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jobrrr · 1 year ago

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Hobbies and interests are weird sometimes.

Like sometimes you see something and you just know that’s what you want to do, and there is no looking back from that point. I remember seeing Magic the Gathering for the first time, and it was like 4th grade, I knew. And lo and behold, I'm 35, still playing magic. But like sometimes it just kinda happens by accident, like you don't mean to get into the thing at all.

I think it was mid 2021 and I just stumbled on the Blackwargreymon gunpla kit online. Digimon was a big deal for me as a kid, I was pretty young when it started, like 10?, and I have always had a soft spot for it. So this thing looked really cool, I didn’t really have anything on my shelf for digimon even though it was a big deal for me as a kid, and it wasn't that horrendously expensive, even marked up on amazon. I don’t think I had ever done a plastic model kit before, so I started poking around to see what it would need, and I found a pretty decent entry level set of tools, clippers, some tweezers, some sanding tools and so on. So I went, what the hell, I did something nice for the kid in me. I think it’s important to do a lot of nice things for the kid in you, just good life advice. So I took the plunge. The closest thing to compare to I guess was lego, it’s kinda the same process, you just gotta cut out your pieces and clean them up, but after that you just put it together. Lego was another thing I really liked as a kid.

This kit was so much fun, I went into it with the just expectation that it will look good, and it does, very good. Ok I have to stress this, I don’t think there is anything on the market that looks even a fraction as good as these kits do, and at such a better price, it’s ridiculous. But the Kit was so much fun to put together, it's just meditative, and very personal. You slowly work your way through it, learning how the plastic feels and reacts to the cuts, shaves and sanding you do, and you make mistakes, but you work through it and learn. It’s imperfect in a very personal way. And then I finished it. And sometimes you just finish something and then you are like, ‘this can’t be the only time I do this’. I knew I was kinda hooked on it.

Thankfully there was a bit of backlog on the kits available. I think at the time the upcoming one was Machindramon, and I ended up picking the other kits in the meantime, Omegamon/Omnimon & MetalGarurumon. And so over that year of the pandemic it was a treat for myself, as I slowly built up this shelf of great looking digimon figures that I put together myself. When I got the Gallantmon/Dukemon kit, I took an extra chance on it, and decided to re-paint it with my minis paint, giving it a more classic color scheme. It’s probably the most time I spent on one model, and I haven’t tried painting one again since them, but I’m still immensely proud of it, there was a lot of little mistake I made, and a spoke on his shoulder broke that I had to drill a metal rod to reinforce as well as putting some extra epoxy putty in, but it was more lessons learned. As a prep I spent a bunch of time looking up videos of people painting gunpla, and as a side note, some folks do amazing jobs with that, like absolutely fantastic.

I wanted more though, and I was waiting for new digimon kits to come out but you are waiting. I think it was around the time the pandemic restrictions were loosening, and I was starting to maybe just explore places a bit again. I went into a Game Stop for the first time in a while, and was surprised to see a gunpla kit there. It was the master grade Barbatos kit, and it was a very reasonable price, like I want to say 60ish CAD. I was paying more for the digimon kits cause I was mostly getting that stuff through amazon and often it was imported from japan and extra shipping fees etc. So I went what the hell? I never really was that interested in Gundam before, I had a friend who made me watch an Iron Blooded Orphans OVA, and I honestly could not tell you anything about it, I was so checked out. But it looked cool, so I took another chance. I figured it wouldn’t look bad on a shelf.

That kit is a killer kit. I remember being so impressed with it, when you are building it you start with a skeleton and then you put the armor on top of that. It was so novel, and so cool. It’s a master grade, which is kinda the 2nd highest tier of kits available.

I guess as a little aside, the entry level is High Grade, HG, this is 1:144 scale, and is a great entry level, kits can be very cheap, as low as 15ish up to 30ish (CAD prices, your can figure out your conversion, USD is going to be less). Next up you have Master Grade, MG, these kits are 1:100 scale, sometimes they are different names but 1:100 is size. These guys are pricier, but a big jump in quality, not to say the HG are bad, HG are pretty impressive, but the jump is very noticeable. MGs are very nice, and the prices I noticed are usually 60 to 90. The next typical grade up is Perfect Grade, these are 1:60 scale, and very big, and very complex. I have only done one so far, the Exia. It was 280ish I think. For these kits I think the floor is around 200ish, and can go up quite a bit from there, I think some push 500+.

Back from that tangent, this kit felt like the perfect entry for a more experienced kit. I had already done quite a few digimon kits, and it's the same stuff, just different franchise. Like literally the same, Bandia makes both of these kits. So this was easy to get into. And it really was cool, to say it again. I was like damn, this is neat. So I let that stew, and for a while that was the only gundam I had and I was pretty content for that to be the case.

Then a new boon arrived, I found a local gunpla store. I had actually been there a few times before, but before It was more focused on anime, but I guess in my absence over many years it shifted, and grew its gunpla selection a lot, the wall of bluray and dvds became a wall of boxes of gunpla. And They had digimon kits too. And the prices were very good. I made the switch, as it became a lot more accessible, just even the ability to browse and not do shipping, chief’s kiss. So I picked a few kits I didn’t have, and continued to get new ones there. But I started to see the rest of the gunpla, and I knew the Barbatos was cool, and they had such a big selection, even a lot of older stuff.

So I started picking up a few. It was kinda neat, just jumping into this franchise that I really only knew on a visual level. Like I know it’s been around for a long time, and there are a lot of series, like OG, Wing, Seed, ect. But after that, I know nothing about the Gundam, they fight in big robots, that’s it. So I was in the odd position where I was free to just pick them up blindly if that makes sense, I wasn’t beholden to any lore or preference outside of ‘it looks cool’ and wow I kinda realized I don't have something like that. Like how often do you enter a fandom in a backwards kind of way. Like typically you get into something because you are a fan of it, you like the story, setting, characters and then that kinda informs how you follow up everything after. Like you get the figure of the character you like. I’m sure I’m not the only person who just gets (outside of WFM lol) the kits as kits with no real attachment to the source, and I imagine it's not even that small of a portion. Like people don’t need lore to do train kits or w/e. Anyways it was just a neat perspective, and like I said, freeing. I was allowed to pick stuff from w/e series, and mix and match cause I didn’t care.

So yah, i just went on picking up more kits, the prices of HG were such a great thing too. Like on average 20 bucks a pop for a kit, easy sell for me. So I started having a gunpla shelf, and that was cool.

I guess the next phase kinda happened. I had heard of Witch from Mercury (WFM), way back when it first announced, and the only take away at that time I had was it was going to feature a female lead, I remember going, I guess that’s cool, but you guys have been doing this for how long, and this is your first? I had another thought but I will come back to that later. So I just kinda filed that away as whatever, I wasn’t really that interested in it as a show, Gundam as a series just didn’t really feel my thing, I am still quite ignorant outside of WFM, but I guess I have more of a sense of it now. Anyways it comes to the point years later, and WFM starts airing, I think I even had a CR sub cause I wanted to watch spy family. I slept on the first 2 episodes. I had just met with a friend again that moved back, and he mentioned it’s queer, that Suletta gets herself engaged to in the first episode.

What. This was not what I expected. The point I mentioned before? So I'm a sucker for W/W ships, always have been. I very much had a thought when I first heard WFM years before, ‘it's not going to be sapphic though, it’s going to be some hetero stuff’, and it was a pessimistic take at the time, but I just felt burned out from everything being like that. Everything is fucking straight all the time. Like I just want more queer stuff, I hope everything ends up being queer, but realistically it’s not. And it’s Gundam, this is a big franchise, It’s not going to push further than female protag, so I just stopped my expectations there. But is it? And well fuck, I have to give it chance now. And it was, like not even in the subtext kind of way. Suletta was Miorine’s groom. The show had Utena in its DNA. I was very cautious though, feeling like this isn’t going to happen. I felt like I was going to get the rug pulled out, there certainly were a lot of guys vying for either of the two girls at the beginning. But I stuck with the show, a bit of pessimism and caution, but wanting it to happen.

And the little things started happening. After the third episode I think there is a shot of Miorine’s room, and it's a mess. I told myself, then, in a very gut feel way, If Suletta cleans her room, it’s real. I carried that thought going forward. Unpacking it later, I realized how true to the characters it was, Miorine didn’t want to be there, her room was a prison to her and she didn’t let anyone into her life. And then she asks Suletta to clean her room in ep11, and god that episode. I threw out caution, I was ready to sink on this ship if it would after that. And shit, 12 was a hell of an episode to finish on, and then the wait for the second cour. Ooof. Like it was real now, very real, feelings were vocalized and it wasn't just reading into characters. It was firmly the TEXT, no room negotiation. This show was very intentional about everything, I could start to see how everything was now feeding into the rest of itself. God this show.

The wait for the second cour took a while. I was talking about gunpla before, wow. Sure, let's get back there for a bit. I was pretty moderate with picking up kits, I got just Aerial, and Suletta and Miorine. I honestly felt a little embarrassed at the time, like it was an admission that, yah, I’m getting the feels hard now. But that was it, I got some more unconnected gunpla but I was mostly just stewing on my feelings till the second cour hit.

And wow, did those feelings come in hard once the show came back. Not to sound old here, i’m only 35, but it’s easy to forget what watching a show weekly is like with how much bingin it like with the netlix model of shows was the norm for so long. But letting a show really sit with you, to digest it, let it stew and think about before moving to the next episode. For some shows that can be magic, or at least that’s been my experience. I don’t think this would have been a good show to binge, and if anyone is going to watch it, I don’t recommend just burning through it really quickly. This is a show that really lets you take it apart and analyze the moments. It felt like everything could be read into for more meaning. Tomatoes, The move forward, gain one, the growth of characters, how Suletta and Miorine treat each other. It’s a gold mine for essay lol.

Or this whole ending credits to Red:birthmark. This is is basically the whole character arc of Suletta.

I guess that sorta leads to onwards. I had dipped out of tumblr way back when things went south and everyone dipped. Like myself maybe not right away, but like it felt like 90% of folks were gone and I was soon too. I would sometimes check back in, but never stayed. Then things started to just get real bad with twitter. Like i never liked it as a social site, or reddit. It just feels bad. I had only really started to use it and reddit cause tumblr died, and they did not serve the same way. Like there are few decent subreddits. But they never really did what I wanted. So I started to maybe check in here again, more frequently. Then I remember the day it really stuck.

Bees happened, Yang and Blake kissed. I was not super invested in RBWY, I bounced pretty quickly way back. I like the fandom though, it has always been strong and I'm sure people will have different feelings, but w/e. I always found them charming, and I think it was what made me try watching the show way back in the first place. So anyways Bees happened, that was a big surprise, and it kinda hit hard. Like it was beautifully awkward in a real way, it felt genuine. And I saw it here on tumblr. And good fucking win for the fandom, I tried watching some of the more recent episodes, and I am not going back to watch old stuff but boy does Ruby have some trauma to unpack. Whoof, even missing context that hit hard. The fanfiction is great. Dug around in there and there are some really good ones. Bless the fandom. I started with Bees stuff since obv, but I also dug around into Ice Rose too. Maybe it’s too much to hope, but that show will be cooking if it also does that.

Anyways I guess I was back on tumblr. There were a bunch of oldies still here, and I could dive into the tags. And It really made me realize how much twitter was kinda just making me miserable. Like there is just so much more positive here, and over there it’s just miserable. And WFM was starting up again soon. Perfect storm. I wish I had been here for the first cour. But I was here for the second cour.

I had originally joined tumblr way back after Korra ended. I was not ready to let the show go when it finished, and this was a good place to celebrate the show. It was so fundamental to my early days here, I followed so many people because of it. Fan art, people talking about the show, even years later, fan fiction. Like I said, it was a celebration of the show. I still treasure a lot of those old moments, and followed a lot of those artists onto twitter and pateron. Hopefully I will start seeing them here more as twitter implodes.

