, which began pumping out…

...Allison couldn’t tell what the fuck it was pumping out, but she could tell that in spite of its ink-like color, it was not ink, at least, not THE ink she was used to.

A large glob of the stuff oozed out the nozzle and plopped into the ritual circle.

Its texture was chunkier and it smelled absolutely awful. It was mostly coppery, but it also had a sickly strong floral scent and she wouldn’t be surprised if it also had a hint of the bleach smell.

“He… He’s gone!” The Ink Demon’s inkwell shook in her grip. “I can’t feel him at all anymore! HE’S GONE!”

“He can’t be…” She shook her head in disbelief as she examined the pile in the transmutation circle further. “There HAS to be at least something… You heard him too! He’s in here somewhere! There at least has to be either a body or clothes...”

The candles in the circle began to light on their own as the pile began to shift and stir. Allison backed away from it, tightened her grip on Inky’s Inkwell, and slowly drew her sword as she heard music began to play. It wasn’t the intense, fast paced and distorted music she heard almost every other time she and Sammy faced off, this song was different, it was soft and gentle, played with a music box and a banjo, something akin to a lullaby, but the instruments were broken and untuned.

“I still can’t sense him, but I have a gut feeling he’s in that circle...”

“O'r diwedd..!” A bleached white ram’s skull uncovered itself from the pile, it shook itself off and coughed out a huge glob of ‘normal’ thick ink. Lifeless eye sockets peered deeply into Allison’s eyes. “Mae fy siwrnai hir wedi cyrraedd ei diwedd.”

A demon, no. A God, no, not even that, some… thing that was not supposed to exist rose up and out of the pile in the circle, while she could fully comprehend what it was and what it looked like, she felt like she wasn’t supposed to.

Many, many arms, legs, wings, eyes, and mouths emerged out of the dripping, mangled body. The arms looked somewhat human, but none of them looked right; too many joints, not enough joints, too many fingers, not enough fingers, some of them looked ‘healthy’, others looked like they’d be at home on rotting corpses, but all of them were far too long and had too many eyes and mouths. The legs on the other hand looked perfectly normal, but they were sheep legs, not human legs. It made her feel sick just looking at it, it vaguely reminded her of the Ink demon before it redesigned itself into a proper cartoon; an otherworldly being with as much raw power as it had frailty and a body that was warped and unnatural, especially to itself.

She fought the twin urges to bow before it and to put it out of its pitiable existence.

“Sammy…” She backed further away from the being. “What have you done to yourself?!”

“Only what was meant to be done.” The creature spoke calmly and coolly with the voice it had as the prophet, in spite of its body language, it didn’t sound like it was in pain. “What He was too cowardly to do with his own divinity... I will take it upon myself to do it with my own.”

Without warning, it struck the ceiling, dozens of disfigured hands ripping, crushing, and tearing the Ink machine into tiny, useless scraps that the mouths were chewing away at.

“One god down...” If the skull on the beast could express itself, she could tell that it would be grinning, its hands then struck at the Inkwell, prompting her to dodge.

“Two to go.”

[levisnackajack]

The Wrath of War

Chapter Twenty Two

Tender sun rays whisked Eden’s cheeks soothingly.

Through closed eyelids, she could still feel the light beaming through the glass window; washing over everything in the room; including her physiognomy. Her arm extended against the mattress; as though she was blindly searching for the contact of cool skin under her fingertips.

But, all she did was graze over the washed out duvet cover. Blinking rapidly, she carefully slipped her eyes open, arching her back as she stretched- like a slender cat equipping herself for a heavy day out on the cobbled streets of Trost.

She had memorized the room’s layout all too well; every single detail etching itself into the back of her brain as she recollected the heated position she had been placed in by Captain Levi. Gingerly, Eden pressed her fingertips against her lips; the taste of him still lingering, the softened flesh cracked and bruised.

According to her muddled up thoughts; she had passed out in the bed after being gifted with the carnal opportunity of kissing Captain Ackerman. The thought of his blown-out pupils gazing down at her in such a wanton way made heat rush through her body like adrenaline; despite the fact that she had only just woken up a few minutes prior.

The harnesses lay draped over the armchair; her body clothed with just her shirt and her pants. Eden was way too anxious to remove her clothing during the night; afraid that Levi’s glinting, silver eyes would scorch her body and she’d give in way too easily.

Resting her back against the headboard; she looked through the window with a blank look painted on her face; her knees pressed against her chest. She wondered where he had gone; whether he regretted it all, whether he wanted more.

Whether he was feeling the same way she was.

The front door creaked open and the sound of boots resonated through the spacious room. Eden’s eyes flitted towards the motion; only to be met with Levi’s uniformed back as he moved to close the door behind him.

Once he turned back in her direction; his eyes widened at the feline look that bore through him. He had two teacups in his hand; the steam grazing across his palms as it ascended out from the liquid.

“I brought you tea.” Levi spoke first in a low voice as he stalked across the room; gently handing Eden one of the teacups before lowering himself to sit beside her.

“Thank you,” she replied, shyly accepting the beverage with an unsteady hand and flustered cheeks. Levi regarded her intently through hooded eyes as her lips pressed against the orifice of the cup.

The tea was sweet and fruity- almost floral. Her stomach flipped when Levi rested his hand on the top of her knee.

Putting the teacup back onto the saucer resting on the nightstand; Eden perked up against the headboard, amber eyes glued to dull leaden-blue ones. His hand began trailing up her thigh. Her lungs begged for air as her heart grew stuck in her throat; lips parting slightly.

“I liked watching you struggle under me last night,” Levi breathed out; the hand on her thigh growing stronger. His words were like molten lava flaming her entire body up.

Levi swiftly used the grip on her body to pull her downwards, her head falling back into the pillows. Within a matter of seconds, he moved his body to tower over her, the darkened glint in his eyes revealing carnal fantasies making Eden’s own eyes widen. His knee pressed in between her legs as he lowered his head; promptly capturing her lips with his. She hissed at the sensation of his knee brushing against her; her arms snaking around his neck as she deepened the kiss.

His lips were gentler as opposed to the kisses he had peppered her with the night before. They were silky and smooth; but sharp enough to slice through the built-up tension in the room. Letting out a low, guttural groan, Eden’s body arched into him as his hand roamed her body over her clothes. His fingertips dragged painfully slowly over the curve of her breast, following the path along her slender waist before finally settling to squeeze her hip.

Eden let out another softened mewl against his lips when his own hips brushed against hers and his kisses grew more brutal. Her sweet sounds caused the Captain to hiss in pleasure against her lips; teeth sinking into her bottom lip.

“You’re being a tease,” the girl groaned as he sucked on her lip, a subdued growl reverberating out of him as he slipped his eyes shut.

“Where’s the pleasure in the lack of torture, brat?” His cool fingers raked through her hair before tucking on the locks lightly; causing her chin to jut out to the side. He used her angled head to kiss her neck; deeply enjoying the way Eden’s eyes fluttered closed, her fingers gliding over his sharp undercut.

Eden felt like time was slipping through her fingers in such a rapid pace. It was like the next breath she took was about an hour later; when both her and  the Captain’s lips were bruised and swollen.

He left her to change in peace and as Eden clasped the hook of her green cape around her neck, the scent of his cologne overwhelmed her senses once more. Every little flicker of her eye, every pant she took, every sensation that garnished her fingertips caused her to immediately think back to him.

She had never known what the term ‘forbidden fruit’ had meant until she was met with Levi’s cold lips.

Much to her surprise, Levi had offered to take her out on a tour around Trost. Albeit the painful memories of her first battle within this district playing out behind her eyes; she accepted, listening intently to the way the Captain informed her about another, undisclosed task that was hushed-up between himself and Commander Erwin.

Walking side-by-side, Eden refrained from asking why he had made her wait for him outside a sketchy pub. He came back out hastily, his eyes disinterested and narrowed- the clench of his jaw revealing that whomever he had met with inside the establishment, had also left him with a bitter taste on his tongue.

The passers stole nervous glances at the two soldiers; but neither of them paid any attention as they walked along the paved streets of the busy district.

“I remember this area. I believe this was the place you and I met for the first time,” Eden broke the comfortable silence, extending an arm to indicate the familiar rooftop from which she had sprinted off in order to save her friends from an impending death during the Battle of Trost.

Levi’s eyes flickered towards the highlighted region before letting out an agitated sigh, his eyes shifting away quickly. “Yes. I had only known you for perhaps less than thirty seconds and your temerity managed to piss me off beyond anything.”

Eden huffed under her breath, running a hand through her hair in irritation. She didn’t know what had possessed her to loop an arm around his when he quickened his pace.

But, she couldn’t ignore the way Levi’s body stiffened. His steps grew slower and the way they walked so close to one another caused their capes to mangle and brush with each step.

They strode back towards the lodging; but Levi redirected their strides in a different direction. It was narrow, colder and darker than the sunny, open streets they had previously walked through.

“A shortcut,” was all he had said in response to the quizzical look he felt pierce through the side of his face.

Within the darkened alleyway; Eden’s heart began racing as she imagined an opportunity to feel his lips against hers once more arise. As if he could read every single fleeting thought in her head, Levi grabbed the arm laced through his; pressing her up against the cold wall with a thud.

No time was wasted on words as his mouth found hers urgently, as though her lips were the only source of water in the entire district. His palms lay against either side of her face as he drank her in; his body leaning against hers when Eden’s knees threatened to give out. Her nails dragged against the path of his neck as she called for him softly, her brows laced together revealing just how much pleasure Levi’s touch was bringing her.

Her tongue dragged itself against his bottom lip, tasting the sweetness of the tea he was previously drinking. There was something about the way Levi’s lips tasted that left Eden feeling utterly intoxicated.

The Captain pulled away from her swiftly, his breathing unsteady, his pupils blown out. His lips curled up lightly in a wicked smirk as he watched Eden’s messed-up persona- her mangled locks, parted lips and drunken look on her face.

“Don’t you think your disheveled appearance calls for punishment, brat?” Levi’s dull voice rippled through the silence, causing Eden to straighten up and arch a brow at him.

She glided her palms over her uniform, clearing her throat under his scrutinizing stare. “What happens when my appearance is solely caused by your doings, Captain?”

The smirk deepened, the twitches in his jaw visible in the darkness and he stepped forward, brushing his fingers through her hair.

Shoving the strands behind her ear, he leaned in, the sensation of his iced lips scraping her ear sending chills along the path of her spine. “That means you have no one to go sob to if I ever decide to discipline you for it, Chiasa.”

Riding back to the Headquarters was comforting. They eased into a relaxing conversation and Eden’s cheeks would flush ever so often. Her horse stood galloping within close proximity to the Captain's and the glacier winds grazed her face, numbing it completely.

“You can be honest and admit to enjoying my company, Captain,” Eden asserted through a large grin, the corners of her amber eyes crinkling when Levi glanced in her direction.

“Tch,” he scoffed, but his somewhat nonchalant mask revealed how unbothered he was by her playful demeanor. “If you’re just trying to rank up by messing around with your Captain, that’s not how it works, brat.”

His snarky response caught the girl off-guard and she let out a high-pitched, sheepish laugh. Levi’s head snapped back towards her; staring at her in wonder. This was perhaps the first time Eden had let out a hearty, full and raw laugh.

She cringed at herself, lowering her head, allowing her hair to curtain her blazing cheeks.

“But, we do make a good team,” Levi spoke once more, easing his horse into a slower gallop as soon as its pants began ringing through the wilderness.

“Oh? I apologize for the confusion, but was that a compliment?” Eden inquired, finally lifting her head after taming the blossoming blush that had engraved itself into her skin.

The Captain hummed flatly over the clattering sound of hooves. After a long pause, his deep voice asserted itself into the space between them. “Take it as you will. I suppose it wouldn’t hurt if you stopped doubting everything I say to you.”

Eden chewed on her bottom lip as she listened to his voice. It was like she was in trance, afraid to think about how quickly she’d agree to any sort of order Levi sends her way.

Lost in the vortex of her thoughts, the girl nearly missed the words that slipped through his lips.

Nearly.

“I don’t like seeing you with Kirstein.”

It was so out of the blue, Eden couldn’t respond to him immediately. Silence settled around them as the sun slowly began descending into its usual space for slumber. 

“What do you mean?” Her eyes were trained ahead of her, her knuckles growing white as the palms holding onto her horse’s reins became increasingly dampened with sweat. 

