#I even considered translating it to english and posting here or on my ao3

[wandixx]

I can't stop thinking about this one time I called my angsty fic "smut" because in my mother tongue sadness is "smutek" and it didn't even occur to me, that it can mean anything else. Just, you know, localized term for angst or somehitn

[taintandviolent]

Rien ; Marquis de Gramont x Reader

summary: You get a new job as stablehand at the luxurious palace of Marquis de Gramont, and the job is everything you thought it be. Marquis, however, isn't.

word count & w a r n i n g s: 4.7K | French dialogue (translations provided), smut with a sprinkling of plot, fingering, female reader, dirty talk, degradation (name calling, spanking), humiliation, abuse of power / power play, manipulation, Vincent being an absolute asshole (because he is one), abuse of power, brief food play, uhhhh - I think that's it.

a/n: deepest apologies for any errors in the French; I studied it in briefly in college and speak like a child. I tried to use google translate as little as possible, so most of this is just... painfully scraped from the confines of my mind. banners by @/saradika and @/strangergraphics!

↓ full fic under cut! ↓ / ao3 link here! / I don’t have a taglist anymore, but please turn on post notifications if you’d like to be notified of future fics!

Exactly two weeks after you’d started working for him, you’d laid eyes on the elusive Marquis. Most of the time, you were ordered by other staff to ready and bring out a specific horse before returning to your duties, never interacting with the infamous owner. However, one afternoon, he, the Marquis, walked through the stables himself. You had been brushing Bellefleur, a beautiful mare with the temperament of an angel, when you heard his voice echoing through the paddocks. He was speaking angrily about a man whom you didn’t know, discussing matters that didn’t concern you. You peeked up over the edge of the stable as he approached. 

It had been audacious to speak to him at all, considering, but something in your gut moved your limbs without thinking. You took two large steps backwards, moving your body into the opening of the stable. 

“Bonjour, monsieur.” (Good morning, sir.) 

He stopped walking, hands in his pockets. He seemed to consider that he’d just been spoken to, but finally asked what your name was. You told him, albeit somewhat shyly, unsure of whether or not this would result in you losing your job. 

There was no reply, however before continuing on down the long pathway, his heavy, lascivious gaze lingered on your body for far too long to be considered accidental. You had looked down at your own image, wondering what it was that he saw. The tightness of your uniform, perhaps. To a man’s gaze, the way your breasts filled your blouse, the way your trousers hugged your soft thighs and rounded out over the curve of your rear could be cause for a persistent gaze.  

The visits to the paddocks became more frequent after that. 

Some days, he was very cordial, responding curtly, but acknowledging you all the same. He went to you directly to retrieve the horses, fulfilling you with a false sense of importance and power. Other days, he ignored you altogether, dismissing your existence as easily as hay on the ground. So, why had you been developing a lust for the man? With so few interactions and none of them tempting in nature, it was almost embarrassing. 

Today is not one of the days where he ignores you.  

“Rien,” he growls from behind you. (Nothing.) You hadn’t even heard him come in, nor had you heard his approaching footsteps. You turn abruptly to face him and like usual, are staggered by the way he looks. He’s dressed immaculately, this time, wearing a light grey suit. 

“Rien?” you ask, confused. The brush drifts away from Eclair’s neck as your hand falls to your side. “Monsieur?” (Sir?)

“That’s what you are. You are nothing. As much as they are nothing to me, you are nothing.” He gestured dismissively, you assumed, to the other stablehands.  

Your brows knit together, visibly offended. “I…” 

You blink, stopping yourself from continuing any further. Though the Marquis spoke perfect English, you’d been told that he preferred his employees to speak in French when addressing him. Something to do with respect. 

He continues. “And yet…” 

Feeling the need to swallow, you wet your throat and find your words. “J-je ne suis pas sûr de comprendre, monsieur… Je…” (I’m not sure I understand, sir.) 

You swallow again, and look up into his piercing green eyes. “Qu'est-ce que tu veux dire?”  (What do you mean?)

He grabs your chin hard between his thumb and forefinger, pulling it up towards him. The harshness of the action startles you and the brush goes clattering to the cement floor, echoing throughout the paddocks. The closeness, though laced with hostility, has you throbbing between your legs. 

“You don’t understand what I mean?” His French accent is heavy, dripping like cream from his tongue. 

You shake your head, wincing as his fingers dig deeper into your jawline. “Non, j-je suis désolée.” (No, I-I’m sorry.)

“I know it’s difficult for you to express yourself in my native tongue, ma petite.” (My little one.)  You furrow your brows; he was so insulting without even trying. So insulting, in fact, that you can’t even focus on the charming little nickname he threw in. Wanting to prove him wrong, you clench your jaw as you take a step back, weakly attempting to pull yourself from his grasp. Your father had taught you French from the time you were a baby, you spoke it very well, and you – 

“Look at you,” he starts, his eyes sweeping over every feature on your face. “Tending to my horses every day. Cleaning their shit from the ground on which they walk. Pauvre petite chose…” (Poor little thing) 

As he speaks, you’re at a loss for words, unsure of how to proceed, how to answer him. Your ego is bruised and your jaw is sure to follow; the harder you try to wrench your face from his grip, the harder that grip presses into you, digging into the bone beneath the flesh. He bends down, putting his mouth dangerously close to your face, close enough to feel the heat that radiates between you two.

“J’en ne pas stupide.” (I’m not stupid.) He snips, looking down at you with unbridled hostility. 

He repeats the words against the shell of your ear, which sends a vicious shiver down your spine. Your cunt twinges with heat again, and the shuddering doesn’t stop – as though you’ve been out in the cold, freezing from a winter’s chill, your body quivers deep within your core.

“Je sais...” (I know) You acknowledge feebly. A blush crawls up the column of your neck. 

“I see the way in which you look at me. It is not a secret, you know?” 

He takes a single step forward, closing in the distance between your bodies. With no indication, no warning, his free hand cups your cunt outside of your pants, fingers stretching down between your legs. You inhale to gasp, to ask him what he’s doing, but the hand that holds your jaw slips fluidly over your mouth, silencing it. You gaze up into his eyes, searching them for an explanation, but he’s too busy to look at you, to give you any sort of comfort. Instead, he’s locked on the mound between your thighs, watching as his own fingers explore over the fabric, already feeling the damp heat that penetrates the fabric.

At this taste of what’s beneath, Vincent’s long, lithe fingers then make quick work of your trousers, opening the front of them and deftly slipping inside. You freeze, knowing that your body is about to betray you. Violently. Cruelly. His digits dig past the warmth of your folds, slipping past your quickly swelling clit, delving deeper. The brief contact is enough to send you toppling into his arms, but somehow, you stay upright and instead, tighten your fists into fleshy wads. The pads of his middle and ring finger smear at your entrance, searching for the answer to a question he didn’t ask. He taps your leaking slit a few times with a lazy curiosity. Immediately, you can feel your slick stringing from your cunt, spreading easily over your folds.

“You’re wet,” he hisses. “Whore.” 

Somehow, you feel the word before you hear it. It lands like a crushing slap to the face, and your cunt responds by clenching hard, leaking more out into Vincent’s waiting fingers. They twitch against you, pressing to your entrance and slipping inside just enough to make your knees buckle. 

He walks you back against the wood, sandwiching you between Eclair and the door. You strain against his grip again, flitting your gaze towards the horse whose ears twitch but other than that small movement, doesn’t seem bothered by the altercation happening next to him. Almost embarrassed, you whimper softly and look back to the Marquis; his gaze is on you now, watching every miniscule flicker of emotion. Your brows knit together as you shake your head in disbelief, unsure of what is happening. 

“Hm?” He prods your entrance with his middle finger, inserting it to the first joint. Your mind buzzes, blanking on words – in any language. It slips in further with no resistance and your lids flutter helplessly, as the sensations take control of your body. Searching, scrambling for stability, you flatten your palms against the cool, smooth wood of the stable. A bridle hangs down next to your pinky finger, and you have half a mind to wrap it tightly around your hand.

Crooking his finger slightly, he pumps it slowly in and out of your wet cunt. “You like that, no?”

His slow ministrations have you reeling, shivering in front of him. Silently, you wonder what would happen if you said yes. You open your eyes to his, and swallow. Up until now, you stood on your tiptoes, trying to escape his lewd actions, but now, you let your weight down, pushing his finger in all the way to the knuckle. His finger curls, hitting a deeper spot within you that has your toes curling within your boots. Your eyes roll back in your head at this, feeling overwhelmed. Weakly and awkwardly, you stumble over your next words, mumbling them clumsily into his fingers. “… qu’est-ce que tu fais…?” (What are you doing?)

He chuckles through his nose – at what, you don’t know – but as quickly as his hand has slipped in, it disappears, leaving you to pitch forward slightly into his long torso. He examines his finger briefly, which glistens with your arousal. With no regard for your own pleasure, he shoulders you off, and retracts his other hand from your mouth, allowing your breath to tumble out. Wordlessly, he reaches into his pocket and retrieves a white handkerchief, hastily wiping his fingers on it before tucking it back into the confines of his slacks. 

You collapse against the wood once more, your chest heaving with laboured, confused exhalations. This time, Eclair shifts away from you slightly, and huffs out a breath. The Marquis watches you, the hints of a smirk upon his shapely, seductive lips. Though you were still fully dressed, you felt unnervingly exposed. Humiliated, even. You reach forward to button yourself back up, doing your best not to fumble with the clasps.

“Follow me.”

Before you can blink, he’s already left the stable. You hurriedly exit, and grip the handle of the door, sliding it shut before securing the latch. The Marquis is already briskly walking away, his long strides carrying him farther and farther away from you, fully confident that you’re following him. As quietly as possible, you trot up behind him, not wanting to irritate him by being slow. The warm smell of wood shavings fills your nostrils as you run, but the second you’re behind him, you’re assaulted with the rich, expensive scent of his cologne. You inhale it deeper, wanting it to stain your lungs. 

As you follow him through the grounds, you take in your surroundings, head swinging to and fro to gobble up the visuals of unknown territory. You only ever got to see the stables and the fields behind it, which was necessary for riding and walking the horses. Naturally, your curiosity is peaked when he leads you both inside the towering, luxurious palace he calls home. Down opulent hall after opulent hall, with attendants opening each and every door that he comes to, you finally make it to your destination. 

The room is massive, and seems to glitter with all the gold details. You’ve never been to Versailles, but you assume the grandeur is similar. It’s sparse in furniture, save for a red velvet couch near the entrance. At the end of the room, sits a large table, adorned with every cake and pastry you could dream of; tiny crystal dishes of raspberries and strawberries, plates of cakes and cookies. They’re all picturesque, and the air is cloying, heavy with the scent of sugars and fragrant fruits. 

He beckons you with two fingers – a specific choice. A violent chill runs down your spine, feeling like there’s ice water cascading down the length of it. Once you’re standing next to him, looking at the dishes in front of you, you feel the weight of his aura, his existence. A few moments ago, you were merely a stablehand. Now, you were something else – you knew not what yet – standing inside the palace, a place where very few had the privilege of being. The tension between you two weighs heavy on your shoulders. 

Abruptly, the Marquis reaches over to pinch your mouth open, squeezing hard until your jaws pop apart. You wince, but succumb to his touch, albeit a little too easily. While watching intently, he brings a cream puff to your mouth, setting it carefully on your tongue. Instincts kick in, and you close your mouth, chewing carefully as cream oozes out from between the layers of fine puff pastry, and you swallow it down. 

He clocks your satisfied reaction, and smirks. “Delicious, isn’t it?” 

You nod apprehensively. It is delicious, of course, though your thoughts are tangled in the undisclosed eroticism of the moment, and the sickeningly unobvious reason why he’s brought you here. He picks up a macaron and carefully takes a bite, holding his other hand underneath his mouth to catch any crumbs, though none fall. 

“Comment dit-on… gourmand de sucreries?” (How do you say… greedy for sweets?)

“Sweet tooth,” you breathe, suspecting he already knew the answer. “You have a sweet tooth.”

“Mmm. I do.” The sound is syrupy within his throat. 

Surely, he hasn’t brought you here to enjoy some pastries. You swallow again, and muster up the courage to ask him: “Que voulez-vous de moi?” (What do you want from me?)

You brace for the oncoming response, half expecting him to say rien again. Instead, he finishes the macaron, and turns to you again, leaning forward. He reaches up to brush a stray lock of hair from your cheek, combing it gently behind your ear, and hums, his fingers lingering on the softness of your jaw. His voice is hushed as he tilts his head down to look at you.

“Tout. Je veux tout.” (Everything. I want everything.) 

With your faces inches apart, the Marquis de Gramont captures your mouth in a searing kiss, one that oozes dominance, staking his claim in your core. His tongue forces its way into your mouth, prodding past your lips and teeth until it finds your own wet muscle. Instinctively, you kiss him back, but your frazzled nerves inhibit any true passion. Your lust is clouded by uncertainness, tainting the otherwise intoxicating experience at hand. His hand flies to the nape of your neck where he pulls you closer, deeper. You taste his essence and raspberry-flavored remnants of the macaron, and you swallow into the kiss, your lids fluttering helplessly. But no…

You jerk your head back away from him. Your tongue sweeps out over your bottom lip, cleaning up the mutual saliva that has spread across it. 

“J'en suis pas une pute.” (I’m not a whore.) 

With his hand still on your neck, he laughs, the sound vibrating in his throat. “You will be.” 

And again, his mouth is on yours, hungrily claiming it as though he deserved it. Which, in his mind, you knew, he did. He deserved everything he wanted, and perhaps, that was the essence of why you were here – he wanted you, so he’d have you. 

He continues to kiss you in such a way that leaves you gasping for air – literally – and every time you do, his mouth finds your neck, your collarbone, your ear. Refusing to remove his lips from your body, he’s ravenous, devouring you like he would the sweets on the table. 

“Monsieur,” you plead, babbling senselessly. “Monsieur,… why?” 

“Because,” he hums into the crook of your neck. “Ahh, you weren’t listening, were you?” He clicks his tongue in disappointment before continuing. “As I said before, I see the way in which you look at me, watch me, desire me.” He presses a long, tender kiss just below your ear, and his hand ghosts up over your stomach, coming to rest on the fullness of your breast. “And because, I want it.”  

He’s unbuttoning your blouse before you can stop him. Not that you’d want to, anyway; you’d been dreaming about this for weeks. As he works to expose your chest to him, carefully slipping each  button from its slit, he murmurs into your collarbone, the feeling sending another convulsive shiver down your back.

“Tell me… Do you value your position?”

You nod hurriedly, hoping to convince him. A single, long finger ghosts your shoulder, trailing down your arm. “Then you agree to be my little slut, hm? For me to use whenever I desire, oui?” (Yes?)

While the realization hits you like a ton of bricks, you gulp down your words. There’s no sense in protesting to preserve your feeble morals; not when you want him the way you do, and not with your job at stake. He reaches around your back, undoing the clasp of the bra. Your tits fall free then, and his large comes to cup one of them, kneading the supple, pliant flesh while your nipple grazes the smooth skin of his palm. You whimper, your hand jerking up to grip his bicep. The stimulation entices your arousal further, warmth pooling between your legs again. He worsens your condition by rolling your nipple between his thumb and forefinger, pulling a pathetic sounding mewl from your lips. You roll your eyes to the ceiling, silently cursing him. 

His hands move away from your breast, up to your face, where roughly, he prods your mouth with his fingers, examining your teeth and tongue. Much like he would a horse, you realize. The sensation is terrifying, but erotic and you grip his arm harder. Wordlessly, he reaches behind him to the table filled with decadence, and with two fingers again, scoops up a healthy dollop of cream frosting from atop a cake. 

“Suck them,” he growls.

It’s a command, not a suggestion, and you obey it, drawing them into your mouth tentatively. Your lips – bruised and swollen from his assaulting kisses – tighten, closing around his digits, all while maintaining eye contact with him. As though you were starved for it, you suck gently, while your tongue begins to swipe back and forth, removing all traces of the cream. You weren’t an idiot – this was a test. A test which you pass with flying colours apparently, because the Marquis actually smiles as he withdraws his fingers from the warm confines of your mouth. 

Heat roils in your core as he disconnects from you, and you can do nothing but watch as he pushes the delicate dishes to the left, haphazardly clearing a space on the table. Your eyes sweep back and forth, watching as the cakes and pastries crowd each other. He doesn’t seem to care, single-mindedly only thinking of what he’s about to do to you. He turns back to you, his green eyes burning with arousal. Again, the Marquis unbuttons your pants, this time, aggressively pulling down the zip. He gestures to the table with a nod of his head. He doesn’t have to tell you what to do – you know what he wants. 

In silence, you take your place in front of the table, and hinge your body at the waist to bend over the ornate surface. Cruelly, he yanks your pants over the plush curve of your ass, exposing you to him. There is another rustle of fabric behind you as the Marquis frees his own aching arousal from his slacks. You hear him hiss through his teeth; you presume as he takes his dick into his hand. Your body jolts forward as you feel the pads of his fingers prod tease your leaking slit, smearing your arousal through your folds. 

His hand stretches over your ass, taking a fist full of it before drifting down. He reaches your cunt, admiring her from behind. With a hitched breath, he pulls apart your folds with the pad of his thumb, revealing your aching, wet center. 

“C’est parfait… mm.” (It’s perfect…)

Praise? From him? You swallow the lump in your throat.  

He shuffles behind you, bringing his body closer. That’s when you feel it; the searing hot head of his cock pushing insistently against your clenching slit. You whine and press your thighs tightly together, a desperate attempt to alleviate the building pressure. Futile, because the moment he notices this, he kicks your legs apart with the toe of his polished shoe. 

“Dis-moi que tu veux que je te baise.” (Tell me you want me to fuck you.) 

“Please…. Please.” 

A hand comes down upon your ass cheek, the sound of it echoing throughout the room like a gunshot. The pain sears through your nervous system as the skin swells up, blooming like a flower with the imprint of his hand. “You can do better than that!” 

You try again, this time in French. You knew he was condescending about you speaking French, but there was a deep rooted need to prove that you could. “B-baise-moi… baise-moi, s’il te plait, monsieur.” (Fuck me, fuck me please monsieur.)

He chuckles, and you just know he’s shaking his head, perhaps calling you The American in his mind. He presses the heavy tip deeper into your folds, smearing it down over your swelling clit and combining both your fluids. Your hips jerk instinctively, and your brain stutters as you try to speak. The arousal that leaked from your core had become too much. Much to your dismay, it was too difficult to think in another language and you whined desperately. He lifts his hand high and hardly pauses before he brings it down for another series of sharp smacks to your ass. You make a fist around nothing, wincing as the skin starts to flush an erotic, rosy hue. With each one, your cunt aches, confused by the melange of pain and pleasure that coursed through your body.

“Count them for me.”

You do. Your weak and tiny voice counts the resounding strikes, feeling the heat spread across your skin like fire. “One… t-two… three… four… five - ah! Six!”

He interrupts you suddenly to ask: “You know my name, non?” 

The assumption spoke volumes. You nod against the table, relieved that the assault on your ass had stopped. 

“Use it.” 

Almost uncertain, you murmur his name. “V-Vincent… please fuck me, I want your cock so bad. I have since… since I started working for you. Please.” 

A guttural sound vibrated his throat. It made sense; everyone called him Marquis. Marquis de Gramont. Monsieur. But no one called him by his birth name, and that, had become erotic to him, hearing it tumble off your lips in a desperate, wanton tone. 

He was rotten, cruel and terrible, and in any other situation, your last words would’ve been a lie. But here, they weren’t and you knew it. Despite all your trepidation, you knew they rang true. His cockhead lines up to your entrance, prodding it hungrily, and he leans his hips into yours. With a quirk jerk, he forces himself inside, breaching your aching heat. He bottoms out, sinking in until the flesh of his torso is pressed against your ass. The feeling is all consuming, immediately, filling you to the brim. 

Your mouth opens in a silent scream, unable to vocalize the staggering sensations that rip through your body as he splits you open. He finds a bullying pace quickly, fucking you hard against the table. Your hips bump into the ornately trimmed edge, no doubt bruising them. After a few deep thrusts, he pauses, withdrawing his cock to the tip, only to slam it all the way back in with a deep, strained groan. 

“Fuck,” you whine, your cheek smashed against the table. “Fuck, please.” 

Vincent pays you no mind, your plea serving only as fuel to continue his assault on your sopping cunt. His hands grip your hips tight, pulling them back towards him with each thrust. The room is filled with the lewd melody of skin slapping against skin, fine china clattering against each other, and the mixture of his grunts, moans and your desperate, pathetic whines. You can’t help them, try as you might, because the vicious way in which he fucks into you rocks your whole body.  

“Dis-moi,” he grunts, his accent heavy with arousal. “...dis-moi comment ma bite se sent bien en toi.” (Tell me how good my cock feels inside you.) 

You understand his words, but you’ll be damned if you can formulate so much as a yes in French at this point. Your gaze grows hazy, lids heavy as his dick pounds into you. “It feels… it’s so fucking good, Vincent! Fuck! Harder. Harder!”

His hand comes crashing down on your ass again with a thwack! You cry out, hot tears pricking at the corners of your eyes. 

“Don’t…” He breathes, struggling with his own words. “Don’t fucking tell me what to do.” 

Spoiled, you think. Spoiled brat. But, regardless of him not wanting to be told what to do, his hunger for your trumps his indignancy, because his hips buck into you with a newfound power, slamming his body against yours with abandon. The head of his cock bumps into your cervix over and over again, hammering it. You feel the coil in your stomach wind tighter around itself, a telltale pressure building deep within. Your walls clench around him warningly. 

As if he realizes that he’s just done exactly what you told him to – or perhaps he feels your cunt’s desperate tugging –  the Marquis pulls his cock from your wet slit with a shlick and roughly grips you at the shoulder, spinning you around. With no effort, he hoists you up into his arm, his cock bobbing below you. Your ass bumps against the table as he sits you down, dragging you to the edge of the table. He looks down at your cunt, already swollen and red, and brings his fingers to it, slipping them inside. He then brings them to his mouth, sucking your combined arousals from his fingers. You watch, enrapt. 

“Remember what you said to me earlier, about not being a whore?” 

You nodded, panting. 

“Do you still feel that way?” 

You hesitate, but ultimately, shake your head. You’re a slut for him, a slut for the way he fucks you, uses you. The concept alone is enough to make you come, but you don’t, eagerly waiting for his cock again. He exhales through his nose, smirking. “I didn’t think so.” 

With his hands bearing down on your hips, he sheaths himself inside of you again, burying himself. The new angle brings a strangled cry from your lips, echoing in the vastness of the room. It doesn’t take long for you to come back to the high of your orgasm, having been edged before. 

“Regarde-moi.” (Look at me.) 