It’s been very nostalgic here again, as we finish WFM. It’s like being back to that moment with Korra. I loved seeing all the art here again. I loved seeing all the talks, musing and speculation as the second cour went on. I started to follow people again that I kept seeing popping in the tags and It reminded me what it’s like to slowly learn a bit of someone on this site. I missed that old bleeding of interests you get. The cross contamination of fandoms. I got to see someone younger share their experience with Sailor Moon in real time through this site. I love it, I was a kid when that show first aired, it is so cool to get these new perspectives.

And now WFM is finished. I said this before, I knew at the start of the second cour that this show is going to stick with me for a long time. Remember the gunpla, well I have perspective now, I have been picking up more of those because I now have feelings to contend with, lol. Not a bad problem to have. It hit hard, the show, episode 16 left me heartbroken, god. And now we are here, they have rings, they had the wedding. Eri is the sister in law. God it happened and it feels like this was plucked from a better timeline. This show is such a fucking win, I’m not letting it go any time soon.

I never really did much of this before, sharing that is. This is a lot, hell I’m even considering if I will post this as I draft this. I mostly just reblogged things and avoided putting my own words on top of them. And that’s fine, but idk, it’s never too late to try new things right, and you can always do things at your own pace, so maybe I can share a bit and it resonates with someone, and maybe it ends up being no different than existing in the void and never being posted. I spent too much time being self conscious of the things I like. I want to spend more time just making the kid in me happy you know.

Being around this all again has been nice, I feel motivated to be creative, more so then I was before. I have always had ideas for fics just floating in my head, and I think I might actually post a Persona 5 fic at some point, it's in the works. I recently played through it again with the female protag mod, and bless that mod, but now I feel compelled to write something about Makoto. Hell, maybe even some WFM stuff later. There is a really obscure doujin that I want to write something for as it felt criminal that it only got one entry. If you made it this far, thanks. Let yourself enjoy stuff.

John

#musings #me #spoilers #gundam witch from mercury #witch from mercury #gundam #digimon #gunpla #korra #got feelings man #this goes a lot places #long post #this is for me #just need to get the words out #sulemio #getting into gunpla #long story short I like gunpla and w/w #and coming back to tumblr #and thank you to everyone here

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tinysillylemonman · 8 months ago

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Enjoy a bonus chapter of Just Barely There, but written three years late and based off my very foggy memory of the show. :D

—-

It’s amazing what one could do when armed with explosives. Guards? Royalty? Citizens? Nothing a little explosives and armed criminals can’t fix.

Paved streets became littered in rubble and a choking alabaster dust, homes were caved in to reveal what would’ve been quaint dinner tables and gardens. People were left in shock, all the easier for their capture and the handy reuse of prison cells. The queen and king were tied to the same fate, just a few levels below their people, left to count the etches on the walls and smell the iron of dried blood.

In short, after a few quick witted words and total domination of the kingdom he hated, Andrew was doing much better than he had been two days ago. He and the Saporians were on top of the world, so what if they had to carry around a mentally unstable kid too? They’ve gone through worse in pursuit of their ambitions. Andrew just wished that the kid would keep his mouth shut.

“…And when we find him? I’m gonna make him realize just how wrong he was about me! That’s right Flynn Rider, I’m on top of the world right now! Well, uh- we. We’re on top of the world. Eheh… Anyways, I’ve been thinking that I should have facial hair, y’know to match the whole look we’ve got going on…”

Good Sun could this kid fucking talk. Kai was the appointed listener while they picked through the rubble of what might’ve been a marketplace? Eh, the specifics didn’t matter, just finding what the kid needed for their next step did. They’d quickly found that they didn’t need to restrain the kid or anything to keep him close, he latched onto Andrew as quickly as a baby duck, which suited Andrew’s purposes all the better. Shuffling through the rubble took time, which made Andrew nervous. The what ifs of outside support or unfound citizens catching up to them was in all senses illogical, but he couldn’t help it. This was too easy to be this good.

“Hey Andrew! We found something!”

And it kept on getting better.

Andrew ambled over to where Clementine and Juniper stood, eagerly awaiting praise or reprimand. People were just so easy to control, he couldn’t help but chuckle to himself. Just give them a dollop of approval or a look of disappointment and they would fall all over themselves to do whatever he asked. Tell them that it’s for a good cause, that surely if you work a little harder and listen to me more the people will forgive you, or Saporia will rise, and they are as docile as sheep. Bracing himself on fallen lumber and jumping over bricks, he made his way to see what the girls had found. Hm.

“Varian!” He barked, interrupting the kid from his ramble and turning his attention back to the container found. The kid stumbled towards him, eager like a puppy and nervous as a fawn. “What’s up Andrew?” Oh how he loved that fragile sense of causality, “Take a good look at this kid”. Andrew smiled at him, not warmly like a father appraising a job well done, but instead like the cat that got the cream, wolfish and not unlike a predator. But Varian didn’t know the difference at this point. The object found was a woven container made of wheat straw, labeled simply with “luminescent powder”. Andrew didn’t much care for this container, but rather what it meant. This particular site was the remnants of some sort of alchemy shop, and held precious resources for the Saporian cause.

Varians eyes were the size of saucers, oohing and ahhing at the prospect of new materials. At least the kid caught on quick. “Wha- are these- I mean…can I use these?” Varian’s mouth was in a comical gape, gazing down at what would be the first of many new and expensive materials. Andrew had him hook…line…

“Of course Varian! Why do you think we were degrading ourselves to scavenging for Coronan goods? Don’t be shy, take whatever you need, we’ll even help you carry it all!” He could feel the disgruntled looks from his compatriots burning into his back, but that could be soothed later. Varian whipped his head back towards Andrew, who surely looks liked some sort of saint providing for the poor and needy fourteen year old criminal. The boy’s face was split in half with a look that hadn’t graced his visage in a very long time, a beaming, gap-toothed smile.

And sinker.

Hugo hates slayer wolves with a burning passion, he’s decided. Of course Flynn fuckin’ Rider’s ego could get bigger, why hadn’t he known that fact sooner? Silly him! It was Flynn Rider’s hubris that led to Hugo being held upside down by some magically inclined tree branch, displayed like a jester vying for the king’s laughter. The king in this case is the culprit himself.

“Ok, yeah, laugh it up Rider. This is truly the peak of comedy!” Hugo shouts, and no dear reader, the heat in Hugo’s face is not due to embarrassment, he’s far above something like that. He’s just suffering from his body’s content of blood heading straight for his head. Rider is on the ground, in such a grand fit of laughter that he could be mistaken for a man attempting to imitate a ship in tumultuous seas. His girlfriend is standing next to him, smiling warily and waiting for her partner to return to sanity. The peanut gallery is standing to the side and actually trying to help Hugo out of his predicament. They’re not making very much progress on that front unfortunately.

“You’re damn right this is! Sun”, a choked wheeze interrupts Rider’s bout of clamor, “I think we should just leave you there! maybe you’ll get smarter from all that blood going to your head!” Hugo growls and swings himself closer to where Rider is. “We’ll at least I’m not a pathetic pampered lap dog who can’t even find his way around a-“ Hugo is cut off by the last person he thought would stand up to Rider, the princess. Oh this would be good. “You two need to stop fighting, we can’t get anywhere with you two quarreling constantly! Sure, you’ve screwed each other in the past, but none of that matters now! We’re all working together so I’d like you two to act like it!” The man with the earring hoots from his spot by the offending tree’s base in support or agreement, or maybe even both.

And to Hugo’s surprise, Rider listens. Maybe you can teach an old dog new tricks. Rider picks himself up and cuddles up to the princess, apologizing. But Hugo knows that he’s not genuine. The grin on his face when the princess is satisfied and hugging him is evidence.

“As beautiful as that moment was, unfortunately the power of friendship will not get you very far here.” A husky and confident announces from above- and is that a RACCOON???

Now dear readers, we of course know that this woman is set up to be our knight in furry armor, Adira, accompanied by her newfound companion Ruddiger. But our starring cast of misfit found family is none the wiser to this notion. Because we have the knowledge of who this remarkable figure is, I’ll spare you from the details of her introduction and in the spirit of brevity, inform you that our current narrator Hugo is an astute follower of the idea that “an enemy of my enemy is my friend”.

Hugo is quickly becoming very fond of this Adira. Sure she’s a bit odd and confusing, but he’s worked with worse when on prior assignments. The caravan is being pulled slowly along the path of the “Forest of No Return”, Adira is at the head of this odd procession, followed by Hugo, who is trying to learn about this new ally in annoyment as much as possible.

“What’s the rat’s name?”

“If you’re talking about the raccoon, then I’m sorry to say that I do not know”

She slashes stray branches with her (super fucking cool) sword and takes a left turn into an identical looking portion of the forest. Hugo scrunches his nose at this acknowledgment and continues his jog in pursuit of her. “What, the all-knowing Adira doesn’t even know the name of her animal companion? Hm, I guess that you’re not as wise as you let on.” Hugo knows this song and dance like the back of his hand, banter is his second nature and his most used tool. Annoyance is just another result that gives him entertainment and intel. But Adira is stoic, smoothly keeping her pace and not batting an eye. “It is not in my knowledge that rodents are able to communicate their names to people. This fellow came to me well-fed and groomed, I am sure that he has a home and name somewhere, maybe even multiple. I however am not keeping him around long enough to require that sort of connection. I may not know his name but call him Bandit, much like how I call each of you a nickname. I find that terms based off of physicalities are much more useful than learning everyone whom I meet’s name.”

Hugo perks up at the mention of nicknames, “Hey now, you can’t just mention that you have nicknames for all of us and not tell me what they are! What am I- Actually no better question what’s Riders?”, he grins devilishly. Adira chuckles and decides to indulge in his childish curiosity. “You my fellow are Stringbean,” she points at Rapunzel who floats curiously closer and closer towards the duo, not-so subtly eavesdropping, “she is Sundrop”, Adira points at Lance, “he is Earring”, she points at Cassandra, “she is Short Hair” and finally she points at Rider, “he is Fish Skin”.

An indignant yell comes from Rider, who hilariously falls all over himself to contest the (aptly chosen) nickname. Hugo gets a good laugh in, and when it’s later just him, “Bandit”, Rider, and Adira left to find the lost caravan, he decides that the little guy deserves a proper name for the time being.

“How about…Smokey?” The raccoon shakes its head.

“Freddy?” Rider offers, to which the vermin actually hisses at.

“Hector?” Adira muses, again with another head shake.

“Ok! Lighting round! Theodore, Clifford, Gadget, Pluto, Alastor, Dill, Bones, Fin, Pippin, Stew, Chase, Bard, Rufus, Ricky, Wallace, Ruddiger-“, the raccoon perks up and starts chittering excitedly, making admittedly adorable cheering motions. Hugo grins and lifts the newly named Ruddiger off of Adira’s shoulder and cradles it in his arms. “Ruddiger? I feel like I’ve heard that name before.” Rider moves his hand to pet the raccoon’s fur, but is swatted at and promptly denied any further proximity. “Well I’d hope so,” Hugo snarks, “any good fan of the ‘Adventures of Flynn Rider’ knows the con-man shopkeeper Ruddiger Jordan, Flynn Rider’s reluctant father figure and-“ he’s cut off by a man with the very same name. “His grumpy mentor, yes I know. I guess that’s where I heard it from. No need to lecture me kiddo”. Hugo sneers at the interruption and drops the raccoon to stare at Flynn directly. Does this guy wanna go? Because he can GO and he’d actually hit a growth spurt recently so he is feeling good about he chances-.

Adira and Ruddiger exchange eye contact and sigh.