“It’s hard to believe you’re actually this dense, Eden,” Levi countered, his own knuckles growing paler as he finally urged his horse to gallop faster. Eden followed him, trying her best to match his pace. 

“Anyway,” he continued coolly, the shift in his demeanor causing Eden to physically become overwhelmed with dread. “That’s all I wanted to say.”

“Jean is just a friend,” she replied in irritation, very much aware of the way his head craned back towards her, eyes narrowed and filled with displeasure. 

“Didn’t seem like that when I caught you two in the stables. Or when I came to visit you in the infirmary...-”

“I’ll have you know, Captain,” she sliced through his words, lucid rage overwhelming her as each syllable trickled out of his mouth.

“Jean and I are just friends. Yes, we’ve had our moments, but that was it. Just moments. And when you saw him with me in the medical quarters; it’s because he came to tell me he couldn’t do anything with me anymore. He also let me in on the fact that it was not his name I called out when he saved me from the titan...it was yours.” She took a deep breath before her furrowed brows raised. “Still feeling jealous?” 

He didn’t respond. In fact, Levi didn’t even look at her. His gaze was focused straight ahead at the forthcoming sight of the familiar trees surrounding their base. 

After a while, all he did was scoff.

Arriving back at the headquarters was very anticlimactic. 

Levi was back to being cold and butthurt and Eden could only seethe in silence. He strapped his horse away in the stables and stalked off, not even shedding Eden a single flicker of eye contact.

Despite the irritation coiling inside her body, the girl continued on with her day as usual- going to greet her friends and spend some time with Sasha and Connie. 

Sometime later in the afternoon, the sensation of overthinking ebbed at her consciousness way too much for her to handle. So, balling her palms into fists, Eden marched towards the Corporal’s office. 

Just as her knuckles were about to rap against his door for the very first time; it creaked open, and she was met with Levi’s widened eyes. 

“Ah. I was just looking for you, brat.” 

She blushed, lashes flickering downwards as the color painted her cheeks sweetly. Following him back inside the office, her stomach was plagued with butterflies that never stopped fluttering around. Levi abruptly spun back to face her; his eyes glinting with a strange flame that lay unknown in Eden’s book. 

“I wanted to give you something,” he murmured, stepping closer to her. “Close your eyes.” 

Eden watched at him with wide eyes, unsure as to how she had to react. Levi’s head tilted to the side, the longer strands of raven-hair in sync with his movements. “Do you trust me?” 

She swallowed hard and barely managed to utter out a weak- “Sure?” 

His nod was the last thing she saw before slipping her eyes shut; nervousness overwhelming her. She listened to the way his boots echoed around the office; the sound of a door creaking open. Her palms grew sweaty and her heart was racing. 

His footsteps began growing closer, until she felt his presence burst through her personal space. “Give me your hand,” he instructed her in a creamy smooth tone that sent chills through her bloodstream. 

Eden did exactly that, feeling the way his fingers gripped at her wrist, guiding her hand outwards. She stiffened when her own fingers captured something that had the texture of hardened wood. Pulling her hand away, she jumped back, as though she had been burnt with fire. Levi was watching her intently, a broomstick in hand. 

“Go clean the stables.” 

Her dumbfounded expression was the only thing filling the silence for a very long moment. “Are you being serious right now?” 

Levi cocked a brow as he stepped forward, handing her the broomstick once more. “Am I ever ‘not serious’ about cleaning?” 

With a huff and the clench of her teeth, Eden snatched the broom out of his grasp before stalking out of his office- feeling even more outraged.

Cleaning seemed to do justice to her nerves. Being surrounded by nothing but dirt and things that needed to be organized tended to Eden’s thoughts and slowly she began feeling like each time she straightened out one part of the stables; another slice of her anger wore off somewhere into the distance. 

Not long after, gentle footsteps brushed against the stable floor, a sweet voice pulling Eden out of her daydreams. 

“Mikasa,” she greeted her childhood best friend warmly, walking over to rapidly throw her arms around her. 

The girl returned the sudden embrace before grabbing her by the shoulders, onyx eyes taking in her ragged appearance. 

“What happened? How was the mission?” 

Eden’s ears quickly grew red as she stepped back, nervously laughing. “What do you mean? Everything went fine? Why would you ask me that, heh...” 

Her defensive demeanor did not go unnoticed by the 104th Training Corps’ top soldier who in turn narrowed her eyes at the girl. Mikasa quirked a brow and a low sigh escaped through Eden’s lips. 

“The change of setting was pleasant. Everything went well. But, the man we met with was disgusting. He kept sending the most vile remarks my way; I don’t even wanna think about it. He was just gross.” She cringed at the memory as she spoke.

Mikasa glared at her friend, her arms folding across her chest. “And what? Captain Shorty just stood there and said nothing? Unbelievable...-”

“No no no!” Eden quickly interrupted her, rubbing the back of her neck as her cheeks grew pink. “He was the one who stepped in and warned Reeves not to speak to me like that. It was a nice gesture...” 

The girl opposite her stared into amber eyes, her own black ones widening as she extended one hand to point at her. “What’s with that look on your face, Eden?” 

Eden pursed her lips, trying her best to calm any raging blush that tried settling against her skin. “What look, Mikasa? I don’t know what you’re talking about.” 

Blackened jewels for eyes narrowed even more. “You’re an open book to me; don’t forget that.” 

The sound of approaching boots crunched against the pebbles. Eden frowned deeply and Mikasa turned to glance behind her shoulder. Giving Eden’s arm a gentle squeeze, the female Ackerman gave her a faint smile before stepping away. 

“You’ll tell me about him when you’re ready.” 

Both Ackerman soldiers stiffly nodded as they passed each other. Eden stared at the Captain that inched closer; his bored stare bouncing from one surface to another. She waited for him to say something, but the man took his sweet time checking the stables and her work. 

“Did I do something wrong?” She finally couldn’t take it anymore, her frown carefully turning into a scowl as her eyes followed his moves. 

Levi slowly turned back to face her, his eyes finally resting against the frame of her face. “Yeah. Your cleaning is atrocious. Go over everything again.” 

Eden watched him walk away with her mouth wide open. When she was sure he was definitely out of sight, she swore loudly before kicking a bucket of water across the brushed-out ground. 

Whatever. I gotta redo everything, anyway.

An hour later, he was back. His eyes were a softer shade of grey, but he still maintained his distance, much to Eden’s growing displeasure. 

With a tight nod, Levi approved her cleaning before jutting his chin towards the exit. “Let’s go. We’ll debrief with Commander Erwin.” 

She sulkily followed him out of the stables, albeit the way her heart melted when he sent her a sideways glance that disappeared as quickly as it arrived. 

This time, the Corporal led her into an unfamiliar office. The layout was definitely similar to Levi’s office; but the window behind the desk was larger and grander. Deep down, Eden preferred the comforts of Levi’s meticulously sterilized office more than Erwin’s one. 

The Commander stood to his feet when the pair walked in, brushing Eden’s salute away nonchalantly. His full height intimidated Eden and it took all within her not to visibly shrink in her boots.

“Captain Levi...soldier Chiasa...it’s good to see you’re back. I can safely assume everything went according to plan?” 

“Nothing we couldn’t handle,” Levi drawled out, scowling deeply at the way Erwin’s lips curved into a impish smirk. Eden chose to look down at her boots as Levi summarized the gist of their assignment to the attentive Commander who had leaned back down into his chair, his elbows resting against the wood of his desk, fingers linked together. 

His brows raised at the mention of Reeves’ attitude towards Eden. “When I send my Scouts out on a mission; I do not intend for such things to happen. However, sometimes it’s inevitable as there are all sorts of animals- not only beyond the walls; but within them too. And for that, I feel the need to apologize to you, Eden.” 

Her cheeks pinkened and she immediately looked down at the floor once more. “I understand that as soldiers, not all situations are pleasant. Regardless of whether it’s during a fight with a titan or when it's just having a simple conversation with a merchant. Thank you, Commander, but you don’t need to apologize. Captain Levi stepped in and put him in his place, anyhow.” 

When Eden looked up, she saw the same devious smirk plastered against Erwin’s features. His ocean eyes glinted under the faint light emitted from the several oil lamps situated around the room. She even got the chance to notice Levi’s sharp glower that was directed towards the blond man.

Erwin nodded and muttered something under his breath, his eyes flickering off the Captain and onto the perplexed girl. “Isn’t that wonderful? Well, thank you for the information and your presence. You’re dismissed, soldier. Levi, please stay behind.” 

Clasping her fist over her heart, Eden bid both men a good evening before walking out of the office hastily. 

Walking through the corridors, her mind couldn’t stop rewinding the look that was carved onto Erwin’s face; the twinkle in his eyes, the stretched out smirk against his lips and the way his eyes kept holding the Corporal’s stare before flickering back to her. 

Tags: @idiot-juice-enthusiast   @hadassackerman

Link to the story in A03: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28919136/chapters/70952145

[dylanobrienisbatman]

Ok honestly, a part of me thinks that Alina could’ve ended up like the Darkling if it weren’t for her having Mal as a friend. Like yeah, she was bullied and picked on quite a bit in the orphanage, but she was never alone. Never lonely.

..... So... i made a whole big ole rant-ing post only to realise i misread this !!!!!!!!! i'm SO sorry!! thanks to @hopskipaway for pointing out my error lol! So, lets try this again now that I actually know what you were talking about... sorry!!!

--- Alina being like the Darkling! It's an interesting concept actually, the idea that without Mal, she would have become something like him. I think part of my original very salty response actually does apply here, but in a different way! So, if Mal hadn't existed, Alina would have probably ended up in the Little Palace when she was really young, after she was tested. That means that little pre-teen Alina would have been sent straight into the waiting grasp of the Darkling, without Mal existing to fight for her and protect her. She would have been abused, manipulated, taken advantage of, and probably enslaved (if the Darkling had been able to find the Stag... which... would he? Could he find it without Mal? that's a whole different discussion!!). So the psychology of who Alina is as a person would be totally different! However, I still have trouble imagining her ending up like the Darkling, just in the sense that he is really a very, very different person than she is, like to her core. When you get to his chapters in Rule of Wolves, you see that he has a complete disregard for the lives of anyone but himself. You can assume that from his actions in the trilogy, but the glimpse into his psyche that we get from his POV chapters really makes it very clear. Even his most ardent supporters, they are all just tools for him, they all exist simply to serve a purpose in his master plan. I think even if Alina was abused and controlled from a very young age, there is still a part of her that is so intrinsically good that she would never be able to really go full 'evil' the way he has. I think the closest she gets in the books is after Mal dies in Ruin and Rising. If Mal had stayed dead, I could see her fully loosing her grip on reality and going totally insane with power, and, considering at that point she has the power of all three amplifiers, if she didn't lose the power at that point like she does in the story, I think it would have over taken her, much the way the power of the Merzost did the Darkling, and she could have maybe gone to the dark side. (She would have definitely still killed Darkles, lets be clear. She would have merked his shadow ass and then gone on a rampage, but still. He's dead in every scenario.) However, in this scenario, Mal doesn't exist. So whether or not she'd be able to even find the other two amplifiers is debatable, and, more importantly, the catalyst to her descent into darkness is no longer there. So Alina would have to find a way to the dark side without that traumatic event, and idk if that's really possible.

I think she would have ended up more like Zoya, if I'm being honest. Zoya, in the first book, is needlessly cruel and vicious to anyone who threatens her status at the Little Palace, specifically as the Darkling's favoured student. She is cold and she seemingly doesn't give a damn about anything or anyone besides her own power and her own status. The Darkling's abuse of Zoya was much the same as his abuse of Alina. This constant push for her to believe that nobody was as special as her, nobody was as powerful as them, nobody was as important as them, it created this internal struggle where Zoya had been groomed into believing that anything the Darkling asked of her was acceptable because she was special, and the two of them were going to "change the world". Alina growing up under those same circumstances, I think it would have affected her similarly. I think she would have ended up bitter, lonely, and so paranoid about loosing her status and her power that it would have made her cruel.