You do. Your half-lidded gaze connects with his intense one, watching him. You reach up, allowing one hand to grip his shoulder, digging your nails into the fibers of his fine suit jacket, while the other lays atop the nape of his neck, feeling the damp, warm skin there. His fingers blindly find your thigh, slipping underneath it to pull it up to your chest, pulling your ankle atop one of his shoulders.

“Uhh fuck–!” he groans, shivering at the new depth he reaches. “Fuck!” 

All at once, his hips start bucking into you with a frenzied rage. You feel his muscles tighten against your thigh just before his cock jerks inside you, twitching as the first wave of his orgasm hits him. White, hot ropes of cum glaze your insides, coating you in pearlescence. The feeling draws you over the edge, and your cunt flutters around his dick, coating it in your own searing arousal. 

For a moment, he stays there, resting his sweaty forehead against your own. Your leg falls heavily back against the table, rattling the dishes next to you. The sound rouses him out of his post-coital stupor, and with a deep sigh, he slowly withdraws his softening cock from you, pulling a gush of his release out with it. You, completely fucked out, could do nothing but sit there, arms quivering as you hold yourself upright.

 He brought his fingers to your entrance, swiping up some of the excess cum dripping out of you, pushing it back inside your spasming cunt. "Hold this inside, ma petite. As a reminder.”

You shudder, feeling his finger enter your swollen cunt once more. You look down, watching as he makes sure not a drop is wasted. 

“Rien, huh?” you ask, with a biting tone.

“Oui, rien.” (Yes, nothing.)

[tinfoil-jones]

Gravity Falls: For Your Own Good, Ch. 18

Summary: A few years after moving to Gravity Falls and having his lab built, Stanford Pines happens upon his estranged twin brother, Stanley. He mentally prepared himself to be suffocated by his brothers neediness all over again - what he wasn't prepared for was Stanley walking right past him like he didn't even notice him.

Rating: M for language, violence, and adult implications

Preface: Dialogue only, but some actions will be annotated for clarity. Cross-Posted on AO3 Here.

“(italics)” Indicates that the speaker is speaking in Spanish (unless stated otherwise). This author only knows English, and I did not want to misrepresent Spanish by using Google Translate.

First - Prev - Next

CH.18

“FOR THOUSANDS OF YEARS I LAY DORMANT. WHO HAS DISTURBED MY- Oh hey Fordsy, what’s up?”

“Cipher, I need to project into a different mindscape.”

“I already know who it is, but tell me anyways.”

“My mother, Caryn Pines. I need to glimpse into her memories. She should still be asleep at this time, going deeper into her mindscape will be easier than if she were awake.”

“Oh, wow, your own mom. Aren’t you worried she’ll know it’s you?”

“She’s not a real psychic, my muse. She will be none the wiser.”

“If you insist, let’s hope that isn’t foreshadowing.”

SNAP

(...)

“Stan, this is Ms. Ramirez, and she is the Hypnotherapist I referred you to.”

“Stretch here has been saying great things about ya, ma’am.”

“Hello Mr… Stan? The last name is blank… (I’m sorry).”

“(I'm not offended. I don't know what it is either.)”

“(Where did you learn Spanish?)”

“(Colombia.)”

“Ah, yes. Dr. McGucket, are you sitting in on this session?”

“Yes, I am.”

“And Mr. Stan, you are okay with this?”

“Yeah, it’s fine.”

“Very well… This dosage of ketamine is based on your height and weight, and will be delivered intranasally. I also adjusted based on your extensive drug history. Normally, I’d consider this dosage to be lethal but…”

“Don’t worry, not dying when I really should is actually my first or second greatest skill.”

“...First or second?”

“Yeah, it’s interchangeable with lying.”

“Try to be honest during this session at least…”

(...)

“How are we going to find her specific memories about Stanley and this… accident?”

“Well Fordsy, her mindscape is structured like a carnival-”

“I can see that.”

“You can. They can’t. Anyways, one of these rides or attractions gotta be based on guilt or grief, let’s start there.”

(...)

“Let’s go back to when you were first on the streets, Stan.”

“...Okay…”

“How old were you?”

“17.”

“How did you start out?”

“Lived… Lived? I was- I was living in my car…”

“Only there?”

“For a few weeks… had a hard time. I caved and went to a homeless shelter but- but only once. Never again.”

“Why is that Stan?”

“...Something bad happened.”

“What bad thing?”

“I… I… I don’t want to-.”

“You don’t have to talk about that specifically, if it’s too distressing for you. Do you remember anything else from the homeless shelter? Was there a reason you went there that time and not before?”

“That one had free telephones.”

(...)

“Okay so we’ve been to the Dunk Tank of Phobias, The Rifle Range of Unrealistic Beauty Standards, The Deep-Fried Food Stand of Excuses, The Carousel of Broken Dreams, The Dime Pitch of Daddy Issues, The Strength Tester of Mommy Issues, The Roller Coaster of Regrets-.”

“Bill, you don’t have to list off everywhere we’ve been, everytime we are about to enter another carnival attraction.”

“You never know when the narrative will pick us up again.”

“I do not even want to know how that reasoning works.”

“Ah- look over here Sixer! It’s the Funhouse Mirrors of Memories!”

“I can read the sign, my muse.”

“Let’s go in here, and wander around aimlessly until we find that specific string of memories you’re looking for.”

(...)

“You needed to use the telephone?”

“I was… scared.”

“Scared?”

“I just… I just wanted to talk to my mom…”

(...)

“Is this the home of Caryn and Filbrick Pines?”

“Yes? Is there a problem?”

“Ma’am, do you recognize this license plate?”

“STNLYMBL… Yes, that belongs to my son, Stanley- is something wrong? Did his car get stolen?”

“Ma’am… You may want to sit down for this.”

“We should skip this part, IQ. You already know what they’re about to tell her.”

(...)

“Can you remember what you wanted to talk to your mom about?”

“I didn’t know what to do… I wanted help, I…”

(...)

“Where… where is everybody?”

“It looks like PTSD Barnum had a mostly empty funeral.”

“That can’t be-.”

*Bill suddenly winks out of the scene*

“Stanford? What are you doing here?”

“...Ma?”

“You weren’t at this funeral, sweetie.”

“Where- Where’s Pa? Where’s Sherman?”

“Shermie couldn’t make it, his son was sick. And your father… He won’t admit it, but he wouldn’t be able to handle it, so he didn’t come.”

“And who is that?”

“An IRS agent.”

“This isn’t over.”

“Ma… Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Stanford, I tried to. Every time I brought up his name over the phone you hung up. I thought you knew and… you weren’t handling it well, just like your father.”

“Ma, you can’t really believe Stanley’s dead. He-.”

“You should have known first, Stanford. Can’t you see your bond was severed?”

“...Bond?”

“Your twin bond.”

“That is not a real thing, Ma.”

“You do not get to project yourself into the Astral Plane and tell your Ma what is or is not real here.”

“...”

“I need you to think about your brother - really, really think about him. How much you loved each other, how close you were. And imagine there is a rope between you two… like one that keeps a boat attached to a dock.”

*a rope suddenly appears, with one end fading into Ford’s chest. The other end appears clean cut after a few yards*

“Just as I thought.”

“What is this, Ma?”

“I told you, sweetheart. Your twin bond. Not all twins have it, but you two did. You can see… the other half is gone, it’s been severed. There’s nothing for you to attach to anymore.”

“Th-that doesn’t mean he’s dead! Couldn’t one of us have severed it another way?”

“One of you would have to have enough of a presence on the Astral Plane to manually sever it. I can see you are here, but if you do not remember severing it, it means Stanley would have had to have been the one to cut it. And… your brother never showed me the ability to deeply meditate enough to have a presence here, let alone sever a bond.”

“Ma, he’s not gone-.”

“Oh sweetheart… They never really leave us.”

(...)

“Help with what?”

“My life, what to do, where to go- everything. I… I just wanted to go home.”

“And why didn’t you?”

“I wasn’t allowed to… I did something wrong, I-. I don’t remember what it was, but I did something, and I wasn’t allowed back home anymore.”

(...)

“Is she going to remember any of this, Cipher?”

“If you’d talked to her mental projection while she was awake, maybe. But she’s asleep right now, only her unconscious mind will remember. While awake she might just have a feeling.”

“This twin bond, it’s a real thing?”

“Lots of things in the Dreamscape can be real - you only have to imagine it.”

“So this bond is something she made up- that she had me imagine was real?”

“Oh, no, yours is definitely real. At one point, you and your twin both believed in ‘Twinsense’ so much you manifested that connection all by yourselves. Impressive for a pair of twins who didn’t know how to manipulate the dreamscape at the time.”

“And… It's severed. Why is it severed?”

“Your mommy just told you, Fordsy. Either the other end of that connection is gone, or your brother actually managed to come into the dreamscape and cut it himself.”

“I need more data… I need to know how he did it.”

“So, you’re gonna ask him?”

“No. I need more data.”

“That’s what I expected from you, Sixer.”

(...)

“Stan?”

“...Fiddleford?”

“Do you feel yourself coming back?”

“Yeah…”

“Ms. Ramirez left a few minutes ago. Do you remember any of that?”

“Most of it I think?”

“Stan… do you remember saying that you were kicked out of your home?”

“Yeah… I kinda always felt like that was it but I couldn’t put the memories into place. I’ve been sabotaging myself since I was just a snot nosed punk after all.”

“Stan, it doesn’t matter what you did, you were only seventeen, you were still a kid. For Heavens sake, one of your first instincts was to try to call your mama.”

“S’not like we can do anything about it now. And I don’t even remember my mom.”

(...)

“Conference! Conference now!”

“I’m not in the mood for a meeting right now, Fiddleford…”

*Fiddleford drags him to the office anyways and locks the door*

“Fine. What information did you gain from the hypnotherapy session? Any useful data?”

“Stanford?”

“...Yes?”

“Look at me.”

SLAP

“What the-! Fiddleford!”

“You have some nerve, Dr. Stanford Pines. Nerve, and a thumpin’ gizzard for a heart.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Why did you lie?”

“Lie about what?!”

“You told me that your twin brother Stanley left home when he had a following out with you over your science fair project. But he remembers being thrown out.”

“...”

“So, it’s true.”

“...I didn’t lie, I said he left, I didn’t say it was his choice.”

“I know darn well that we attended the same ethics class, and they made it clear early on that deliberately withholding information is the same as deceit. Now, you wanna share with the class what really happened?”

“Our father had imagined if I had been accepted into West Coast Tech I would have been wildly rich and successful. When we found out Stanley sabotaged my project, he kicked him out of the household and told him to not come home unless if he brought back millions.”

“That is… Awful.”

“I know it is.”

“Then why lie about it?”

“...”

“Stanford. Be honest with me. Or at least be honest to yourself right now.”

“Because I feel guilty about it. Back then- back then I felt justified, I was so upset I thought he deserved it. But then we got older, and the more I thought about it, I realized… it was wrong. I thought-...”

“Thought what?”

“I thought maybe he was always going to strike out on his own, as some act of defiance against- I don’t know, our father? Me? The IRS? Something.”

“You thought you could alleviate your own feelings of guilt by convincing yourself that he wanted what happened? Stanford, he was seventeen.”

“So was I.”

“It isn’t your fault your father kicked him out, you were just a minor yourself. What is your fault is that you saw your brother was an amnesiac and still changed the narrative to fit your own comfort zone. You cannot ask someone to trust you, and not have the common decency to be honest. You’ve been so overprotective, and yet still keep him at arm's length.”

“I am not over protective.”

“Horse feathers! You’ve been over compensating like hell this whole time. He’d still be in the containment cell if he didn’t break out of it. I wouldn’t be surprised if you implanted a tracking chip somewhere on him.”

“I did not chip him! Every time I tried they just short out for some reason.”

“... What?”

“What is it you want from me, Fiddleford?”

“For you to see that Stan isn’t stupid. You think he doesn’t realize what you’ve told him isn’t properly aligning to what he’s starting to remember? What are you going to do if he confronts you?”

“...I don’t know.”

“Some brother you are. You should talk to him before one of you has a breakdown, it’s for your own good.”

“Wow. It is quite annoying to be on the receiving end of that phrase.”

To be continued…

[luchicm04]

Sinking in the Metkayina - chapter 2

Masterlist

Summary: Tonowari is obsessed. The atmosphere is completely opposite to the first chapter. For those who want to preserve the impressions from Chapter 1, I recommend not reading.

Pairing: Tonowari/Omatikaya!Fem Reader

Tag: #sinking in the metkayina fic

posted on ao3

Word count: +6k

All characters belong to Avatar, and all rights are reserved to the original work whose author allowed me to translate it.

Overall warnings: hurt/comfort, fluff, obsessive behavior⚠️

“Hey!!! Excuse me, are you part of the Omatikaya?”

“No. I’m from the Tawkami clan.”

“Well, can you stop by the Omatikaya then?”

“It is on the way, but…”

“Thank goodness...! Please, tell the Olo’eyktan of the Omatikaya that (Y/n) is alive and is now living with the Metkayina!”

Because she was happily living with Tonowari, she hadn’t thought about Jake or the humans who probably considered her dead… When she first got to the island, the human knew she would be rejected if she asked to pass on the news, and after that, she was busy collecting research samples in the ocean that she loved, so she forgot about it…

‘How could I forget just like that?’

Back at the base, she’ll have access to the conveniences and familiarity of civilization and research equipment.

After living for so long in tribal society using only the things permitted, she was so happy thinking about going back… She could examine the things she had collected there under a microscope and run them through all sorts of testing machines!!

Of course, there was the issue of the relationship with Tonowari, but she thought that she could just give him communication devices and talk to him every day. She thought that she would stay at the base for a while, and then move the necessary things and go back and forth between the Omatikaya and Metkayina.

(Y/n) believed that Tonowari would understand all of that.

Because he was an understanding man.

──

The human helicopter arrived earlier than expected; the Tawkami Na’vi must have quickly delivered the message.

(Y/n) barely managed to stop the tribesmen from attacking it, agitated by the landing of an unfamiliar mechanism, and shouted in joy at the man who had gotten off of it.

“Ralph!”

“(Y/n)! You’re alive!”

“You’re not getting rid of me that easily. It’s been so long...”

As soon as Ralph stepped on the sand, he ran to hug his colleague who he thought had passed away and cried tears of happiness. (Y/n), who was hugging him back, also shed tears. After being shipwrecked and lost for months, only then did she realize she had made it. She had survived.

“Have you been here this whole time?”

“Yeah, I forgot to try and contact you… Sorry.”

“It’s okay, I’m just grateful that you did now. Come on, let’s go back.”

The girl felt as if she had been slapped back to reality. “Huh?”

“Everyone’s waiting. Is your drinking capacity still intact?”

“Of course! ...Um, but…”

She hadn’t finished organizing everything yet. She hadn’t even said goodbye yet… But before she could utter a single word, a hand roughly pulled (Y/n), who had stayed still hesitantly, away from Ralph.

Tonowari spoke with a severe face, holding (Y/n)’s arm so tightly she almost fell on her knees. “What do you mean go back?” he questioned, having managed to overhear their conversation and remembering the few English words he had learned through the girl.

“Oh, right… I see you. My name is Ralph. I’m (Y/n)’s workmate.”

“I asked what did you mean with ‘go back’.”

“We are currently on war against our enemies alongside the Omatikaya. Didn’t (Y/n) say that she came from there?” Ralph explained, a bit cautiously.

“It doesn’t matter. The Metkayina is with whom (Y/n) is staying right now, and she won’t be going back.”

(Y/n) looked up at him in surprise. “Tonowari, what are you talking about…! Ralph, I’m sorry, I haven’t talked to the Na’vis here yet...”

“If we talk about this, will anything change?” The man continued to gaze intently at her.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you in advance, but… all my foundations are in the forest; I have to go back.”

“Are you leaving me?”

Ralph, sensing something was wrong judging by Tonowari’s frighteningly hardened expression, looked at (Y/n) with a face that demanded an explanation.

“I think you’re too worked up, let’s go inside and talk. Ralph, I’m sorry, but I can’t go back today. Can you return in three days?”

“Don’t come. She won’t leave.”

“Tonowari…! I’ll explain properly, Ralph, just go!”

“(Y/n), are you alright?”

“Yes, just go now!”

The human male got back on the helicopter, seeing that something was seriously wrong with his friend but couldn’t do anything about it. All he could do was shout, “I’ll be back in three days!”

When (Y/n) saw the helicopter take off, she looked around. Even though they didn’t know the details of the what was discussed, the observing people could tell that the human girl had been about to leave, and the young Na’vis were looking at her with hurt eyes.

“Guys, I didn’t mean to leave just like th- Ow! Tonowari…!”

While normally his heart would tremble even when (Y/n) pretended to be sick, the chief gripper her arm, almost dragging her and headed towards their shared marui.

“You need to explain yourself.”

“It hurts…!”

As soon as they arrived, Tonowari threw her arm away and spoke.

“Now tell me, what did you plan on doing?”

“This is a misunderstanding, Tonowari… It wasn’t my intention to leave you all like that.”

“How can I believe you?” he asked more softly with a deep voice.

“I was just planning to go back and rest for a bit, then come back and spend some time going back and forth between the two locations.”

“Without saying a word to anyone?”

“Tonowari, listen. I was going to go and come back, really.”

“I already asked, how can I believe you?”

“...Believe it or not, I’m going. Ralph is coming back in three days.”

Tonowari’s face, devoid of a single smile, was eerily frozen. “You’re going with that man? Leaving me behind?”

(Y/n) was starting to get a little scared. However, she thought it was a process that they had to go through anyway, so she continued to speak firmly.

“Ralph is just a co-worker. He’s just like any of my collagues.”

“...Ha. There are other men too?”

“What the hell does that have to do with…?”

“Alright, that’s the end of the story. You will stay here, and tell your ‘colleagues’ the same thing.”

“Tonowari!”

“Do not test my patience any longer.”

‘Well, what if I try it, huh?’

At this point, (Y/n) was pissed. She had explained it several times; why didn’t he listen? Didn’t she say she’d be coming back?? The girl sat down and started packing her things as if she was protesting.

“(Y/n),” he uttered her name in a chilling tone.

“I don’t want to talk right now.”

“(Y/n), I warned you.”

“Well then, what are you going to do?” she asked challengingly without turning back or stopping what she was doing.

Tonowari, who had been quietly looking down at (Y/n) with his mouth shut, roughly grabbed her arm and pulled her up… and threw her over his shoulder.

In an instant, her eye level rose to nearly 3 meters, and Tonowari headed towards the sea without even caring whether his hold was being harsh or not.

“Where are you going? Let go of me! Tonowari!”

As soon as he jumped into the sea with his head held high, (Y/n) froze when she saw his Skimwing approaching him as if it had been waiting for him. They were usually dangerous and she wasn’t even allowed to go near one, so it made no sense to put her in such a dangerous position. Regardless, Tonowari, who had gotten used to her trashing and made Tsaheylu with it, crossed through the water and headed somewhere unknown to her.

The place he took (Y/n), who was frightened and with no further intention of rebelling further, was… a small rocky island with rough waves crashing against it.

Tonowari reached the coastal cave there and laid (Y/n) down, exhausted from hear.

“This place has strong currents and brutal waves. You can’t possibly get close unless you have a Tsurak. Of course, you can’t get out of it either.”

“Are you out of your mind?!”

“There is a freshwater lake, so you will have a place to drink and wash. I will bring you food.”

“Tonowari! Are you hearing yourself right now?”

“I shall come twice a day.”

(Y/n), who was grasping for breath on the cave floor, suddenly got up and tried to fight against Tonowari, but she was easily subdued… The girl felt so wronged that she almost cried. She tried to escape from Tonowari’s hands and yelled almost in tears.

“W-why? Why are you doing this to me?”

“Because you are my mate.”

Tonowari’s eyes possessed an unreadable light as he said those words, and (Y/n) felt at a loss for words.

“I’ll be back in the evening, so cool your head and rest.”

The man let go of her arm and walked back to the beach, then rode off on his Skimwing without looking back.

Only a dazed (Y/n) remained on the rocky island.

──

(Y/n), who was crouching blankly in the cave, didn’t even know how much time had passed. All she could perceive was the wind blowing, the waves crashing, and the sky getting dark.

When Tonowari arrived, it was evening, as anticipated, with the sun setting.

He put down some fruits and other foods that (Y/n) liked and usually ate, and spoke, “I brought you something to eat.”

“I won’t.”

“You must in order to survive.”

“Then let me go.”

“That is not possible.”

(Y/n) chuckled.

“You won’t let me go back, you dragged me here and you confined me. What’s next?”

“Please, at least eat something.”

“And if I don’t? Will you force me?”

“No. I would never use violence on you.”

“You know, that’s really funny… I’m not eating, so take the food back. Or throw it away.”

After saying those words, Tonowari stared at (Y/n) with his mouth shot for a long time. He picked up a fruit, took a bite, and came closer. (Y/n) noticed what he was trying to do and struck his cheek with all her might, but his neck didn’t even turn… It looked like he was going to kiss her.

Blood was flowing from Tonowari’s mouth after their lips were glued together for a few seconds and then pulled away… The girl had bit his lip.

His finger touched his bruised lip and he looked at it with slight anger. “Nothing good will come from this.”

“If you know it won’t get any better, why are you doing this?”

“You don’t understand.”

“If it was going to be like this, why did you treat me so well?”

“(Y/n)-”

“Why did you make the people think you are a good mate, a good Na’vi?!”

Tears fell from (Y/n)’s eyes. Betrayal, sadness and resentment was all she could feel, but also a little bit of a desire to still believe… a faint hope that if she told him, he would listen.

“It’s not too late. Let me go.”

“...I love you.”

“Take me back, please...”

“I love you.”

“Please, don’t let me hate you…”

Tonowari just hugged her without even wiping the blood flowing from his mouth. (Y/n) was crying in hopelessness in his arms and beating his chest, asking how this could be called love… The hand that stroke (Y/n)’s back was as affectionate as ever, and that made (Y/n) fall into despair even more.

──

Tonowari came to see (Y/n) twice a day, as promised. Each time, the human didn’t open her mouth nor looked at him, but he paid no attention to it and continued to talk about the day’s events as if nothing had happened.

“Today I helped the children ride an Ilu for the first time. It made me happy… reminded me of my memories with you. I hope we get to do that soon.”

“The whole village is busy because it’s clam digging season.”

“The Tulkuns have created a new song and it’s so beautiful. I wish to listen to it together later...”

Every time the word ‘together’ came out, (Y/n) would snicker in amazement. It had been only a few days that they did everything together, but now it was a word that felt so distant.

On the sixth day that Tonowari came, the girl had a gut feeling that he had met Ralph again when she saw his mouth clenched even tighter than usual.

“That man came. I told him to go back because you wouldn’t be leaving.”

“...Are you satisfied now?”

“He said he’d be back again to keep looking for you. I can’t be at peace until then.”