This kid is fucking ridiculous. After having praised him, tucked him into bed, read him a story, and KISSED HIS FOREHEAD, he’s finally asleep. Andrew is so glad that it’ll only be a month or two until he can drop the kid and get into the real crux of his plan. Of course he wasn’t going to just settle for taking Corona, no, a man with as much charisma and as good of looks as him was meant for bigger better things. Next he could take Koto, or Ingvarr, or maybe even see if that wife's tale about the Dark Kingdom is true. Yes, Andrew is going to dump Varian, and he is going to enjoy every moment of the betrayal.

Fuck did he get that luminescent powder on himself?! The kid��s hair is glowing for Sun’s sake! Andrew turns over in bed and covers his head with a pillow. This will be a long night.

#vat7k #lemon man updates #tts #rapunzles tangled adventure #rts #varian #hugo #rapunzel #fanfiction

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gremoria411 · 1 year ago

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Gundam Iron Blooded Orphans Urdr Hunt Part 3 - Wistario and the rest of the Cast

I think that it’s overall a good cast, but I definitely found some characters better than others - 598, Range and Katya all have actual arcs, which results in them changing as people throughout - I’ve said prior that I found both 598 and Range genuinely compelling characters. I also found a lot of characters, while not fully developed, had enough going on that I was interested in them - Tamami, Mendou, and above all, Denmer (honestly I would love to see more of him). The only characters I find lacking are Wistario and Korunaru, which, again, would be fine if they weren’t ostensibly important. I wish the guides had more focus in general to be honest, since the only ones who get really any focus are Slice and Parstai (who get an episode at best).

Denmer Kitaco Jr., though. It genuinely bothers me how little we know about him, because it just all feels so tantalisingly close - he’s (presumably) a Venus resident, who has enough street smarts in the Era of Post Disaster, and presumably passed these on to Wistario (since I don’t really see how else he could have picked them up). He knows some form of martial art, enough to take on numerous Gjallarhorn Officers. He’s got a referenced history that Dexter and Sinister routinely bring up, he’s MISSING AN EYE, which I was initially willing to write off as a way to make him seem grizzled, but the more I think about it must be relevant in some way, considering that Wistario’s parents seem to be dead. And, as I’ve said before, he’s INHERITED A GUNDAM FRAME, which, from the way he talks and acts about it, is almost certainly something that was impressed upon him a great deal - he’s not casual or dismissive about it, this is something he’s carefully and meticulously maintained for most of his life, and he understands, on some level, what it is and what it represents. I’d wager he has his own suspicions about its past, given that he seems to have inklings but not the whole picture. And it makes it all the more significant when Wistario uses it to fight - it’s their family’s past and ancestry, but for Denmer, it’s also their families future. How must he feel, when Wistario risks his life over and over again, in a machine that he allowed him to access? And the way he interacts with Wistario- it’s obvious he cares for him a great deal, and besides Sprah, it seems like he’s been Wistario’s primary carer for pretty much Wistario’s entire life. There’s so much good stuff there, but it all feels just out of reach.

So, my love of Denmer established, what about his young charge? Well, I still think Wistario lacks a strong character, but I feel a lot more of him coalesces nearer to the end of the series. However. The central theme of Wistario is family, not Venus, buying Radonitsa is just his immediate expression of that goal. But because of the early emphasis on the Urdr hunt it’s muddled. When you look at the series through the lens of Wistario building a family, his “character” makes a little more sense. But because he’s not setting out to build a family, it’s not obvious. I’m genuinely not really sure. Either, the central theme of Wistario is buying and doing up Radonitsa Colony, and he acquires a found family along the way. Or; the central theme of Wistario is Family, and buying and doing up Radonitsa is just his early expression of that goal. I feel like I could argue for one or the other, since neither theme is strong enough for me to come down on. Because he slowly befriends every single competitor in the Urdr Hunt other than Cyclase, so if any of them win, it feels like they’ll give at least a portion of the money to Wistario, since he has the “best goal”, so to speak. Even Cyclase doesn’t really seem to care about the prize money, since he seems to be more interested in the chance of finding a mobile armour during the Urdr Hunt.

Wistario and Katya - hm. Feels more like an exploration of what Katya wants, as opposed to a genuine romance. Thematically it’s similar to Wistario’s interactions with Range and 598. He gives them autonomy since that’s an aspect of his dream? Or just because he believes it’s the right thing to do? Yes, Wistario cares for Katya, but him rescuing her feels more like he’s granting her the power to make her own choices, like he did by telling 598 about Kimball and extending an offer to Range. If it’s meant to be a straight romance, then it feels token, but “ensuring the freedom of others from a bad situation”, as I think he’s doing, doesn’t really tie in with Wistario himself at all (unless it’s about the greater economic freedom of Venus, but that feels like I’m reaching).

Another thing about Wistario; Somehow the moment where he thinks Londo Brom’s about to kill him gave him more characterisation than half the series. Here, in this moment, he comes face-to-face with death. He’s a child, a young boy, who’s carrying the dreams of everyone around him, who just really wants to save his friend, who’s about to die. Despite his competence and piloting skills, he is still a child, and this moment showcases that vulnerability. Hell, the only reason he survives is that the Zagan gets struck by lightning and 598’s able to pull him clear just in time. He gets outclassed and barely survives, sure he manages to pull himself together and fight the mobile armour afterwards, but I’d wager that he’s going to have some rough nights ahead of him.

In fact, that might be it with Wistario. While his character is tied to the aftereffects of war (the economic depression, and effects of colonial administration), there’s kind of no connection between him and mobile suits. There’s no “reason” for him to be as good a pilot as he is, there’s no real sense of mobile suits being a part of his life before this. Yes, he wants to buy the Radonitsa colony, but he is just essentially fighting - and killing, for a big pile of money. And it’s an active choice on his part. But we’re not really shown the sort of person that would take the decision to fight for money - pretty much every engagement Wistario enters is the result of another party attacking him first. So there’s this disconnect between who Wistario is, and what Wistario does.

I don’t really think that he’s a *bad* protagonist per se, he just feels a little half-baked, and I feel that, for being the protagonist, we really don’t know a lot about him.

#gundam #ramblings #gundam ibo #Gundam Iron Blooded Orphans Urdr Hunt #Gundam Urdr Hunt #Gundam Iron Blooded Orphans #Iron Blooded Orphans #Urdr Hunt #Denmer Kitaco jr.#Wistario Afam #Range Dubrisko #Katya Inoshi #Gundam Hajiroboshi #Korunaru

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romanwitchgirl · 1 year ago

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The Glass Ball

Word Count: 1,331

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~Morta’s POV~

Slash, duck, stab, roll, block, I chanted in my head. I was holding my staff, the black pole buzzing with power. It’s been three days since the incident, but I feel a lot better. Right now, I’m taking time to myself for training. Ash is a couple of rooms over working on some plans for who knows what. After completing my training exercise, I sigh and put away my staff.

Walking to the center of the arena, I concentrate on my magick, something I haven’t used since the day I woke up. I gather shadows in my hands, my eyes barely glowing from the minuscule amount of power I’m using. My senses brush past that feeling of wanting to crack, the hardly noticeable feeling. My vision stays the same, so I continue to amplify my magick power. I gather more shadows in the center and I feel my aura grow, a scarce crimson glow surrounding me as the feeling of cracking intensifies just a bit. The edges of my vision just begin to go red, but not enough to worry me just yet.

I feel my feet gently lift off the ground, my body completely in the air. I increase my power, a large sphere of shadows collecting in the center of the room. I feel like curling up in a ball and sobbing because of the intensity of the cracking. The glass ball is falling apart. My vision goes even more red and blurry, my iris’s glowing an intense red, like fire fueled with blood. I can see the shadows in the middle of the room take on a barely visible crimson tint, my magick wanting to come out and play. My body is at least two feet off the ground, the space around me shrouded in darkness, the only light coming from my aura.

I reach deeper into my magick, bringing a hammer to the already shattering ball of glass in my soul. All I can see is red, the power in the room climbing higher and higher. It feels like I’m slowly falling apart, but it feels good. I feel free from my restraints. I expand my power further, my magick reaching the edges of the castle walls. I’m floating in the center of the room, my aura ablaze. Ash’s words once again ring through my head, you shouldn’t be afraid of your magick, Morta, you should embrace it. I’m embracing the darker side of me, the chaos.

I’m trusting it, but I’m showing it who the boss is. I retain control of my magick, but I trust it to not destroy me from the inside out. I let it roam free, the chaos, the madness, the darkness, the evil. I feel the shattered pieces of my glass soul turn to dust, then fade away like they never existed. My vision returns, and I see that I’m slowly floating down from where I was. My feet brush the floor, but I don’t exactly land. I’m hovering like my body and power is too much for the Earth’s crust to take.

I feel my aura going crazy, a dark crimson that slowly fades to black the closer you get to me glowing across the space I’m in. My hands are glowing with red-tinted shadows, small pieces slowly crawling up my arms. I sense my eyes glowing bright with passion and darkness. I force the shadows on my hands to recede as I form a mirror to take in my new appearance. I’m still in the clothes I was in before: black leggings, combat boots, and a crimson tank-top. Now, I’ve been given an upgrade. My leggings have studs that start at the thighs and gradually get thinner as they trail down my legs. I have black leather fingerless hand gloves with matching red studs. The most interesting is the tiara that sits on my head. It looks like it was forged of red iron, whenever the metal hits a light it gives off a glint like a flash of blood. One large ruby sits in the middle and two smokey diamonds, about half the size, sit on either side. It sits on a head of perfectly done crimson curls.

“Wicked,” I admire.

Realizing I haven’t pulled out my staff, I summon it from my ring. I’m hit with an influx of power from the magickal object. It still looks exactly the same as it did before, but the power level is astounding. I fade the mirror and fire a test shot. A tendril of shadows shoots out and strikes the nearest wall. Normally a spell like this would take heaps of energy out of me, but this time I didn’t feel a thing. I grin, my blood-red lips curling up to form a demon-like smile.

“So you took my advice?” Ash’s voice rings out from the doorway.

I see him standing there in all his glory, his Stygian Iron crown sitting atop his head. He’s not in formal attire, just black cargo pants and a T-Shirt with some lace-up combat boots.

“You are a very smart man,” I compliment him.

“Well, what can I say? I’m a King,” he smirks and I walk closer, the sand underneath my boots crunching heavily with each step.

“Your advice worked. I never thought trusting something so dark could be beautiful, but here we are,” I recollect.

“You trusted me,” he retorts as we step out of the arena.

“Fair,” I say with a nod of my head.

“Anyways, how does it feel?” he asks, dropping his formal act.

“I feel like I could decimate an army like I could kill without remorse. I feel like a true Queen, one that commands her people with respect. I can feel every ounce of power hurdling its way through my blood,” I answer.

“Good, because we are fighting Helios for the last time tomorrow,” he says.

“Yes! Finally, I can show him my face and give him a death worth remembering,” I growl and cheer at the same time.

“You’re going to reveal your identity to him? This never came up at any meetings,” Ash says surprised.

“Oops, sorry. I was planning on it from the beginning, I guess it just slipped my mind,” I apologized.

“Nah, it’s okay. It will be worth it if I get to see the look on his face when you take down your hood,” Ash chuckles.

“That’s partially the reason I wanted to do it. The other part is because I want my face to be the last thing he sees before he dies,” I admit, not meeting Ash’s eyes.

“That’s a good reason, no matter how inhumane it sounds. Revenge is sweet,” Ash reassures me.

“I don’t know if that was supposed to help me or make my urge to kill Helios higher,” I joke.

Ash laughs, and soon we’re rolling on the floor in fits of giggles. It’s probably weird to be rolling on the floor in laughter when we are ending a war tomorrow, but oh well. It’s nice to have some light-hearted moments in there.