I don't think she would have necessarily ended up as cruel and evil as the Darkling, but also, time would have told us if that was true. What would Alina look like after a century, two, three, five? What would she look like if she spent her entire life convinced that nobody in the world was as important as her, as powerful as her, that nobody on earth mattered as much as she did? What does that kind of psychological twisting do to a person? But I think the most crucial difference is that The Darkling believed that all on his own. The Darkling saw his power as a mark of his importance. He believed that his power put him above everyone else. Alina never believed that, and if she came to believe that, it wouldn't be because it was something she came to believe on her own, it would be because someone powerful who was grooming and abusing her convinced her that that was true, much like Zoya.

So while I do agree that yeah, there are paths that Alina could have taken in which she turned towards the greed and darkness that the Darkling inhabits, I don't think she could ever be like him, because, at his core, the Darkling is an evil man who believes that nobody in the world matters as much as he does, whereas Alina, through the entire story, always believed in the goodness and the value of the everyman. Alina always believed that the people around her were worth fighting to save.

[tobesobri]

𝒯his chapter has one of the most important scenes to me at the very end of it. It’s not very elaborate, and may not seem like much to most of you, but I felt like I was truly pouring myself into this story at that point and it was really sort of like therapeutic to write and then chapter five was even more so. But, anyways, thank you so much if you choose to read and an extra special thank you if you’ve messaged me sharing your thoughts, I truly appreciate it ❤️ 

huge massive thank you to the incredible @youresogolden-h for editing ❤️

CHAPTER FOUR: EARLY MORNING LIGHT (4.8K)

Harry and Y/N are friends…. with benefits, but not the kinds you’re thinking of.

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Even before he was fully conscious, he knew she was still there. And not entirely because he could feel her arm wrapped firmly around his chest or her leg overlapping his, but because he didn’t feel that same burning pain in his chest he had the previous morning when he woke and she was gone. 

He would have stayed like that for as long as he could too, if his bladder didn’t have anything to do with it. 

Instead of leaving her in his empty bed, as he squeezed himself away from her, he replaced his body with one of his larger pillows. She stirred beside him, letting out the cutest little irritated groan that made him instantly fall in love with her. Once she seemed to go back to sleep, however, he made calculated movements until he was safely out of bed. 

His brain was a little less foggy by the time he stepped foot onto the cold tile in the bathroom. Eyes still stinging from exhaustion, however, he dragged his body to the toilet. He could still taste the bitterness of alcohol on the back of his tongue and he seemingly peed long enough to get it all out of his system.

When he reached the sink to wash his hands is when he paused. He’d been on autopilot the entire time, barely opening his eyes when it wasn’t necessary to do so. But, when he spotted her things laid out neatly on the vanity counter around the sink he didn’t use, it woke him right up. 

His eyes wandered from her Colgate toothbrush to her bottle of Neutrogena face wash and make-up remover wipes while he washed his hands. And, as much as he tried to fight it after he dried himself off on one of his towels, he just couldn’t be stopped from picking up her small, travel-sized perfume bottle. Immediately upon undoing the cap and bringing the atomizer up to his nose, he was sent right back to last night. To all the times he’d been at all close enough to her to smell this exact scent on her skin. And while it was much more potent coming straight from the bottle, he liked it better on her. 

Shaking his head clear and deciding he was being intrusive, he closed the cap of the little pink bottle and set it back down where he found it. He had to admit, he liked seeing her things on his counter the way they currently were. Like they belonged there. He couldn’t quite put his finger on why he liked it so much, but he just knew it gave him a warm, home-like fuzzy feeling. He couldn’t shake it off, even when he’d ventured back into his bedroom and found her in the same position he’d left her in.

Walking over to his bedside table, he checked the time on his phone and realized it was a lot later than he had originally thought. Not that eight o’clock was late, but he assumed it had been earlier with how fatigued he felt. He blamed it on the alcohol.

And then he was tasked with the horrible decision to wake Y/N or to let her sleep. But, he desperately needed coffee, didn’t currently own anything besides the Keurig to make it himself, and didn’t want to leave her to wake up alone in his big empty house. 

So after a quick moment of watching her sleep and trying to find any justification not to disrupt her, he came up short and reached over to gently touch her shoulder until her eyes blinked open and up to him.

The brief confusion was very much apparent and seeing her like that made him completely forget why he was waking her up in the first place. There was a soft tug between her brows like she was ready to yell at him for disturbing her and her lips pouted as if begging him to just leave her the fuck alone. But, once she came to her senses, her features softened and he came to his own senses as well.

“I’m, uh, going to pick up some coffee, do you want anything?” He spoke softly, knowing just how irritated he’d be if someone was yelling in his face first thing in the morning. Not to mention, there was a pretty good chance she, too, had a massive migraine comparable to his own, and he had no intentions of making it worse for either of them.

She simply shook her head and rested it back down onto the pillow he’d shoved into her arms earlier as if she didn’t even need him at all to cuddle up to. With a slight giggle, the second she closed her eyes to go back to sleep, he backed away from her and went about his business getting ready to go outside.

And if you’re Harry Styles, you can’t go out in a shirt with unintentional holes in it and matching ones in your baggy grey sweatpants. He wasn’t sure why he still wore them, given his massive closet and ability to purchase new sleepwear, but they made him the most comfortable and felt familiar after long days; so he held onto them. And Y/N didn’t even seem to care, so neither did he.

But going out in them was a different story, so instead of becoming a news headline for bad fashion choices, he got himself together in his closet. He was too focused on his usual routine to realize Y/N was still right behind him as he slipped out of his sleep clothes and put clean ones on. And when he did remember she was there, after already tugging on some light washed blue jeans and with a white tee shirt in hand to throw on top, he twisted his head around to her. She hadn’t even moved an inch and he wasn’t sure if he cared that she saw him in his boxer-briefs. It’s not like she couldn’t search for him in his underwear on Google Images if she really wanted to. 

He wasn’t sure if anyone would even notice him while he was out, but in case they did, he needed to be prepared. So, once he was dressed, he was back in the bathroom to brush his teeth and make himself smell a lot better than he currently did. He left Y/N’s stuff alone this time even though he was still completely obsessed with it sitting on his counter, and found himself daydreaming about the day she just left things over at his house full time. 

Hell, he’d let her leave whatever she wanted right then and there if she needed to. He had the room and he liked the little reminders of someone besides himself being in his space. 

Right when he was about to leave his room, securing his watch on his wrist as he headed toward the door, he heard her mumble from the bed, which made him stop.

“I didn’t know you had so many tattoos.” 

He knew she was smirking at him before he even turned to look at her just because of the familiar tone of her voice whenever she teased him about something. He never would have considered anything about her voice familiar at all just a few weeks ago, so he didn’t really care that she had clearly seen him putting his clothes on.

“I didn’t know you were a perv.” He shot back.

She smiled and squished her face into his pillow to hide it and he fell a little bit more in love. 

He really needed that coffee.

“Can you get me a hot chocolate… I’ll pay you back.” She shut her eyes again and he was too lost in how much she resembled the cutest little puppy to even say a word about her not needing to pay him back the four dollars that, quite literally, wouldn’t even make the tiniest of dents in his bank account. 

“Do you want whipped cream?”

“No,” she scrunched up her face in disgust and he tried his hardest to stop the massive smile from spreading across his face, but he just loved finding out new things about her way too much. That, and the fact that if he was bringing her something, it was sort of like insurance that she wouldn’t leave while he was out. 

She didn’t take off like he’d feared, but she was already out of bed and put together by the time Harry got back. When he walked through the front door, he half expected her to be sitting in his living room, waiting to get her hot chocolate, pay him the $4.50, and then leave. But, to his surprise, that wasn’t the case.

She had set her packed bag on the end of his bed and pulled one of his small armchairs out from the corner of the room to the center of it so she could sit and stare at the entire view head on. This time, though, it was an early morning view where people were going to work rather than coming home from it. 

By some miracle she’d figured out how to open the curtains, it had just taken her fifteen minutes to do so. And then once she found the right button, on the right remote control sitting on Harry’s nightstand, she played around with opening and closing them because it was just too fascinating and she was just a little bit easily entertained. 

But once the newness of it wore off, she left them open and switched between checking her phone and just staring out the window, like she had been put under some kind of mesmerizing spell. 

Harry found her in that exact position, sitting in one of his mis-matched floral printed armchairs, staring out over Los Angeles like she owned it. Like she was sitting on her throne as the queen of the city. It endeared him to no end because it was just little things like that and like not wanting whipped cream on her hot chocolate and organizing her things on his counter as neatly as possible that said the most about her. He started to wonder if she’d always been like that and he just never took the time to fully pay attention.

Walking up to her, he handed over her drink that had been warming his cold hands because it was that time of year in southern California where it was freezing in the mornings, but boiling by afternoon. 

She took it from him, her eyes following the path up his arm to his shoulder and then finally to his face just to find him staring out the windows like she had been. But once he felt her staring, he glanced down at her just in time to find her trying to shove a five dollar bill into his hand.

He immediately pulled away. “It’s fine, you don’t need to pay me back.”

“But I feel bad.”

He rolled his eyes, not sure if she would hate him for coming right out with the fact that he had millions of dollars and that her five didn’t make a single difference. He knew he would hate himself more if he took money from her.

Sighing, he sat down on the end of the bed beside her chair, blowing on his own hot cup of Starbucks before taking a sip and realizing it still hadn't cooled down enough. The caffeine, however, was well worth the first degree burns. 

“I think maybe we should talk… ‘bout all of this.” He changed the subject, watching as she forgot about the five dollars, tucked it back into her pocket and avoided looking at him again.

Because she had no clue what he wanted to talk about. Was he going to put an end to it? Did she go too far last night? Should she have not said anything about seeing him changing his clothes? Did she snore or talk in her sleep and he had enough of it?

She hid her worries around her cardboard cup, holding onto it tightly with both hands and trying not to let him see the disappointment in her face.

“I mean, um,” he sat forward a little, realizing what he said had a bit of a sour connotation and the cold shoulder she was giving him was well-deserved. “Like, is this going to be a thing every night? And if it is, you can leave some stuff here if you want. Unless you’d rather sleep at your place, but I don’t think Will is that stupid…”

His rambling quickly turned her spirits around because he wasn’t actually telling her to piss off. He hadn’t come to the conclusion that she was using him like she feared. As much as he’d made it clear everything was mutual, she still couldn’t help but think she needed him more than he needed her. 

She was positive he could get anyone else he wanted to cuddle up to at night, so she had no clue why Harry was going along with their arrangement. And after learning about his past relationships she couldn’t help but wonder if she was doing the same thing to him.

“Do, um, you want it to be a thing every night?” She wasn’t entirely sure where the courage to ask him that had come from, but she regretted it when he took a couple seconds too long to answer.

Eventually he did, though, after a moment of looking out the windows just to find a way to tell her that didn’t sound weird. He already knew the answer to the question, he just wasn’t sure if she felt the same way at all. But in the end, he swallowed his anxieties and owned up to how he really felt. 

“Yes.”

Saturday afternoon was spent doing nothing but thinking of when she’d see Harry again. The plans for the night were already set when she’d come home to find Will on FaceTime with Harry, discussing him coming over to work on the album again. As per her eavesdropping, while she pretended to be busy cooking herself a late breakfast, she learned his second album was still in very early stages. He had no concept for it yet, only half a song was written and he hadn’t even booked studio time because he didn’t want to go in with nothing, just to waste everyone’s time. 

It was, to say the least, strange to see the dissonance between how Harry had been with her and how he was on the phone with Will where they only discussed work matters. She couldn’t even remember when he’d last brought his album up to her, or if he ever had. So it made her wonder if he ever talked to Will about the things he’d said to her. Did he tell Will how lonely he was because he couldn’t trust anyone anymore? Or how long it had been since he’d last been close to someone? 

Or were those details he only told her?

Once she had her food on her plate, ready to disappear into her bedroom, Will walked into the kitchen with Harry in his hand and it made her tense up in a way she never had around Harry. Maybe it was the fact that she knew what she looked like on camera and she hated it, and hated the idea of Harry seeing her like that. Or maybe it was because she and Harry had this secret that Will knew absolutely nothing about and she almost couldn’t find it in herself to interact with Harry in any way she used to a couple weeks prior. She knew way too much about him now and pretending otherwise in front of Will would nearly break her heart.

“Is it alright if he comes over?” Will asked, and she glanced down to the screen of his phone, finding Harry in a grey hoodie and his hair in a bit of a floofy mess. It was how he looked when he woke up in the morning, so with that and with his completely blank stare, it comforted her because his face was an exact parallel to her current inner struggle. Trying to remember how little they used to talk, because it felt like years ago now, and act accordingly as to not set off any alarms for Will. 