“When will it be enough for you?”

“Until you become my mate completely.”

“Then, you’re screwed; you’ll never be satisfied in your life.”

“Don’t say that.”

“I used to be your mate, you know? You were the one who doubted me and ruined things.”

“That happened when you tried to leave without saying a word.”

“...Okay, talking any further will get us nowhere.”

Tonowari looked at (Y/n)’s back, who had turned around as if there was no point in arguing any longer, with eyes full of all kinds of emotions.

(Y/n) felt those gazes but ignored them and bit her lips tightly… She had no idea where it went wrong and whether they could turn this relationship around.

‘I wonder if I’ll ever get out of here…’

──

The girl didn’t bother to keep track of the number of days that passed from then on. She didn’t even count the amount of times Tonowari would visit her without fail, because she feared she’d go crazy if she realized she had been locked away alone that much time.

As always, the Na’vi got up, whispering his unanswered love and spoke caressing her face, which had become pale due to not eating properly (although much of what she ate, she had thrown up). “I’ll be leaving now for today. I shall be back tomorrow morning, so make sure you eat something before then.”

“...”

“I love you.”

(Y/n), as always, sat still without seeing him off. Soon, she heard the Skimwing’s wings flapping, meaning she had been left alone again.

‘How long has it been…’

As she stood blankly for a long time, (Y/n) realized that the sound could be heard once more, although faintly.

��He said he’d come in the morning… Why is he back again?’

The human was not happy either way, so she sat there with her back to the sea.

“(Y/n), (Y/n)! Are you there?!”

Until she heard a woman’s voice.

“...Maunan?”

It was the Tsahìk of the Maetkayina.

As soon as she heard that voice, (Y/n) jumped up and ran out.

‘Please, please…’

It was Maunan, who jumped down after her Skimwing landed. When she saw the taller woman’s face, (Y/n) burst into tears and cried loudly.

“Maunan!!!”

“Eywa… Have you been here the whole time?”

“Yes, here… c-continuously… ugh...”

“The people were very worried.”

Maunan, seeing her haggard complexion, wiped her tears and did her best to comfort her.

“How did it come to this…?”

“Y-you came to save me? Can I leave now?”

The Na’vi looked at her pitifully, imagining how strong her desire was to be back at her home in the jungle. “No, not yet. There’s a limit to how far you can go with a Skimwing. There is an Ikran rider who is leaving for the forest soon. I’ll tell him to spread the news about what happened, so hold on here for three days.”

“Three days...”

“I believe three days will be enough for the Sky People to hear about it and come back. Is that alright with you?”

“Yes, I can handle it… Thank you… Thank you…”

“No need for that. It’s my fault for not stopping the situation in time.”

After soothing (Y/n), who was sobbing in relief that she would finally escape, Maunan said that she would be going and advised her not let herself be caught by Tonowari. Only after seeing the human nodding with a tearful face did she take off on her mount.

(Y/n) was left alone on the rocky island again, but she was no longer distressed.

‘Three days… I must hold out until then.’

(Y/n) started putting into her mouth the food that Tonowari had left behind, which she had never even looked at unless she was really close to dying… Up until then, she had not experienced any flavor when she ate, but for the first time in weeks since she had been trapped there, she could taste the sweetness of the fruit. After gulping down the water, she felt much more energetic.

The next morning, Tonowari, who brought food as usual, saw for the first time that (Y/n) had emptied the food.

“Will you be eating now?”

“...Yes...”

“Good. I was worried about you…” Tonowari said caressing her cheek, whose complexion had improved. And, again, for the first time, (Y/n) did not slap his hand away.

How long had it been since (Y/n) accepted Tonowari’s touch instead of rejecting it…? The man felt as if the two of them had gone back to how it used to be in the past, even if it was only for a moment. At that time, everything was happiness. (Y/n) loved him as if she would stay by his side forever, and with that alone, Tonowari felt like he had the whole world.

And now… although it had gotten better, he could still see her gaunt face and listless appearance. Tonowari suddenly felt a surge of emotion… How had it ended up like this? ...He had been happier than anyone else, but the feeling of having ruined it with his own hands struck his hands.

“...I’ll be going now.”

In the end, Tonowari couldn’t stay long that day and ran away from the rocky island… (Y/n) still didn’t see him off, but she watched his back as he rode off on his Skimwing for a long time.

──

Two days left

The next day, (Y/n) ate all the food Tonowari had brought, and some color returned to her pale face. After finishing all the clams that she especially liked, he was once again caught up in that inexplicable feeling as he watched (Y/n) resting as if she was full.

The girl blushed and said, “If you grill the clams next time, let’s eat them together.”

He vividly remembered (Y/n)’s first day of class, when he had felt sorry for her and had tried so hard to help her out due to her not even being able to open the clams.

Now that he thought about it, Tonowari may have started paying special attention to (Y/n) since that moment. Did he know back then that this would happen? If he had known… would he still have opened that clam?

Tonowari was overcome with all sorts of emotions as he looked at (Y/n)’s body, which had always been small, but now it somehow seemed even smaller… He remembered the memory of him hugging her small frame, kissing her and smiling. He also remembered the face that pretended not to have anything going on with him and kissed him briefly when no one was looking, and the voice that whispered that she loved him.

He felt like he had ruined it all.

Looking at (Y/n)’s expressionless face, Tonowari asked impulsively, “Can I hug you just this once?”

The human turned her head at those words and stared at him for a while without saying anything before answering quietly.

“...Alright.”

As always, Tonowari lowered his body, met her gaze, and hugged her affectionately. (Y/n) did not avoid him.

──

One day left

Tonowari, who had left the rocky island as if he was running away that day, recalled the fond feelings and memories that had welled up the moment he hugged (Y/n). Those whirlwind emotions didn’t go away even after lying down on the floor of his marui, so he couldn’t fall asleep and kept tossing and turning. The nights he had spent with (Y/n) were not like that at all.

Her body would lie down and fit perfectly into his arms, whispering “Good night, Tonowari.” and she’d finally close her eyes. When he opened his eyes in the morning, (Y/n)’s round eyes and the mischievous voice that teased him for being sleepy would be the first thing he’d see.

It was Tonowari who ruined it all.

Not (Y/n).

Tonowari got up and washed his face dry, going over his mother’s words on his head.

“Tomorrow, bring (Y/n) back and… apologize.”

He couldn’t help it.

Because Tonowari loved (Y/n) too much to give up her affectionate whispers and touches.

──

The third day came and (Y/n) opened her eyes. Even though it was just dawn, the girl was biting her fingernails nervously… She sat down and swayed her legs, then jumped up and ran to the beach, narrowing her eyes and searching the distant sky.

He’d come… He said he would… He had to get her out of there.

Before Tonowari arrived…

How long did she wait like that…? Who knows, because soon enough, she started hearing the familiar sound of a propeller from afar.

It was a helicopter! It was there to pick her up!

(Y/n) was so happy that she jumped up and down in place, screaming “H-here! I’m over here!!”

“(Y/n)! Oh my god, are you okay?!”

“Ralph…! Oh, God, thank you…”

Her eyes welled up with tears as she heard the English words… Ralph’s expression of shock at her appearance, which seemed to have almost lost half its life, was vivid.

“Let’s go. Quickly, we have to leave before that crazy guy gets here!”

The island was too small and uneven for a helicopter to land on, so Ralph reached out from the cabin of the vehicle that was a short distance from the ground. Right when she was about to grab his hand, (Y/n) hesitated for a moment.

‘If I leave now… it will be the end of me with Tonowari. Our relationship will be over, just like that.’

Despite all that catastrophe, the thought of it made the blood drain from her fingertips.

“Ralph, I…”

“(Y/n)!!!”

The sound of a Skimwing’s wings flapping was heard along with that scream.

As soon as he had seen the Sky People’s machine that he had already witnessed once, Tonowari understood the situation flew towards them at a fast speed, his face turning pale.

“(Y/n), I was wrong! Please, please don’t leave!”

A desperate cry… Tonowari was pleading, yelling as if pouring out everything inside him.

“Shit, he’s already here… Get in, (Y/n)!”

“I… Wait, I...”

“If we wait any longer, it’ll be too late!”

The man grabbed (Y/n)’s hesitating hand and pulled with all his might, and (Y/n) was put on the chopper’s back. It would have been right to leave without even looking back, but the girl couldn’t take her eyes off Tonowari even after getting on the helicopter.

“(Y/n), please, please…!! I was wrong, please! Please, just stay…!!”

The pilot, after confirming that his companion was safely on board, took off straight upward. Their ride, which had risen to a point beyond the reach of the Skimwing, took off towards the forest at an incomparable speed.

“(Y/n)!!!”

Leaving behind Tonowari’s desperate cries.

Ralph looked anxiously at the strangely quiet (Y/n) behind him after having saved her in the nick of time while they headed back to the jungle.

“Are… are you alright?��

“...Yeah, I’m fine. Thank you for saving me.”

This was the right thing.

It was right to cut off that kind of relationship.

For Tonowari’s sake, and for hers.

(Y/n) kept looking back without saying a word… After flying like that for a few hours, when they arrived at the forest, the humans who had been waiting hugged her and welcomed her with tears in their eyes.

“(Y/n)! God, look at your face…! Are you okay?”

“We’re so sorry, we should have looked for you more...”

“Get in, quickly. You need to eat something warm and rest.”

She went inside and drank warm coca with marshmallows floating on top for an unknown amount of time, and then went through a health checkup just in case. Except for a slight malnutrition caused by skipping meals, everything was fine, so her colleagues breathed out a sigh of relief.

“The body is not the problem, it’s the mind...”

“Shh, be quiet.”

“Why? Did I say something wrong?”

“Just… pay attention…!”

It was already known by everyone that she had been in a relationship with Tonowari, as it had been declared by Maunan… and being imprisoned by such a lover was not an experience that could be easily overlooked. Since none of the remaining humans had majored in counseling or anything like that, they all just gave her their best wishes and let her rest in peace.

(Y/n) came into her room, saying she wanted to be alone, and swept the desk she had not seen in a long time with her hand. There was no dust, as if it had been cleaned in advance. She still didn’t feel like she was back.

The girl laid on the bed and stared at the ceiling. The mattress was soft, fluffy and comfortable; unrivalled to the hammock or floor of the open-plan marui. Suddenly, as she was just laying there, she felt that the bed was too cold. Was it because there was no large body that hugged her warmly? Although she had slept alone the whole time she had been on that island, the empty space felt alien, as if they he had been with her the day before.

‘No, Tonowari is a bad man who pressured me, trapped me on that island, and then shamelessly forced me not to leave.

Whether he was kind or not.

Whether he gave me a warm hug or not.

Whether he whispered that he loved me or not.’

(Y/n) knew it was nonsense, but… she wanted to see Tonowari.

She hated it so much, but was it because she realized she could never see him again? Memories of Tonowari continued to come to her mind without stopping. When he first gave her a ride, when he made her a necklace out of pretty conch shells, when he made her laugh with the kids and told her stories about shells… All her good memories were with Tonowari.

That night, the only thing that could be heard from (Y/n)’s room was the sound of sobbing and crying nonstop.

Meanwhile, the humans were not over their worries… because… Tonowari knew that (Y/n) was residing with the Omatikaya and even more so, he was the Olo’eyktan of a clan… Jake had to maintain the best possible relationship with the other tribes or, in the worst-case scenario, there would be an armed conflict.

Her friends asked Jake what he was going to do, and the former avatar decided to stick to his stance of protecting (Y/n).

“If it weren’t for (Y/n) during the war, half of us would have died. (Y/n) is like you, a member of my tribe. I survived and became the leader, but I won’t abandon my people like old shoes. Instead, we should avoid conflict as much as possible… and we should also prevent (Y/n) and Tonowari from seeing each other.”

He thought everything would be okay once the war was over, but he put his hand on his forehead, troubled by another matter.

“That Olo’eyktan… should be here by now?”

“It’s a matter of time.”

“...Even if he does something, don’t tell (Y/n).”

“Of course.”

Jake was half prepared for war, half prepared for diplomacy. He’d go with other Na’vis armed with weapons and try his best to avoid conflict, but if things went unexpectedly… While tension hung over the entire base, (Y/n) just cried in her room or slept like she was dead. She didn’t want to do anything else; she didn’t have the energy for it.

Unfortunately for the humans, time flew by… and finally, a radio message came from a tribesman who was scouting on an Ikran.

“A sea Na’vi has been spotted. He is believed to be the Olo’eyktan of the Metkayina, riding a Pa’li.”

“Hmm… How many people are with him?”

“That’s… the strange thing.”

“Strange?”

“He is alone.”

Alone? The humans who heard the radio were muttering. So, that meant he didn’t plan on using force, right? That was good… Nevertheless, why come alone? What was he thinking?

“Ha… I’ll go over there and talk to him first; don’t let (Y/n) know. It’s best if you distract her so she can’t come out at all.”

“Should be easy enough. She just cries in her room and doesn’t go out anyway.”

──

“I see you, Tonowari.”

“I see you, JakeSully.”

Jake’s palms were slightly sweaty as he faced Tonowari. The Na’vi, who was nearly 3 meters tall and had a body that would make it difficult to predict the outcome if they fought, was looking down at him.

“I will not take much of your time. Allow me to talk to (Y/n).”

“That won’t be possible. You know why.”

“I’m not here to do any harm. I just want to talk, that’s all.”

“(Y/n) won’t want to see you.”

“...I know.”

“Then you know why I have no choice but to refuse your request.”

“Just let me talk to her. The consequences will be on me.”

──

“...Jane? What are you doing at the door?”

“Huh? Oh, I… I was just looking at something.”

“I’m going out. Can you please step aside?”

“E-eh? Ahaha… Shouldn’t you sleep a little more?”

“No, I already slept for some time… I wanted to go get some fresh air.”

“The weather outside is not that great today~ Just stay in your room!”

“…? It seemed okay when I looked through the window?”

“It’s hot and humid and not pleasant...!”

The girl stared oddly at her colleague.

“What’s wrong? It looks as if you’re trying to keep me from going out.”

“Huh? O-oh, uh… No~ No, it’s just that...”

“Is there any reason why I shouldn’t go out?”

“W-what? Of course not, why would there be? Ahaha~”

“…..”

“Ahahaha...”

“Is Tonowari here?”

It was something like an intuition that even (Y/n) couldn’t explain. An instinctive inkling that Tonowari had come to see here.

“Eh? What… What are you talking about? Why would that Na’vi be here?”

“Tonowari is here, isn’t here?”

“That’s not it- (Y/n)! (Y/n), where are you going, (Y/n)!!”

She pushed past Jane and hurried down the hallway. While she was running, (Y/n) felt several hands trying to get a hold of her saying “Hey! Grab her! Don’t let her out!”. She didn’t know where the strength came from, but she shook the all off and pushed the door open with all her might and got out.

She squinted for a moment under the dazzling sunlight, then opened her eyes and looked at the spot where Tonowari was standing still. Jake made a face of defeat and gestured to his friends next to him.

“Take her back in, hurry!”

“No, let me talk to him.”

“...(Y/n)?”

“It was me who got tied up in this mess, so it’s me who has to do it, not you.”

“...I’ll be watching from the side, just in case.”

“Thanks, Jake.”

And so, (Y/n) stood in front of Tonowari for the first time in a long time.

“...(Y/n).”

“Long time no see, Tonowari.”

“...I have a lot to say.”

“Try me.”

The man fell to his knees. Jake looked back and forth between them in confusion.

“...I’m sorry. It was all my fault, and I dare not ask for forgiveness. I… I apologize for everything.”

“What do you want?”

“Just let me stay by your side.”

“Are you asking me to go back?”

“No, I shall stay with you.”

“...You’re going to stay in the forest?”

“If you permit me.”

“You- you are Olo’eyktan.”

“I’ll leave everything behind. The sea has no meaning to em without you.”

(Y/n) bit her lip and looked at Tonowari.

“If that’s the case, why did you do it?”

“I’m sorry.”

“Do you know how brazen you’re being right now?”

“It’s all my fault.”

“After locking me up, you think you can fix everything with a few words?”

“The morning you left, I was going to give up everything and take you out.”

“Are you expecting me to believe that?”

“You don’t have to believe it, just… know that it’s the truth.”

“...What are you going to do from now on?”

“I will atone for my sins by your side. You don’t have to love me, and you can hit me if you wish.”

“You want me to stay by your side? Even in the end, you only think about your own good.”

“...I’m sorry.”

The human looked at the sky for a moment. It was as clear as the day (Y/n) escaped from the island, and there before her was her captor kneeling, waiting for his punishment.

What did she want to do? The woman shut her mouth and stared at Tonowari.

‘Kiss me. Give it a try first and then decide.’

──

“(Y/n), are you sure about this? Really sure?”

“I told you, I really am. And don’t you remember what my major is? It makes it more convenient to love by the sea.”

“If it was going to end up like this… why did we make such a fuss about it?”

“If anything happens, be sure to contact me, okay? Charge your communication equipment frequently, and hide it somewhere Tonowari doesn’t know about.”

“Ralph will come to see me anyway. It’s okay.”

(Y/n)’s colleagues were worried about her as she prepared to leave with a bundle of luggage loaded onto the helicopter. She tried to reassure them one by one, as she didn’t want them to be so concerned. However, a large, distracting sea Na’vi kept hovering around her, unable to sit still.

“Just come and hold my hand. Don’t worry about what others think.”

“Okay…?”

They all must have been glaring at Tonowari, who they didn’t and couldn’t trust. Ralph, who had decided to go to the Metkayina regularly to check on her while delivering goods, said “I’ll keep a close eye on her.”

“Don’t worry, I’m going to be fine.”

“Yeah, that didn’t turn out so well last time,” he said and then prepared for takeoff as soon as Tonowari got into the helicopter.

The Na’vi silently held (Y/n)’s hand, who was sitting next to him, and then carefully brought it to his mouth with anxious eyes, as if he was about to press his lips against it. (Y/n) just smiled while looking at him.

After taking them to the reef clan, unpacking her luggage and reassuring Ralph, who kept gazing at Tonowari with a distrustful look, he spoke one last time with her alone.

“Even if nothing happens, please contact me every day, okay?”

──

(Y/n) sat down comfortably, but Tonowari couldn’t help but fidget and look around.

“Sit down, this is your home.”

“...Our home.”

She looked around the marui… It felt strange, because nothing had really changed since then.

“I brought some decorations, so I’ll put it over there.”

“Do whatever you want.”

“I’ll keep the experimental equipment here. Don’t touch it.”

“I understand.”

While she unpacked, (Y/n) suddenly let out a deep breath. Tonowari seemed to hesitate before asking.

“Do you regret it?”

“You?”

“I regret many things… but I don’t regret being by your side.”

“That’s fine, then.”

When she approached Tonowari and opened her arms as if asking for a hug, he wavered for a moment and then embraced her in a familiar way.

“Listen to me carefully. If you do something like that in the future, I really won’t ever forgive you.”

“That will never happen again.”

“And be sure to thank Maunan. She saved me.”

“Of course.”

Only then did (Y/n) actually hug Tonowari’s neck and gave him a light kiss.

“Now, let’s get back to bedecking our home.”

“...Yes, our home.”

(Y/n) acted awkward for a while and didn’t express their love as freely as before. The experience had clearly left scars, and (Y/n) sometimes woke up from her sleep and looked around to see if she was back on that rocky island. Each time, she was comforted by the warmth that embraced her and gave her solace.

(Y/n) thought that was enough.

Normal – Na'vi

Italics – English

Vocabulary list: olo’eyktan (clan leader), marui (pods built in the giant mangrove-like trees alongside the shores and are protected from crashing waves by giant reef barriers), tsaheylu (bond, neural connection), tsurak (skimwing), tsahìk (head shaman, high priest, interpreter), ikran (mountain banshee), pa’li (direhorse)

[hermiola]

Writer's Meme, 2024 Edition

I've been tagged by @turquoisedata 💜

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

How many works do you have on ao3?

14. 6 Good Omens + 8 MCU, but we have to go back to 2014 and 2016 for those. I also used to publish on an Italian fanfiction archive where I have 70 more fics (I went back to check and count them after approximately two thousand years and HOLY SHIT, I didn't remember them being so many! My first fic is more than 20 years old WTF).

What’s your total word count?

150.000 words on AO3. But I'm guessing it's waaay higher than that (the Italian archive doesn't show the word count 🥲).

What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

My GO fics have the most kudos (given the popularity of the fandom + the fact that they're written in English and not in Italian). I have 6, so the top 5 is basically all of them:

Take a Little Love From Me (Pretty Woman AU)

Final Breakthrough (Now!) (Post-Season 2 Fix-It)

Crazy Little Thing (Called Love) (Non-S2-complying silliness)

When Hell Freezes Over (Human AU with magician!Crowley and critic!Aziraphale)

Let There Be Rock (First meeting after 1967)

Do you respond to comments? Why/why not?

I do! I don't get that many, so it's not overwhelming, and I just like to respond. As I said somewhere else, my experience in the GO fandom has been mostly a solitary one (recently not so much though!) so I just like to interact whenever I can.

What's the fic you've written with the angstiest ending?

I'm going to consider only the GO ones because I feel like the others have been written by another me entirely (also I'm not sure I even remember them).

So it's definitely Let There Be Rock.

What's the fic you've written with the happiest ending?

I'd say all of them, but Take a Little Love From has a proper epilogue and everything. I guess their happiness has more space there than elsewhere.

Do you write crossovers?

I have in the past, but not anymore.

Have you ever received hate on a fic?

Not that I know of.

Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

Not really. I LOOOOVE reading smut (especially in those chonky slow burn fics), but I can't bring myself to write explicit smut for some reason. I love describing the tension and the heat of the moment (I love UST so much I'm going to marry it tbh - like nothing makes me happier/hornier than two people who want to fuck each other but can't for some reason - am I edging myself? IDK) but when it comes to my own writing I feel like spelling out the details just ruins the moment. I do think it's my ace showing in some way. But, anyway, I read the filthiest filth so this definitely doesn't apply to reading. And who knows, maybe one day I'll try! I'm not ruling anything out.

Have you ever had a fic stolen?

I don't think so?

Have you ever had a fic translated?

No, but I used to translate HP fics back in the day (from English to Italian). We're talking 20 years ago. And it's funny when you think about it, because I translate novels for work now 🤣

Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Yes, always back in the day with HP. I'm still friends IRL with the girl I wrote them with (we actually met because of HP) (this is as good a time as any to say FUCK YOU JKR).

What's your all-time favourite ship?

This depends on the hyper-fixation of the moment. I cannot multitask with my OTPs. If I get obsessed with a new one, I retire the previous one. Like I could split my life into different time periods just based on my OTPs. Ron/Hermione has been my personality for YEARSSSS, but now I can barely think about HP without cringing. Another BIG ONE was Clint/Natasha from the MCU (which explains my look here on Tumblr), but the MCU as a whole has gone a bit stale for me (with few exceptions). And now it's all about Crowley/Aziraphale - it's so bad I had to unretire from fanfiction writing after almost 10 years LOL.