“Alright, come on. We have some planning to do,” Ash smiles and helps me off the floor.

“Why? I don’t want to,” I whine like a child, faking a pout.

“Well, do you want to kill Helios?” Ash chides me.

“Yeah,” I grumble.

“Then let’s go!” he hauls me off the ground and we start walking down the hallways again.

“You’re a fun killer,” I complain.

“I know, but it will be worth something eventually,” he says as we approach our shared office.

We spent the rest of the night in the office, me drawing up various battle maps and Ash reading over multiple documents and giving me ideas. Countless hours were spent pouring over maps and scribbling down notes, well into the night. We only went to rest when the glimmer of Alfhiem’s sun peaked through the windows. This was the final time Helios would see it.

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#behind the trigger #original work #original fiction #Chapter Eight

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bookwyrminspiration · 2 years ago

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Shattered Upside Down

A kotlc wings au: masterpost here

Chapter 43: Project Phoenix

word count: 9.3k

chapter summary: Sophie and her friends finally learn the answer to one of their most important questions.

warnings: death, self-sacrifice, fire, blood, implied child abuse, injury

taglist: @cosmogyral-cleo @axels-corner @cadence-talle @ahecktonoffandomsinoneblog @milesspidermanmorales @loverofallthingssmart @cowboypossume @jolieharkness @wings-of-hell-and-beyond @shellyseashell @blossomjenniie @akotlcblog @imaramennoodle @panic-at-the-multi-fandom-chaos @dragonwinnie-kotlc @solreefs @fintan-pyren @jazzanddaydreams @xanadaus @sa-divine

-> ao3 link here or read below

You, was all Sophie could think as she made eye contact with Fintan Pyren across the expanse of that infinite room in the deep, dark earth.

And even with the space between them, she could still hear each word dripping from his mouth.

“Ah, you,” Fintan spat, feverish gaze scraping against their skin, a shivering twitch running across his body as his firelight danced in the glass of all those empty vats. “Can’t stay away for your own good.”

Sophie started, but ignored the taunt. “Where’s Phoenix?”

Fintan tilted his head to the side to look at her, brows scrunching down over those ice-blue eyes, burning bright even across the distance, like he was burning from the inside out as that creature beside him shuddered and finally, finally collapsed, mewling pathetically on the floor, tearing her heart into pieces.

With a grand sweep of both arms, he gestured towards the room, the ceiling, to the levels and levels above them of facility and monsters and horrors, people who had devoted themselves to this cause.

“Phoenix is right here,” he said. “Honestly, Moonlark, I would expect better from you. To come all this way and still not know?”

“No, the girl,” she said, ignoring the rapid voices in the mindbubble passing back and forth as they spread out a little, facing different directions to cover all sides. Who knew what was in here, what they couldn’t see in the pulsing right lights.

If Fintan was killing creatures, if there were enough that the walls were drenched so red she’d never get the stains out of her socks, who knew how many more were hidden in the shadows blanketing the room.

“Ah. Her. That’s not her name, you know. But of course, there’s so much you don’t--and yet you think you’re above us, that you’re on the top of the world. How ironic then, that we’re in the exact same place, Sophie.” He whispered her name, lips curling into more of a snarl than a smile.

Marella interrupted, “Stop stalling! I know your tricks. Where is the girl?”

“My star student,” he answered instead, placing a burning hand over his ashen heart. “Pity you never listened to what you should’ve. Always ignoring the most potent of my advice, confining yourself into the boxes these…friends…give you. She is not here.”

Sophie nearly screamed, the desire to bash his skull in overwhelming. “Then where--”

Dex did scream, the blood-curdling sound behind her echoing through the chamber before she’d ever had the chance to whirl around, to see him scrambling backward as the long rope of a tongue of some creature whipped towards him out of the dark.

Marella shot a blast of heat at it, the tongue flicking out of the way, retreating slightly before a second joined it, the source still unidentifiable.

Fintan laughed a slow, dry laugh, backing away. “I told you, last time I saw you, that your leaving was the last thing I’d do for you, Moonlark. I intend to hold to that.”

As their group skirted away from the reaching, yearning tongues, Fintan stalked towards the exit, body jerky and uncoordinated, edges of his jacket singed.

“Uh-oh,” Biana said, head whipping from side to side, finger pointing in front of her as the light flashed again and they could all see the creatures advancing from the shadows. Reaching tongues and slithering bodies, entangled limbs and gnashing teeth as they moved and throbbed in unison, terror reeking and polluting the air.

Sophie glanced between the rapidly descending monsters and Fintan, the narrow path connecting the two disappearing as she tried to make her decision.

Go, Fitz urged, wings flapping as he backed away, thwacking against a nearby broken vat as he pulled a gadget from his pocket in preparation. Her friends echoed the sentiment, and she tore herself away, slipping through that gap in the undulating bodies.

Be careful was all she could think as she sprinted across the cavernous space, empty vats that once held monsters now released somewhere in the world, drawing on that energy that made her more than human.

She wasn’t letting him get away, not without answers, not until she knew where to find Phoenix, whose name wasn’t even Phoenix.

It didn’t matter in the end, because as she caught up to Fintan, gripping his arm to pull him to a stop, they both jerked back.

Claws scraped against the stone floor as something lunged for them, forcing them back so unexpectedly they fell, bones banging hard as they collapsed into a pile, Fintan pinning her to the floor with his body weight.

“Get off!” she grunted, grabbing his shoulders and shoving, scrambling back until her feet were under her again and she could lunge forward, pinning him this time.

Nice giant monster with huge teeth that looks very angry and murderous right now, Sophie frantically sent out to the creature, which had ducked back a little and now stood watching watching watching as it inched ever closer again, taunting them.

“Do you want us both killed?” Fintan demanded, trying to jerk away, eyes on the creature slowly slowly slowly advancing behind her.

“Where’s the girl?” she demanded. “Where can I find her? What’s happening? Why--OW!” she shrieked, snatching her hands back to her body as Fintan stole her body heat, searing her wrists through the fabric of her sleeves as he rolled to the side, leaving her to fumble in the other direction as the monster lunged for him, barely missing Sophie’s head as it swiped at the air.

“What’s happening?” Fintan demanded, flicking his wrists and lighting them up as she bit her lip to keep from crying out. She just needed to get through it. It was just a small burn. She’d been through worse. That’s what she tried to remind herself. “What’s happening is that you cannot keep yourself from inserting you and your friends everywhere you do not like. What’s happening is you keep chasing after us, making a mess of everything as you go. For someone trying to save the world, you’re doing an excellent job of keeping me from doing the exact same thing.” As he spoke, he backed away from the creature, lobbing a ball of flames onto it.

“SAVING the world?” she spat back. “You’ve ruined it.”

Sophie looked back as she heard her friends shout, a resounding crash sounding as a vat tumbled to the floor, the group fighting and ducking their way towards her, trying not to hurt anything unless they needed to.

“I ruined nothing,” he shot back, dancing further away from the monster as it thrashed, the sound of its agony echoing, painful enough she wanted to tear her ears clean from her head. “Murad fucked it all up.”

“I--what?” she got out, leaning against a nearby vat, hoping the cracks marring its surface were minor and that the thing wouldn’t collapse. She could hear her friends directing their movements, moving in harmony as the creatures materialized from the dark. This must’ve been where they were all kept, or at least most of them. It was the only way to explain the numbers.

The area they’d tried, and failed, to avoid in their first attempt to bring this place to its knees.

“You think of us as one and the same, don’t you, Sophie.” His eyes burned brighter, if that was even possible, sickly light spilling from his skin, through the backs of his hands, the tender skin of his throat as he approached her--but made no move against her. “I would say I was surprised at how wrong you could be, but you and your friends have proven yourselves to be more idiotic and misguided than this in the past.”

Without even meaning to, Sophie felt her mind slipping towards the burning monster, the second one she’d witnessed dying at Fintan’s hands in almost as many minutes.

“You talk a lot of shit for someone who's clearly not in charge,” she shot back.

She couldn’t attack him, not when he still had information she might need. He’d know better than anyone else where the little girl would be, where Murad was. He loved to talk, and even if he was obviously stalling for something, maybe she could get him to spill more than he wanted.

Everything good? Fitz’s voice buzzed through her head, though when she glanced to him he wasn’t looking her, fending off a scrambling creature with a small knife she didn’t even know he owned.

Great, she shot back.

“As eloquent and near-sighted as ever,” Fintan rolled his eyes, turning up his nose and away from her, facing towards the door again, the door she and her friends had broken through all those months ago before their lives were shattered into pieces and thrown to the wind,

He cursed to himself though, because his path was once again blocked by another creature, just as large as before, but with scales riddled down its body, gleaming in the firelight.

“Seriously, why are there monsters everywhere?” she demanded, reaching towards him again as she skirted around a shape in the dark, intent on holding him there as long as it took to get her answers. She wasn’t above breaking into his mind, but he’d had enough experience with telepaths that it might take her and Fitz’s combined efforts to find what they wanted.

Whatever air of superiority he’d wielded when they’d first arrived had started to melt away, the reality of all of them stuck together in this hellhole room that went on forever, poorly lit, and absolutely teeming with monsters, blood, and gore, had his facade faltering.

Fintan’s eyes slid to her as he brightened his flame. “Are you going to be any help with these foul things, Moonlark, or will you continue to stand there and blabber on while the rest of us do the fighting? I can only assume they’re like this because of you.”

Sophie straightened, reaching for the gadgets hidden in her sleeves and pockets. She didn’t want to hurt anything, didn’t want to lay a finger to a single fur on these monsters back’s unless she had to. But that was a secondary, background thought.

“Us?” she demanded, gasping as she stumbled back from a creature slamming itself against the vat she stood next to, full body weight into the glass from the opposite side, hard enough a tinkling sound rang out as it cracked.

Fintan backed away, lobbing another ball of fire, not even bothering to care about the room, about the still sizzling corpses behind him. So reckless was his throwing, she got the distinct impression that he wouldn’t care if the whole room went up with it, unblinking as he moved.

With each swish of his arms, he moved closer and closer to the door. To getting away without giving her those answers.

“There is an alert that the emergency exit has been breached, and only minutes later the alarms for the entire facility are blaring, interrupting what I’d finally, finally achieved after months of sacrifice, and pain, and planning. We arrive to the place in pandemonium, these things breaking from their enclosures as a Level 5 emergency is called. And who do I find in the midst of it all as I’m stuck cleaning up this mess but you and your little friends. So yes, you, Moonlark.”

We we we we we, was all Sophie could hear. “We. You said ‘we arrive’. They’re here--where is the little girl?”

Fintan didn’t respond, too busy facing off against another thing seeping in from around the corners, light burning in his chest, through those cracks in his skin, staring staring staring at it like he could intimidate it into leaving it alone, as though his presence alone was frightening enough to protect him. Once, she would’ve agreed, that the thought of Fintan Pyren was enough to send her running.

Those days were long over.

She didn’t have Fitz to help her, but she wasn’t useless on her own. She was the most powerful telepath the world had ever known.

Pulling on the knot of emotions in her chest, the frazzled energy of this place, the chaos and the fear and the death death death staining the walls staining the earth staining his hands, she unraveled the threads, building building building on one one one until she couldn’t contain it, ignoring the monsters all around her, the monsters who hadn’t even touched her, and sent the feeling barreling from her chest.

Every memory of hurt, of cuts and bruises and broken bones, of fire burning down her back and stuck to her skin, of the welts raising on her wrists even now, it crashed into Fintan without warning as he gasped and dropped to the floor, fire sputtering out, leaving them in the pitch dark, only the faint, far off illumination of the flashing alarm lights guiding her, that and the afterglow of his skin as she leapt forward, grabbing at his temples, forcing her mind into his.