After a moment, she shrugged and looked to Will again, grabbing her plate and moving herself out of view, leaving him with that simple gesture as her only answer. He was used to her ways of communication, though, and didn’t expect anything less. 

As she headed towards the hallway, she heard Will giggle before speaking to Harry again. “I think that means she’s fine with it.”

Harry and Will sat across from each other at the dining table when Y/N made her first retreat from her bedroom, having spent the entire time since Harry had arrived hiding and trying to come up with any excuse to see him. 

But, when she did make an appearance, Harry was already lost to the stress of song-making that he barely even noticed her. He and Will had been going back and forth on a song for the past hour, a migraine settling itself in both of their frontal lobes by that point. Harry hated everything he was coming up with and didn’t like anything Will had to offer either. 

He’d never experienced a writer’s block this shitty, but he was already over it. He even went to a whole other country to try and combat it, but that didn’t seem to do the trick either.

They’d made little progress on the song Harry was currently working on by the time he finally noticed her. She shut their mug cabinet a little too hard and both him and Will turned their heads toward the noise. Harry, however, stared a little longer, as he watched her make her hot chocolate, letting it take him back to this morning when he didn’t feel a stitch of stress about his music. When he could’ve fallen in love with the way she looked at him from his bed and the way her things seemed to fit perfectly on his bathroom counter. 

The inspiration really hit when she left, when his heart didn’t feel like it was about to burst, but rather it felt like she’d taken pieces of it into her bedroom with her. 

He had no fucking idea why she had this weird hold over him. Maybe it was because they’d jumped straight into a very intimate relationship. Maybe it was because she knew more about him than most and she still seemed to like him just the same. Maybe it was because the entire time since he’d met her, he’d wanted to know everything there was to know about her, and he was slowly chipping away at all those little details. But, there was still so much more to learn and he was so incredibly and stupidly infatuated. 

With little regard for everything telling him not to get carried away, he still found himself flipping to an empty page in his journal and jotting down new ideas. Ideas that had stemmed from her. About how she made him feel. About her coconut-scented hair and her insecurities and the way she always had the right thing to say even if there weren't a lot of words coming from her mouth. It all seemed to just flow out all at once.

The next time she appeared was a little more distracting than the first. Because not only had he and Will finally made some kind of breakthrough, but she was also heading to the bathroom with a robe in hand. It made his heart race, wanting time to go faster so he could curl up next to her and breathe her in as soon as possible. He wanted to feel her soft skin under his fingertips and get lost in her hair again. His thoughts made it nearly impossible for him to focus on work anymore after that. 

So about twenty minutes later when she was tiptoeing back down the hall with her hair wrapped in a towel, he told Will he was too tired to continue writing. And with everything saved onto Will’s laptop, they cleaned up. Will organized everything into a neat pile and Harry put his stuff away into his backpack. While Will finished cleaning up the kitchen as well, Harry helped himself into the shared hall closet where they kept all their spare blankets and pillows. He had made his own makeshift bed on their longest couch in a matter of a few minutes, not that he’d actually be sleeping in it tonight, but Will didn’t need to know about that.

He faked it for as long as he could hold out; until the apartment was completely quiet and long after Will had disappeared for good into his own bedroom. But the entire time he waited, wide awake and flipping mindlessly through social media apps, he craved her touch like nothing he ever had before. 

Though he had a really unhealthy obsession with caffeine, somehow, he wanted her more than that. More than the sweet, nostalgic taste of his mom’s oatmeal cookies and more than the best plate of paella he’d ever tried; one that had really changed the game for him when he was in Spain a few weeks ago. He’d craved that fucking pasta dish every day up until now, when there was something he wanted even more than it. 

He made a mound of pillows on the couch underneath a blanket to make it seem as if he was there just in case someone woke up in the middle of the night. Then, quiet as a mouse, he tiptoed down the hall and knocked on her door just after ten-thirty. However, when she left him standing in the hallway with no response, he suddenly worried that she might’ve been asleep or that she didn’t want him in. Or maybe she just hadn’t heard him, so he knocked again.

She ceased his worries when she appeared on the other side of the door, her silhouette fitting in perfectly with the cozy surroundings of her bedroom. Her room looked lived in and he guessed that’s why he liked it so much. She wasn’t exactly a minimalist and so, no matter how many times his eyes wandered around her room the few nights he’d spent in her bed, there was always something new to look at. 

Like her growing collection of stuffed farm animals or the picture frames on her bookshelf he never got a chance to fully examine. 

This time he was in her room hit him worse than all the others because there was a soft glow of candles burning in the background and he could hear the faint sound of lullabies playing behind her. It took all the strength he had in him not to pull her into bed right then and there.

She stepped aside when he didn’t say a word, and they really didn’t have to say much to each other at all by this point. Not that words were overflowing from her mouth to begin with, but it was nice to just be at a point where they could silently accept each other. 

Where he could step into her bedroom and not feel like an intruder as he sat on the edge of her mattress.

“Were you asleep already?” He finally asked, softly so as to not wake anyone through their paper thin walls, once she shut and locked her bedroom door.

“You think I sleep with candles burning?” She said matter-of-factly, and he was unsure of her tone but when he saw the slight hint of a smile on her face, he relaxed again. Her sarcasm was another thing he had to get used to. 

He watched her as she put the flames out, the last little bits of light in her room sizzling into complete darkness until his eyes fully adjusted to the new light. Most of her movements were masked by the music coming from a speaker he couldn’t quite locate. It wasn’t very loud, nor was it anything he’d ever heard before, but it calmed every single nerve in his entire body enough to crawl under her blanket and make himself at home.

She joined him soon after, falling right into place beside him except this time, they faced each other. She kept a safe distance, too worried about her breath smelling to get any closer to him than she already was. 

“You should set an alarm. So you’re back on the couch before anyone wakes up.” He figured she was right; it was the logical thing to do, but he also knew he would hate waking up in the morning and having to leave her. Still, he pulled his phone out and set it for five a.m. No one would be awake before that on a Sunday morning. Once he was done, he twisted around to put his phone on the side table closest to him before settling back into her.  

It was quiet between them for a moment as they just stared at each other because neither of them knew how to make the first move. She didn’t want to be as forward as she had been, and he didn’t want to do anything to hurt her. Even if they’d done this a few times already, it would still take time getting used to it. They weren’t dating, they were hardly even friends. Being this intimate with each other didn’t happen without some degree of doubt.

She took a deep breath out of her nose, as if she was giving in first and carefully sought out his hand underneath the blanket. Once she found it and had his hand in her own, she scooted closer to him and wrapped his arm around herself like a blanket. He giggled lightly at her before he repositioned his arm a little bit, to get comfortable and to accommodate her own arm wrapping around him. He felt her tense up like she hadn’t ever done before and he worried that she was uncomfortable or that he was holding on too tight.

“S’this okay?” He questioned, easing up a little bit.

Her eyes were squeezed shut as she nodded, “Yes.” 

He didn’t quite believe her, not with the way she seemed almost in pain, and how she had yet to melt into him like she normally did. Still, she reached up slowly and carefully wrapped her arm around his neck instead, bringing herself even closer to him.

It was almost like she was forcing her body to let it trust him. To let go of her past and be there in the present with Harry. It was an all new position they’d never slept in before. It was closer and she had to be more open; more willing to let him hug her and to feel his much harder chest moving against hers. To let him fall asleep in the crook of her neck if he wanted to. There was just so much more that she wanted to trust him with and eventually she did. Eventually he felt her muscles relax and her breath became less erratic.

“I don’t really let anyone touch me.” She confessed into the darkness around them to his unspoken question. With both their eyes closed and in safer territory, it didn’t bother her to tell him, and she really couldn’t deny there was something about Harry that made her want to reveal all her secrets to him. Maybe it was that he seemed to genuinely care about them that got her to spit out things she’d never peeped to a single soul on earth before. 

He was quiet for a moment even though inside his head it was a mess. Why didn’t she let anyone touch her? Had someone hurt her so badly she didn’t let herself experience closeness anymore? Or was she just like that? Just didn’t enjoy it very much? So many possibilities raced through his mind until he finally rubbed his hand over her back softly and took a deep breath in of her familiar perfume, the clean scents on her skin and in her damp hair.

“Let me know if it’s too much, okay?”

She nodded against him and instead of pulling away like he expected her to, she cuddled even closer to him, finding a spot against his collarbone that comforted her more than she could have ever imagined it to. And then she was falling, both asleep and maybe something else too, but it all felt the same.

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[lxme-xss-imxgines]

When the Day Met the Night

Prompt: What happens when polar opposite celestial beings are plopped onto an island alone in mortal form?

Pairing: reader (moon) x jung hoseok (sun) 

Genre: fluff, angst, bad flow of writing lmfaooo n e way 

Word count: 4.6k

Warnings: !!!!!! attempted suicide (nothing graphic), SO much angst 

A/N: wow I love the song When the Day Met the Night by P!ATD, so here’s this lil thing. its kind of short but cute ???? Still not rlly sure if I like it or not but yk hahahaha n e way enjoy :)

***

when the moon fell in love with the sun

all was golden in the sky

all was golden when the day met the night

 The moment the sun was created, he knew his job. Begin the day on earth and then bring it to an end. It was simple, as the earth and everything else revolved around him - quite literally. He didn’t really have anything to occupy his time, so he tended to do a lot of thinking. 

One of his many questions, perhaps the one he thought about most, 

“What happens when I go down? Is it just  . . . darkness?”

He didn’t expect that one day, he would get his answer. 

When the sun found the moon

She was drinking tea in the garden 

Under the green umbrella trees

In the middle of summer

He had never thought that he would be anything more than a hot ball of fire in the sky. So when a piece of him detached and began to float somewhere new, he was worried. 

Would he be able to return to the rest of him to become whole again? Where exactly was he going? To bring light somewhere else?

Not quite. 

A voice rings and it startles him as he continues his journey through the universe, just drifting about. 

“Who are you? Where are you taking me?” 

Don’t be so nervous, Hoseok. There’s someone we want you to meet. 

“I- I have so many questions. Who are you? Who am I to meet? Hoseok . . . is that my name?”

We’re everything and nothing all at once; don’t think about it too hard. 

He did. 

You’ll be okay. Rest assured. We’ll talk again on your trip back. 

“Wait! You still haven’t told me-” 

Until later, Hoseok. Enjoy your time. 

A bright light is suddenly visible, almost seeming to bring a light ache. 

He can feel something beneath him, not hard but not too soft either. It was comfortable. Slowly, the light began to dim. He could feel something tickling him, and a sound erupts from him - laughter? Hoseok thinks to himself. 

New vocabulary seemed to rest in his head, and he wasn’t sure if he’d be able to use it properly or not. Or even what to use it for. 

Over the past few minutes, the brightness in his eyes has completely faded to somehow reveal a pale blue sky with clouds scattered amongst it. 

Is this what they see? 

He looks down at his surroundings, the amount and vibrancy of colors shocking his eyes open even wider. 

The green grass, the multicolored flowers, a fountain flowing ever so softly a few yards in front of his feet. A stone path lay to his right. 

Hoseok prays that no one is watching him as he takes his very first steps ever, as it is quite embarrassing, like a colt attempting to stand for the first time. He takes notice that his legs are rather long - how old is this body that he’s inhabiting? He has no real concept of human age, but assumes in the very least that he is in a fully matured form. 

He thinks he’s safe once he gets a little more confident in his steps, taking it little by little. 

And then he hears the faintest laugh, startling him and he loses balance, landing in the grass on his hands and knees.

“Oh my goodness, I’m so sorry! I really didn’t mean to startle you. I didn’t really think I was capable of doing so . . .” 

He wearily looks up to face the owner of the voice, feeling his cheeks heat from his own embarrassment. 

When the moon found the sun

He looked like he was barely hanging on

But her eyes saved his life

In the middle of summer

He didn’t really know what to expect, but he surely wasn’t expecting her.

Long silver hair framed her face, matching her set of silver eyes that were glimmering as she looked down at him. Her skin held a glow, not quite like his, but more subtle. Yet it was somehow more eye-catching, the glimmer that spread across her skin catching every ray of his light and reflecting. 