(I like many other ships but not to the point of *obsession*).

What's a WIP that you want to finish but don't think you ever will?

The only one I can think of is a Clintasha Actors AU, but I don't think I have it anymore, and I wouldn't finish it even if I had.

What are your writing strengths?

Dialogues and banter are my favourite things to write, and I think it shows.

What are your writing weaknesses?

English is not my first language, so my writing lacks variety I think. I feel like I have always the same phrases stuck in my head, so it's probably kind of repetitive, especially when compared to some of the fics I read. (But when I started writing my first GO fic in English I wasn't even sure I could *actually* do it, so I'm proud of myself either way!).

What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic?

I think it's okay! I personally would ask a native speaker to help me (if possible) instead of going the Google Translate route. Being Italian and watching/reading almost exclusively in English I know how silly it sounds when the characters start speaking your language and they're saying nonsense (but no harm done even in this case, imo, especially in fanfics. In movies, though, it's just lazy!).

What was the first fandom you wrote for?

HP, back in 2004 (welp).

What's a fandom/ship you haven't written for yet but want to?

None, thankfully. If I'm writing fanfic it means I'm in the late stage of hyperfixation and I don't wish that on myself if I can help it. Like I used to read 50+ books a year before GO S2. It's bad!!!

What's your favourite fic you've written?

Take a Little Love From Me mainly because it's the one I've spent more time with.

Tagging some people if they feel like doing it (but no pressure at all!): @beerok23 - @sabotage-on-mercury - @gaiaseyes451 - @leviosally

[nekoannie-chan]

Love, love

Title: Love, love.

Fandom: Marvel, Captain America.

Ship: Steve Rogers X 40’s!Reader.

Word count: 690 words.

Rating: Teen.

Summary: You and Steve are in love.

Major Tags: Time travel, unexpected kiss, dating.

Additional tags: This is my entry to @multifandom-flash, Valentine’s day card & square 5:

"Garden of love.”

You can read it on Wattpad and Ao3 too.

@saiyanprincessswanie

My native language is Spanish so I wanna improve my writing skills in English if you notice any mistakes, please let me know and I will correct them.

I don’t give any kind of permission for my fics to be posted on other platforms or languages (I translate myself my work) or the use of my graphics (my dividers are included in this), I did them exclusively for my fics, please respect my work and don't steal it. There are some people here who make dividers that anyone can use, mine is not this type, please look for the other people. The only exception is the ones I gifted 'cuz now belong to someone else. If you find any of my works on a different platform and are not one of my accounts, please let me know. Reblogs and comments are always welcome.

DISCLAIMER: I don't own Marvel's characters (unfortunately), except for the original characters and the story.

Add yourself to my taglist here.

My other media where I publish:  Ao3, Wattpad, ffnet, TikTok, Instagram, Twitter. 

If you like it, please vote, comment, and give me feedback to improve my skills and reblog.

Tags: @sinceimetyou @unnuevosoltransformalarealidad @navybrat817 @angrythingstarlight @shield-agent78 @charmed-asylum @pandaxnienke @real-fbi @smokeandnailz @white-wolf1940 @tenaciousperfectionunknown @xoxonotme @bluemusickid @leyannrae @harrysthiccthighss @marvelatthisone @caplanbuckybarnes @sapphire-rogers @lizzieolseniskinda @notyourtypicalrose @hallecarey1 @nana1000night @talia-rumlow @writingshae @alexxavicry @azulatodoryuga @daemonslittlebitch @chaoticcollectivenightmare @endlesstwanted @chemtrails-club  @marigoldreamer @whiskeytangofoxtrot555 @here4thefanfics @theestorm @patzammitt @kmc1989 @somegirlfrom

1937

It all started with a playful glance during painting class and, a few weeks later, a small smile when you noticed the paint stain on Steve's nose.

Steve was too shy to talk to you, and you had ignored all the times Bucky tried to flirt with you.

You were beginning to consider talking to Steve and asking him out for ice cream. Although the last thing you wanted was for his friend to be included in the plan too, you needed him to be alone.

You decided that today would be the day, but first, you had made a plan. One of your friends was going to entertain Barnes so you could talk to Steve; it would be at the end of the class, although you were also going to owe him a trip to the cafeteria, not to mention that you had to put up with her for ten minutes laughing at what you asked her.

"It's beautiful," Steve said, standing behind you.

“Excuse me?" You turned to face him; maybe what you liked the most were his beautiful blue eyes.

“Not you, your painting; I mean, you are beautiful too." Steve now sounded confused; he wasn't even sure what he meant.

“Thanks, Steve."

“Ehm Y/N..."

Wait a minute, he knew your name? You were so excited that you stopped listening to what he was saying; you weren't invisible to him.

“Well, from your silence, I guess that's a no," Steve said, disappointed.

“I'm sorry? I didn't hear you say, “ You wanted to hit yourself; you hadn't paid attention to him.

"Doyouwanttogotothemovieswithme?" Steve repeated it more nervously, turning red.

“Is Saturday okay with you?"

“Sure, I'll pick you up at six."

On the day of the date, you stole a kiss from Steve.

1942

“You want to go to the Stark Expo?" Yeah. Bucky wants us to go on a double date.

You agreed, although it was a little awkward, especially since Bucky's date wouldn't shut up and wouldn't stop repeating how awesome and amazing Barnes was. You were about to shove the bag of popcorn in his mouth, if that would shut him up.

1945

Steve's time in the war was unbearable; you didn't see each other, although you got a letter from him every week without fail.

All you wanted was for it to be over so you could be with him again.

Until the fateful day came, that morning you woke up with a strange feeling. As soon as you opened the door, you knew what it meant. As soon as you saw that woman standing there, you didn't even hear what she was saying; you knew what had happened.

When the war was over, you and Steve were supposed to get married. It was all set; all he had to do was go home.

If there was any way...

2023

“Are you sure about this?" Bucky asked Steve.

“I have a promise to keep; I don't even want to imagine how bad Y/N has been having it, “Steve answered. He simply couldn't stop thinking about the same thing; no matter how hard he searched, he couldn't find any information. It wasn't possible that you had vanished; he was sure of what he experienced; however, it wasn't until he made the time trip with the others that he understood everything.

“Say hello to her for me; don't forget your speech on the big day."

“I'm not as much of an idiot as you are."

“You're more."

1945

You frowned in annoyance. It was the tenth time you had tried to read the recipe, and there was always a different interruption. However, when you opened the door, you dropped the container you were holding.

“S-Steve? “ You feared your senses were deceiving you.

“I promised you I'd come back," Steve said as he picked up the container.

“But... "

“I couldn't let you down, honey." Steve took your hand, leaving the container on the small table next to the door.

“Everything was ready."

“I was the only one missing, wasn't I? I'm here; everything will be all right, I promise."

[a-canceled-stamp]

20 Questions for Writers

Thank you @motleyfam, @crows-murder and @selkienight60 for the tags! ^.^

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

22

2. What's your total AO3 word count?

157,488

3. What fandoms do you write for?

Mostly DC, but Star Wars, Marvel, Malevolent (Podcast), Good Omens, and MHA make appearances too.

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

Long Way Down (To The Bottom Of The River)

Then Came the Morning

A Leap of Faith

Talk To Me

There Are Softer Oak Trees

5. Do you respond to comments?

I used to respond to every comment fairly quickly but recently I just haven't had the time :(( I appreciate every single comment though, they bring me such joy 🥹

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

That would be cardboard box - the first (sort of) hurt no comfort I've written >:D

7. What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

Probably There Are Softer Oak Trees :)))

8. Do you get hate on fics?

Not yet

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

I do!!!! Or...I'm giving it a shot at least. Not for DC, but for Malevolent. Might post something real soon :3

10. Do you write crossovers?

Nope!

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

I didn't even know this was a thing before today. That being said, I don't think so??

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

Nope!

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

No, but I would love to collab sometime :3

14. What's your all-time favorite ship?

I cannot pick one because I don't really have A favorite. But Stucky (Marvel), DinLuke (Star Wars), Merthur (Merlin), SuperBat (DC), TimKon (DC) and Science Girlfriends (Orphan Black) are all ships I enjoy.

15. What's a WIP you want to finish but doubt you will?

Dying Is Easy, Living Is Harder. I have many ideas for it but unfortunately, I'm not obsessed enough about the characters to fulfill them lmao. Also An Unexpected Visit bc similar to the previous one I have a lot of ideas, but I just don't think I am talented enough to actually write those ideas.

16. What are your writing strengths?

I've rewritten this answer 10 times, but no version felt right. At one point, I decided I was just gonna skip it. BUT NO. I'm gonna stop worrying about other peepz opinions and just say what I actually believe. And here it is.

I know how to make my writing more immersive with various details like sounds, smells, sensations etc. (and I LOVE doing this. The only issue is I sometimes do it either too much or too little ahdjkhsd)

I am VERY nitpicky. This can seem more like a flaw (and it is), but it has also helped me grow and understand what I like and dislike about my writing. It also means I spend a lot of time editing which makes posting SO much more satisfying (tho sometimes I gotta get those shorter fics out there for the instant serotonin boost lol)

I'm not a huge fan of characters who say/do things that don't make sense considering the genre/plot. Spending more time on this is challenging since I both dislike and SUCK at writing dialogue (why is English so HARD??), but it is also a lot of fun bc I think I am getting better at it.

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

Well, that part about being nitpicky is obviously a lie bc I didn't realize question 17 was gone ahdjshdkj. But I was the one who noticed it first among my friends so...maybe? Nope lol

English grammar. I have to double check every time I write a message to online friends to make sure what I've written is actually a sentence that makes sense.The thing is - I think I'm pretty good, but I actually suck. One time, I wrote mold wine instead of mulled wine in a fic. Never living that down. This is I think why it takes me so long to edit lmao.

Being too harsh on myself and not allowing myself to feel proud about my accomplishments/comparing my writing to other people. Yes, compared to other fantastic writers I suck, and it will always be like that. It's something I'm still struggling to accept, but I'm getting there!

Writing quickly. Like shutting off my brain and just writing doesn't work for me. I have to be there and edit every single sentence that I don't like, and I think this is why it takes so long for me to finish the first draft. Def gotta work on this!

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

Hmm. Instinctively, I think it makes more sense to write something like, "Person A said something in a language I didn't understand" than to write in that language. It's more fun that way. And if both the pov character and I don't understand what Person A saying it makes me sympathize with the pov character more.

That being said, if I ever see someone writing in Swedish in a fic, I will be immensely happy (and horrified)

19. First fandom you wrote for?

Rise of the Guardians on ffn. The fic is still there and is still hot garbage, but I did have a lot of fun writing it.

20. Favourite fic you've written?

I know what my LEAST favorite one is hjkahdsjk. Nah but for real, I love all my fics for very specific reasons. Like I have a sort of emotional connection with all of them depending on where I was in life, how I was feeling emotionally at the time, etc.

My top 3 would probably be Long Way Down (To The Bottom Of The River) bc it was the first fic I put a lot of thought and effort into, There Are Softer Oak Trees bc it makes me soft and fuzzy when I think about it, and cardboard box bc the comments made me fkn cackle.

It feels impossible to tag people who haven't been tagged yet but imma go with @miles2g0, @lurkinglurkerwholurks, @they-reap-what-we-sow, @liverobinreaction, and @bonesbuckleup. No pressure ofc!

[fantasyismyonlyrealescape]

Title: A Discussion Turned Confession (in Love)

Characters: Sami Zayn & Jey Uso (SamiJey)

Fandom: WWE (Professional Wrestling)

Rating: Teen and Up Audiences

Word Count: 3043

A/N: Hello and welcome to another story of mine that was planned to be one thing and went in the complete opposite direction! I saw that in Saudi, Jey walked out to his dark match wearing a keffiyeh and that is where this idea arose. I wanted to delve into the moment where Sami gave Jey the keffiyeh, a sort of behind the scenes what-if scenario. So, that is what we have here. I will say right now that the translations are likely terribly incorrect, and I apologize in advance. I tried my best with phrases that I could find online. Nevertheless, I do hope you enjoy my take on this. I will caution you that the rating of teen and up audiences is due to some very mild SamiJey. It’s completely PG-13, but I still wanted to rate it as such. Translations into English are available in the end A/N. Enjoy!

Summary: Sami Zayn publicly turned down Jey Uso’s offer for Sami to come to Smackdown, to talk to Roman Reigns and see if they could work out their differences. Afterwards, Jey goes off to find Sami in a desperate attempt to convince him to give Roman a second chance. The discussion soon turns into a conversation of a different kind, a confession spoken in more than just words and by the time Jey leaves Sami’s locker room, he can no longer consider Sami a “friend”.

Cross posted on AO3 under user wrestlinginjeans.

AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/60604429

Jey Uso followed his brother as Jimmy tore his way through the curtain back into Gorilla and the hallway beyond. Sami had long disappeared up the ramp by the time the twins made their way back to Gorilla following their Monday Night Raw segment together in the ring. Tension, anger and frustration were coming off the older twin in waves causing Jey to eye his brothers back wearily.

“How couldya go out there and be talkin’ to him, Uce?” Jimmy growled, not even bothering to turn around and look at his brother as he stalked forward ahead of Jey. He knew his brother was following behind him as he continued to bombard his younger brother with his reasoning for why they can’t trust Sami. “He ain’t family, leave him out of this.”

Jey shook his head at his brother’s comments, not bothering to respond. He wasn’t going to be able to convince Jimmy anyway, he knew that. When his brother got like this, he knew that it was best to leave him alone to cool off.

“You listenin’ to me, Uce?” Jimmy asked with a note of frustration leaking into his voice, turning to glare back over his shoulder at Jey.

“Yeah, Uce. I be listening…” Jey responded in a flat tone in an effort to placate his brother, glancing to his right and left as they crossed an intersection between hallways hoping to catch a glimpse of red hair. He knew he needed an out, a way to get his brother off his back so that Jimmy could cool off and Jey could try and sort this mess out.

After a moment longer of following his brother, he slowed his pace slightly and took to rolling his right shoulder, reaching across his body with his other arm and pressing his left hand to said shoulder. Jimmy, having sensed that his brother was not following behind him as he had been, turned and started to make his way back to Jey with a look of confusion.

“What you doing?” Jimmy questioned, his eyes moving between Jey’s shoulder and his face.

“I gotta head to the trainers, tweaked my shoulder in the match last night.” Jey stated quietly, not quite looking at his brother as he rolled his shoulder again.

“You have another match tonight, Uce… Why didn’t ya get this looked at earlier?”

“It wasn’t a priority, I’m fine. I gotta go though, go back to the locker room. I’ll meet you there after my match, Uce.” Jey asserted, attempting to brush his brother’s concern off.

Jimmy took a step towards his twin, his eyes raking over his brother’s face. Jey caught a glance of his brother’s eyes as they looked him over, an unreadable expression within their depths that worried Jey that his twin would call him out, call his bluff. He narrowly avoided breathing in a sigh of relief as Jimmy shook his head and let out an audible exhale of his own.

“Yeah, okay Uce… I be seeing you later. Get fixed up…” Jimmy grumbled, scrubbing his hand across his face as he turned away from his brother and walked away.

Jey waited until his brother was out of sight before dropping his hand from his shoulder. He wasn’t being completely untruthful; his shoulder did hurt. But he had other plans for the time he had left before he had to be back at Gorilla for his dark match. Turning away from the hallway his brother was retreating down; it didn’t take him long to find his way back to the hallway that housed most of the Raw roster’s locker rooms. He wasn’t entirely sure if Sami had a room to himself or if he was in the main locker room, but his question was answered a moment later when his eyes found the name plate on the door he was walking past.

Pausing in front of the door, he took a deep breath to steel himself for what was bound to come before rapping his tan knuckles against the stained wood.

Jey heard a slightly muffled “come in” from the inside of the room and pushed the door open a crack at the invitation.

“Hey, Uce… Can we talk?” Jey asked tentatively, poking his head through the door but not walking into the room yet. He wasn’t sure where he stood in Sami’s life after the previous few weeks between all of Jey’s time on Smackdown and his comments to Sami on Raw the previous Monday. He just hoped that Sami would hear him out.

Sami had his back turned, hunched over slightly as he sorted through his gear bag sitting on the bench in front of him but at the sound of Jey’s voice he turned around. After taking a moment to study the visitor with an unreadable expression, he nodded slightly.

“Yeah, Jey… Come on in.”

The door had shut behind him before Jey spoke again.

“Uce… Look, what you said out there tonight—.” Jey begins, gesturing with his hand in the general direction of where the ring was set up.

“—was all true, Jey. I went out there at Crown Jewel for you.” Sami cuts him off, needing Jey to know it wasn’t all an act, it was his way of showing Jey that there was more than one way to go about this, more than one path to take to support his family while supporting himself too. “Look, I understand your obligation to your family, but you need to look after yourself too… I love you, man. I don’t want to see you become what you were before…” Sami added, trailing off before he dwelled too much on their shared tumultuous history. Some memories were better off in the past.

Jey meanwhile was caught up on one particular detail, three seemingly purposeful words towards the end of Sami’s statements. Jey furrows his brow slightly at the admission; that was three now, three times in one night.

“Uce, why you keep saying that?”

“What?”

A pause as Jey looks at Sami incredulously. There was still some distance between them, with Jey lingering close to the doorway and Sami standing by his gear bag.

“I love you…” Jey reiterates the last part of Sami’s statement. “Why you keep saying that?”

Sami’s body language changes then, his eyes falling away from Jey’s as he clenches and unclenches his fists several times before taking to rubbing his hands together in front of him.

“Why are you here, Uce?” Sami inquired quietly; his eyes directed downward at his hands. The conversation had taken a turn, a turn into a topic that Sami didn’t want to address at the moment. “You’ve got a match tonight; you should be getting ready…”

“I came here to talk to you, to talk about what ya said out there ‘night… Are you coming to Smackdown on Friday?”

“No, Uce.”

“Why?”

“I already told you… I can’t do this again, not even for you.”

Sami turns away from Jey then, running a hand through his hair before busying his hands in his gear bag once again. Jey knew Sami better than most, he didn’t want to have this discussion, but he would make damn sure that they did. Striding over to the bench, he rounds the side and places himself directly in front of Sami, the bench and gear bag between them. The unspoken words hung in the space between, Sami didn’t want to have to go through watching one of his closest friends change, to watch as he pushed him away again. He couldn’t, wouldn’t do that. He wouldn’t put up with the abuse, the pain, the manipulation and most of all he couldn’t stand, and watch Jey take it. He wouldn’t be able to stop himself from intervening and that would only earn them both a beating from the rest of the Bloodline, if Roman had indeed not changed with Sami suspected. Sami’s sentiments, the ones that Jey could hear loud and clear even without being spoken, were Jey’s own fears for Sami too. Jey hoped that he would be able to protect him and Jimmy.

“Uce, ya gotta come. Please, I need you to come.”

“Why? You’ve got your family back, for better or for worse. You don’t need me. Jey… I can’t—.”

“I do. You family too, I said that in the ring, and I mean it. It wasn’t for show. My family won’t be back together and whole until we get Solo back and you.”

Jey could see Sami working his jaw, a telltale sign in the redhead when he was upset about something, a habit that Jey had picked up on early in their friendship.

“Look, Sami. I gotta go back to them because they need me. I don’t got much going for me now on Raw, I lost my title… But you are still on Raw. You are all I got left here.” Jey sighs, reaching out tentatively to brush his fingertips against Sami’s shoulder. “And I don’t want ta lose you, Uce…” Jey adds quietly, the oppressing silence of the locker room prevailing in the space between them. “Sami, just please come on Friday. Do it for me… Because I love you too.”

Sami’s eyes, having moved to Jey’s hand as his fingertips, made contact with the black fabric of his hoodie, dart to Jey’s eyes at the end of the statement. As questioning hazel eyes find confident dark brown, a small playful smile comes to the face of Jey.

“What? You think I forgot whatcha said earlier? Nah, I know you better. I knew what you meant then. Truth is, I’ve known for a while just with the way you’ve been actin’ around me… It just took me some time to figure out how I felt too. Truth is, I’ve been in love with you for a long time, Sami…”

Jey watched as Sami’s eyes widened at the explanation, his previously fidgeting hands stilling as he sucks in a breath. He was speechless, Jey had rendered Sami speechless, a feat within itself. Sami couldn’t believe what was taking place, what Jey had just said so openly.

Before Sami could collect himself, Jey stepped over the bench in one fluid motion and the two men were now on the same side. Jey moved closer, backing Sami up into the row of lockers that comprised one side of the room. As the cold metal pressed into Sami’s back, Jey’s eyes hold a question as they dart between the redhead’s lips and his hazel eyes.

“Sami?” Jey questioned quietly, taking a step away from the redhead after a few moments pass of silence. He needed to know if Sami wanted this. “Are you—.”

Jey was rapidly cut off as a hand reached forward, wrapping pale fingers around the front of his t-shirt, pulling him back in towards the redhead. In the short distance between, their chests close to touching and their breath intermingling, Sami leaned forward and brought his lips to Jey’s own, a gentle brush of contact before pulling back.

“You don’t even want to know how long I’ve been waiting to do that.” Sami whispered, bringing his hand up to brush the side of Jey’s face as a small smile comes to his features. A moment passes, before Jey is pushing Sami up against the metal wall again and chasing Sami’s lips back to his own, pressing his lips firmly against Sami’s. Sami’s hand drops from Jey’s face, taken aback by the fierceness of the slightly taller man. The kiss deepens after a few moments by Jey’s hand, and Sami cannot help but let out a small sound of surprise at the intensity and passion of it all, bringing his hand up again to tangle in Jey’s short black hair as Jey does the same with Sami’s own.

They remain this way, bodies pressed together until they have to break apart for breath. As they break the kiss, they remain as close as they can with Jey leaning in to press his forehead against Sami’s own.

“The irony of this situation is not lost on me, Jey…” Sami babbled quietly after several moments, trying his best to equalize his breathing between harsh breaths. “We had to come halfway across the world to express our feelings?”

Jey couldn’t help but grin at that, leaning in to brush his lips once again against Sami’s slightly chapped ones before pulling back and reluctantly taking half a step away from Sami.

“We go all out, what can I say?” Jey exclaimed happily, his grin brightening into a full-on smile as he takes in Sami’s state, the state that he had caused Sami to be in. His normally pale cheeks were flushed a rosy color, his bright red hair disheveled in some places from the Samoan’s fingers. He figured his appearance was much the same, the lingering feeling of Sami’s fingertips digging into his scalp still apparent. He held onto that feeling, held onto the glorious view of Sami in front of him now. He needed it and so much more, but he knew now was not the time.