She didn’t have time to think about the monsters, didn’t have time to notice, didn’t see them inching ever closer closer closer to the two of them, an infinite supply in the dark of wronged and furious creatures intent on blood.

Still twitching and moaning and unaware, Fintan’s mind mirrored his body, a whirlwind of cracked and broken pieces, warped and distorted, wrong wrong wrong in so many ways, memories playing and blasting and lining themselves up up up up in front of her as she tried to find herself, to figure out what was a trick and what was just broken.

Phoenix, she whispered, PHOENIX, she screamed, searching searching searching.

Even if she didn’t know the little girl’s name she could find her, could see, could know.

He’d said we, we we we, so it had to be recent, she didn’t have to go digging.

And yet, when she called out into the vastness of his ancient mind, yesterdays and yesteryears mixed, and she could see faces from glittering castles decades and years past, right beside images of hallways dark and flickering, of monsters in cages and fire burning beneath his skin.

And it hurt hurt hurt.

Each movement, each step, it jarred and tore and burned burned burned and not in the way he’d come to love, to crave, but in mistakes and agony, in regret.

He’d reached for the sun and his wax wings had melted, melted into nothing as he fell into the sea, the furthest from his light he’d ever been.

Distorted colors of memories, of itching that wouldn’t stop, of downing elixir after elixir, of needles in his arm and blood flowing into those little tubes, of sweat along his brow as he stumbled through the world, trying trying trying not to fall and failing failing failing.

A hand reaching out to touch fur, not in kindness, but in control. If he could hold on, if he could hold hold hold on, he could bring Murad to his knees, him and his plan, the idiot who’d dragged a little girl--

The stream of consciousness shifted, an inferno blasting into her mind, trying to scare her away, Fintan recovered enough to know what she was doing, to try and hide what he still could.

Gasping, she tumbled from his mind, falling back from where she’d crouched on the ground near her. He sat up, struggling, as though his body was lagging behind and wouldn’t do what he wanted, wasting wasting wasting away, something none of those elixirs could fix.

But it brought back another question, one she’d asked before.

He hadn’t answered.

“What happened to you?”

Silence.

Fintan wasn’t looking at her, but behind her, face pale, hair sticking to his sweaty skin.

“He did,” he whispered, and it was as though he transformed into a different person. All the rage, the burning alive, it narrowed into a single point as he stared stared stared, so intensely she thought it could kill.

So she turned, too.

Moving slowly across the floor was a beast of a monster, dark midnight fur crawling up its paws, cracks of gold webbed through its body, and atop it sat a terrified little girl, face wan as she saw Sophie, eyes widening.

The little girl tensed, mouth falling open as her heartbeat frantically took off, harder than it had been before, loud enough she nearly couldn’t hear the one beside it.

Murad walked in front of her monster, hood of his cloak down, the red red red fabric swaying with each step he took.

“So you still blame me,” he said, offhanded, head tilting to the side, smile curling at the edges of his lips, those eyes that couldn’t decide if they wanted to be green or blue--but he wasn’t looking at her.

His eyes were on Fintan, still on the floor, body trembling from the exertion of fire after fire, of pushing itself to its limits after Sophie had brought him down.

The monsters near them had gone quiet, slipping away to lurk at the edges, eyes flicking to and away from the beast of gold and blue.

“There is no one else to blame,” he shot back, pushing himself to his feet, straightening the sleeve of his loose, white top, the same style she’d seen him wearing every time since she’d learned he was a part of this all.

“There is you to blame,” Murad said. “I gave you every opportunity to prove yourself, to show that there may be an elf in the world who's worth something. And you failed each time. That fault isn’t mine.”

Sophie could hardly focus on their words. Murad stood between them, so she tried to make eye contact with the little girl; she sat astride her monster and looked between everyone and everything, tears pricking at her eyes as the sleeves of her dress slipped from her shoulders, a pale green stained with splattered red.

She couldn’t help imagining her in that village, the very one she now called home, wandering around and watching watching watching, not knowing that one day so soon she’d be the center of it all.

Finally, finally, their eyes met, and the little girl looked at her, and she mouthed two words.

Please. Run.

Sophie shook her head. No. No, she was not running, no matter what she asked. She’d run away once before and been haunted by the choice ever since, though she knew she couldn’t have done anything else.

“Are those your friends?” Murad asked, looking off to the side, away from Fintan before he could retaliate with whatever response he wanted.

Sophie tensed, following his line of sight, fingers clenching into fists as she saw a glowing bubble in the dark, a forcefield bright and round, shapes condensing and coalescing all around them, monstrous in size.

But…her brows creased together as she sealed her lips, trying to see through the glow, painful to look at in such low light, like staring at the sun.

Even so, even as it burned her eyes, she found herself fumbling to say anything.

Because she couldn’t see anyone under that forcefield.

The little girl shrieked, ducking down against her monster as the shadows around them sprung to life--not monsters in the shadows, but the shadows themselves.

They shot across the ground and danced about like sprites, curling and condensing and webbing and burning and blinding, just as Fintan grunted, toppling to the ground as Biana materialized on top of him, wide eyes glinting as she pinned him beneath her body weight, the surprise giving her every advantage.

Murad’s eyes widened and his heart rate jumped as he stepped back, only to be faced with a furious pyrokinetic with hands of burning steel grabbing him from behind and kicking his legs out from underneath him.

“You talk funny,” Keefe told him as he sauntered out of Tam’s shadows, the darkness peeling back to reveal all ten of them surrounding the two. Dex stood near Biana, Fitz at his side, gadgets drawn and faces flush, only a few scrapes visible. Wylie and Tam stood side to side, hands bubbling with their powers, raw and ready beneath the surface to work in tandem. Maruca and Linh stood at attention towards the center, prepared for whatever was necessary to get them all out of here. Keefe leaned against a nearby vat, looking for all the world like he didn’t care about a thing; his wings were pitch black as he glanced at the little girl.

No one was near her or her monster.

Not with the way its maw dripped gore, the rancid stick of its breath in the air. Sophie hadn’t noticed until then, too focused on the blood staining the little girl, but her monster was soaked in viscera and flesh, paws gleaming in the pulsing light with wet, maw dripping pink.

Sophie had a sickening feeling she knew what had torn the creatures apart in the hallway, what had washed the walls in red.

“You fucking--” Fintan started, but he hardly resisted, malice still fixed on Murad, whose cloak had bunch beneath him as he’d fallen.

Murad’s smile widened, like he hadn’t a care in the world what everyone did, what happened. She wanted to wipe that look off his smug, moronic face.

“Shut. Up,” Biana told him, eyes wide wide wide in that dazed way, but this time with intent. She wasn’t losing herself to the feelings of the monsters, she was feeding off their energy, propelled forward by adrenaline.

“Congratulations. You’ve won,” Murad said, still smiling. Every time the red light of the alarms flashed, she could see it again, but then it disappeared once more. “Ten kids, we never stood a chance.”

“You too. Shut up,” Linh told him, skin casting rainbows in sync with his flashing smile, disappearing and reappearing in the light. “It all ends today. No more.”

“No more indeed,” Murad agreed. “Elves winning as they always do, getting rid of what they wish.”

Marella’s eyes flashed to Fitz. “Cut it out! Taunt us all you want, we’ve won.”

What do we do, she asked into the mindbubble, thoughts scrambling behind the veil that kept them concealed, loud enough a few of them bled through.

What do we do? Sophie didn’t know. She hadn’t anticipated this.

She’d expected more of a fight. That it’d take effort, that they’d get hurt--her sore wrists and burned sleeves seemed hardly comparable to the rock and a hard place the Neverseen had forced them between before.

But this was Phoenix, not the Neverseen. Maybe it was different this time.

It couldn’t be this simple, right?

Last time, when they’d broken the Neverseen into pieces and worn them down down down into nothing, so badly they’d had to come crawling to this organization even less known, even less seen.

“You didn’t plan ahead, did you Moonlark?” Fintan asked as she thought and thought and thought and they just stood there, waiting and waiting and waiting. For what? What came next?

Last time, they’d had adults on their side who could take over when they were done, who could put the Neverseen in chains and drag them away, criminal justice them to the ends of the earth while they could sit back, relax, and enjoy their victory. Their part had been over.

More and more voices asked after her in the mindbubble, but she kept coming up blank.

“And where do you think you’re going, my dear?”

You could hear the snap of the little girl’s teeth as they slammed together, her eyes wide as she froze froze froze under Murad’s words.

She shook her head side to side, denying anything, everything, heart slamming slamming slamming its panicked rhythm into the room.

But it was clear, too clear, from the distance between her and their ring around the two in the circle before them, that her monster had been creeping away.

Step by step, bloody paw-prints had been dragged across the stone, shining in the flashing, rhythmic light.

“Leave her alone,” Sophie shot, eyes flashing to Murad as he looked over his shoulder to peer at the little girl. “You’ve hurt her enough.”

“Hurt her?” he asked, lightly pulling against Marella’s grip, not in a real attempt to break out, but as though he were testing the boundaries, figuring how much they’d allow him to do. “Have I hurt you, my dear?”

Oh I hate him, Keefe said into the mindbubble, wings shifting so black should couldn’t distinguish them from the shadows, as though they were a black hole in the middle of the room.

The little girl froze, shrinking under his gaze, lips wan as they pressed against each other, looking like she wanted to be anywhere in the world other than here. Her arms trembled as her fingers dug into the fur of her monster, knuckles white white white against even the pale hue of her dress.

“Of course you have,” Fintan spat, sweat dripping down his brow as he twitched and shivered in Biana’s grasp, who leaned away from him while maintaining her hold, as though she couldn’t get far enough away from him. “You’ve destroyed everything you’ve touched. Several millennia weren’t enough for you to get your act together, and the moment you try it crumbles beneath you--at the barest resistance from ten teenagers. Pathetic.”

Wylie’s brows scrunched together in concern, looking to Sophie. I don’t think we belong in the middle of this.

The rest of them stood awkwardly around, watching with bated breath, eyes ricocheting between the two of them with nothing else to do. Biana and Marella held them down, and neither of them were trying to get up.

What else was there to do?

Sophie looked over Murad’s head to the little girl, the monster brimming with fury beneath her, deep breaths spewing rotten, bloodied breath into the air, eyes fixed fixed fixed on the back of Murad’s skull as saliva dripped slowly from its teeth.

“Spew your vitriol elsewhere. I won’t sink to your level,” Murad replied, cool and even, as though Fintan wasn’t practically frothing at the mouth as wisps of smoke spilled from his mouth with each breath, an inferno burning burning burning inside him.

Sophie shrunk away from whatever argument they were having, whatever history was hashing itself out before her eyes, tip-toeing backwards and towards those streaks of blood on the ground, sinking into the dark without fear.

One look at the foaming mouth of the monster the little girl called her own and there was no doubt that every single thing in this place was trying to stay as far away from it as possible.

Except her. She was trying to get closer.

Linh glanced at her, looking between Sophie and the sizzling crackle of Fintan’s skin, her mind trailing after Sophie’s wishing wishing wishing she could follow along. But the little girl didn’t know her, and Linh was their best defense against fire.

“I do not care what these children know. I do not care what they learn of you or your plans--your failures of plans. You can sit there, believing yourself better than me because you have yet to learn the consequences of daring to dream, of reaching for everything you’ve ever wanted and falling short. You can try and keep your secrets, but I am above you in that.”

Sophie tried to split her mind, to pay attention and capture every single word of the conversation and save it in case she needed it someday, trying to piece together where everything fit as the temperature rose ever so slightly in the room, the smoke billowing from Fintan’s mouth thickening, melding with the stench of the monster that grew as Sophie neared.

Its head turned towards her and she paused, holding her arms up in deference, but not so high as to think her a threat.