“I-uh,” Hoseok shakes his head, finally reaching for her hand,”you don’t have to apologize. It’s just kind of embarrassing is all.” 

He pulls himself up with the help of this mystery girl, finally feeling like his legs are his own. 

They kind of stand there for a second, hands still touching as they observe each other. However, Hoseok startles out of it first, pulling his hand away. 

“Um, I suppose you’re who I’m to meet? I’m Hoseok . . . I guess you may know me as the guy that lights up the Earth and what not.” he tilts his head, wondering if he’ll get recognition. 

Her eyes widen like saucers, her mouth dropping open slightly,”You’re the sun? They didn’t tell me I would be meeting you! Oh goodness, I feel so unprepared . . . “ her hands come up to squish her face out of anxiety, and she completely forgets to return the introduction. 

“I, uh . . . can I know your name?” 

She looks up with a small gasp, her hand coming up to hit her forehead,”I’m sorry, I’m such a space case. No pun intended. I’m y/n, or better known as the one who lights up the night, as you would say.” 

Hoseok’s face crinkles in confusion,”There’s someone who lights up the night? But isn’t the night  . . . dark? I mean, that’s what happens when I’m not there, right?” 

The moon’s shoulders drop, any excitement previously held from meeting another being gone. Her eyebrows furrow,”Uh, yeah. I don’t really light it up like you do the day . . . it’s more like a night light. When you go down, I come up. The sun’s job is to provide light and warmth, otherwise the Earth would freeze over. And the moon- well, I really don’t know what my purpose is quite yet. I think I can do something to water . . . I don’t know.” 

She fiddles with her hands and stares at her feet, and Hoseok feels a pang of guilt hit deep in his chest. Why does she know so much about him, yet he didn’t even know she existed? Another being, in the same solar system - was he that self centered? Absorbed and made ignorant by his own light? So swallowed by his own loneliness that he didn’t even consider the fact that maybe he might not be completely alone? 

So he said, "Would it be all right

If we just sat and talked for a little while

If in exchange for your time

I give you this smile?"

 So she said, "That's OK

As long as you can make a promise

Not to break my little heart

Or leave me all alone in the summer." 

“Then we can figure it out together, yeah?” He lets his hand float in the air in front of her, hoping the offer was appropriate. His heart beats in anticipation.

She looks up, eyes widening once again,”huh?”

“Why you’re here, your purpose. We can figure it out together,” he flashes her a smile so bright and warm that she almost feels faint, her head going dizzy. Little did she know, she was having the exact same effect on him. “If that’s alright with you, of course?” 

She hesitantly grabs his hand, settling for just hooking their pinkies. Her lips form a small smile,”I was just having tea under those trees, over there by the fountain. Would you like to join me?” 

He restrained the strong want to smile at her nervousness, which he found strange (only because he’s never experienced it before) but also completely endearing. 

She lightly pulled him toward a table with two chairs on opposite sides, nestled between two trees and only a few short steps away from the calm trickling of the fountain. One side of the table was a glimmering silver, the other a sparkling gold, with chairs to match.  It made him chuckle lowly to himself. 

He pulled out her seat for her before she could even think about it, a blush forming on her cheeks from the gesture. 

He took the seat across from her and watched intently as she poured them each a cup, quietly offering him milk and sugar. He shook his head, regretting it not seconds later when the bitter liquid assaulted his newly formed taste buds, his scowl earning a chuckle from his counterpart. 

He suddenly took notice of the detailing on the table. What he assumed to be a moon is carved into his side of the table, and a sun carved on y/n’s side. 

“It’s supposed to be representative of a yin-yang symbol, if I remember correctly. A symbol of balance. Light and dark, male and female, day and night.” 

Hoseok is quiet for a moment at this revelation before a question eventually bubbles into his head,”Where did you learn all of this? About me, about yin and yang, about tea?” 

She giggles, but he’s not offended by him. He didn’t think it was possible, but his heart warms a little bit more at the sound. 

“You help me find my purpose, and I’ll teach you about all the things I’ve learned. Deal?” she reaches her hand out over the table, anxiety bubbling in her gut at the thought of rejection. He senses her nerves, and if he had the strength to tell her there's no reason to fear rejection from him, he would. 

However, he meets his hand with hers once again as reciprocating the handshake was all he could muster.

“Deal.” 

And so their friendship began. 

Well he was just hanging around

Then he fell in love

And he didn't know how

But he couldn't get out

Just hanging around

Then he fell in love

“Hoseok, be careful not to over-water the plants! You’ll drown them, silly,” y/n rushes over to where he’s standing in the garden, carefully tipping back the watering can before he turns their flower bed into a river bed. 

Hoseok reaches behind his head, awkwardly scratching his neck,”I’m sorry, y/n. The soil was just looking a little dry. I didn’t mean-” 

“Hey, sunshine. It’s okay. If those ones would’ve been overwatered, we can always just plant more,” she gives her usual small smile and carefully takes the watering can from him before returning it to the inside of their cottage. 

Sunshine, one of her many nicknames for him. The difference with this one is that it always seemed to make his heart skip a beat when it left her mouth. 

They had been staying on their little island for about a month and a half now, and they seem to have fallen into a comfortable rhythm of things. Drinking tea together, gardening together, swimming together - there was a small amount of activities that they did separately. 

They both knew it was odd, as they were deemed to be polar opposites and honestly shouldn't be getting along so well. But yin-yang rang true, and they balanced each other out perfectly. 

The only thing the moon did that annoyed the sun at times was something they call her “dark days”. He tries his hardest to understand it, but it’s difficult to empathize with a feeling you never experience. 

Hoseok believes that it’s partially - no, scratch that - he believes it’s completely his fault. 

When they first arrived he’d promised her he’d help her find her purpose, the reason she goes up into the sky at night; with a promise of knowledge about the universe in return. 

Whilst he has received an immeasurable amount of knowledge thanks to y/n, it seems as if he hasn’t made any progress figuring out what she’s here for. He knows she has a purpose, he is 100% certain and he feels it in every fiber of his being. He just hasn’t figured out what exactly it is yet. 

He still feels confused when she shuts herself in her room, and won’t come out for the majority of the day, only revealing herself to grab a glass of water and say goodnight to Hoseok. 

And although he hasn’t quite grasped the feeling yet, he knows that it hurts her. He knows this because it’s what he feels on the days he doesn’t see her, the days she locks herself away. He doesn’t understand why it upsets him so much. 

Today, luckily for both of them, is a good day. Or at least it started out as one. 

As y/n’s eyes flutter open, the scent of something hits her nose. It’s bacon, she thinks - but it just smells a little-

“Oh no,” she practically rolls out of bed, darting into their kitchen to see Hoseok holding a pan of burnt bacon in one hand, the other hand reaching to turn the knob off. 

“Y/n! I, uh, I’m sorry. I was trying to make breakfast for us, but ironically I haven’t really gotten a grip on the whole fire thing yet and-” 

“Hobi, sunshine, it’s okay,” she walks over, taking the pan from him and pouring the grease into a jar before discarding the burnt bacon into the trash.

“You’re not upset?” he questions. He didn’t want to come off judgemental, but there was a day where y/n found a dried out worm on the pathways and proceeded to cry over it for two hours. If she shed some tears over burnt bacon, it would not have shocked him in the slightest. 

“Of course not, you tried your best and that’s all that really matters,” she strokes his cheek slightly to comfort him before returning to make the breakfast he attempted. 

He’s shocked by her upbeat demeanor, but he knows better than to look a gift horse in the mouth.  

“So, what did you want to do today?” he leans against the counter and watches intently as she places bacon in the pan once more. 

“I’m not sure. Maybe go for a walk? It’s cooler out today,” she close-mouthed smiles, knowing that means Hobi was feeling calm today, that most likely nothing was troubling him. 

“That’s a great idea! Maybe you’ll find a new flower or berry or something!” 

“Always the optimist,” she gives a light sigh as she flips the bacon, almost seeming to go out of focus; something she does quite often, Hoseok has noticed. It was odd, how she’d have this far off look in her eyes and yet still be able to complete whatever task she was working on. Like her body took control as her mind wandered away.

Breakfast continued without a hitch. They ate in relative silence, but it was a comfortable silence. One filled with stolen glances and small smiles. 

After cleaning up, they chose a trail to take their walk on. It was one they’d only been down maybe once or twice, which left hoseok hoping y/n could discover something new. Something to distract her for a bit longer as he continues his research to figure out why y/n is here. 

Sometimes Hoseok thinks that there’s no particular reason why Y/n is here, and he thinks of ways to explain that it would be okay if she didn’t have a reason, if she were to just be existing. But he plays the conversation in his head and he can see her facial expression after the words leave his mouth and then his stomach drops and then he forgets about even bringing it up to her all together. 

“Hoseok?” 

y/n calling his name knocks him out of his thoughts, his eyes landing on her small form. He smiles,”let’s go.”

She shakes her head and giggles slightly,”alright. Onward then.”

He gestures for her to walk first, and so she begins their trek down the trail. This one in particular winds through the woods, cuts through a clearing, and then leads down to the river. Even though they’ve only been down this one a small amount of times, and there is probably other trails, y/n thinks this one may be her favorite. 

The breeze flutters y/n’s dress and hoseok’s loose white button up as they walk through the woods, the only sound heard being their footsteps and the occasional noise coming from an animal. 

“Hobi?”

“Yes, nightlight?” 

She hopes he doesn’t see her cheeks turn red. 

“I know how you say I think too much and I should probably stop doing that-”

“But?” 

She stops for a second, glancing up at him. He notices a second later, pivoting to return her gaze. 

She lets out a little breath,”Do you not think about why we’re here? I mean, if it happened to you the same way it did me, a voice came to you and told you that they wanted you to meet someone, and all of a sudden you had a body and then you were here. I was here for a bit before you, and I thought the worst. I had done something wrong and now I was being banished to spend my life, however long that would be, on this island. Alone. And then you showed up . . . and now I’m even more confused.” 

He can see her eyes starting to glaze over, and his stomach drops. That was the expression he was trying so hard to avoid seeing. Maybe he hadn’t tried hard enough to find out why she’s here. She was upset all over again and it was his fault. 

He takes a step forward,”Y/n, just give me more time-”

“You shouldn’t need more time, Hoseok!” she grabs onto his sleeves, tears starting to flow from her eyes,”The reason why you can’t figure out why I’m supposed to be here is because I don’t need to be! I am unnecessary. You light up the whole earth and bring light and the day, hobi. What do I do? Why did they put me on this cage of an island with you of all beings? So I could feel even worse about myself?”

Her words startle him into speechlessness as he just stares at the tears flowing down her cheeks; he is frozen.

Her hands drop from his sleeves moments later and he still can’t find his voice. 

“Just accept that I’m right, Hoseok. I am nothing.” she sighs once more and turns away from him, heading back down the path and toward the cottage. 

The word nothing hits him like a bullet, so much force he almost actually stumbles backward. He’s suddenly out of his trance, and he marches forward, gently grabbing her shoulder and spinning her to face him. 

“Don’t you dare call yourself nothing ever again. Ever.”

“Why not? It’s true, Ho-”

“I love you! Do you hear me, y/n? I am in love with you. Do you think that if you were nothing, if you meant nothing I would fall for you like I have? Do you know how insulting it is to have you call the thing I love most nothing? That is the last word I would use to describe you.” 

“I-I’m sorry. But . . . that still doesn’t explain why I’m here. This isn’t about you, Hoseok. I understand the whole universe revolves around you and everything, but just because you fell in love with me doesn’t mean I have purpose all of a sudden. This doesn’t change anything.” 

Her voice shook the whole time and tears kept leaving her eyes, all signs saying she didn’t mean a damn word she was saying - but to the sun, it felt as real as it could. 

She walks away once more, and it wasn’t until she was out of his line of vision did he realize his cheeks were wet with hot tears. 

One week later

Hollow. 

Hollow is how Hoseok feels. 

He doesn’t know what to do with himself. He has never felt this in his entire existence before. 

Does he talk to her? Plead with the universe to return back to his place in the sky? Lay in his bed for the rest of eternity and wallow in self-pity? 

The last one seemed the most appealing. 

“You are the sun, Hoseok. The fucking sun for god sakes. And you can’t even manage to convince the girl you love that there’s purpose for her existence. Why isn’t my love for her enough? Why isn’t the way she makes me laugh, the way I get butterflies when I look at her . . . why isn’t that enough? Is this how she feels?” 