“Sami…” Jey begins, reaching towards Sami and taking one of his hands in his own, intertwining their fingers together. “I gotta go…” Jey sighed, the reluctance clear in his voice. He wanted to stay, live in this moment forever just the two of them, but he had a match to get to. Jey’s fingers squeeze Sami’s hand once before he loosens his grip and goes to turn away only for Sami to stop him by tightening his grip on Jey’s hand.

“Wait, Jey.” Sami calls, causing the Samoan to turn back towards him. Jey watches as Sami brings their joined hands up, pressing a gentle kiss to the back of Jey’s hand before untangling their fingers and moving his hands up to the back of his own neck in order to undo his keffiyeh.

Jey’s expression is one of confusion, watching Sami’s nimble fingers unwrap the piece of red and white checkered cloth with care and reverence. The cloth is soon off his neck and being held between Sami’s two hands. Sami glances down at it before looking up to catch Jey’s eye.

“Would you—. Would you like to wear this tonight?”

Jey’s immediate reaction is a bright smile, feeling honored beyond words that Sami would ask. Jey knew how much Sami valued his culture, his heritage, and his faith. To offer for Jey to wear a small piece of what made Sami who he was, the Sami who he loved, was an incredible feeling.

“Course, Sami…” Jey agrees, unable to keep the influx of emotion from his voice as he answered. Sami smile brightened, as he brought the keffiyeh up to Jey’s neck and began to wrap it carefully, starting with the cloth already in a triangle and wrapping one of the shorter ends around his neck. Sami’s deft fingers make quick work of the process. Jey breathes in the closeness of Sami and the residual body heat that is still present on the scarf, his mind drifting back momentarily to the time in Tribal Court when he gave Sami his red flower lei. As Sami’s fingers come around to tie the knot in the back, Jey is brought back into the present with an involuntarily shiver as the Syrian-Canadian’s pale fingertips brush against Jey’s neck. Sami smiles at the reaction from the dark-haired man, bringing his hands back to the front of Jey in order to arrange the fabric evenly in the middle of Jey’s chest. After a few moments of fiddling, he placed his hand flat on the scarf that Jey was now wearing and moved his gaze up to meet Jey’s.

“Laayeg ʒalaik, Jey…” Sami compliments, his tone teasing as he removes his hand and places it on the side of Jey’s face instead. “Alan sayakun al’amr kama law kunt hunak maeka…”

“What did you say, Sami?” Jey queried, cocking his head slightly at the playful tone of the redhead as he brings his tan hand up to cover Sami’s hand on his face.

Without answering him, Sami leans forward and kisses Jey gently before pulling back and giving him a teasing smile.

“I just said that it looks good on you.”

“There’s no way that’s all you said, Sami!”

“That’s all that you need to know!” Sami teases, reluctant to let Jey go.

“E toalua e mafai ona taaalo i lenei taaloga, Sami.”

“Is that Samoan?” Sami questioned exasperatedly, prompting Jey to nod. “Oh, come on, Jey!”

“You started it.” Jey stated plainly and Sami couldn’t argue with that.

Sami shakes his head fondly at the banter, dropping his hand from Jey’s face as they take a few steps towards the door together before tugging on Jey’s hand to turn him back around and bring him back in towards him.

“Sami!” Jey laughs, his whimsical tone like music to Sami’s ears as he shakes his head. “I have ta go… I wouldn’t if I didn’t have ta, but I do—.”

“Yes.”

Jey furrows his brow, a look of confusion in his eyes and on his face as he looks at Sami.

“Whatcha mean by “yes”?”

“Yes, I’ll be at Smackdown on Friday.”

The smile that lights up Jey’s face at the answer to his question makes Sami feel weightless for a moment. A smile, the rare kind that Jey had let Sami start seeing only after their embrace at Survivors Series 2022 in Boston.

“Thanks, Uce. I knew you would!”

“You kissing me had a lot to do with it.”

Jey shakes his head, laughing.

“You have to go, or they’ll start looking for you.” Sami sighs, sobering up for a moment,

“I know…” Jey agrees, tightening his hold ever so slightly on Sami’s hand as they continue their walk towards the door together. Upon making it to their intended destination, Jey stops and turns back around to look at Sami. “I be seeing you after my match?”

“Of course, Jey.” Sami promises, releasing Jey’s hand as Jey placed his other hand on the door handle to pull the door open. As Jey steps through the threshold, Sami adds under his breath so that only Jey could hear, “Always…”

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

Arabic and Samoan Translations:

Laayeg ʒalaik, Jey…” – “It looks good on you, Jey…”

“Alan sayakun al’amr kama law kunt hunak maeka…” – “Now it’ll be like I’m out there with you…”

“E toalua e mafai ona taaalo i lenei taaloga, Sami.” – “Two can play this game, Sami.”

A/N: Hey, you made it and will you look at that! I can actually write romance. If a kiss could be considered writing romance. Haha, look imma pat myself on the back here because the tiny bit of romance in here (kissing) is never something that I’ve attempted to write before. But this story went off the rails and I figured “why not now?”. I also recently connected with someone who said I should try my hand at it, as well as another friend who has constantly supported me, so I wanted to try it. I appreciate everyone who got to this point, kudos to you all! Thank you for supporting me. Cheers to you wherever you are in this wide world and bye for now!

[legitalicat]

20 Questions for Fic Writers.

Thank you to @foxyanon for both tagging me and giving me a clean copy of the questions so this did not have to wait until after work.

1. how many works do you have on AO3?

Just one, it's old and unimportant. I'm actually about to private it as I no longer like writing fanfic for real people.

2. what's your total AO3 word count?

Since I don't really post to AO3, I'm going to try to guess my word count from Word.

I would guess, just knowing the size of some of my larger works and how many things I fucking have in there, it would be at least 500k. Probably more. Y'all see the length of shit I post and I don't have nearly everything posted.

3. what fandoms do you write for?

Currently, HOTD, TLK, Assassin's Creed and Skyrim. Check out my requests to see which fandoms I'm willing to write for!

4. top five fics by kudos

So, my top 5 fics on here are probably

Sweet Sister (Aemond x Reader x Jace, canon)

Keeping Up With The Targaryens (SMAU Aegon x reader)

Player 3 Found (SMAU Jace x reader x Aemond, no targcest)

we can't be friends (Aemond, modern)

Forged From Death (Sihtric x reader, canon era)

This is a guess, but I know Sweet Sister and Keeping Up are my most popular ones.

5. do you respond to comments?

I try, unfortunately most of my time online is also while I'm working so things do slip by me. However I do try to stay on top of my asks and my inbox, so if you ever need to make sure I see something, those are the best ways. Unless you are in my discord server, then just message me on there.

6. what is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

It's no where close to the end, but just for what I have planned, I think my angstiest thing will be "Dragon of Valhalla".

For one shots, either "Too Sweet" (a personal favorite) or "we can't be friends"

7. what's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

What I have planned for the future of Out of Time is probably the happiest. Mostly because that is my "fix it fic".

Although when I post Alisanne's fic, that will get happy ending. Also a fix it fic.

8. do you get hate on fics?

I've not received hate, thankfully, of any sort.

This is not an invitation to start my friends are crazy (lovingly) and they will ride in battle for me before I even notice it's happened.

9. do you write smut?

Yes! Maybe not well. But I do write it.

10. craziest crossover?

"Dragon of Valhalla". It's combining a fantasy show, a historical fiction drama show, and a historical fiction fantasy video game. Truly, the deepest of brainrots.

11. have you ever had a fic stolen?

No. But again, not an invitation. See above.

12. have you ever had a fic translated?

Not to my knowledge! If anyone is interested, ever, please reach out so I can consider it!

13. have you ever co-written a fic before?

Yes! Many times in fact. It was a lot easier as a high schooler who had no life otherwise.

14. all time favorite ship?

Fuck. Y'all asking the wrong person, I'm full of bi panic and my favorite ship changes A LOT because of it.

Some of my favorites though would be

Fred Weasley x Hermione Granger (back when I read HP fanfic and participated in the community)

Jess Mariano x Rory Gilmore

Robb Stark x Margaery Tyrell x Danerys Targaryen (crackship yes do I care no I love them and they should have met and dominated)

15. what's a wip you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

It's a private project that few people know about. I intend to finish all my things, but brain doing brain things is hard.

16. what are your writing strengths?

I think I can "emotion" really well. Make you understand it as a reader, make you feel it, without necessarily giving a name to it.

17. what are your writing weaknesses?

Smut.

18. thoughts on dialogue in another language?

I only speak English so you'll probably never catch me include it unless it's High Valyrian. I don't trust Google translate. HOWEVER, I do genuinely think it's a beautiful thing.

19. first fandom you wrote in?

Harry Potter 💀

20. favorite fic you've written?

Probably, legitimately, "Out of Time". It was my first genuine dance into HoTD fandom creating. It was my first idea in years.

I had originally written it as an Alisanne fanfiction, actually. But I didn't think anyone would read OC content and so I made it x reader, and lost passion for it in the process.

Idk who has done this, but here are some no pressure tags.

@zaldritzosrose @thenameswinterfics @lady-phasma @anjelicawrites @alexagirlie

[iamashippinggod]

I Don't Say What's On My Mind Quite As Much As You'd Like Me To

Part five of my mini-fic series is here! @julybreakbingo

Bingo Prompt: “You should be with someone that respects you.” Fandom: My Hero Academia Ships: Kaminari Denki/Shinsou Hitoshi, Aizawa Shouta/Yamada Hizashi Content Warning: Explicit Language Tags: Shinsou Hitoshi is an Insomniac, Adopted Shinsou Hitoshi, Adopted Eri, Married Aizawa Shouta/Yamada Hizashi, Class 1-A, Established Relationships, Shinsou Hitoshi replaces Mineta Minoru, Shinsou Hitoshi has Social Anxiety, Kaminari Denki has ADHD, Pansexual Kaminari Denki, Bisexual Jirou Kyouka, Gay Shinsou Hitoshi, Late Night Conversations, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Stargazing, Latino Sero Hanta, Bakugou Katsuki Swears A Lot, Bakugou Katsuki is a good friend. Side Note: This is cross-platformed on AO3. What? Two posts within a few days of each other? Shocker. Anyway, welcome (or welcome back), here's part five! I hope you all enjoy <3 P.S: Also, translation for Sero: "Aye, date un respiro, hombre." = "Aye, take a break, man." "Ok, guapo." = "Ok, handsome." I apologize if those aren't the correct translations, I used Google Translate for Sero's spanish.

Masterlist

Summary: “... You should be with someone that respects you, Kaminari, not someone who’s gonna make you question if what you said or did was wrong or make you feel like shit for something you can’t help.”

“Like who?”

Me.

Hitoshi has officially been in Class 1-A for a full month now. 

         For the most part, everything was just about the same as before he was transferred into the Hero Course, with the addition of training and his new acquaintances (not friends, not yet). He still had his normal classes like English and Mathematics, but now he also has the addition of Heroics with All Might and afternoon training in Gym Gemma. He’s gotten better at changing the pitch of his voice changer at a faster speed mid fight. He’s even succeeded in capturing Bakugou mid-fight, and that in itself is a win considering how tough of an opponent he can be.

         And he no longer stays in his room, sure there are days where he separates himself from his class to recharge his social battery, but he finds himself joining everyone downstairs more often than not, especially if Kaminari is around. 

         Speaking of, he supposed that he has him to thank for that little change.

         He still finds being around his classmates for longer than a few hours after classes have ended to be a pain, but he finds it more bearable when Kaminari is around. Maybe it’s because the blond knows how to steer a conversation, forcing the attention onto him rather than the insomniac. Either way, it helps him feel more comfortable when there’s more than just the two of them in the room.

         He still wouldn’t admit it out loud if you confronted him, but he actually enjoys Kaminari’s company. More than he thought he would. Ever since that one Sunday night a few weeks back, he finds himself wanting to be around Kaminari more. 

         A part of him doesn’t like it, mostly because it’s weird to have a friend who doesn’t make comments about his Quirk and doesn’t imply all of the villainous acts he could do with it, it’s new. But that’s also why he does like it. Kaminari isn’t like everyone else. 

         And he likes to think that because they’ve been hanging out so much, and that Hitoshi actually enjoys his company, that he has gotten to know the blond well enough to know when something is wrong.

         Like now, for instance.

         Everyone in the class could sense that something was off with Kaminari and Jirou’s dynamic. Though the dark-haired girl wasn’t affectionate like her counterpart, she did joke around with Kaminari, even though some of the jokes she made something in Hitoshi’s stomach churn. And Kaminari knows she doesn’t like public displays of affection, so he finds other ways to swoon her during class; little gifts like snacks would find their way onto the corner of her desk at random hours of the day, an extra pen in case she forgot hers, offering to carry her bag when going to their next class, stuff like that.

         But for the past couple of days, there has been none of that. They wouldn’t even look at each other for more than a few seconds.

         Everyone knows something happened, they were all at the ramen shop last Friday, they all saw her storm out with Momo trailing after her, eventually watching Kaminari follow after them both. Hitoshi saw the concern and worry on Kaminari’s face that night, but mostly an expression of pure confusion.

         But it was Sunday morning that he knew something went wrong between them.

         Hitoshi had spent Saturday night at the family apartment on campus for diner, he and Eri had stayed up until it was close to midnight watching movies before Shouta had shooed them off to bed for the night, Hitoshi found it a bit hypocritical how he shooed them off to bed only to stay up to grade papers until Hizashi had come down to collect him.

         The next morning, Hitoshi had made his way to the kitchen, following the smell of freshly cooked bacon. He knew his Dad wouldn’t be there, he hosted tutoring sessions in the mornings on the weekends, and knew that if he wasn’t in the kitchen, that he was at the school for one of his tutoring sessions. 

         Half way through breakfast, his Pops spoke up. 

         “Are you heading back to the dorms soon?” Hizashi asked, making Hitoshi look up from his plate. 

         The purple-haired teen nodded, “Yeah, probably once we’re done eating. I left my homework at my dorm, and I need to see if Midoriya will let me borrow his notes again.”

         “Can you do me a favor and take your father his lunch, please?” 

         “Won’t he be done by lunch?” Hitoshi asked. 

         Hizashi reaches over to pick up his glass, “Yeah, he’ll be done tutoring by then, but he has a meeting with a detective for a case. You know he won’t take care of himself if I don’t send him something to eat.”

         So that’s how he found himself wandering the halls of the main school building until he reached his father’s classroom, a bento box in one hand, and his phone in the other while he looked at the news.                

        “Another sighting of the villain known at Dabi has been spotted down at the port last night, our sources tell us that he as well as the League of Villains are connected to the recent explosion in downtown Tokyo. Police are still refusing to make any statements, but are continuing their investigation–” 

         Hitoshi had shut off his screen, deciding that it was best to not read any more of that article. 

         For all of his hopes to follow in his parents’ footsteps, there were days where he wished that they weren’t in the Hero business, especially when he reads news like that. What the hell would they be in Tokyo for anyway?

         Hitoshi had stopped outside his father’s classroom, raising a hand to knock when he heard two voices from the otherside. 

         “It’s B.”

         “It’s A.” He hears his father correct.

         There is a grumble from the otherside. “This is hopeless…”

         A pause, followed by the sound of footsteps. “It may not seem like much, but you have improved since last weekend.” Hitoshi hears a scoff. “... Are you alright?”

         “What do you mean?”

         “To put it lightly? You look like shit, kid.” Hitoshi smirked at that. 

         He hears a laugh. He recognizes that laugh, and he smiles at the sound without realizing it. “It’s nothing to worry about.” A pause, followed by a sigh. “Really, Sensei, I’m fine. I just…” He hears him trail off. He sounded tired. “Why numbers? I understand letters like the back of my hand, but numbers? What maniac came to the conclusion that math was a necessity? Who?”

         Hitoshi knocks, “Dad?” he calls out, sliding the door open. He’s met with the sight of Kaminari hunched over his desk, and his father leaning back against the podium. He stops and examines Kaminari.

         Kaminari did look like shit. 

         Normally, the blond greets him with a smile, a grin, a fucking smirk, his lips would be turned upwards no matter what. But he was met with a frown instead. 

         Hitoshi clears his throat, tearing his eyes away and holds up the bento. “Pops asked me to bring you lunch. And to remind you to take your meds.”

         “Of course he did.” Shouta pushes off from the podium, hiding the small smile creeping its way onto his face with his scarf. “Thank you.”

         Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Kaminari looking at him, but when he goes to return the look, the blond looks away.

         Weird.

        That night, Hitoshi texts Kaminari first. 

         I’m hopping on mc, you joining? 

         He was met with the thumbs-down emoji, followed by; can’t. homework.

         This makes Hitoshi frown. Kaminari normally sends him a paragraph for a reply. Are you okay?

         Three dots. i’m fine. He didn’t even capitalize the I. Before Hitoshi could think of a response, Kaminari adds, i’ll text you later. The purple-haired teen stared at his phone for a moment, reading over Kaminari’s responses before he eventually shuts off his screen and goes to log onto Minecraft, expecting that follow up he was promised.

But that follow up never came. And it doesn’t for a few days. 

         From an outside perspective, Kaminari probably seems like his normal self. Cracking jokes, poking fun with his classmates, holding conversations with Sero and Mina over the most random of subjects that have zero context or meaning. Kaminari did seem fine.

         Hitoshi knew he wasn’t. From his perspective, Kaminari was mimicking him and his sleep schedule, as the blond seemed exhausted, quieter in the past week alone. And he wondered if the rest of his friend’s squad had noticed too (he says “his friend’s” as he doesn’t see himself as a part of their group yet), and just hasn’t said anything.

         Hitoshi sees the way he’s sluggish during training, how his response time is off by a few seconds. And he’s definitely noticed the way he avoids Jirou at all costs, and the looks Jirou gives him in return. Speaking of the earjack hero in training, he noticed how she has simmered down in the past week, the daggers in her eyes were more like dull blades used for show now. 

         It all comes to a head Thursday morning. 

         Hitoshi had walked into class, rubbing away the remaining sleep from his eyes. As usual, he walks into the endless chatter of his classmates, some still waking themselves to pay attention to today’s lesson plan, others engaging in conversations that either have zero meaning behind it or are discussing homework or something along those lines.

         As he sits down, he looks to his right and sees the hyperactive blond being not so hyperactive. Kaminari had his arms folded across his desk and was currently resting his forehead on top of his folded arms, he looked as though he was half-way to being asleep.

         Hitoshi thought about reaching over, giving him a shake and asking to see if he was okay. But he already knows that he’s not okay, he hasn’t been okay for the past week, ever since that night in the ramen shop. What good would asking him do if he already knew the answer?

         “Hey, Ji. How are you holding up?” 

         Behind him, he hears Hagakure. Casting Kaminari a subtle but concerned look, he peaks over his shoulder to see the invisible girl talking to Jirou. 

         Now that he’s giving her a good look over, she was almost as bad as Kaminari, but her eyes weren’t as puffy as his. The girl shrugs, “I’m fine.” 

         Hitoshi almost scoffs. Why does everyone keep saying that when they clearly aren’t fine?

         If he could see the invisible girl’s face, he would probably see a frown. “Have you spoken to him since the break up?”

         Hitoshi snaps his head forward, eyes wide in shock. “No… We decided to give each other some space for a bit.” He hears Jirou say. He looks over to his right, seeing Kaminari peeking over his arms, eyes trained on the back of Ojiro’s chair. Did he hear them too? 

         Apparently the whole class heard. 

         “Wait what?” Uraraka spoke up, Hitoshi looked and saw her looking directly at the girls. “You and Kaminari broke up?” Looking past the three of them, he could see Momo staring at them blankly, like she was already expecting this reaction. She already knew.

         But Uraraka’s question stirred up the entire class. 

         “What? Kami, why didn’t you say anything?” Mina frowned at the electric blond, who only shrugged in response and buried his head further into his arms. 

         Bakugou’s frown (one that is practically tattooed on his face) deepened, and reached back and across to poke at Kaminari. “Oi,” He was quiet. “Pikachu?” 

         “I’m fine.” They hear him mutter. Behind them, most of the class was asking Jirou the questions. Only those from their group (minus Jirou, obviously) were checking in on Kaminari. 

         The commotion hadn’t died down when Shouta had walked into the classroom. Even Iida hadn’t bothered telling everyone to get to their seats when he noticed the teacher walking in. 

         For that half an hour, the classroom was tense. If Hitoshi was paying attention to his dad, he would have seen him casting a questioning look in his direction. But Hitoshi didn’t pay attention, he kept his attention on Kaminari instead.

Throughout the entire day, Hitoshi noticed how Kaminari seemed distant from everyone. The blond kept his head down during classes, and he hadn’t even shown up for lunch, Bakugou had to go and drag him into the cafeteria just to make sure he ate.

         In between classes, Kaminari would walk with a notebook and pen in his hand, scribbling things down. Hitoshi had peaked over his shoulder out of curiosity and saw that it was one of his extra assignments. He’s worse than Midoriya. And the green-haired boy would be switching between three assignments while maintaining a conversation with Todoroki in between his unnatural muttering.

         “Aye, date un respiro, hombre.” Sero clasps a hand on the blond’s shoulder, slightly shaking him from his thoughts before switching back to Japanese. “Seriously, don’t stress yourself. We’re doing a study group at Bakugou’s tonight so just join us.” 

         Kaminari looked as though he was giving it some thought before shaking his head. “No, it’s fine. I kind of want to get it done before Ectoplasm’s class.” 

         I don’t want to be around people, right now. Was what Hitoshi heard. He’s well rehearsed in avoiding people, and that was the oldest line in the book. And judging by the look Sero was giving him, he didn’t believe him either. 

         Sero gives him a small smile, giving his shoulder a light squeeze. “Ok, guapo. If you change your mind, we’ll be in Bakugou’s room until seven.” 

         Kaminari nods before speeding away from the black-haired teen. Sero frowned as he watched him walk away, and so did Hitoshi.

         When afternoon training came, Kaminari had been excused from the class and was given a permission slip to head back to the dorms early. He knew his father noticed Kaminari’s exhaustion, he was practically mimicking Hitoshi even if he didn’t mean to.

         So during practice, Hitoshi was paired with Bakugou, who he quickly learned was hard of hearing due to his Quirk. About halfway through the round, Hitoshi had to switch to sign-language (something he had picked up for his Pops, who also was hard of hearing as a result of his Quirk), which took the angry teen by surprise. 

         Hiding around the corner to avoid Tokoyami and Dark Shadow, the two of them had a silent conversation. 

         “Which should we go after first?” Hitoshi signed, ignoring the wide-eyed look on Bakugou’s face. 

         “Since when can you fucking sign?” Bakugou asked. 

         Hitoshi shrugged. “Does it matter?” 