Murad said nothing, and the monster gave her a good, solid sniff, before it turned its head away again, eyes focused focused focused on Murad.

He’s PISSED, Keefe said, and she could see him swaying slightly as he leaned against that vat, it holding him more than he held up himself.

Who? Tam asked, shadows dancing across the floor as they all waited, letting Sophie do what she’d come here to do.

Both of them. But Murad’s afraid. Fintan isn’t.

She could practically feel the tremble of the little girl through the air, could see the way her grip had stuck and her muscles couldn’t move, as though she didn’t dare look next to her.

Sophie ignored the conversations in her head, messages whizzing past her as she didn’t move, didn’t dare bring attention to herself, approaching a frightened animal.

Spider’s web of a mind, that’s what the being had called her, and she stretched it out towards the little girl, same as she had when she’d promised that she’d come back for her. She’d promised and she had every intention to hold to it.

Hey, she whispered, and the little girl’s spine locked in place as her eyes whipped around to her, the whites visible on every side, unshed tears pooled in the corners, teeth biting through her lip so hard Sophie could taste the blood herself. Silent silent silent, panic mode trying to save her from the horrors of her life.

The little girl’s lips formed another word, again silent: Please.

Sophie nodded, transmitting, Okay. It’s okay. Everything’s going to be okay, I promise.

“FUCK you,” Fintan spat, a wave of dry, sweltering heat erupting from him and sweeping through the room, Sophie and the little girl flinching, each of her friends stumbling back a step from the intensity, but Fintan didn’t notice the feeling of it, even as the edges of his sleeves singed and burning cloth joined the smell of burnt meat and fresh blood.

Biana waved her hands around in pain as she backed away, flickering in and out of sight, butterfly wings flapping behind her as the heat blasted again, Sophie’s eyes drying out.

Marella kept her grip on Murad, her pyrokinetic perks keeping her from feeling the heat as he started to move, but not in response to them, in response to Fintan.

Sophie stepped closer to the monster, to the little girl, unsure how to get her out. They could walk through each level--but were they safe? Monsters on the prowl, scared, hungry, alone; they weren’t evil, but they could hurt, and the little girl didn’t deserve to experience any more of this wretched place than she already had.

“You’re trying to goad me,” Murad said. “Upset that she succeeded where you failed?” he asked, jerking his chin to indicate the little girl. “That we, as unclean as our blood may be, outperformed an elf?”

We need to leave, Fitz transmitted, wing wrapped around his sister. We came here for the girl, do you have her? Something’s wrong with them. I don’t think we should interfere.

Everyone was watching mutely, so uncharacteristic for their group.

But this was clearly beyond them, a conflict entirely separate from their fight.

My friends and I are going to leave, are you ready? I came here for you. I don’t care about Fintan or Murad, okay? Are you ready? she transmitted to the little girl, the tears finally broken from their prison as they streamed freely down her face.

“I…I can’t…” she whispered, voice hoarse, the first thing she’d said since she’d arrived.

Fintan burned burned burned, lighting up the dark of the pit of the facility, alarm lights flashing overhead as he whispered. “You love to think that, don’t you? You love to think you’re different, but you know as well as I do that she was successful because she’s a child. Because you chose to bring a CHILD into this mess for the sake of your vision. Your soulless, idiotic vision. You were destined to fail because you cannot for the LIFE of you find a purpose beyond pain. I’ve seen how you break down--”

“Enough. Are you enjoying the show?” Murad directed that part to her friends. “ You’re just standing here, after all. If you don’t mind, I was in the middle of something before you so boorishly grabbed me.” He directed the last part at Marella, who said nothing in response, just kept holding on.

It’s okay, you can do it. We can hold hands, Sophie told the little girl, remembering all the times she and her little sister had done the same. When crossing the street, Sophie looking both ways and Amy only looking at her. When running through the park, making up games to play together before Amy had realized just how weird she was and left to find her own friends.

“My protégé, Miss Redek,” Fintan said, addressing her directly in a tone that had Sophie’s attention split once more. “You have him before you, entirely at your mercy--he’d like to think he’s in control, he loves to. He’s built this entire fucking place convincing himself he’s in charge, that he runs it, that people listen to him out of respect, but he lies.

“It is a lie and you know it. You know what you could do to him, what lives beneath your skin. It is the same thing that aches beneath mine. I saw it in you, I saw the potential in you. He is under your control and you simply stand there. What comes next, I ask. For this man who has poisoned your world and uses a child to cure it. Do you stand for that?”

“Leave her alone,” Linh cut in, and the little girl’s breath choked, the tears falling falling falling as she stared stared stared at Fintan, who looked to her despite Linh’s remarks.

Dex added, incredulous. “Are you trying to tell her to kill him?”

“So now you speak,” Fintan laughed, humorless. “I was not addressing you. You have no place in this conflict. It is Murad and I, and our darling little Moonlark, who has decided she belongs at the center of this, too.” He looked to her, smiling that burning smile, smoke pouring from his mouth with each breath, the burn beneath his skin mounting and building as the skin cracked and cracked and cracked. Sophie swore she could see the fire burning through them.

Sophie told him, “My friends and I are a package deal. Get used to it.”

Seriously, we need some sort of plan here guys, Wylie said.

What? Like have Marella kill Murad? Linh asked.

“They’ve never fought like this before,” the little girl whispered, and Sophie missed the next part of the rapid conversation as her friends shuffled around, on the defensive, force further and further away from where Fintan stood because the heat radiated from him like a bonfire, like the destruction of Eternalia, like everblaze, firelight seeping through his skin.

“Do they fight?” she asked, but already knew the answer; she’d seen the barely concealed contempt for each other in her brief visit.

Get away, get away from him, Wylie commanded, gasps sounding out as her friends stumbled back further still, the burn of Fintan’s skin painful to endure, to be near. Sophie was still far enough away, but all she could think was that the little girl shouldn’t be watching, that she needed to distract her.

“What’s your favorite color?” she asked, taking a few steps back, the little girl’s eyes shifting to her as her monster took a few steps back in tandem, blood smearing from its soaked paws on the ground. She couldn’t even smell it anymore, not over the dry heat coming from Fintan.

Something was about to happen, something was happening, but she didn’t know what and didn’t know what to do. Her friends were strong, they were capable, they’d call on her if needed. She could focus on the girl, on comforting her, on convincing her to come down and leave, try to break her out of whatever freeze she stood in staring staring staring.

Sophie knew how hard it was to get out of those, had chastised herself for weeks after freezing when Dex needed someone.

“Um…yellow,” she answered. “But not like fire, like…flowers.”

Murad’s voice nearly vanished into the shadows with its depth. “I should’ve turned you away when you arrived on my doorstep.”

Sophie looked over, seeing that Marella had followed Wylie’s orders, dropping Murad and backing away, wings braced around her body in defense, a little ways away from Sophie and the little girl.

“Yes, you should have,” Fintan agreed, laughing, glee lighting up his voice. He looked around at her friends, all hidden in shadows, braced braced braced for the worst, monsters nowhere in sight, all of them fleeing the scene, trying to get away.

His face smoothed out, a smile curving, showing off the points of his teeth, clothes burning against his skin.

He relished this, loved the audience.

Continuing, he said “It would’ve been better for the both of us. Gisela wouldn’t have been wasted under your hand, and I would’ve lived the rest of my days in solace, biding my time until I could reshape the world as it should be, not how you’ve twisted it to be.”

The door’s over there, we can get away from all this, Sophie transmitted to the girl. To her friends, she said I’m trying to convince her to leave--because if I just grab her she’ll get upset and I don’t want to mess with her monster--but she’s not responding to any of it!

“You?” Keefe got out at the mention of his mother’s name.

“I had nothing to do with her death,” Murad replied, hot. “She brought it on herself. Each of them did.”

Murad had stayed calm until now, but Sophie couldn’t help but remember the way he’d snapped around the corner as he’d drawn her blood, how easily he’d lost his control at the smallest of things. She couldn’t help but remember how when the little girl’s monster had growled at him when she’d panicked after she’d stolen Sophie, the way he’d commanded her otherwise. How quickly he’d grown peeved.

Murad had a short fuse, one he was trying to keep very carefully under control.

“You enjoyed it, didn’t you?” Fintan said, voice smoother than melted butter, voice a melody as he smoldered and singed. “You wanted us gone the moment you found us, you enjoyed how these abominations you created tore those elven cities to shreds. Those things tearing buildings to the ground were entirely out of your control, meant everything had gone wrong, and yet you loved it, didn’t you?” He stabbed an accusing finger towards Murad.

Seriously, why is no one moving! Wylie asked.

Go! Sophie told them, I’ll get the girl, you all get out of here!

You’re out of your mind if you think we’re leaving you, Fitz shut her down.

“It was deserved. If only you’d been one of them.”

Fintan laughed, a sharp, breathy thing. He spread his arms wide, the front of his loose shirt falling open, revealing those cracks cracks cracks through his skin, the canyons and valleys they’d become, how wrong he’d turned out.

Sophie transmission to the little girl, Hey, we need to leave; it’s not safe here, but you can come with us--you can come with me. We’ll go to the door over there, and we’ll find the stairs, and you can leave this place forever.

“There are bodies that way,” she whispered. “I don’t want to see them.”

“You can close your eyes, and I’ll lead you out. I know it sucks right now, okay? I know. I’ve been there. But it’s just going to be icky for a little while longer and then everything will be okay, okay?”

“You promise?”

Fintan called out. “You asked me what happened to me, Moonlark! Would you like to know? Would you like me to tell you in all its gory, putrid details?” He grinned at Murad as he spoke, the flashing red spilling over his teeth, up into his hair, arms spread wide and she could see the heatwaves radiating from his body, the way it distorted like the air over a parking lot in the middle of summer.

Her friends had started moving further away from him again, but this time not just away, but closer to her, rapid conversation breaking out as they all tried to figure out what to do.

It wasn’t safe here, but if they left who knew what Fintan and Murad would do. They didn’t have backup to call in like last time, people who could cover for them and take the villains away once they’d pinned them down.

Her friends wouldn’t leave without Sophie, Sophie wouldn’t leave without the little girl, and the little girl was frozen in place.

“Keep me out of this!” she called to Fintan.

I promise, she transmitted. I promise that it will be okay. I know you don’t know me, I know you don’t have any reason to trust me, but I just want to get you away from them. I want to help.

“Okay,” the little girl said, and she could hear the sigh of relief from Fitz.

“I told you he happened,” Fintan continued, as though she hadn’t said anything, as though she wasn’t trying to pull her group together to get this out of this broiling room. It was just them now, all the monsters had disappeared from the shadows as he blasted the room enough to make all their clothes cling to their bodies with sweat.

“I--” Murad started.

“I am not done! He said we would remake the world, but all he’s done is ruin it, destroying everything he touches, and I did not escape that curse. I am her predecessor,” he pointed to the little girl, whose lip trembled as they made eye contact, but not in fear. No, with the way she leaned forward, it looked as though she was reaching towards him. “I reached for the stars, dared to dream, and fell short under his hands. Elixirs and needles, I couldn’t connect. These abominations didn’t listen to me,” he gestured to the empty room as though there were monsters there. “They did at first. They submitted, but I could not keep my grasp--and yet he wouldn’t let me stop. He insisted that another attempt would fix it. Would fix me, even as my skin cracked and bled, even as the ground swam before me, he pushed further and further. And now look at me, more monster than anything else in this room but him. The moment I stumbled he abandoned my potential--in favor of hers.”

“You were an unsuitable subject and failed in every way, of course I’d abandon you. You’re lucky she found you useful, or I would’ve disposed of you then.”

“Will you shut it? You called her Phoenix, didn’t you, Moonlark? The phoenix and the moonlark. Do you know why?”