Hoseok sits up as realization hits him like a freight train. He knows why she’s here. He’s finally figured it out. 

***

Light knocks on wood are heard throughout the otherwise silent cottage as Hoseok’s knuckles rap against y/n’s door. 

“Please come out. I- I really need to talk to you. I think . . . no, I know now. I figured it out, if you just- y/n? Why haven’t you started yelling at me yet?” slight worry settles in his stomach as he reaches for the doorknob, confusion filling his head as the door opens easily. 

The room isn’t a mess as it had been previously, as y/n had a tendency to have her things scattered about. It was almost unsettling how clean and organized everything is. And sitting on her nightstand next to her bed is a folded piece of paper that makes his heart drop. 

He hesitates to pick it up, but reluctantly opens it to see that it’s addressed to him. 

“Dear Hoseok, 

I am sorry. I can no longer bear the weight of having a physical body in which my consciousness resides. They won’t let me return back to my place in the sky where my celestial being is currently, so I must find a way to force them to. I just want you to take one thing away from this, if anything; 

This is not your fault. I should not have given you such a big responsibility. It was my journey to embark on and I could not handle it, and I should not have expected you to be able to. Please do not blame yourself for the demise of my mortal body. 

Thank you for everything. 

Love, y/n” 

The letter is crumpled into his fist as hot tears stream down his face. He begins to rip the letter into pieces and notices something. 

“The ink is smearing . . . this has just been written  . . . oh no,” he drops the remaining pieces of the letter and dashes out of the cottage. “If I were y/n, where would I go?”

He suddenly feels something wet on his face, and looks up to see a dark sky. It’s always sunny here. What is happening? 

“The moon . . . pulls the tides. She’s going to try and drown herself,” hoseok starts running faster than he ever thought possible, trying to make it down to the shoreline in time. Although the island isn’t very large, she could be at any part of the shore. 

Hoping that his intuition will take him to the right spot, he just keeps moving. 

I have to make it in time. I have to. 

Feeling as if his lungs will collapse once he finally reaches the shoreline, he panics as he can’t see her at first. But then he hears her, sobs racking her body. 

Most of her body is submerged in the icy water, only visible from her elbows up as she sits in the sand. 

He slowly approaches her, going in until the water hits his knees,”Y/n?” 

“They won’t l-let me, Hoseok. They won’t let me,” another sob escapes her mouth, her shoulders shaking. 

“Won’t let you what, nightlight?” he murmurs so soft he almost thought she couldn’t hear him.

“They won’t let me die!” a deep breath leaves her,”I can’t die. I can’t return to my home. I’m just stuck. Here, watch!” 

He reaches out for her as she tries throwing herself in the water,  but she doesn’t even hit the surface before the ocean comes rushing back toward her, standing her upright once again. Hoseok watches in awe. 

“It’s yourself, you know. You won’t let yourself die. Because you know that’s not what you’re meant to do.” 

“How exactly am I not letting myself die? Is throwing myself into the ocean not convincing enough for you?!” y/n is inches away from his face at this point, irritated at the complete calmness in his eyes.

“I’m sorry, but I was under the impression that it was the moon who controls the tides. I’m not saying you’re doing it on purpose. But deep down, you still think there’s a reason that you’re here. There’s a part of you that wants to live and find out. And I’m here to tell you.”

Y/n perks up at this, although there’s still tears welled in her eyes,”there’s no way you figured it out. You’re just saying that to try and stop me.” 

“I don’t think you understand, y/n. Without you, the whole world would fall out of balance. You know of yin and yang, correct? Warm and cold. Light and dark. Day and night?” 

“Yeah, I’ve read it all. What is your point here, Hoseok?” 

“Love, you bring things that I could never provide. I could never move the tides. I could never shine among the stars like you do. I can never bring comfort during the dark like you. Don’t you understand? Everything shines the brightest when it is darkest. You are loved by so many. I may bring warmth and light. But you bring beauty, comfort, and understanding. Understanding that without the night, we would never cherish the beauty of the dark, and what lies in it. Darling, don’t you see? You are the one everyone truly loves. You bring light in the darkest of times. How can you not see that?” 

Y/n looks as if Hoseok had just slapped her in the face, waves of tears making their way down her cheeks freely. She stumbles forward, almost drunkenly and blinded by her tears, and begins weakly beating on his chest. 

“H-How can I believe you? I-I just . . . What if you’re just saying this because you love me?” she lets out an exasperated breath, finally looking up into his eyes. 

“So what if I am? You don’t think those humans love you almost as much as I do? Or did you just forget everything that I said? That is the whole point, nightlight. Everyone on Earth loves you just as much as I do. You just needed someone else to tell you so that you’d finally believe it.” 

Silence sweeps over the both of them as they breathe heavily, exhausted physically and emotionally. 

“Look y/n, I- 

Hoseok doesn’t get the chance to finish his sentence as the force of her body knocks into his, nearly knocking him over. Relief floods his body as he relaxes into her embrace, the sky growing lighter in time with his heart. 

“Hoseok, I’m so sorry I said all of those things to you. I was just so . . . I am so scared,” she sniffles quietly. 

He releases himself from y/n, looking down at her with a confused look,”Scared of what?”

“Of loving you. And everything that comes with it. But I, um, I think it’s much too late for that.”

Hoseok’s eyebrows shoot up, a beaming smile coming onto his face,”are you serious? You- you love me? You actually love me back?” 

“I think there’s a better term for it, the humans use it to differentiate between platonic and romantic feelings. I don’t just love you, sunshine. I am in love with you.” Her hands come up and rest on his cheeks, his doing the same. 

“Uh, I, is this where -”

“Oh my stars, just kiss me already you dork.” 

The legend says that the upper beings were so pleased, the sun and moon were allowed to stay on their island together for the rest of eternity. 

All was golden in the sky

All was golden when the day met the night. 

The End

[another-emotional-wreck]

My Only Sunshine -- chapter 1

Warnings: Mentions of blood, language

Word Count: 2.5k

Author's note: this fic takes place during 1983 but I need to clarify some things. In this universe, DOFP never happens because Peter was born in ‘66 instead of ‘56 to avoid anything weird between him and OC. Also, while the events of First Class take place, Erik eventually just comes to stay with the X-men and lives there full-time. He’s still Peter’s father, it just happens later than it does in canon, and no one knows yet.

Nyah Walker's physical appearance for anyone who wants it :)

1 | 2 |

***************************************************************************

We passed through the front gates and I sighed once again. I was already pissed, and the gloomy weather really wasn’t helping.

My dad rolled his eyes at my attitude. “It’s for your own good, Nyah. Not just yours, but for me and your siblings, too.”

“I know,” the sound was muffled from behind my fist. The trees were blurry and covered in snow as we drove down the path leading to the school. “Couldn’t we have waited till the end of the school year, at least?”

“You know the answer to that question.”

I turned towards the window again, hating the fact that he was right. The school was a large part of why I was in this situation in the first place, but it didn’t matter. I don’t even know what really happened-- how come I got expelled just cause the school didn’t wanna believe me?

The rest of the car ride was silent, but the falling snow brings a feeling of peace over the awkward quiet. We finally reach our destination and I see a building that looks as if it was built in the decades before I was born. I stepped out of the passenger side and somehow the building managed to practically double in size. The sky seemed to be getting darker and the building started to lean over me and I got dizzy up at it and it wasn’t until my dad greeted the man in front of us that I snapped back to reality.

My dad extended his hand to greet a man in a wheelchair. “Grayson Walker,” he said.

“Professor Charles Xavier.” He smiled, and it seemed genuine.

Just behind Charles stood another man wearing a dark brown vest under a beige jacket. He was fidgety, and couldn’t meet my eye for more than about a second.

While I studied the man, Charles stuck his hand out to me. It took a nudge from my dad to realize that he was trying to get my attention.

“And your name is?” He asked politely.

I hesitated before speaking. “Nyah Walker.” Sure, Charles seemed nice enough, but there was something about him that seemed strange. Not bad, just different-- as if he were hiding something.

“Wonderful to meet you, Nyah. The man behind me is Hank McCoy.”

“Hello, both of you.” He offered a small smile which I couldn’t help but return, but even he seemed to have something else on his mind.

“I suppose we ought to get inside,” the Professor broke the silence, turning the joystick on his wheelchair. “I’d hate for any of you to catch a cold.”

Despite the bitter cold, I had completely forgotten about the snow. Wrapping my coat tighter around myself and adjusting the bag on my shoulder, my dad and I followed Hank and the Professor through the doors of the mansion.

The place managed to look bigger on the inside than it outside. A staircase in the back of the main hall split in two directions, leading to what I assumed was the dorms and classrooms. Hank and the Professor led us farther down to an office, having both my dad and I take seats on the same side of the desk.

“So,” the Professor began. “Nyah, if you wouldn’t mind, could you walk us through what exactly happened that day?”

I opened my mouth but nothing came out. “Take your time,” said Hank. “it’s uh-- it’s not something that’s easy for everyone to talk about.” At that, he gave the man next to him a pointed look.

“Right...” I began. It definitely took me a little while longer than it should have to gather my thoughts. “Well, uh. About a month ago I got into an… altercation. Some prick--” my dad made a point of clearing his throat. “A kid from my homeroom, Jackson Dill, made some sick joke about my mom.”

I noticed Charles rest his chin on his fist. “I swear I’m not an angry person, but he just kept pushing. Saying stuff about how funny it was that my mom was dead, cause usually, it’s the dad who’s gone in families like mine.”

Hank looked confused. “Families like--” Charles cleared his throat and glared at Hank.

“I did my best to keep my cool. My friends came to my defense cause the teacher just so happened to not hear anything, but it still ended with me storming out of the classroom. Naturally, my teacher chose that time to look up from her papers and followed me out. Not sure how, but I ended up in the bathroom. The halls were pretty dark, so maybe I just lost my way?”

My gaze slowly moved from the men in front of me to my shoes and my voice got quieter as I began to mutter more to myself. “Honestly-- the more I think about it, the more I realize that I don’t even remember walking from the classroom to the bathroom.”

Hank opened his mouth to speak, his brow furrowed. The Professor held his hand up. “Let her finish, Hank.”

My stare flickered between the two before I continued. “Instead of locking myself into a stall like someone with common sense, I was hunched over the sink. My head was spinning and my stomach was churning and I had heard of people seeing red when they get angry enough, but that felt like something so much worse.”

There was so much darkness, I could hardly lift my head enough to look in the mirror and see that my eyes were all red and my hair was everywhere-- I think my nose might have been bleeding, not sure though. The most noticeable thing was that the lights started flickering…” My words petered out at the end of the sentence.

Was this even worth going over again?

“What’s the matter?” The Professor asked when I stopped. “Is that all?”

“No,” I muttered. “It’s just that things get a little… hard to believe from this point. I don’t even think my dad believes me.”

“That’s not true Nyah, I just--”

“Yeah. You just think I don’t know what I’m talking about. I get it.”

The two men in front of us looked mildly uncomfortable, so I took that as my sign to keep talking. “There was no weird weather or anything. Actually, it was pretty nice for December, so the weird thing with the lights went out outta nowhere. It wasn’t until a while later that I began thinking that the flickering might have been caused cause of me.”

God, my mouth was so dry. Since when did my heartbeat get that loud?

“The school says that what got me expelled was what happened to the teacher who came after me. In my defense, no one really liked her. She was always rude and her class was hard for no reason other than the sake of being difficult.” My dad, never one to appreciate my jokes, glared at me.

I sighed. “The point is, she came into the bathroom and grabbed my arm. I’ve never been a huge fan of being touched in the first place, and the fact that I felt like my body was being turned inside out wasn’t exactly helping.”

“Almost automatically, as if-- like I knew what I was supposed to do-- my eyes locked on her shadow-- don’t ask me why cause I don’t know. The next thing I knew, she was on the opposite side of the bathroom, unconscious. My eyes grew wider than I ever thought possible and in an instant, I was back in the classroom. Things were back to normal, except my teacher was gone and the entire school was pitch black.

Things happened. The teacher claimed that I shoved her-- as if I could throw her all the way across the bathroom, and the final decision was to expel me without pressing charges. About two weeks after all of that, my dad got a call from someone saying that they could help me.”