         Bakugou didn't reply right away, instead, he grabbed Hitoshi by the wrist and moved them until they were higher up with an advantage. Hitoshi felt a tap on his shoulder, he looked over in time to make out Bakugou’s question. “Have you spoken to Pikachu today?”

         With furrowed brows, Hitoshi looked between Bakugou and Tokoyami below them. “No. Have you?” He was met with a shake of the head. “How long were they together?” 

         “A couple of months. Not sure what happened though.” Bakugou pauses. “... Don’t say anything, but I’m glad they broke up.”

         “Why?”

         Bakugou scoffs. “Because they don’t work well as a couple.” He replies. “You should talk to him.”

         Before Hitoshi could question him further, acid was sprayed in their direction. 

         Unfortunately for Tokoyami and Mina, they had fallen for Hitoshi’s voice changer, and were deemed subdued, leaving him and Bakugou as the winner of this training match. 

         Mina was pouting all the way back to the entrance of Ground Beta. “No fair, how we’re we supposed to tell if that was you or one of us?” She questioned.

         But Hitoshi hadn’t been paying attention to the pink-haired girl, so Bakugou responded for him, “That was the point, Racoon Eyes.” The angry teen rolled his eyes. “You guys aren’t meant to know if it’s him or not. That’s what makes him fucking better.”

         Mina stopped, mouth gaping at Bakugou. “Did… Did you just compliment someone that wasn’t you or Kiri?”

         “Go to hell!” Bakugou sped up, but not before the rush of red colored his cheeks. Mina kept up her teasing while they made their way back.

         Hitoshi didn’t speak up again until they were in the locker room. Their match was the last one for the day, and as a result, they were the last ones in the locker room. Tokoyami left first, Dark Shadow peeking out to say goodbye before leaving them alone. 

         As Hitoshi pulled his shirt down over his head, he looked in Bakugou’s direction, watching as he reached for a pair of hearing aids. Once his shirt was one, he started signing again. 

         “I thought you got your hearing back when you were talking to Mina?”

         Bakugou shook his head. “I can read lips, as long as they’re not moving too fast.” 

         Hitoshi nods, and waits for Bakugou to put in his hearing aids before he speaks. “What did you mean earlier?” Bakugou gives him a questioning look. “About Kaminari and Jirou not working as a couple.”

         “Tsk.” The blond reaches for his bag, pulling the strap onto his shoulder. “Ears had a tendency to take her shitty jokes too far. Pikachu may seem laid back and doesn’t fucking care about what people say about him, but he does.”

         “Why didn’t-”

         “-He fucking say anything?” 

         “Or any of you?”

         Bakugou shrugs, “We’ve tried. She came into our group not too long after they started dating, so we had a little more time to know what was okay to joke about and what he didn’t want us to talk about. But whenever one of us would try to fucking correct her, Pikachu would shrug it off, saying that it was a shitty joke.” He explained.

         “Why me?” Confused, Hitoshi asked, “You said that I should talk to him, but shouldn’t one of you do that? You’ve known him longer.”

         “That’s why it should be you.” Still clearly confused, Bakugou sighed and continued. “He has a tendency to fucking brush shit off, if one of us tried to talk to him, he’d fucking plaster a smile on his face and throw a joke or two. He won’t fucking talk.”

         “That doesn’t explain why I should be the one to talk to him. What good could I do if the people he’s known longer can’t get him to open up.”

         “Damn, you really are dense.” Bakugou mutters, shaking his head. “It’s different with you. ‘No clue why, but he’s taken a fucking liking to you. He’ll talk to you. I know it.”

When they had gotten back to the dorms, there was no sign of the electric blond. When Bakugou had asked (to know how much to cook for dinner), Kirishima had told them that he was still in his room. Hitoshi confirms this when walking into his room, hearing the sound of music coming through the door across the hall. 

         The music stays on until it gets closer to midnight, 11:43 shining in red LED tells him the time. Hitoshi had finished his homework a while ago, and he was back on his Switch playing Mario Kart, trying to beat his best speed when he heard the music cut off abruptly. 

         The teen looks up from the device and looks toward his door. He waits, expecting the music to come back on with a change in song, but the noise never comes. 

        “What good could I do if the people he’s known longer can’t get him to open up.”         “He’ll talk to you. I know it.” Just what the hell did he mean by that?

         Out of curiosity, Hitoshi disregards his Switch and reaches for his phone, unlocking it and opening his chat with the blond.

         What are we listening to tonight?

         Instead of seeing the three dots dancing at the bottom of the screen, he sees the grayed-out check mark underneath his message turn green, indicating that it had been seen. But he receives no response. 

         Hitoshi frowns, laying on his back as he stares at the screen, still expecting those three dots to appear at any moment.

         So Hitoshi starts typing again. Any chance I can make a request? We could be the dorm’s personal radio show. He jokes. But the only indication that Kaminari has seen his text is that green checkmark underneath his message.

         He sighs, shutting off his screen. Clearly Kaminari didn’t want to talk. Then again, he could have not even been looking at his phone, he could just have their chat open and that’s why they were being marked as read.

         No, that’s a stupid explanation. Besides, if their messages were open, that would mean Kaminari was planning on texting him back, so why hasn’t he?         “What good could I do if the people he’s known longer can’t get him to open up.”         “He’ll talk to you. I know it.” 

         He opens his eyes to the sound of his phone ringing. When did he even close them?

         Hitoshi raises his phone, eyes widening slightly when he sees Kaminari’s name on his screen. Without thinking, he immediately swipes his thumb right to answer. “Hey-”

         “Step into the hallway.” Hitoshi almost drops his phone from how rough Kaminari sounded. 

         Curiously (and more so out of concern), he does as told. Swinging open his door and stepping out, frowning at the sight of an empty hallway. “Where are you?”

         “Across from Iida’s room.” Kaminari tells him, Hitoshi walks until he’s standing in front of Iida’s room, and across from his door is an open window. 

         The purple-haired teen hangs up and immediately climbs through it, leading him to the roof that connects both wings of Height Alliance. His feet (thankfully covered by the fluffy socks that Eri had picked out for him at the mall) hit the asphalt, and ahead of him, Kaminari is lowering his phone from his ear. 

         The blond was laying on his back, his knees drawn up as he looked up at the sky. Tonight, the skies were clear, the school was high enough away from the rest of the city that looking up from here, they could see stars shining brightly. 

         Hitoshi is hesitant to move at first, unsure as to why Kaminari was out here, let alone inviting him out here with him. But he finds himself moving toward him anyway, eventually sitting down next to the other teen, drawing up his knees to rest his arms on.

         Neither of them say anything at first. But neither of them seemed to mind the silence, it was a comfortable silence that greeted them, aside from the sound of crickets that echoed in the grass below, and the familiar commotion of their classmates getting ready for bed (unless you were Bakugou, then you were already asleep). 

         “Did you know that electricity has a sound?” Hitoshi looks behind him, looking down at Kaminari, who hadn’t looked to meet his gaze. “Most people don’t even notice that there’s a sound until it’s been cut off. It’s quiet, barely noticeable in general. But when the power cuts off, you can hear the silence. It’s kind of nerve racking.” Kaminari explains. 

         “Is that why you’re out here?”

         The question makes Kaminari bend his head to look at Hitoshi. But he nods. “It’s too loud. Most of the time, I can ignore it. But with my Quirk… it’s hard to sometimes.”         “Can’t you still hear it out here though?”

         Kaminari shrugs. “Yeah, it's not as bad though.”

         Another round of silence falls over them for a minute. Kaminari looks back up at the sky, and Hitoshi lies down next to him to do the same. 

         “What did you mean earlier? About Kaminari and Jirou not working as a couple.”

         His conversation with Bakugou rang in his ears again, nagging at him. He finds himself turning his head to look at the blond laying next to him, Bakugou talking in his ear again.

         “Tsk. Ears had a tendency to take her shitty jokes too far. Pikachu may seem laid back and doesn’t fucking care about what people say about him, but he does.”

         He couldn’t help but to think that there was some truth in Bakugou’s words.         “She came into our group not too long after they started dating, so we had a little more time to know what was okay to joke about and what he didn’t want us to talk about. But whenever one of us would try to fucking correct her, Pikachu would shrug it off, saying that it was a shitty joke.” 

         He bites back a sigh. Just how many times had you shrugged shit off, Kaminari? He wanted to ask him. But he knows better. If the roles were reversed, he wouldn’t want to explain it either. Besides, for the most part, he and Jirou seemed to really have liked each other.

         “... I’m sorry to hear about the break up.” He thought that was a good way to start. “How are you holding up?”

         “I’m fine.” 

         It sounded forced. So Hitoshi pressed. “Okay, now the truth this time.” He found himself repeating the same words his Pops’ used on him a while back, keeping his voice soft in hopes of making Kaminari comfortable enough to talk. 

         The blond didn’t say anything at first, Hitoshi thinks he wasn’t going to say anything at all. He doesn’t blame him though. 

         But then Kaminari sighs, his eyes squeezing shut as he brings his hands up to cover his face. “Not fine.” He groans, clearly not wanting to talk about it.

         “What happened with you two, anyway?” Hitoshi presses, hearing him sigh again. “I’m not going to force you to talk about it but… it’s not good to bottle things up-”

         “What would you know?” There was a snap in the blond’s voice, who dropped his hands from his face in favor of sending him a glare. “You’ve never been in a relationship before, remember?”

         “No, but I have experience with heartbreak.” He kept his voice even. He watches Kaminari deflate a little. “And I know first hand the consequences of bottling things up. Eventually, that bottle cracks, and it keeps cracking until you’re saying all the things you didn’t want to say anyway. So, let it out.”

         Kaminari goes quiet, just like he has been over the past week. But Hitoshi doesn’t push anymore, he wants him to open up on his own. 

         It’s kind of funny when you look at this, he’s using the same tactics Hizashi and Shouta had used on him when he came to live with them a little over a year ago. Even though the situations are different, it feels like the right move. It’s hard to describe.

         “... I fucked up.” Hitoshi looks toward the blond again, finding a look of guilt on his face. “And I didn’t even realize how much I had fucked up until it was over.”

         “What do you mean?”

         “She was jealous-” He cuts himself off, closing his eyes to think. “I um, I talked to Momo after homeroom, and I asked her how Ky- Jirou was doing,” Hitoshi could tell that it was hard to call her by her family name after getting so used to using her given name. “And I know she’s just looking out for her, I do. But she called me out for not being there when I should’ve been.”

         He knew it wasn’t the full story. And he knew that he probably wouldn’t get it, at least, not anytime soon. So Hitoshi nods, processing what he was told, Bakugou’s words from earlier ringing in his ears. “You know… she wasn’t…” He trails off, unsure how to word this. “I noticed how she treated you,” He starts, which as a reward, Kaminari turns to look at him. “I noticed the comments she makes, how you just laugh them off when no one else does-”

         “She was only joking when she called me dumb.”

        “Bullshit.” Kaminari’s eyes lock with his. “You don’t call someone you care about an idiot or make fun of them for how their Quirk affects them, especially when they have no control over it.”

         “I wasn’t exactly the perfect boyfriend-”

         “Well maybe she wasn’t the perfect girlfriend, either.” Disbelief crosses the blond’s face. “Jirou is a nice girl, and she’s a good friend. That I don’t doubt… But-”

         “But what?”

         “I think you two were a bit toxic with each other, not on purpose, but you brought out different sides to each other that weren’t healthy.” 

         Kaminari is quiet again. Hitoshi sighs, looking up at the sky. Above them, he can see the blinking lights of an airplane in the darkness. 

         “... You should be with someone that respects you, Kaminari, not someone who’s gonna make you question if what you said or did was wrong or make you feel like shit for something you can’t help.”

         “Like who?”

         Me. Hitoshi freezes, but says nothing in response to Kaminari’s question. Nope. No. I’m not doing this. “Someone…” Me. “Someone like Sero, or Mina?”

         Kaminari blinks at him before a laugh leaves his lips. And if that laugh did not make something in his chest flip… “Oh please. First of all, they’re into each other and are in denial.”

         Hitoshi huffs out a laugh of his own. “And secondly?”

         Kaminari holds his breath, wetting his lips. “... I- They’re practically family.” 

         “Maybe you can ask Mina to set you up with Aoyama.”

         “Dude, that’s mean.” He turns his head in time to watch Kaminari laugh at the sky above them. He swallows, but doesn’t say anything. “Hey,” The blond looks toward him again, a grin on his face. “Denki.”

         “Uh?”

         “Call me Denki.”

         Hitoshi looks confused. “Why?”

         “You tell everyone to call you by your given name, it’s only fair that someone lets you call them by theirs, right?” He looks more relaxed now, genuinely carefree. I like it. 

         Hitoshi breathes out, “Nice to meet you, Denki.” 

         A gentle breeze cuts through them, reminding them both that it was autumn, almost winter. Hitoshi watches Kami- Denki, shiver, making him notice that he was only wearing sweats and a t-shirt. 

         “We should go inside.” He tells him, sitting up on his elbows. 

         Denki sits up, shaking his head. “No,” He drags out.

         “We’re not even supposed to be out here. And just because I’m the teacher’s kid, doesn’t mean I get special privileges.”

         Then he pouts. Denki Kaminari was pouting, it made Hitoshi crack a smile as he stood up. “Boo.” Denki huffs, moving to stand up. He wobbles, and out of reflex, Hitoshi moves to steady him, his hands on his waist. 

         How he manages to bite down the blush that threatened to show itself, he doesn’t know. But Denki wasn’t as lucky. The blond looks up at him, a grin on his lips and a taunt in his eyes. “Damn, I just got out of a relationship, ‘Toshi. Patience.” He laughs. 

         Hitoshi doesn’t respond, his grip on Denki’s hips were loose, he could easily slip away from him but he didn’t. Now, it was no longer Bakugou’s voice echoing in his ear, but Denki’s. 

         “Like who?” Me.

         “Hitoshi?” Denki looks up at him, brows furrowed. He brings Hitoshi out of his thoughts long enough for him to notice Denki’s hands hovering over his chest. Fucking hell… 

         Hitoshi drops his hands and steps back, biting down the gulp. “Right, sorry. Come on,” He nods toward the window they crawled out of. “If we don’t freeze, my dad will definitely give us detention.”

         Denki stares at him for a moment, before rolling his eyes and begins making his way toward the window. “I’m pretty sure your dad would stick us in a freezer for detention just to make a point.”

         “If only you knew how much of a softy he actually is.”

         Once they made their way back inside, and Hitoshi had closed the window behind them, they made their way back to their rooms. Both stopped in front of their doors, and Hitoshi finally had a clearer look now that they were in the light, he frowned at the sight of the growing eyebags under his eyes. 

         Yeah, nope. 

         As Denki opened his door, Hitoshi slid past him, and the purple-haired boy immediately went to the mess of papers that lay scattered around his bed. Denki watched as he picked up his papers, confused.

         “What are you doing?”

         “Making sure you don’t pass out in class tomorrow.” Hitoshi told him, grabbing an empty folding (which he assumed was where these papers were from) to store his homework. “This is coming with me and-” He adds as Denki opens his mouth to argue. “- I will help you finish it or fix it before class tomorrow. Okay?”

         “Hypocrite.” Hitoshi raises a brow at him. “I know damn well that you don’t sleep either.” 

         “I’m better than I used to be.” He admits, a bit shyly at that. “But just because I do it, doesn’t mean I’m gonna let you do the same shit. Now go to bed.”

         Denki scoffs, playfully rolling his eyes to add to the dramatics. “Fine, dad. I’m going to sleep.”

         And just to play along, Hitoshi pats Denki on the head, telling him “goodnight” before heading back to his room across the hall. 

         As the door shuts, he leans back against the wood and looks down at the folder in his hands.          “... You should be with someone that respects you, Kaminari, not someone who’s gonna make you question if what you said or did was wrong or make you feel like shit for something you can’t help.”

         “Like who?”

         Me.

         A sigh leaves him. Hitoshi sets the folder down on the corner of his desk before jumping into bed. I’m not dealing with this.

[frogwithhatto]

König being Austrian

I posted these like a week ago on Ao3 and totally forgot to cross post them here!!

- König speaks the roughest german dialect known to man there’s no way he speaks high/clean German like they do in Germany. He can talk clean German but just chooses not to just to fuck with anyone who might have a poor command on his language.

- He swears. A LOT, like to the point where there are bets on how often he will use certain words of his mother tongue. I’m talking „oarschdreck“ and „gschissener“

- When someone pisses him off he mumbles „deppada oarsch“ under his lil hood. He knows no one will hear it so maybe he throws in some more of his favourite curses.

- „Schau da die trotteln an so a Haufen deppada.“

- His phone has autocorrect on and some English words get corrected to German one’s so texting with him involves a lot deciphering. It also doesn’t help that he uses like 10 different emoji’s after every sentence.

- I know that man makes an excellent cucumber salad. It’s definitely his comfort food. It’s cut up cucumbers with a dressing made of sourcream, garlic, vinegar, oil and a bit of sugar. Most of the time he will eat it straight away but sometimes he has enough self control to let it sit for a bit. (It’s way better if the cucumbers soak up some of the dressing!)

- Speaking of food. He loves cooking for other people and will be incredibly careful and considerate when it comes to special diets, allergies as well as vegetarian and vegan food. (He just wants everyone to be happy and full okay??)

- He also bakes (occasionally). He got gifted one of those god awful aprons with the sexualised picture of a woman’s body wearing a Dirndl on the front. (please tell me you know what I’m talking about)…he wears it every time he bakes and cooks.

- L o v e s to sing along to German Songs knowing no one understands a word. (Especially when he’s drunk)

- He loves Rammstein. (No I won’t consider other opinions)

- König‘s taste in music is generally heavier but he does like to listen to Falco from time to time.

- Definitely watches children’s shows he remembers fondly from growing up whenever he comes home from a mission it’s sort of a tradition. Will ask other people if they want to join him because he forgets the fact he watches them in German. He would eat Griesbrei (with cocoa powder) or rice pudding (with raspberry syrup) while watching.

- English not being his first language he sometimes struggles with it especially when he’s drunk, anxious or horny. Switching between the two in a matter of sentences or sometimes even words.

- König knows his English isn’t as bad as it could be but he does get insecure about his accent sometimes. It’s hard for him to pronounce certain words especially if he starts to overthink them. German being a harsher/rougher language when it comes to certain letters makes him struggle with the smoother English ones.

- He loves complimenting people in German. If he musters up the courage to compliment anyone it’s in German and probably half mumbled too.

- Sings or hums german lullabies to himself if he can’t sleep or attempts to ground himself.

- Gets a bit shy about his heritage sometimes so he would be absolutely delighted to teach another person something about his culture and maybe you want him to translate some English words to German?? Want to try some of his favourite food from home? No problem „I vould luv to cook for u.“ he smiles.

- Speaking of someone using German when talking to him… Call him „Meins“ or „Liebling“ and he’s going to be putty in your hands.

Translations: Oarschdreck - fucking shit (?)

Gschissener - could be used for calling someone an asshole

Deppada oarsch - dumb asshole

Schau da die Trotteln an so a Haufen deppada - look at those idiots, a bunch of douches

Meins - mine, Liebling - my love

[majorbaby]

20 questions for fic writers

thank you so much for the tag @bornforastorm, i loved reading through yours :3 

i will tag @marley-manson / @rescue-ram / @persianflaw / @leonardcohenofficial / @raywritesthings

1. How many works do you have on Ao3? 14… will be 15 in under 24 hrs ;)

2. What's your total Ao3 word count? 136,971… just over 100K of which were published this year :D 

3. What fandoms do you write for? MASH at the moment, with no end in sight. I have two ideas for twin peaks but not much motivation to write them, let alone the discipline. 

4. What are your top five fics by kudos? if you really wanna know here’s my ao3 and you can you sort by kudos, i don’t wanna link my fics in other fandoms that are almost 7 years old now… pls… 

5. Do you respond to comments? i used to be quite diligent about doing it but when i was publishing near-daily for kinktober i fell behind because i was literally writing every day. i may still go back to respond to them because i like doing it. 

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending? the beejhawk sex pollen fic (heavy dubcon warning)

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending? i’m realizing that most of traphawk fics are only ‘happy endings’ if you see them as self-contained, which they aren’t really, because even though trapper’s exit isn’t at all relevant, i’m not consciously ‘unwriting’ that. but in-fic probably Goodbye, Farewell and Amen to That because it explicitly states that TrapHawk can handle whatever is thrown at them, which would include whatever happens post-fic. 

8. Do you get hate on fics? for a while i had an anon who submitted vagues about me / my work so like yes, i’ve read a couple vagues seemed they were about my fic but, and i know this sounds like a cop-out but genuinely, i’m kinda flattered by anyone who hates my fic and still manages to read the whole thing and write a public post about how how they didn’t like it? like, what are we??? 

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind? i consider myself primarily a smut writer, only incidentally non-smut writer. i write all kinds and can’t wait to diversify more. 

10. Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest one you’ve written? my dream fic is a specific crossover.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen? yes

12. Have you ever had a fic translated? not recently, but in former fandoms yes. 

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before? sort of. it isn’t published. but maybe soon. 

14. What’s your all time favorite ship? traphawk is the ship to me. some things we should be dramatic about: there’s the traphawk that i write and then there’s the traphawk that i live, which only my irl trapper understands 

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will? now that i have discovered the margaret longfic i really want to write i’ve officially abandoned my 80K canon-compliant margaret WIP

16. What are your writing strengths? i’m disciplined, i want to improve, i take risks, i’m curious, i’m honest and i welcome strong challenges from the people who edit my work.

17. What are your writing weaknesses? i have some barriers (i’m dyslexic and english is my not my first language) but i could still stand to be much more diligent about grammar and punctuation. beyond that, my prose tends to be flowery and verbose and need to be reined in a lot. i’m trying to get better at on my own but it helps that my OG beta, marley, is kind of my stylistic foil lol (hope she doesn’t mind me saying), she trims a lot of the fat from my work and helps me communicate my ideas better. lastly, sometimes i suffer from being really married to an idea that sounded cooler in my head than it does on paper, and i have a really hard time setting it down.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic? i say this as someone who is multilingual - it’s almost never a good idea, especially in fic, if you’re having a main character speak partially in another language for no reason except to note that you, the author, knows that they speak another language. it could maybe make sense for atmosphere, but in that case, just say “they were speaking x language / they said something in x language”. 

i’ll be honest, it annoys me so much that if i see a character in a fic drop a few words in a language other than english and then continue on in english that i will x-out of a fic. there’s got to be some thoughtful in-universe explanation for that e.g. if you’re in Canada, bilingual service agents will say ‘Hello/Bonjour’ to you to indicate that you have an option to speak with them in either language. 

19. First fandom you wrote for? uhhh i honestly don’t remember. i’ve been writing fanfiction since before i was a teenager. first time i published it might’ve been for the legend of zelda. 