Ignore him, she transmitted as the little girl’s monster finally started to back away, to head towards the exit. He likes to talk a lot, but it’s not worth listening to.

Sophie saw someone give Fintan the middle finger, but she couldn’t tell who with the way the shadows danced. Biana? Or was that Maruca?

“Project Phoenix, that’s what we were,” Fintan continued, and even now Murad was backing away from him, eyeing the door as he coughed, covering his mouth, the dust and bodies burning burning burning, smoke clogging the air. The place searing and melting, you couldn’t even see Fintan’s eyes with how they glowed.

The monster stalked away, her friends on either side, watching watching watching her and knowing she wouldn’t leave until everyone else had. She’d stay ‘till the very end.

“Project Phoenix, an opportunity to right his wrongs, to fix his failures--because he is the one who fucked up all these monsters. Tried to make them bend to his will as if they were dogs, not mangled, disgusting perversions of nature. Of course he failed. Let them loose on the world, let the infection spread into the wild, into your lovely little Havenfield.

“He destroyed the elven world just as he wished, brought it to rubble and ruin, but found himself unable to fix it. Who wants to rule over a wasteland? And so he found me. After you had destroyed my own centuries of work, Neverseen now gone, and decided he didn’t care what happened to an elf.

“He blinded me with pretty words and mystery, offered the world on a platter and hid the rot crusting its delicate exterior. For he is a rotten man, incapable of doing anything but hurt himself and those around him. Project Phoenix was his solution to the hurt he caused the world. The monsters were out of control, so the solution? Create someone to control them. Someone powerful, someone disposable. Someone who would become more like them while wielding the glory of an elven intellect. They would serve as the head of the whole operation, reign in the wild, turn the monsters into an unstoppable force under their control so no one could stand against them as lovely Murad built himself a new empire for him and everyone else here.”

No one said a word as Fintan ranted, air screaming around him, sweat trickling down Sophie’s face and into her eyes. She couldn’t look away, had the strangest sense that she shouldn’t, could only witness.

“And it failed. I watched your entire village of gnomes slaughtered and torn to pieces, watched them make their graves because he miscalculated. I would’ve burnt him to a crisp right then and there, but I couldn’t move because he had turned me into this.” He gestured to his skin, its decaying features, the warped canvas of his body.

“I am not afraid to admit that I would’ve died there, as these monstrosities I was supposed to control and find familiarity in--you were ostracized from the elves, you know these creations better than any other could, Fintan,” he interrupted himself, mimicked Murad. “These MONSTERS I ‘should’ve’ connected with tried to come for me next.”

He paused, panting, head turning to the side as a sick smile twisted his cooking features.

“But they never had the chance--because she stepped in. Whatever panic, whatever adrenaline of the moment, watching the carnage, losing everyone around her, it unlocked something in her. She’s far too young to manifest, but the perfect age to become a monster. Isn’t that right Murad? Wasn’t that what you observed in your notes and data, that it was the age of the mind? My ancient mind was too set in stone to adapt as it needed to for your purposes, and the elixirs you had me down were a temporary solution that ran dry?

“But she was still young, still pliable, and as those monsters listened to her in the forest, she became Phoenix, not me. His new project.”

Sophie shuddered at the way the word fell from his lips, so contrary to that of all the times Mr. Forkle had spoken of Project Moonlark. He’d said it with care, with pride, with neutrality. The word Phoenix dripped like venom from his mouth, acrid and cloying, hateful.

“I couldn’t leave, not when he intended to keep her. Someone had to serve as a buffer between the monstrosity of Phoenix and the child it decided to devour and warp. Did you know, Moonlark, that she used to be oh so outspoken? Vocal and opinionated, haughty, even? Not anymore. Now she hardly breathes a word if she can help it, because he forgot that the very elasticity of her mind that made her so suited, made her more fragile.”

The corpses of the creatures he’d burned to death were nothing more than ash as everyone backed towards the exit, trying to get away away away. Her friends screamed at each other in the mindbubble and made her head ache alongside her wrists, but she couldn’t take her eyes away, like watching a car crash. You couldn’t help but absorb every moment.

No one moved too quickly for fear of attracting the boiling, bubbling, putrid rage of Fintan Pyren. He just went on and on and on, shadows disintegrating before him, light encasing his entire body and building as he lamented, unable to stop to the point it hurt to look at him.

“You,” he directed at Murad. “You are ruination incarnate, an egotistical fool, a pathetic leader who wastes millennia seething and moaning, whining about and accomplishing nothing. You will never accomplish anything and nothing you do will make your actions worth it. I would say I hope you enjoy your worthless victories, the people dead under your watch, the people cowering in safe rooms all throughout this place because you could not help but turn their home into hell.”

Murad’s hands tightening into fists, jaw flexing with eyes fixed on Fintan, forgetting all about the monster and its girl being stolen away by a group of teens who never knew when to quit.

Fintan’s voice went quiet. “You let me into this place and I am going to ensure you regret it, that you regret ever meeting me until your heart stops beating,” he breathed.

In the days after, Sophie wouldn’t be able to explain what happened next, wouldn’t even be able to process it. Her mind refused to wrap itself around it all, refused to understand. It all happened so fast she could hardly understand what she was seeing.

Fintan looked to the little girl, met her eye across the room, and whispered, “To the stars and the dreamers, little Phoenix.”

She made a noise, a noise of need, of want, of panic, of realization as her monster froze, watching watching watching watching.

Fintan sighed, a deep, poignant sigh.

Then, he screamed.

A screech a howl a tearing tearing tearing of his throat from his body, every drop of air lulling sitting living in his lungs escaping crawling bursting from him in billowing smoke as

let

himself

burn.

Skin cracked and peeled and burned burned burned into ash as the fire raging in his core escaped the confines of his body, booming in an explosion, an inferno. Flames and fire roared from his skin, running up and along the vats, across the floors, reaching up up up towards the ceiling and into the empty vastness of the place, lighting it up in destructive gold, stealing the air and choking choking choking the facility from the inside out as he screamed and screamed and screamed.

She’d never forget the sound.

He blisters and boils erupted against his skin, and she learned that pyrokinetics can, in fact, burn. And yet he did not stop.

He had been in control of his flames, but had turned himself into a vessel, letting the burn he’d been scorned for so many years consume him from the inside out.

And still, he did not stop.

He intended to bring the building down.

“GET OUT!” she screamed, not caring about what the monster could do to her as she tugged at it, pushing and pulling trying to get it to move move move, but the little girl sat with her mouth agape as she stared stared stared at the flames, tears pouring down her skin and catching on her lip, dripping down into her mouth.

Footsteps scrambled scrambled scrambled as her friends dashed for the exits, wings flapping behind them and spurring them along until they realized Sophie wasn’t with them and the flames were growing closer closer closer and she still tried to get the little girl to move, shaking her leg, about to tear her from her monster and glitch away when she gasped.

Her friends turned back, screaming her name, coughing through the heat, crashing into the creature and pushing and hollering to move move MOVE!

The little girl, little phoenix, screamed screamed screamed screamed screamed then, hands in her hair and pulling pulling pulling as she watched Fintan burn burn burn, the monster joining her with its roar, echoing pulling chilling harrowed and hurtful, three screams ringing in Sophie’s ear and an inferno racing towards her

when the ground

disappeared.

There was nothing nothing nothing everywhere she was and could be, the echo of those screams all she could hear as the world vanished before her and they violently swayed through space, the most intimate parts of herself turned clawed through and spit out.

The next thing she heard were gasps, her friends coughing and choking and groaning as ground and grass slammed into them.

Sophie shrieked as her burnt arms made contact with the ground as she swayed, disoriented, and collapsed. Fur slipped from her fingers as nausea swelled, but all she could think was I’ve felt this before I’ve felt this before.

The last time she’d heard that scream and the word disappeared, Phoenix had stolen her from those tunnels and they’d reappeared before Fintan and Murad, though she hadn’t known his name yet.

They’d teleported.

Smoke burned her lungs as she breathed, taking only a few moments before forcing herself to stand again, to look where they were as the little girl’s monster growled and howled and the little girl took great, heaving gasps.

Rocky land, boulders mixed in with grasses, before them sat a disfigured expanse of earth, and all that stood out, just like in the back entrance, was a stone building standing hidden.

Taller, smoother, more unnatural, the windows were in place and the door properly attached and she knew knew knew she was looking at the front entrance. That if she entered that building it would descend into a burning hell.

She knew it was her mind playing tricks on her, that Fintan himself was deep within the earth consumed by his own flame, but she could’ve sworn she could still hear him screaming screaming screaming away, pained laughter echoing through the air.

“Is he…” Biana asked from behind her, and Sophie spun around.

Biana stared at the ground, as though she could see to the levels below, the levels burning burning burning into nothing. He couldn’t burn the stone, but he could destroy everything else.

“He has to be,” Marella answered, arms hugged tight to her chest, braids frazzled and coming undone. She held up her hands, showing off the blisters forming on them; she’d been closest to the inferno when it’d erupted. “If it hurt even me from that far away…”

No one spoke the word.

Dead.

Everyone lay propped against the ground, trying to catch their breath, and she remembered this was the first time they’d gotten zapped across the world like this, how disorienting it had been her first time.

Not for the little girl though.

“Hey, are you okay?” she asked, looking up at her on top of that monster, that growling monster with hair standing on all ends.

She didn’t answer, only let out a tiny whimper as she stared down at the ground, the ground on the opposite side as Sophie.

Brows furrowing, she slowly--trying not to fall over--eased around the monster, eyes on the ground. What was she staring at?

A hand wrapped around her already burnt wrists, and all the air whooshed from her lungs as she was pulled down to the ground, shoulder slamming against dirt as her wings were pinned beneath her, cold metal pressed against her skin as her eyes went wide.

The white’s of Murad’s eyes were visible as he stared at her face, panting, grip tightening as he pinned her down with a blade she couldn’t see to her neck.

He’d escaped the fire.

#kotlc wings au #shattered upside down #quil's quill #kotlc fanfic #if anyone was curious. the burning fire pizza delivery meme I posted saying 'me writing my own story what the fuck just happened'#was in reference to me writing this chapter #so. there's that!#i have many things to say always but I will not say them here so for now just. hi :)

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rcksmith · 3 years ago

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Sun — Kaz Brekker

Resume: Feelings are destabilizing things.

A/N: This story is not set in the books of Six Crows, I also changed the age of the characters to twenty-something because the idea of writing something about a child makes me uncomfortable. All my stories, of any characters, are with them being of up age. Just like many fanfics out there in the teen series.

English is not my first language, so I so sorry if have a mistake.

Couple: Kaz Brekker/ Fem!Reader.

Warnings: Mention of fight, swearing, mention of post-traumatic stress, angst, mention of kiss, mention of desire, desire, mention of death, but so fucking fluff.

Word count: 3k.

Requests are open. Love you ❤️

— — — —

There were few things in life that he was absolutely sure of. Things that were immutable, solid, unshakable. That even the strongest of winds would not be able to shake the structure. A life built on the basis of an equation of chaos, suffering, death and despair generated a result where it was necessary to be sure of something. And one of those certainties was the ability of himself, of his instincts, of his intelligence, the notion that he himself was a person capable of resolving any type of situation with iron fists. The second was the certainty of the loyalty of his crows, of the two people who, he knew, would never turn their backs on him.

And the third... the third was that when Kaz Brekker first laid eyes on you, he was sure that you would divide his life between a before and an after.

It was a lepid, ferocious feeling that swept the body of The Bastard of the Barrel from the top of his head to the tip of his polished boots. The heat immediately gave way to a cold sweat, a shiver as if receiving a midnight sigh at the back of the neck. There was a quick sensation of burning in the heat of an icy fire, but his composure did not flinch a single millimeter. He had learned to keep it in all situations, trained with steel fists.