The whole thing was insane. Everyone was talking about it, especially how Mrs. Rio came out of it with a fractured spine and I just-- appeared in the back of the classroom looking shaken and sporting a bloody nose.”

The last time something like this happened, some kid blasted a hole through the stalls in the boys’ bathroom.

Hank and the Professor looked at each other for a while, seeming to have an entire conversation with nothing but their eyes.

Bits of words and phrases came out of their mouths.

“She’s… than anything we’ve…”

“But are we sure we… nothing’s ever…”

“We’ll just have to… and… as we go.”

My dad broke into the conversation. “Excuse me,” I could hear the impatience in his voice. “What’s going on?”

“Well, she’s enrolled.” The Professor said finally, turning towards me. “That is if you’d like to be.”

*********

“You’d be allowed to leave whenever you choose, of course.” The four of us walked in line with the Professor. “We would never make you do anything against your will, but I do hope you understand that everything we do here is for your safety.”

“Of course,” I said. “I understand.”

The bell rang signaling the end of the school day. Kids of all ages flooded the halls and at that moment I couldn’t help but think that I may have been in over my head. The students here used their mutations so… freely.

Apparently, I said that last part out loud. “Yeah,” Hank smiled at the passing students. “No one’s shunned here, Nyah. You’ll be in an environment where you can learn and grow along with everyone else.”

My dad turned to me. “I think these people will be good for you. Might as well try it out, right?”

A grey blur flew past us making everyone’s hair and clothes blow everywhere.

“Yeah,” I croaked. “Might as well.”

*********

“And this is your new room!” the white-haired girl smiled at me warmly as she stood in front of the open door.

I nodded awkwardly, taking in the room. It was small enough for me, with the bed in the corner and a window that had a view of the yard-- full of children running around in winter coats and laughing.

A little boy caught my eye. His head was tossed back and his mouth was open, and it took me a moment to realize that it was still snowing and that he was trying to catch snowflakes on his tongue.

I couldn’t help but smile to myself, which I immediately stopped once I noticed Ororo staring at me awkwardly. “Thanks again, uh--”

“Ororo. Ororo Munroe.”

“Thank you, Ororo.” I tossed my duffel bag on my bed and plopped down right next to it. Ororo still stood in the doorway, almost unsure.

“Everything alright?” I asked.

“Of course,” she said, her smile fading slightly. “It's just that you seem, uh, nervous.”

I thought I had been hiding it well enough. “How’d you know?” I asked. “Is knowing people’s emotions your, what’s it called? Your uhm…”

“My mutation?” She grinned at my sheepish nod. “No, but would you like to see it?”

I nodded again. God, I felt like a little kid, barely knowing what to say or using my words.

Ororo’s grin managed to grow even bigger. “Watch this.”

Her feet left the ground and she crossed her legs under her. A ball of lightning formed in her hands and grew as she expanded them. Her smile grew into a frown as she concentrated on making it bigger, eventually making it the size of her head. She clapped her hands together just as her feet came back to the ground, sparks flying like fireworks.

I clapped in excitement as Ororo took an overdramatic bow. I giggled once again as she walked over to me, her eyes asking for permission to sit. I nodded.

“So what exactly is your mutation?” My smile faded and Ororo’s face grew worried. “Oh no, I’m not trying to pressure you! You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to, I was just--”

I smiled slightly. “It’s alright, I just have no real idea how to explain it.” a sigh left my lips as I fell back on my bed, staring up at the ceiling. Feeling Ororo do the same next to me, I turned towards her.

“It’s only happened a few times since the incident at school. I still don’t know how my teacher ended up against the wall on the other side of the bathroom, but I swear I don’t remember touching her.”

She thought for a moment. “Telekinesis maybe? I know someone who can do that.”

“I’m not sure.”

“Wanna try it?”

*********

I had been staring at the pencil in front of me for about five minutes before I turned to Ororo in exasperation. “I feel stupid.”

“Yeah, you don’t look much better.” Ororo deadpanned.

I shot her an annoyed look and she raised her hands in mock surrender.

“Alright, alright. Just sayin’.”

I sighed and pinched the bridge of my nose. “Welp, telekinesis is off the table--”

“Same thing goes for mind-reading, elemental manipulation, teleportation--”

“Yeah, okay, I get it.” I snapped.

Ororo looked mildly annoyed at my reaction before her gaze softened. “Hey, we’ll figure it out, you just need time.”

“That’s easy for someone who both knows how to use and enjoys having their powers.”

She snorted. “I’m not exaggerating when I say it took me years to become comfortable with my abilities. I was terrified of who I was-- what I was-- for so long. But here, while it has its flaws, I felt at home. Accepted. Being around people like you can do so much more than you think.”

“Yeah,” I mumbled. “I guess you’re right.”

Ororo looked at me for a moment before shooting up from where she sat. “I have an idea!” Her eyes were wide and I could see the gears in her head turning.

“Something tells me I should be worried…”

“No no, it’ll be fine, but I just remembered--” somehow, her eyes managed to grow wider than before. Something about her eagerness to try whatever she had in mind was slightly unsettling. “Whenever new students are having trouble using their powers for the first time, the Professor will make them feel whatever they were feeling the very first time their mutation emerged.”

“Wait a minute.” I squinted, trying to figure out exactly what she was getting at. “So you--”

“Think we should try and replicate the emotions you were feeling the day your mutation first arose? Yes. Yes, we should.”

“But… you don’t have any sort of mind control. How are we gonna do that?”

“I’ve already got that figured out!”

Ororo took one look at my anxious face and rolled her eyes playfully. “You’ll be fine. There’s just someone I need you to meet.”

[one-boring-person]

Ok so a Hawkins x reader x poncho where the reader gets sick of his jokes about women and just decks Hawkins in the face, which knocks him off his feet. This action is a turning point between the reader and Poncho as well as Hawkins. Petty fights between the two and constant flirting to the reader ensues. You can choose the ending ☺️

Ok, so I got a bit stuck writing this one, but I hope it's alright? Sorry if it sucks 😅 (can you tell I'm bad at flirting lol)

Get A Room.

Poncho x reader x Hawkins

Warnings: violence, injury, death, gun usage, very minor spoilers

Masterlist

As usual, Poncho is quick to notice (Y/n)'s body stiffening as she hears Hawkins begin another of his notoriously terrible jokes, her face setting into a hard expression. Her movements slow, the hands around the stock of her gun tightening as she becomes more and more annoyed, everyone able to recognise this change in mood except the man responsible for it, who has already dug himself a deep enough hole.

Billy is on the receiving end of today's quip, the dark-haired man listening to his compatriot's joke attentively, though he never shows any reaction to it, not until it's been fully told. Hawkins continues with the same line of humour he's always used: inappropriate references to women and their genitalia. Practically groaning out loud, Poncho can feel his patience for the man draining away, though he keeps a hold on himself, knowing that starting an argument now won't help anything, the group already having shot nerves after finding the corpses strung up in the trees, like racks of meat in an abattoir. Even now, a shiver goes down his spine at the memory, doing his best to erase it though he is aware that it won't work: the image has become branded into his mind forever.

"I've had enough. Hold this." (Y/n) suddenly growls, thrusting the rifle she's holding into Poncho's hands, turning to face Hawkins.

Lightening fast, she lunges forwards, her fist cracking across the young man's face with an audible crunch, his head jerking with the impact, glasses flying from his brow. His body follows his head, dropping to the floor as he clutches at his cheek, groaning in pain as she stands over him, flexing her hand. Around her, the rest of the group move to intercept, in case a fight should break out, but she does nothing to follow up, instead taking her gun from a dumbstruck Poncho, before going to walk with a smirking Blain. Dutch reprimands her swiftly, but he is containing a grin of his own, the major clearly proud of her for finally acting on her distaste for the bad jokes.

Dazed, Hawkins remains sat where he is for a moment, Billy chuckling and moving off, leaving he and Poncho behind, both men staring after their comrade, wide-eyed. At this point, all either can think is damn.

*

Heatwaves from the explosion wash over the concealed team as they wait in the trees, eyes wide as they watch Dutch take out his gun, firing off into the scrambling guerrillas. His voice calls loudly over the mingled sounds of screaming and collapsing structures, spitting gunfire quickly breaking out as the settlement inhabitants retaliate, blind to their attackers though determined nevertheless. Blain, Mac, Dillon, Billy and (Y/n) spring into action, easily dropping into the blazing camp, guns roaring as they take out the men shooting at them; Poncho and Hawkins find themselves slightly delayed, attention focused on something else entirely as they hastily rush to their comrades, faces blushing. Both men push aside their embarrassment, concentrating on the task at hand as they take out the camp.

All around, crates and barrels go up in flames, splinters of wood flying everywhere as bullets pelt their sides, ragged holes appearing in the containers even as bodies end up sprawled over the top of them. Nothing but gunfire and cries of pain are audible to the raiders and their enemies, ears ringing with the deafening cacophony of noise, rendering the sense almost useless - if they weren't already used to this side-effect. Orders are heard and received, executed to a high efficiency as they always are, Dutch feeling a small burst of pride flare up in his chest at the effectiveness of his team, his own gun vibrating violently in his hands with each round of bullets. Out of the corner of his eye, he notices a couple of guerrillas hiding out in a nearby building, sharpshooting at the people responsible for the destruction of their camp.

Frowning, he notices (Y/n) nearby, calling out to her and gesturing for her to follow on, receiving a brief nod in agreement as she makes her way over. Over her head, Dutch sees Poncho make as if to follow, a worried expression on his face, only to stop when he hears the major order him elsewhere, finding that Blain needs some help. Shaking his head in exasperation, the veteran leads (Y/n) into the main structure of the settlement, knowing the way up to the nearby building is through there, the two coming across a couple of rogue guerrillas here. Thankfully, they are swiftly taken care of, both (Y/n) and Dutch efficiently dealing with the threat as they move on to the structure they came for.

Kicking down the door, Dutch gives a bitter smirk as the men inside turn to the intruders in fear.

"Knock knock." He greets them, firing off a couple of well-placed rounds, nailing the dumbstruck guerrillas instantly. 

Entering the small area, Dutch goes to the open part of the structure, looking out over the wreckage below him, taking note of a couple of runners. Glancing around swiftly, he sees Hawkins nearby, the smaller man calling out for (Y/n) for whatever reason as he moves through one of the other walkways. Quick to intercept this, Dutch gestures for him to take out the runners, glad to see the young man nod and duck away to do so, his attention momentarily distracted.

 It's not until he hears a struggle behind him that he whirls round, gun at the ready.

He doesn't have to fire, (Y/n) having already subdued the threat with ease, the struggling figure writhing in her grip as she pins them down, knees holding down the arms as she presses down the person's head. Clearly distressed, the person tries once more to get away, before lying still, giving both intruders a better look at them. They frown as they realise exactly who it is: it's a woman. At that moment, Dutch figures out what the real purpose of this goddamned mission is, knowing now that he'd been foolish to listen to Dillon and Phillips.

Seeing Dutch's grim expression, (Y/n) gives him a confused look.

"What's wrong, major?" She asks, cocking her head.

"We've been set up." Is all he says, just as Hawkins and Poncho burst into the room, eyes landing on (Y/n) instantly. Dillon follows behind them, though he takes his time.

Noticing the definite change in their leader's attitude, Hawkins, Poncho and (Y/n) leave the area and go back down into the main part, looking for survivors. Both men jostle each other to stay ahead of her, forming a wall of some sort between her and whatever is ahead of them, something which she is quick to pick up on.

"Jeez, guys, get a room." She snorts as she pushes past them, going to move on before Hawkins speaks again.

"Only if you come with." He says before he can stop himself, breath hitching slightly as she turns her gaze on him.

"Keep it in your pants, Hawkins." She responds, an odd look on her face as she ducks out of sight, going to complete a circuit of the settlement.

The two watch her go, Hawkins internally cursing himself as he tries to follow, only to be pulled back by an annoyed Poncho.

"The hell did you do that for?!" The other man snaps at him, a scowl etched into his features.

"What's your problem?" Hawkins replies, equally as irritated, looking his comrade up and down.

"My problem is that you just made us both look like idiots!" 

"Me?! I wasn't the one trying to get all protective a minute ago!" 

"Like hell you weren't!" Poncho growls back, glancing up as Blain passes nearby, "Just keep it in your pants, alright?"