20. Favorite fic you’ve written? at the moment it’s cherry bomb! because it was a nice, smutty interlude in traphawk’s relationship and a fic that exists mostly for kink’s sake but still has a distinct vibe, unlike filthysweet which i don’t hate, but imo is unremarkable. CB is 95% style 5% substance and still contains weight somehow. i really hope i can recreate that again. 

[bottombatch]

Fanfic Writer Questions

thanks for the tag @optiwashere!

If you're reading this, consider yourself tagged! But here is one more for the road: @collegeoflore

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

Apparently I have 20? That's news to me lol. I would have guessed like 10 to 12. I've used this AO3 account for a while, I guess.

2. What's your total AO3 word count?

62,119 words, according to the statistics.

3. What fandoms do you write for?

Currently, only Baldur's Gate 3. Before that I was writing lightcanon for League of Legends.

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

1. And They Were Roommates

2. To Muzzle a Gith

3. Misfit and Nomad

4. I Thought About You

5. Workouts in a Winter Hellscape

Damn. Some of these are callbacks.. Not too surprised, though. These either have popular ships or popular fandoms. LoL lightcanon in 1, 3, and 4 make sense to me, even if I'm embarrassed by the writing in them. Continually shocked by To Muzzle a Gith. I guess Shadowzel is that popular? I don't know. I have so little desire to write for them again and the writing in it makes me cringe, tbh. Same with #5 LMAO. You couldn't pay me enough to reread the fics I wrote in highschool.

5. Do you respond to comments?

Yes, always! Well. If someone comments on something really old I might not? But only because im scared they'll ask me to update it lmao. But in general, yes! I love talking and hearing what people liked!

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

If I'm including the 20 QOTD Challenge fic (and i am because this is my post), I'd have to give it to Nerves, ch19 of that challenge. I mean, its a flashback scene about killing a childhood friend (and maybe lover) for a crumb of an uncaring goddess' attention.

It's pretty much the only piece of angst I've written that doesn't have some overtone of hope to it. I'm hoping to work it into my act 1 rewrite because I like it so much.

7. What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

To me, its Savoring Seconds from the challenge. It's bittersweet but after everything those two have been through... It's the happiest I can envision them ever being. Maybe that's just my bias tho :P

8. Do you get hate on fics?

No? Do most people get hate on fics? I haven't had anything of the sort. Hard to imagine what that would even be like..

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

Yes, I do. Outside of To Muzzle a Gith, I think I write pretty tame stuff? More emotional than anything.

10. Do you write crossovers? What's the craziest one you've written?

A Common Song was really the only crossover, but even then.. it was really just a League of Legends fic with a cyberpunk2077 au. It had some good ideas tho.. maybe I'll return to it some day.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not that I've noticed?

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

Nope!

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Not really. I've helped with brainstorming before but that's really all.

14. What's your all time favorite ship?

This.. is tough. I change fandoms too often for something like this 😭 If I had to pick a bg3 ship... Laz/Karlach. Is it cheating to say my OC ship? Probably. But fuck you, its MY post. I've cried multiple times on the bus just thinking about these two, no one else had quite the strangle hold on me. (I was thinking abt Karlach's funeral btw).

15. What's a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

A Common Song. I was cooking on some of those ideas but I was FAR too ambitious lmao

16. What are your writing strengths?

I'm... Not totally sure, to be honest. Its hard to read your own stuff and see what's uniquely strong. If you have any thoughts, please let me know!

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

I don't think my writing has much rhythm to it. I'd like to work on that. Also my grammar is shoddy at best. English classes were always my lowest grades :,)

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

For fantasy languages I think it's fun! It can add a lot of depth and creates a lot of insight to a characters culture. Dabbling with Drowic for example was a lot of fun.

But like, a real language? Naw. I don't know any other languages so unless it was a phrase I knew a character said in canon.. I wouldn't want to risk a shoddy google translate.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

Uh. It was either Invader Zim, Mass Effect, or SAO? I'm not totally sure. This would have predated AO3, when I was in middle school or something. I've tried to find those fics but I think they're genuinely lost.

Probably for the best lol.

20. Favorite fic you've written?

Currently, it is Snowfall. Once I post it, I think it'll be the act 1 rewrite.

[dovithedarklord]

Age of Monsters - Chapter Three

Pairing: OFC x Simon "Ghost" Riley, OFC x König

Tags: Slow Burn, Slow Build, Enemies to Lovers, Alternate Universe, Blood and Gore, Blood and Violence, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, POV First Person, Not Beta Read, Medical Inaccuracies, Military Inaccuracies, AFAB OC

Trigger Warning: The story will contain violance, blood and smut in detail. Please, keep that in mind!

⚠️MDNI⚠️

...................................

Author's Note

The training begins, and with it, Leona can finally experience an intimate moment with Ghost. And none of them are subtle.

Trigger Warning! The chapter describes the use of weapons and violence. There is violence in the tags, but I thought it would be better to give a warning here as well.

I.M.L. – Infected Mammalian Lifeform

(I proofread myself before posting, so sorry if there are mistakes! I write the story in my language first, and I translate it after. English is not my first language, so help is welcomed! Just be nice, please! )

if you're interested you can find the story on AO3: Chapter Three

......................................................................................

"Come on, lass! Just pretend you're runnin' from enforcers!" I hear the deep voice of a man from the edge of the practice obstacle course, who has been my number one cheerleader for the last week and a half, and I only respond to his kindness with an irritated grunt. Of course, MacTavish doesn't get discouraged by this but watches with unbroken glee as I finally get a hold of the rope and pull myself to the top of the concrete wall, then swing my legs over and jump down with far-from-graceful movements in order to drag myself toward the next obstacle.

When the possibility of my training came up, based on Laswell's words I assumed for some reason that we would get right into the middle of it and that I would acquire skills that would help me survive my potential little visits to the field. Instead, my hopes were crushed on the first morning, and Price cheerfully informed me that, considering my lifestyle and experience so far, they would present me with their treats for newbies. Thus, with the help of MacTavish and Garrick, I was immediately able to dive into the mysteries of endurance training. And while at first, it seemed that my stamina was surprisingly good, based on how suspiciously well I did on the first day, I soon had to realize that they can and want to invent new ways to show how untrue my initial feelings were.

Of course, I do not argue that my survival should not depend on the condition of my body, which is used to laboratory chairs and tactical scavenger hunts for blood, but even then, this does not ease the frustration and annoyance that is still simmering inside me. Even though slowly every day, every minute, previously unknown parts of my body start to ache, my stubbornness and pride do not allow me to let even an iota of my silent suffering surface. Because I know that everyone secretly expects that the arrogant and terribly dangerous little bitch will shit herself from the pain that these fun little daily exercises gift her with. But I won't give anyone, not even myself, the pleasure of this being even a possibility. That's why every day I swallow the hundreds of insults that threaten to come out of my mouth and the agony in my muscles, and face every stupid shit these two come up with for me, from running for several kilometers and carrying rucksacks, to the current obstacle course. And I hate to admit it, but the enthusiasm and witty comments of the two Hunters help in a strange way.

Of course, the fact that the two of them seem to feel comfortable around me does not mean that the suspicion and mistrust towards me has disappeared even for a minute. It does not escape my attention how the other soldiers serving in the unit continue to eye me cautiously, and no one dares to get close enough, because maybe I'll be true to my word and turn them into foaming-mouthed corpses with one touch. Which could be very amusing, but it quickly became boring, and now the many stares scrutinizing me, which come at me every step of the way, just dance on my nerves. And despite the fact that they are not openly hostile to me, it is also quite obvious, that the four members of the small group that I was thrown into do not let their guard down around me either. But why should they? It's only logical that they won't just miraculously become my bffs, when we all know that they cooperate out of necessity, and I feign obedience out of constraint. However, despite these facts and my suffering, I am having fun and let out a wry smile every now and then when my two trainers encourage me or get into some entertaining verbal sparring with me. I would be lying if I said that these moments do not move my twisted little soul, because until now I have kept everyone within the comfort of indifference and distance. Because someone who wants to maintain a disguise won't let anyone close enough to make their life exciting.

Ignoring the screams of my body, which aches from bruises, abrasions, and muscle soreness, I get on my stomach and start crawling in the sand under the next part of the course, making sure that the complicated system of barbed wire above me does not rearrange my back. For once, I'm glad that I'm smaller than those for whom this obstacle course was originally designed because at least I don't have to fear that to crown it all, I'll be enriched with abstract patterns ingrained in my skin. It's a different story that instead I inhale, swallow, and embrace the amount of sand that would be enough for a lifetime, which sufficiently strains the fragile fibers of my nerves. But out of spite, I drag myself on with my lips pressed together angrily, because if the many young halfwits stuck here managed to go all the way through this stupid course, then I won't be the first to give up just because the fucking dirt is crunching under my teeth.

At first, I questioned why was there a whole training ground with an obstacle course at the base, when in theory official bodies at the colonies, but even private units only hire trained soldiers, but Garrick kindly enlightened me that in recent years they accept almost everyone who turns eighteen. Since eradicating infected lifeforms and protecting the colony is not a job one can possibly retire from, they cannot afford to wait years until replacements are produced in place of the people who have been lost. That is why they are forced to train the new recruits themselves so that they are able to perform their tasks as soon as possible. In any case, they have a hard time luring experienced soldiers or even new recruits from law enforcement to an infected lifeform liquidation unit, because no one wants to venture outside the walls of the colony unless they suddenly have a mad desire for adventure. Or unless they end up becoming a loser like me and get the unique opportunity as a punishment.

But before my heart could be moved by their struggle to fill this whole place with monster baits, I quickly moved past this small detail, because my own misery became my focus again. And even now, the only thing pounding in my head is that if all this crap called endurance training can be done by little scumbags younger than me, then there's no way in hell that I, who has been enjoying her days with the delusion that she's a predator, won't be able to succeed. Leona, you naive little fool. Now you'll find out what it's like when the real predators take for a ride to fuck-around-and-find-out land.

When I finally pull myself out under the last barbed wire, I straighten up and head toward the last section of the course, and the only thing floating in front of my eyes is that soon I will finally be able to put my pretty ass down for a fleeting moment. And as I survey the first wooden beam that appears in front of me, which according to Garrick and his companion's earlier explanation I should get through by swinging my lovely body through above it, I suddenly feel the insatiable need, that maybe it would be a marvelous idea to make a dead man out of one of them in a creative way. Because now I am absolutely certain that each and every task was chosen with full awareness of my physical handicaps, to test how tough of a girl I really am. But they won't be disappointed, because I may still not be a well-built gazelle, but thank heavens I have the brain capacity to compensate. And no one said I can't cheat anyway. And I, if nothing else, am very good at cheating.

I take a few steps back and prepare to perform my stunt, then I try to jump onto the first beam, and when I manage to climb onto it quite skillfully, I give myself the impetus to continue with my small success. Keeping my momentum, I jump to the next beam, and I manage to surprise even myself with how springy my movements are as I continue to jump around. My body seems to be reacting unexpectedly well to the mixture of adrenaline and frustration raging inside me. Because although I expected that I would overcome this obstacle more easily by cheating, I also did not anticipate myself to leap from log to log so elegantly. And when I reach the last damned beam, I hop down from it with a more satisfied smile than necessary, not even caring about how all my limbs scream in unison from the movement.

As I lean on my knees with my hands and try to finally catch my breath, being my own best friend, I give a proud mental pat on the back to thank my humble self for helping my sanity through this miserable ordeal. Because the universe is my witness I have come dangerously close to losing it many times.

"Nice work! The runtime is good too!" Garrick shouts from the side of the track, looking at his watch, and I smile as if it has been clear to me from the beginning that this would be the case. I suppress the voices deep within me that remind me that my irrational loathing of embarrassment and failure is what actually deserves credit for my surprising success in training today and the past few days, because my self-esteem cannot take any realistic self-criticism right now. "You moved like a cat. Like a handicapped, chased cat!"

"I didn't expect anythin' else from an outlaw!" MacTavish too chimes into the quality check of my work with a grin, and I only give him a rather piercing look from the corner of my eyes. I should make peace with the idea that the Hunter will never let go of the fact that he was the one who ended my silly little escape attempt, and that he is happy to remind me of this fact every chance he gets for his own amusement. "Although I could send you back because of that last part!" He remarks, and this suddenly revives me from my fatigue, and I fix my light eyes on him with such speed that is quite amazing in itself.

"Try it, and I swear I'll stab you in the heart with your own hand..." The words break out of me before I can stop myself, my murderous gaze still on the man, who bursts into enthusiastic laughter at my threat.

"I like that you are so fiery, Woods!" He answers easily, alleviating my annoyance for a moment, as a sincere and perhaps proud smile appears on his face. MacTavish seems to be the kind of person who easily steals his way into the hearts of others with all his sociability and directness, and so, despite the fact that I know the circumstances and purpose of why I ended up here, I find it difficult not to soften up in his direction from time to time. Especially when he acts like he's really trying to treat me as his comrade. "Take a breather!" He advises, and turning back to Garrick they engage in conversation, most likely brainstorming about the details of my torture tomorrow, and I take this opportunity to finally rest my tired body a little bit.

When I finally feel that the tachycardia caused by physical exertion will not end my earthly career, I straighten up and stretch my tortured muscles with a rather tired groan. And as the pain awakens in my body in completely unknown places, I pull the corner of my mouth in an annoyed grimace and examine my latest creations on my outstretched arms. Not a day goes by that I don't add something artistic and beautiful again to the scratches and bruises that have accumulated so far, and I don't have to be disappointed now either, because the new injuries are blooming on the tender skin of my forearm in such a way that it's a joy to look at.

At first, it occurred to me that perhaps in my own interest, it would be worthwhile to heal my wounds, but then logic dismissed the idea. Although Laswell assured me that from now on I wouldn't have to worry about blood, she slyly didn't mention how often I would be enjoying my little snacks. But it was enough for me to think about the problems that hospitals face in managing the blood supply, and it already became clear that I would not be spoiled. And although there is not much chance that I will accompany one of my new friends on one of their adventurous missions in the near future, they can still request my services at any time. I would rather suffer like this than be weakened by hunger and beg someone for a tasty morsel. So I opted for the more difficult and uncomfortable option and took up with the idea that from now on pain, fatigue, and injuries would be my close friends. And looking back, I don't even regret my decisions, because they motivate me to complete the newest delicacies of my training in an unexpected way.

Of course, this doesn't change the fact that I feel like someone who has been run over by a tank and then thrown into a spin dryer, and my clothes sticking to me from sweat and dirt don't help my situation either. It's true, right now my physical torment seems like a much more pressing problem, but the fact that I'm probably a stinking pile of filth can't be ignored, which also helps my mood to hit rock bottom.

That's why I decide to ditch my t-shirt, judging that the rays of the spring sun are already warm enough that I don't have to fear for a delightful case of pneumonia over my basic torment if I stay in a thin tank top. And as the pleasant breeze finally caresses my burning muscles, I close my eyes with relief, crumple my t-shirt into my pocket, and enjoy the momentary peace, which will probably soon be broken by another torture idea of these sadistic madmen.

It almost doesn't surprise me when it happens, and I feel the heavy gaze settle on me that has been following my every breath since I arrived here. I allow myself a few moments to let the visceral urge to escape that awakens in every fiber of my body subside, because I don't want to give away the fact that whatever intimidation tactics he's using seems to be succeeding in making me uneasy. I don't blame myself for the instinctive feeling that wants to move all my limbs towards defense and flight, but my sanity knows that this is just part of a test, which I seem to be passing with flying colors so far. Much to his chagrin, I suspect.

I open my eyes lazily, and it doesn't take much to catch the owner of the stare inspecting me on my periphery hiding in the shadow of one of the buildings. I turn my head towards him with deliberate slowness, making sure all expression is gone from my face because I'm sure this man would spot the first signs of doubt or fear on my features. And as soon as our eyes meet, we begin the silent battle yet again that we always indulge in for a few moments, ever since bad luck brought me here.

My senses were right about that Riley would see me as real prey, because from the moment I first came under the searching weight of those dark eyes in that briefing room, he took every opportunity to study me further. Unlike the other Hunters, I haven't exchanged a single word with him yet, but even without that, I know that he is the one who until now was only waiting for the opportunity to strike and send me packing. It would be hard not to feel the mistrust and cold hostility emanating from him, but fortunately, he does not affect my soul enough to let myself to be intimidated. No matter how close he gets to igniting that tight feeling in my stomach that sends the message of danger in every fiber of my being like an alarm. He could fool anyone that he just harmlessly observes his surroundings as he casually hides with his tall figure leaning against the wall of the building, but I'm not stupid. Because every single muscle reveals that he is only looking for an opportunity.

And I know that this show is just for me, which would make me feel honored if I didn't know that this game could quickly turn very bloody if we both didn't have our leashes restricting us. While the others have tried to somehow establish a rudimentary relationship with me, this probably hasn't crossed his mind, because he's still waiting for me to make a mistake and do something suspicious like a tiger ready to pounce. I don't even blame him, because I would do the same if someone threw a poisonous snake into my peaceful little nest, which I don't know when is going to bite me.

He's not surprised by how bravely I'm making eye contact with him, and at this point, I think he almost expects me to give him that attention. It occurs to me that I might as well ignore his existence for a change, but I'm not so flippant as to lose sight of him until our little duel is over. Because the possibility immediately flashes in my mind that he will use this one opportunity to stop the watching and spring into action. Although I know that he could catch me at any time just as easily as he appears out of nowhere when he feels like it. I probably wouldn't even stand a chance to defend myself, which makes me even more curious, if he doesn't like me this much, why doesn't he just cut to the chase and kill me. He could set it up as an accident and no one would suspect a thing.

Still, it reassures me when he continues to stand still with the immobility of a statue and glares at me from behind his mask, since we both know that nothing can be done because I was tossed into this den of wolves for a reason. He also knows that he needs my little services, no matter how much he hates the thought of letting a viper like me near him or his teammates. He can't get rid of me, and the thought brings a nasty little smile to the corners of my mouth.

It appears that I finally manage to startle him because those dark eyes narrow dangerously when they discover the mocking serenity on my face. Although he is far away from me, I can still see how his posture changes and he straightens up, which makes his tall figure, which already commands authority, become even more threatening. And as much as I know I'm playing with fire, I still enjoy getting a reaction out of him, because this man is mystery incarnate.

If someone is skilled at observing their surroundings, then anyone becomes an easy-to-solve puzzle in their eyes. All they have to do is study the other's facial expressions, movements, and words, and the mystery will be solved. But Riley comes across someone who has earned his code name, as he behaves more like a ghost than a real person. It's almost impossible to figure out what's going on in his head, and I probably wouldn't have an easier time without a mask either. And I hate the feeling that I can't work out the mystery because it takes away the only weapon from my hands that has helped me keep my quiet little life in order. Because up until now I have reached my goals by deciphering others, and now I have an inkling feeling that he wants to eliminate this practical little trick of mine. As long as I can decode people, I feel safe. And he's quite adamant about pushing me into the deepest uncertainty.

And that's why I become reckless and provoke him, because even if I only earn his anger, that tells me plenty about him. Anger is a very identifiable emotion, and although it can make the opponent unpredictable, it at least shows the shortest path to their weaknesses. But the ones who don't show anything other than cold indifference need to be teased a little. Because everyone can be solved sooner or later, you just have to push them in to right direction.

I raise my head higher, turning towards him fully now, and with every inch of my body I communicate to him to come and do whatever ideas he conceived in his mind after seeing my attitude. I'm sure my behavior is irritating enough that it makes him want to show off his dazzling abilities in creative ways. Yet how sad it is that while I would probably suffer hell at his hands, he would still get the short end of the stick. And as he takes a step towards the training ground, I flash my teeth triumphantly at him, as a grin appears on my face to crown my sarcastic expression. And it seems that it has its effect, his whole body tenses as he moves forward, and I prepare to analyze what his anger will lead him to do.

"Hey, Woods! You've rested enough! You have one more lap before you're done!" The moment is interrupted by Garrick's voice, and I reflexively turn my head in the direction of the voice, thus jolting me out of the romantic little moment I shared with my favorite Hunter.

"The fuck are you talking about!?" This rather sophisticated question bursts out of me as a combination of indignity and disbelief, and as only a mischievous grin appears on Garrick's face, I feel that my previous vigour ready for provocation and action disappears like a shipwreck in the sea.

"This is the punishment for cheatin'!" notes MacTavish, pointing to the problematic section on the obstacle course where I had executed my previous cunning solution, and I feel the kind of rage light up inside me that whispers ideas in my ear in a fierce voice about how I could help the two Hunters cross to the other world. "And I'd make it quick if I were you because tomorrow's gonna be a busy day for ya!"

"What the hell are you implying?" I ask rather annoyed, and as they exchange a telling glance accompanied by a suspicious smile, I almost immediately regret that I wanted to be curious at all.

"Starting tomorrow, Ghost will be joinin' your training." Reveals MacTavish and this one statement is enough for a mixture of surprise and anxiety to set up camp in me again. If I had forgotten about him until this moment, now my attention is diverted back to the mentioned Hunter, and I turn my head back to where he has been resting previously with such speed that I am afraid I will break my own neck. But Riley disappeared into thin air, leaving behind nothing but the foreboding that was slowly creeping into my mind.

"He won't be as cool as us! So get movin', because you'll need the rest before he gets his hands on you!" Warns Garrick, and I, somewhat overstepping the ominously tight lump in my stomach, direct my revived murderous gaze toward the man. But before I can throw some sassy remark back, I swallow the insults that threaten to come to my tongue, and with a rather irritated sigh, I head towards the beginning of the track, not caring how the pain gnaws at every part of my body with inceasing enthusiasm at every step. There's no point in arguing because the later I can leave these two oafs here, the less time I'll have to mentally prepare for tomorrow. However, if I have deciphered one thing, it is that the ghost's feathers can be ruffled, and I can finally reap the fruits of this tomorrow. And I can't suddenly decide whether I should be happy or rather uneasy.

⃰*

I rub my shoulders tiredly and try to breathe some alertness into myself as I follow MacTavish's directions towards the base's shooting range, because the shower doesn't seem to have helped one bit. The two bastards did not spare me today either, and tormented me until the afternoon, with the kind remark that they only wanted to help, because they saw the stage fright that plagued me before my first joint training with Riley. I might even have been moved by their sympathy if it hadn't been fake, and if they hadn't enjoyed it so obliviously as I was suffering. But at least as a reward, they let me find my way to the range alone, without any bodyguards. I could even try to escape, but everyone knows I have more sense than that. Their suspicions have not subsided yet, and for the time being, I don’t want to give a reason to stop the endlessly calm process of my little integration.

They weren't mistaken in that I had mixed feelings about this little meeting, and I've spent the whole day trying to sort out these very tangled threads. It's clear that Riley doesn't like me, and there's nothing wrong with that, since he certainly didn't manage to sneak his way into my heart with his attitude which could only be described and mocked as distant with great benevolence. At the same time, this hunch is not enough for me to have sufficient information about him, and I have to understand him so that the doubts disappear from my mind and the control is back in my hands. In this current situation, I'm backed into such a small corner that I'm willing to gain every advantage, at any cost. It is difficult for a person to get rid of old habits, and even though I am now locked in a tiny cage and dancing to my captor's tune, the time will come when I will need my observations to manipulate my way out of here. After all, I still don't want to wait here until they turn me into a used commodity. Because even though there are light and funny moments, I haven't forgotten why I came here.

The roofed building of the shooting range appears before my eyes, and I immediately start searching for my playmate today. I half expect him to pop up out of nowhere to surprise me again, but I have to be disappointed because he doesn't seem to be in the mood to continue our usual duel now. My gaze immediately finds him, as if his tall figure had its own, magical gravitational force, and I reluctantly admit to myself that it is not that far off from the truth. The entire base treats him with awe-filled admiration when he honors his surroundings by making an appearance, and the many busy little workers follow him as if the Queen of England had come to life again from the pages of the fucking history books. And there is in fact something dark and authoritative about his aura that attracts the curious eyes. But it only awakens the hold of the disgusting iron grip of the unknown in me and encourages every cell in my brain to invent new ways to break his rigid mask.

"How kind of you to prepare." I throw my comment at the man when I get within earshot, carefully measuring the wide array of weapons lined up at one of the firing positions with my bright eyes.

He's not surprised by my arrival, and I am sure he had heard me approach before I could even notice him. For a minute it seems that maybe he will purposefully ignore me, but when he turns towards me from the threshold of the room at the end of the shooting range and fixes his penetrating gaze on me, a small, cheeky smile creeps into the corners of my mouth. He closes the door behind him with a slow movement and stalks towards me with firm, springy steps, reminiscent of a big cat that is about to break the neck of an unsuspecting gazelle. Even though he's wearing a simple pair of jeans and a hoodie, his aura is menacing enough that I have to consciously steel every nerve that screams it's time to defend myself because danger has arrived.

He stops a few steps away from me, and it's the first time we are so close that I can sense the ridiculously powerful strength emanating from him. He doesn't have to do anything, just tower over me and glare at me like I'm an ulcer spreading an infectious disease, and I wonder for a fleeting moment how easily he could snap my spine like a twig. And that immediately brings out the desire in me to somehow get under his skin, and thus to see the anger shining in those brown eyes rather than the icy indifference that he is currently radiating towards me. Because I can't see through this apathy, and it scares and upsets me, to put it mildly.

"Let's start." He finally speaks briefly, and his deep voice is exactly as controlled and monotonous as his entire being. Still, there is a hoarseness hidden in it, which, together with his hard British accent, gives it a very individual color, and he sounds exactly like a real Hunter. Determined, strong, and calm with a touch of superiority.

"He can speak." I note almost only to myself, and there is no evidence that he heard me, but despite the fact that I do not provoke any reaction from him, I know that his sharp ears received my comment. His entire kind is famous for its heightened senses, so he deliberately ignores it, which could even annoy me, but for me, it's just another sign that I'm on the right path to a breakthrough. Because if I hadn't managed to start the road to his anger so well before, he wouldn't be trying so vehemently to deal with my existence as little as possible. Of course, it's also plausible that he just despises me, but I'd like to think that he reserves his persistent coldness as an honor just for me.

He puts on protective earmuffs and walks towards the shooting stall where he prepared the table full of weapons, grabs a pistol with his gloved hands, and I observe curiously as he loads it and positions himself ready to shoot with practiced movements, as if he has been doing this since he was a newborn. And with a little exaggeration, he has. If not since he was in diapers, but he has been prepared to be a Hunter since he became potty trained. One might even feel sorry for the unfortunate fools who are trained without a choice to be the dogs of colonies and governments, but my sympathy is short-lived. There is no such loophole that cannot be found with enough dedication.

He pulls the trigger again and again with almost untraceable movements, and he empties the magazine before my brain can even comprehend it. I look at the target on the other side of the shooting range, and genuine shock fills me as I process the holes in every vital organ of the human figure on the white poster. As much as I expected the Hunters to have such a wide repertoire of abilities, it still takes me a few seconds to process just how quickly he could eliminate anyone based on this, especially if he actually activated himself. Because to be fair that's only the tip of the iceberg of his abilities, and I'm sure whether it's another weapon or even his bare hands, he handles them all with similar cold efficiency. And that's exactly why this guy rouses the uncomfortable whisper of dark thoughts in my head, because his talent for killing and his controlled behavior make the most dangerous combination possible. And I dare to risk that he is more lethal than his other three little friends combined.

"Your turn." He says with a tone similar to his previous impassive comment, and after replacing the empty magazine, he hands me the pistol. It seems that he wants to preserve his verbosity for the duration of my training, which of course will not make this whole ordeal easier, but there is no doubt that this is exactly his goal. He does what he's told, but no more than necessary, because he clearly doesn't care enough about me to take this daunting task seriously. And from this, it is not difficult to conclude that he denies reality just as much as I do, because he is not willing to even entertain the idea that I will be here long enough to be able to make use of his teachings. How observant.

With similar enthusiasm, I snatch the gun from him and put on one of the earmuffs, and after loading the weapon, I attempt to take the position suitable for shooting while recalling what he showed me with his little performance. The last time I held a gun was when I completed the mandatory military lessons during my school years. Although at first, I thought this parade was just an unwarranted annoyance, that is forced on every young teenager in the colonies, I soon had to realize that maybe I was enjoying the violence a little more than I should. I also liked the way the cold metal pressed against my hand with its weight, and I felt strong and powerful when I shot the imaginary enemy. But in the end, I stuck to my cunning tricks, because they could eliminate the potential victim more quietly and less conspicuous than this.

Raising the gun, I aim at the human figure on the paper opposite my shooting position, looking for my little buddy's head in the opening of the rear sight. When the pistol finally settles on the target, after a last breath, my index finger pulls the trigger, my hand tenses to resist the force of the recoil, and the excited tingle I experienced when I was still a teenager moves to my stomach. And the perverse joy that the sound of the gunshot caused at the time also appears in my little noggin once more, especially when I see the hole in the head of my little printed human figure.

But my joy is shortlived, because unfortunately the outside world soon finds its way back to my senses, and with it comes the feeling of Riley's heavy gaze, which almost burns the skin of my face. I don't even have to look at him to know that my activities are being watched with critical eyes, and when I receive no feedback, I take it as silent consent to continue. Of course, it's a lot harder for me to enjoy shooting when he's monitoring and analyzing my every move and twitch, no doubt silently listing the flaws he can throw my way afterward. And this irritates me enough to fire the next couple of shots as quickly as possible.

When the magazine is empty, I shove the pistol on the table with more violence than necessary, and I take off my earmuffs to look at him questioningly, already eagerly waiting to hear the affectionate and encouraging observation he wants to give me. Undoubtedly, this whole situation could be really constructive, but I doubt that I can expect such niceties from him. I expectantly study his features emerging from behind his balaclava mask, and no matter how much I want to, I still can't find anything worthwhile there that would be even a little more than indifference.

"The hold is too tense." He begins after what seems like decades, and I stay silent as to let him continue because I'm pretty sure he wants to pick me apart with his words. "Your hands are too high, your breathin' is not even, and it takes too long to find the target. You wouldn't stand a chance against an I.M.L." He sums up his criticism briefly and concisely. His voice is harsh, and I cock my head to the side with a small sigh at his sudden stream of words, still bravely keeping eye contact with him. Even if he hurts my self-esteem and feelings with his detailed opinion, I won't let my pride speak for me now, because I have enough self-criticism to know that he is correct. Of course, this doesn't change the fact that his nasty little comments give me additional motivation to continue.

"What a generous evaluation." I answer simply, and turning my body towards him, I rest my hand on the rough surface of the shooting station's table. "I was starting to think that you wouldn't grace me with your excellent communication skills." I begin my sneaky little tactics because it's time to get back to our little dance. He certainly doesn't feel that way, seeing that his eyes only narrow as a warning, and I'm sure this would make people with a weaker mentality than me withdraw in fear. And although I know I'm stepping into dangerous territory, unfortunately, that's not enough to make me back off when a clear goal is set in front of me.

"I'm here for your training. Not to chinwag." He states his opinion quite bluntly, and it seems that he wants to cut the flood of possible comments coming out of me short because he is already turning back to his weapons in search of another one to continue my little tutoring. Of course, it's obvious that I should do as he suggested because it would be beneficial to learn as many useful and inventive tricks from him as possible, but considering that his every movement shows that he would rather hang me instead of the practice target poster, I don't think I can acquire anything valuable today. It's obvious that he wants to get this whole chore done with as little interaction and as quickly as possible, and I could be legitimately offended by that. But since in today's little session becoming a master sniper is not the goal for me either, I don't mind if he still writes me off as monster food right now.

"How sad. And quite rude." I note with feigned innocence, then purse my lips with exaggerated sadness, and at my tone, his hand reaching for the chosen weapon stops in midair. "I thought we had to warm up to each other during training. Won't Laswell be disappointed when she finds out how poorly you treat me?" I inquire cynically, still with pretended hurt in my voice, which seems to be enough to get him out of his peaceful task.

Now he stops looking busy for good, and straightens up as he turns to me, focusing all his suffocating attention on me. I raise my head, and continue to study his face with my eyes, but I still manage to spot how his shoulders tense up under his hoodie, and I have to forcefully hold back the sparks of insidious pleasure that are growing inside in my belly. Keep calm, he doesn't need much.

"Shut your mouth and do what I say, if you know what's good for you." He warns, and there is an edge to his voice that inexplicably makes my stomach jump from a mixture of fear and excitement. I could ponder on how normal it is to feel so comfortable in this whole near-suicidal situation, but unfortunately, it would be too late to turn back from here. I've already decided to follow this path, because now I'm honestly curious about what he really thinks, what makes him lose his composure, and what causes the mask he puts on so enthusiastically to the public to fall. I want to know how to get under his skin, because that's the only way I can make him careless and exploitable. And that's all I need.

"Oh but, how can we become a team like this? Don't you want me to be a good girl and fit in?" I keep babbling to him, putting an evil little mask of disbelief on my face, enjoying our little conversation from the bottom of my heart, because I can finally express in words what I've been trying to convey to him with my gaze all this time. And I know how terribly it annoys him that duty has brought us together here, because even though he would rather bend my neck like a pretzel, he knows he has no choice. An order is an order, and obedience is coded into my little Hunter friends. "I'm supposed to be your Healer, but how will I fulfill my duties when one of my teammates is so hostile to me?" I inquire, pressing the last words with deliberate mockery because although he doesn't reveal much about himself, I can see how he behaves with the other three Hunters. A real happy bunch, who stick together through thick and thin, blood and mutant guts. And even I'm a little jealous of that.

Even though the balaclava covers him, I can still see how his face becomes tense, and in my mind's eye, I imagine his teeth clenched in his mouth as he tries to swallow his anger and keep his cool. And his self-control is truly remarkable, but if the menacing aura emanating from him in slow waves toward me were not enough of a telltale sign of how difficult it is for him to do so, I would still know that I am close to my goal. Not because I'm poking some hurt into his harsh little soul with my words, but because every single long glance and look we've exchanged so far was a nice little warm-up for this moment. He's reacting like this because I've been dancing on his nerves ever since I set foot on this fucking base. And he can't wait to take out this frustration on me.

"Don't fuck with me. I wouldn't trust you with a bloody dog, let alone healing." He retorts, and his voice becomes hoarse and dangerously deep, as he spits his venom-soaked words at me. The anger slowly starts to seep into his whole body, and as he takes a threatening step toward me, a mocking half-smile crosses my face and takes the place of my previously award-winning portrayal of despair.

"Oh, but you're going to have to let me treat you, because that's what Laswell brought me here for." I remind him, subtly referring to the reality, which it seems both of us still struggling to accept. With the difference that it's more bad luck for him than for me. Because while unlike him, I'll get blood for myself if I need to, he'll have a much harder time maintaining this tough guy demeanor if he loses his mind after running out of power and slaughters half the base in his suddenly resurgent bloodlust.

"Laswell brought you here because he took pity on your pathetic life." He states cruelly highlighting this small fact, pointing one of his long fingers at me, and I just blink back at him with an annoying calmness, because that's true. Aside from the obvious fact that his and his team's Healer-usage habits also contributed to this. "You should be glad you got away with only a slap on the wrist. For years you hid yourself in the colony instead of doing the one fuckin' job you're good at. So shut up and cooperate so we can get some use of you now." He seethes, and even I am surprised at how effectively he can squeeze so much hostility into his voice, while his words snap at me like the lash of a whip. And I feel the cold grip of anger rising in me, even though I managed to get him to finally give me a small piece of his opinion. Yet I loathe to admit how well-aimed are the blows he hits my soul with, because he precisely delivers those insults that I abhor the most. I let the poison caused by his words run through every fiber of me, and it helps to maintain my incentive. What's the point of holding back my tongue now? If he can so comfortably state that he sees me as a fucking object, then why can't I hit him back? If we've come this far, now is not the time to be delicate and fear that he will crush my skull with his bare hands.

"It's interesting that the one talking about hiding is the one hiding behind a fucking mask." I hiss, coming forward with the insult that I'm sure will hit too close to home just as much. And I let the sarcasm permeate every single word, because I find it really ironic that a guy who hypocritically conceals his face behind a freaking skull is trying to preach to me. Because I have no illusions about what I did and how much I have become a reprehensible individual because of them, but he can be quite delusional if he thinks that a mask protects him from what made him wear it in the first place.

And when, almost spectacularly, his entire body stiffens with surprise, I know that I've really succeeded. But my triumph is short-lived, because he quickly gets over his shock, and in the next moment, one of his huge hands reaches me with such speed that before I can even understand what is happening, his fingers are already around my neck, and my head bangs loudly as he shoves me up against the wall behind us, like a rag doll. All air suddenly escapes my lungs as my back meets the hard surface, and if I were even a little bit closer to an average person, I'm sure I would have passed out. The burning pain in my head is splitting, and I look at the man through the vividly dancing spots in front of my eyes, in whom the murderous temper is now surging unstoppably.

"Say that again." He commands, and the warning grip of his fingers reveals that if I do so, he will show how easily he can snap my neck. Despite this, a morbid glee awakens in me, because although it might be a pitiful sight as his body, swelling with strength, corners me and towers over me, but it does not change the fact that I have become the winner of our dangerous little game. And by losing his cool at the end of my long-drawn provocation and gameplaying, he finally proved to me that despite appearing to be the paragon of an untouchable and stoic Hunter, he is just as frail as any wretch he has sworn to protect. There is a path leading to his weaknesses as well, and he offers it on a silver platter when his brain is overwhelmed by fury.

One of my trembling hands reaches for the collar of his hoodie, and despite the increasing pressure on my throat, I grasp the piece of clothing to drag him closer to me. He doesn't pull away and doesn't resist, but leans down to me with the momentum gained from the movement, and so I finally have the opportunity to examine him from an almost intimate proximity. A mean little smile spreads across my face, as the sharp line of his jaw tightens spectacularly even under the mask. And when I feel his hot breath on my face through the black textile painted with white lines, the strange tingling returns to my stomach, which urges me to run away from him and continue to tease him at the same time. And even though I know there's nothing healthy about it, I still enjoy the way the anger glows in those dark eyes that are like melted chocolate.

"Come on, kill me." I taunt him easily, and a muffled and pain-filled moan escapes my lips, as the rough material of his glove bites harder into the sensitive skin of my neck, slowly putting suffocating pressure on my trachea. "Do it, and let's see who's worse off..." I spit with clenched teeth, almost squeezing every word out of myself, struggling with the lack of oxygen that is slowly settling on me. "You…you can't do anything… because…. your team needs me."

A knife could cut through the tension that resides in the heavy silence that has settled in, and even though instead of the man's eyes I can only see black spots floating in front of me, I still know that I won. For a moment it really occurs to me that he's going to kill me, but then as quickly as he pounced on me, he loosens his vise-like grip just as suddenly. And when he finally takes a step back and releases me, I fall to my knees coughing, enjoying the air flowing into my lungs with incredible gratitude. One of my hands instinctively goes to my neck, which is throbbing with dull pain, and I am sure that soon the print of his palm and fingers will appear on my skin, resplendent in several colors, as a souvenir. But the courage given by adrenaline is still bubbling uncontrollably inside me, and this prompts me, despite the recent near-death experience, to curl the corners of my mouth into a sarcastic smile when I look up at him lying at his feet.

We don't need to exchange a single word to know what each of us is saying to the other. Even though I kneel in front of him after he narrowly ended my life, it's clear that he walked into my trap and did something that probably went against his orders. He gave into the teasing of the cowardly little bitch who had strayed into his home, and threw away his practiced cold composure to give in to his temper and attacked me. And I got what I wanted, and I saw why and how he lost his self-control. Which is a triumph, even if he will definitely make my life hell from now on, and even if this moment will never happen again if it's up to him. Because I can clearly see the message from his dark gaze. I can enjoy my morbid little joy all I want, because there won't be a next time, and he will really break my neck if I try anything funny again.

He doesn't say a word when, seemingly endless moments later, he marches towards the exit of the shooting range with heavy steps, and I don't try to stop him with further witty remarks. But I absently massage my neck with my fingers still lying on the floor, as I watch his receding figure, wondering what he's going to do next. The sneaking suspicion awakens in me that the fight between the two of us will not end, but will only venture into a much more dangerous area. But I look forward to it. Because I can already see that he is not perfect, not untouchable, and most of all pathetically human.

[nekoannie-chan]

Mind

Title: Mind.

Ship: Steve Rogers X Agent of HYDRA!Mutant!Reader.

Word count: 264 words.

Square: E3 “Mind control.”

Rating: Teen.

Summary: Steve can’t control his mind.

Major Tags: Mind control.

Additional tags: This is my entry to @cabottombingo Captain Bottom Bingo round 2. CABB2024.

Links: Wattpad, Ao3, Spanish version.

@saiyanprincessswanie

My native language is Spanish so I wanna improve my writing skills in English if you notice any mistakes, please let me know and I will correct them.

I don’t give any kind of permission for my fics to be posted on other platforms or languages (I translate myself my work) or the use of my graphics (my dividers are included in this), I did them exclusively for my fics, please respect my work and don't steal it. There are some people here who make dividers that anyone can use, mine is not this type, please look for the other people. The only exception is the ones I gifted 'cuz now belong to someone else. If you find any of my works on a different platform and are not one of my accounts, please let me know. Reblogs and comments are always welcome.

DISCLAIMER: I don't own Marvel's characters (unfortunately), except for the original characters and the story.

Add yourself to my taglist here.

My other media where I publish:  Ao3, Wattpad, ffnet, TikTok, Instagram, Twitter. 

If you like it, please vote, comment, and give me feedback to improve my skills and reblog.

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Steve had faced some mutants who were part of HYDRA before, but what was about to happen? He had never considered it as if it were an option. In the midst of the fight, a new threat emerged: you appeared; no one would suspect you, but the reality was that you could control minds and cause any being to do what you wanted.

You had been recruited by Hydra at an early age because of your unique abilities. You were cold and calculating, totally committed to the HYDRA cause, not to mention what you had been promised, and so it was; you were going to get it.

After several minutes, you could finally see Steve. You didn't need to get close to or touch him; you just had him within your field of vision. You wiggled your fingers slightly.

You saw how Steve tensed up; you smiled; it had worked; and the best thing was that no one would suspect you. Now that you had infiltrated Steve's mind and were going to sow discord within the Avengers.

It took less than a week to hear the rumors. Now that the Avengers seemed to be against Steve, or maybe it was the other way around, the time had come for him to finally go with you.

That night you showed up at a park near the Avengers base; you didn't even have to wait long for Steve to show up; there was no need to exchange words; you simply raised your hand and he took it; they started walking; you always got what you wanted.

[mangobone]

Twenty questions

So I’ve been tag by the magnificent @cupofteaandstars and even though it’s been like a month since she did, I had much fun thinking about the answers so here I’m sharing them:

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

9 under my current pseudonym!

2. Whats your total AO3 word count?

Just 21,512. Which is very little for 9 fics in a four year effort but I’m proud of it 😌

3. What fandom do you write for?

Now just for Stranger. I’m really tempted to post for Life and something small for Divorce Attorney Shin though.

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

- Into the treeline - Stranger 비밀의숲

-Steady heartbeat - Stranger 비밀의숲

-A deer can jump in front of you anytime - Stranger 비밀의숲

- A whole new face - The Avengers

- The Little Prosecutor -Stranger 비밀의숲

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

Always dude. Always. If you take the time to write a comment, I’ll take the time to reply.

I understand why some don’t. But I get too happy not to engage 🫶🏼

6. What is a fic you wrote with the angstiest ending ?

That’s a good question because I love angst and I think it must be either whatever I used to write for Avengers (that Tony Stark can’t be written without some angst) and Longing, though with the last line the angst is lighter.

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

I suspect it might be The Little Prosecutor.

8. Do you get hate on fics?

Haven’t. Hope it remains like that!

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

I tried once. Longing was suppose to take that direction but decided against it, half because I chicken out and half because I fear the OOC situation.

10. Do you write crossovers?

Not usually, no. I admire people who do on a regular basis though!

11. Whats the craziest one you’ve written?

One I haven’t posted, a Stranger story with basic elements from Kafka’s Metamorphosis. I’m quite stuck with that one I’m afraid.

12. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

I hope not! I guess that’s another good thing about being in small fandoms!

13. Have you ever had a fic translated?

I’ve translated my own fics, does that count?

14. Whats your all time favorite ship?

Right now it’s Hwang Shi Mok/Han Yeo Jin.

15. Whats a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

I only have one WIP published and I’m just hoping to finish that one 👉🏼👈🏼

16. What are your writing strenghts ?

This is the hardest questions of all; I guess Im good at imagining scenarios and I try to get technical details right.

17. What are your writing weaknesses ?

Complete lack of planning which results in slow and short fics and chapters. And sometimes the balance between dialogue and description is elusive.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic?

I’d try to avoid it as much as possible though it’s true that some things are near to impossible to fully translate.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

Can’t remember exactly but perhaps for The Justice League. I read fics long before but it was years before I’d get enough courage to write AND publish anything.

20. Favorite fic you’ve written?

Funny enough, it’s the least liked fic El Clavo - Stranger 비밀의숲 for which I hope to write another chapter of before translating it to English. That and a fic about a dark Hwang Shi Mok which I won’t post until I finish but again that might take years!

Tagging: well I think practically all my mutuals have been tagged already but if you haven’t, please consider yourself tagged!