As he hears the repeated words, Hawkins feels himself get even angrier with his companion, his jaw clenching as he watches him walk away. Kicking at the ground, he turns and goes his own way, his head filled with images of (Y/n)'s curious expression from earlier. Something about her reaction to his jokes had struck a chord within him, his hand straying to his face to run over the slight mark her punch left, the ache still there even after an hour or so, his head turning to look back at where she disappeared. 

Correcting his path, he moves off in that direction.

*

Hawkins had always talked a lot, but somehow (Y/n) had never quite noticed it until now. 

Rolling her eyes, she picks her way back into the settlement, her new companion trailing behind her like a shadow, his words going mostly unheard as she focuses on keeping her footing. At some point, she'd realised that he wasn't going to shut up and had since started tuning him out, completely missing the new angle of his conversation.

"...It's why I reckon you shouldn't have gone into this profession." He says, still rambling despite her lack of attention.

"Huh? What do you mean?" (Y/n) suddenly tunes back in, frowning at this new statement.

"Well, you're far too beautiful to be running through the jungle." He explains, nearly grinning at the fact that she paid attention to him.

"The hell is that supposed to mean?" She questions him, turning to face him with a scathing look; he is one of her closest friends, but he could be really clumsy with his words sometimes.

Floundering, Hawkins' mouth opens and closes a few times, the young man struggling for words to fully explain what he meant without upsetting her.

"Just that you could do equally as well in a different job, like...modelling or something?" Under her piercing stare, he falters again, "Not that you're not good at this job, or anything, you're really good!"

Frowning, (Y/n) regards him carefully, before shaking her head and leaving him where he is, going back to the settlement. Cursing himself, Hawkins grits his teeth, knowing he just made a complete fool of himself, though he is thankful no one else is around to see it. Or so he thinks.

"Was that your attempt at flirting?" Poncho comments, emerging from the underbrush nearby, smirking at his comrade's downfall.

Glaring at him, Hawkins feels irritation rise up within him.

"I'd like to see you do better, asshole." He snaps back, flipping off the grinning man across from him.

"Watch and learn." He shrugs, still chuckling as he leaves Hawkins where he is and follows (Y/n).

Emerging into the settlement, Poncho immediately locates (Y/n), going over to her confidently with his gun held loosely across his chest. She looks up as he nears her, her brow furrowing slightly at the sight, curiosity getting the better of her as she stands still to let him catch up to her.

"Find anyone?" He asks her as he gets within earshot, gesturing to the forest around them.

"No, no one. You?" She responds, adjusting her hold on the gun slightly.

"Nope. I assumed they'd all been hit by you."

"Blain got them all, I think." 

"Doubt it. They probably saw you coming and legged it." He remarks, smirking at her.

Lifting an eyebrow, (Y/n) reloads her gun, ready for use if she needs it.

"Hey, no need to shoot me, it's a compliment." Poncho holds up his hands in mock surrender, grinning at her, though she only frowns, looking a little confused. 

"Thanks." Is all she says, nodding to Blain and Mac, who have emerged from the wreckage, followed by Dutch, Billy and Dillon, who is dragging a guerrilla girl behind him, "What the hell does he want her for?"

"Who?"

"Dillon. He's got that guerrilla girl Dutch and I found."

"Oh, I could name a few things." Poncho winks at her, though he is almost mortified when she gives him a weird look and leaves him where he is, going to stand with Dutch and Billy over the bonnet of a nearby car.

Cursing, he tries not to scowl too badly when he sees Hawkins shoot him a triumphant glance, going over to the main group with a slight blush, finding himself embarrassed. (Y/n) and Dutch are talking amongst themselves, a terse grin breaking out onto his face as he hears something, his angered facade cracking briefly. Unfortunately, both Hawkins and Poncho are within earshot for the response.

"The two of them are idiots, but they'll get their acts together eventually. They like you enough, they'll change their crappy flirting techniques, but you might have to wait a while." The major informs (Y/n), who smirks at the comments and thanks him, moving away from him as he goes to ask Billy something.

Hawkins and Poncho exchange a glance over the top of their compatriots' heads.

[idkwhoiamanymorebutwtf]

Amity absolutely in not going to choose the Emperor’s Coven over Luz.

 I keep seeing it suggested that Amity’s ties to the Emperor’s Coven could become an issue. That she may decide supporting Luz isn’t as important as her ambitions related to the Coven. That she might chose to side with the Emperor’s Coven, causing a rift between her and Luz. However I don’t believe that for a second, and that’s for two reasons.

1.) Luz is, as of right now, the most important thing to Amity. It's always felt to me like Amity already chose Luz over everything else. Amity has sacrificed her own physical wellbeing, even putting her own life in danger, to help Luz in the past. There's no way Amity's parents approve of Luz so she's put her relationship with her parents, something she's worked desperately for, at risk just by liking Luz, but she continues to be around her. Amity was willing to throw out her social group for hurting Luz. Why wouldn't she follow the pattern and pick Luz over the Emperor's coven too? And I mean..she must know she'll have to. Amity knows that Luz is Eda's apprentice. She knows that Eda is wanted by the Emperor's Coven. She's gotta know that she'll have to pick between the two things eventually, right? And if her plan wasn't to eventually pick Luz when she had to make the choice, why would she have put Luz before her own physical wellbeing, before her social status, and before her abusive parents' wishes? Not to mention , Amity's greatest fear was being rejected by Luz. It wasn't her abusive family. It wasn't being denied by the Emperor's Coven. It was the idea that she could lose Luz. Which makes it pretty cut and dry what the most important thing to Amity is in the end. Amity has already been willing to put so much on the line for Luz. I feel like she isn't going to stop now. Especially since, tbh, it seems like Amity has never been happier than she is currently. Realistically if you were a normal person with a good strong support system and a healthy conviction to follow your dreams then you wouldn't be willing to risk your life and dream job for another person. However Amity isn't a very healthy person. Her family is abusive, her friends are cruel, etc. Amity made their goals for her into her own goals because she didn't feel like there was anything else out there for her, not becsuse she personally wants it. She wasn't happy. Until Luz was kind and optimistic and showed her the potential that there are good people out there. I mean, why do you think she latched onto Luz so quickly and has put her physical wellbeing, social status, and relationship with her family in jeopardy just through having feelings for Luz and standing by her so far? She's willing to do that because Luz is one of if not the only person in her life that isn't abusing her to some extent. She isn't going to act like a normal person with a good support system and healthy ambitions they care about because Amity isn't any of those things and right now Luz means so so so much to her by proxy of being the only person in her life who's good. I don't think she'd give that up for anything, speaking both from personal experience and from the behavior ive seen her exhibit as of late and how much she's already risked.

and

2.)  Siding with the Emperor’s Coven would go against Amity’s strong sense of morality. Amity has been an incredible human being for her entire life. Every flashback we've seen of Amity has shown her as nothing but a good person. She was wrong to treat Willow the way she did, sure, but Amity did it all in an attempt to protect Willow and in the end how could anyone hate her for that? When she was told to befriend Boscha, Amity immediately refused, acknowledging that the other girl was mean, and for as long as the two were friends she never seemed to warm up to the cruel girl. When Amity accidentally got her Grudby teammates hurt she felt so horribly guilty that she quit playing forever. She's made mistakes cause she's a human being and people mess up sometimes, but I honestly think Amity has always been an admirable person. Why on earth would Amity ever support the Emperor’s Coven when she finds out what horrible things they’ve done? And some people suggest that while she’s not a bad person, her ambitions may make her do bad things. But Amity’s integrity has always come before her ambition. That much is made exceptionally clear back in Covention. Amity wasn’t willing to cheat in their magic duel. She refused to lie or cheat and that means that if Luz had really been better than her and won fairly, Amity would have taken the loss. She easily could have cheated. Everyone else did, it wouldn’t have been hard for Amity to do the same. But she didn’t, and she was extraordinarily upset that the other people involved did. Amity was horrified that Lilith cheated in her favor. Even if it helped her look good in front of the Emperor’s Coven, cheating was never even an option that crossed Amity’s mind and she was completed mortified that Lilith tricked her into it anyway. Her ambition was never as strong as her integrity back then, so why would it suddenly overwhelm her morals now? I mean, if cheating in a competition was a disgusting thought that she never considered for a second. Something that Amity screamed at Luz for doing and was completely ashamed when Lilith did it. Then how can anyone expect that Amity would support the Emperor’s Coven after all they’ve done? Even with all the pressure Amity’s under from society in general and her abusive parents, she hasn’t sacrificed her morals yet, and to suggest she might now is to completely disregard the strength of character she’s been shown to possess so far.

“But Wait!” I hear you say, “A clear parallel was drawn between the relationship of  Luz and Amity vs  the relationship of Eda and Lilith! That means Luz and Amity was likely to go down the same route and become enemies!”

And you are correct that there was a clear parallel drawn between these four in Covention. However i’d venture to suggest that this parallel will be used as a contrast rather than to show history repeating itself.

I’ll start by saying that I personally believe the “history repeats itself” trope is very hard to get right and is only really effective in certain situations, this not being one of them. Tell me, what, narritively, would be the positive effect of pushing Amity and Luz down the same route Lilith and Eda went down? I can’t see any good reason for it except the ~shock value~, and honestly anything you do with a character exclusively to shock or upset the audience rather than to develop the characters in their natural progression is a bad choice by default. There’s no reason Luz and Amity need to be like Eda and Lilith. And in fact, not only is the idea of their relationship being a foil the the Clawthorne sister’s relationship more interesting to me because it has an actual purpose (to show that the sister’s both screwed up their relationship and that if you communicate and try to be good people then you won’t end up in a fight to the death against someone you’re supposed to love and that both sister’s could have made steps to be better siblings but they didn’t and that’s on them), but it also seems to fit a lot more cohesively into the narrative knowing what we do about both the relationship between Lilith and Eda and the relationship between Amity and Luz.

I get the feeling Lilith was always jealous of Eda. That Eda was stronger. That Eda outshone her. It may not even have been fair a lot of the time, after all, Eda is known to cheat her way through things. And it also seems as if Eda, instead of supporting and reassuring her insecure sister, was proud of this and held it against Lilith that she was better. Well, when Luz and Amity first met, Luz outshone Amity too. Amity was angry and bitter and disliked Luz because it fucking hurt to have her achievements taken away from her unfairly. They easily could have gone down the same route Lilith and Eda did. With Luz sticking to her guns and insisting she was better, that she deserved the recognition more anyway and Amity acting like a jealous, vindictive child. But that didn’t happen. Luz tried her best to make it up to Amity and Amity, once Luz expressed her remorse and took steps to make amends, not only accepted it but reflected on her own behavior and admitted she herself could have been better too. How did Amity and Luz manage to overcome a conflict that’s still tearing two grown women apart?  By overall being better than Eda and Lilith were. Luz felt terrible for hurting Amity. Eda was proud of outshining Lilith. Amity didn't let herself be overcome with bitterness or jealousy and instead reflected inwardly on how she could have been better too. Lilith just kept getting worse and worse and straying from the path of morality more and more. We can see it clearly in Covention. Lilith cheated. Amity on the other hand would never stray from her integrity even if she wanted to win and was mortified to find out what happened. Eda bragged and taunted and teased Lilith for cheating. Luz ran after Amity to comfort her. Overall Amity and Luz are better than Lilith and Eda and that's why I don't see them making the same mistakes.  Another difference I see, Lilith let her desperation for power make her a bad person. Amity realized she was being colder than she'd like to and instantly ditched her cruel friends and tried to he better. Eda let's her wild nature make her inconsiderate (she's not just a criminal for not joining a coven, she does actual morally wrong crimes too) but Luz tries her best to be kind and to make people happy and he selfless in general. As I said before, they're both better than their mentors. Both Eda and Lilith made mistakes that lead them to where they are (although Lilith is objectively the worse of the two, she isn't necessarily the only one to blame for their relationship failing). Because Luz and Amity are a contrast to Eda and Lilith, not a repition of their story. Luz and Amity show what can happen when you communicate and try to understand and empathize with people and don't stray from your own morals no matter what other people may do to you.That's something it doesn't seem like the sister's ever learned how to do, and that's what tore them apart. But it's something Luz and Amity exhibit consistently. Communication, mercy, understanding. and that's why they aren't doomed to be like their mentors. Because as I said before, they contrast Lilith and Eda's dynamic in every way simply by being better friends to each other and people in general.