Kaz looked at you deeply, from the top of your hair to the tip of your feet, trying to find answers as to why you had triggered such disturbing sensations with a simple and ridiculous exchange of looks. But he found no answers. He found neither after a day, nor after a week, damn it, he did not find nor after a month!

You had joined the infamous trio because they needed a fighting expert, someone who could defeat a good number of men on her own without needing backup, which would make their bigger and more complex robberies much easier. And when they found you, a girl who had been the subject for a experiment to create super soldiers, your ability to fight, physical endurance, and your sense of loyalty, made you perfect for the job.

But none of that explained why, whenever the stormy blue eyes met yours, he felt like he was ricochet by living eels. It was exasperating, frustrating on so many levels that it was difficult to put into words. Kaz could not expose this misfortune to his two closest people, first because his pride in admitting a disturbance in his subtly balanced world was too great, and second that... even if he considered said that, he would not know how to name those feelings for express what he were feeling.

How would Jesper and Inej understand something that even he did not understand?

Kaz Brekker had a firm and calm demeanor, an implacably logical mind and a way of narrowing his eyes that ensured that his orders were carried out with great efficiency, all according to the moment he wished. Then, just as he did to get rid of any disturbance, he buried those sensations so deeply until, like his overwhelming pains and traumas, they stopped tormenting him.

He thought that, like his flawless and cunning plans, it would have the same effect. That his nerves could get back to normal and he wouldn't have to deal with the feeling that feel hiself whit cold and hot at the same time whenever he laid eyes on you.

But, if it was true that the practice makes perfect, this rule has not been applied in this situation.

The deeper he buried those beginnings of thats sensations, more of them began to flourish, roaring harder, as a constant reminder that he was not that rock of stoicity and absence of feelings that he liked to think he was. It seemed that, just as light existed to exorcise the darkness, you existed to show that he still had a beating heart. Hot blood still coursing through the veins.

It has not helped anything in his cause that, over time, Inej and Jesper have become attache to you. Jesper even more. But if Kaz put aside his frustration and irritation for a second, he would know that he couldn't to blame them. In fact, there was no way to blame every person who approached you, delighted.

Jesper once described you as "the soul of the party", and Inej said that you had fire in your soul. Kaz would not have been able to think of better definitions to put into words what you were. There was thing about the way you laughed, the way you talked, the way your tilting your head and your so easy smile. There was a thing about you. That transformed you into the solar system and people orbited in your gravity like planets.

You had a way with people, Kaz really thought it was a gift, a talent. You were always laughing, smiling, playing with people and making them so comfortable in your presence that, once, Kaz saw a trader, who are in a the middle of a refused to close a contract with Kaz, just melt and give up because of the smile you gave to him.

Nothing from you has been forced, malicious, shrewd or cunning. You really smiled, you really laughed, as if you were...happy. Purely happy. And, in a second of insanity, Kaz wondered if that happiness was possible. If it was possible for him to feel something like this.

But, just as Brekker took his soul close from you as much as he could to avoid any emotion, Jesper did the exact opposite. Very quickly, just like Kaz and Inej are, the two of you became a pair of inseparable friends. Were always together.

Perhaps it was because you two were overwhelmingly alike: Always in the eye of danger, addicted to adrenaline, purely outgoing and liked a good fun. Or maybe it was because, like everyone around you, Jesper felt drawn closer to your warm, joyful and comforting aura.

But whatever it was, the timbre of your laughter followed by Jesper's became a sound as natural as the whistling of the wind. And it didn't take long for you two to become partners in thefts and plans.

However, it didn't take long too for the reactions Kaz had about the influence of your presence to become...louder.

If Kaz Brekker closed his eyes and concentrated for a moment, he could still remember and feel that night perfectly as if it were yesterday:

The plan was succinct: They would have to go through guards, high walls and locks to enter a merchant's residence, open the safe, pick up the jewels and leave. Twenty minutes was the time limit to complete that sequence.

Everyone was assigned to one thing: Kaz would turn off a fabricated security system from a Grisha, Inej would sneak into the shadows to the safe and pick up the jewels, and Jesper and you would be responsible for dealing with the various guards. Everyone would have to meet in the corridor that led to the back exit.

Kaz did not think that that so ridiculous and simple plan it could go wrong. Or that someone could make a slip. To him, it seemed as easy as sneaking into a yacht boat. However, there he was, next to Inej who carried the jewelery bag in her hand, both of them standing in that dimly lit corridor, waiting for you and Jesper to appear.

"It's been three minutes!" Inej pointed, as if Kaz didn't already know that.

Her intonation was concerned, apprehensive, with a certain fear. Kaz thought about saying something, but as soon as his mouth opened to say anything, he heard...

Steps. Hurried steps of two people. No, actually, the two people were running.

Suddenly, you and Jesper burst into the corridor, running as if their lives depended on it. Inej and Kaz would have been worried if it weren't for the bastard and peraltas smiles that stretched across faces of you two, stretching their cheeks.

Then Kaz noticed the reason for the delay. You two carried a giant picture under your left arms. Jesper carried the front end and you the back end, like two children who made a mischief and was running from their mother. True accomplices.

Kaz's jaw opened, his eyes widened slightly and roamed the frame with agitated iris, while Inej was totally baffled.

"C'mon, C'mon!" You exclaimed with laughter in your voice, Jesper and you never stopped running.

As soon all left and took shelter in the safety and peace of the Crow Club closed in that night, Jesper and you fell on the couch, laughing and panting.

"What was that?!” But Kaz was exasperated "Do you both know how much risked the plan?!"

"It was only three minutes, Boss." Jesper defended himself.

"It..." That's when Kaz looked at the painting responsible for all the commotion and fuss.

It was a painting, a landscape by Ravka. The fold. In oil on parchment. A DeKappel. That was worth at least ten thousand Kruges.

“You commented that you needed a new painting for your office.” Your voice took Kaz out of the admiration on the painting, and Jesper and Inej looked at you as if they had discovered that now too.

Jesper and Inej thought it was just for the money...

Kaz looked up into your eyes, and the cold, warm shiver spreading across his chest and snaking to his bones. As it always did the moment yours eyes meeting.

He remembered commenting in passing, in a very vague and obtuse way, that he wanted a new painting in the office. Until that moment, Brekker didn't think you paying attention to what he had to say. Not when it wasn't about a job or plan.

But there you were, proving that you had heard. And that you cared.

His breath caught for a second, the icy chill turned to something warmer, like the first sparks of fire in a fireplace. The first flames that precede the fire.

After that, Kaz began to pay more attention, unconsciously, to what you said. And, consequently, he started paying more attention to you. It had been gradual, sneaky as a snake, imperceptible so he wouldn't be able to root it out. As if the universe, destiny or divines, introduced, grain by grain, a small summer in a landscape frozen by winter.

It all started with your comment about liking it sweeter than salty, that dry wine left you with a headache and that you preferred rum. He evolved to notice how your tone of voice got sweeter when you talked to children or animals, and more serious when it came to the safety of the three crows. And suddenly, as if Kaz already knew this as he knew the sky was blue, he knew how to say how your eyes sparkled when you felt the warmth of the sun on your skin.

In that second, looking at you from the other side of the agitated club that turned into a celebration with dance and music, the world became suspended for a moment. The music became just an echoing, blurry noise, the images turned to slow motion and the air seemed to change in pitch. You, who laughed and speen round in Jesper's arms amid so many people who did the same thing, were the only one who starred as the main attraction.

In that minute, when the breath was slow and lyrical, and the air had a beauty tone, Kaz's eyes caught the exact moment when a beam of sunlight hit your face, shining on your skin as if you were one pirate tropical treasure. In a burst, a second of insanity, like a violin string that burst at the apice of the song, he felt that there was nothing else in the world worth seeing that was not you.

It was a scary, terrifying discovery. Something that made him freeze from head to toe, and all the speed in the world came back so fast that Kaz felt dizzy. He pressed his covered hand to the crow's beak of his cane, as if he needed a reminder of reality. Something that would wake him up from those hellish sensations.

- -

The months passed after that fateful afternoon. Kaz avoided staying close to you any longer than necessary and would strongly and vigorously scold every change of tone within himself whenever he saw you.

He didn't know what those sensations meant, but he also didn't want to find out. He liked challenges and responsibilities, but being around you was proving to be more than he could take. Your presence ignited him in a cold and warm fire, promising a future full of unfulfilled infinite wills. From pain, impotence and doomed to failure. Any feeling for you would be more of a punishment than anything else. The only solution was to get it out of your head.

Of course, he had been trying to do just that since he met you.

But again, the universe did not seem to want to give up from he. Not so easily.

Kaz had to take you along to make a deal with a merchant who was more impassable than a rock. Kaz had tried to negotiate with him before (since he couldn't take the strength or rob what he wanted) and all his efforts were in vain. So, he appealed for the last weapon. The person who always had a natural gift whit other people and always had a real smile that made anybody feel like... as if happiness really existed.

You.

"I'm glad it's hot" You commented, while walking next to Kaz "I don’t like the cold."

How did he know that you would say just that? That was so you. Warm, sweet and cozy things were the embodiment of what you were. It was logical that you preferred the heat. So different from him that, instead of you, enjoyed the cold. Liked the rains and storms, relaxed with the moonlight and felt less tense with the midnight winter breeze.

Kaz understood your personality as he understood the very lines of his hands. You were wild, bordering on reckless, you acted before thinking and you always loved anything that aroused adrenaline. You ran like no one else, jumped from one horse's cell to another, decided to catch the largest number of targets just because you wanted the thrill of fighting five against one. Anything calm, serene and peaceful stirred your restless personality. And Kaz knew exactly your level of restlessness from the way your leg was constantly jumping when you had to sit still for more than a few minutes.

You were a free spirit, forged in the heart of the sun and in the heat of summer. While he was limited by his own body and built in the heart of winter and frozen by the cold of the sea. Anything between you was doomed to fail even before you two met. Kaz Brekker knew this very well.

“He is late.” You grunted, your leg was already starting to jumping when you two spent a measly ten minutes waiting for the man.

You looked back and seemed to find it interesting, because Kaz saw your eyes shine.

"Let's go there?" You pointed, and Kaz had to turn around to see that you were referring to a coffee shop.

Crowded with sweets in the window for a change. Why was he not surprised?

“No.” He turned forward again, both hands on the cane.

"So I go over there and come back quickly."

“Y/n" he just said in a warning tone, giving you a scolding look.

You mumbled something he didn't identify, turned around again and did your best to be quiet. Five minutes passed before that merchant arrived, and Kaz can perfectly follow the change in his posture, change in the man eyes when you greeted him with that summer voice and sunny smile.

It was so vibrant, so vivid that, for a second, Kaz found himself slightly swayed by all the brilliance you emanated. Pulled towards your like an animal needing the warmth of the sun.

It didn't take much for the man to sign and agree with everything Kaz said and imposed. In fact, he suspected that if he had asked him to give him his bank password, the man would have been happy to do so.

"Can we go in the coffee shop now?” You commented as soon as the man left, still turning around to look at you as much as possible.

Kaz restrained the glaring urge to roll his eyes, but he had just landed a very lucrative business just and exclusively because you agreed to help. Even though you didn't gain anything from it. So, if he had to go with you to a goddamn coffee shop so he wouldn't feel like a petty profiteer, he would go to the goddamn coffee shop.

Kaz just walked towards the place, and the wide, summery smile you gave may have he missed a few heartbeats.

Stop it!

Once inside the damn store, you scanned the menu that hung on the wall.

“I never took this one.” You commented, pointing to what appeared to be a very sweet mix of drink. Something that involved ice cream and chocolate with something else.

It was not the kind of comment that had an answer, and Kaz was still engaged in the mission to stay away from you. But he thought that statement was just the reason why you wouldn't order that drink. But, just as you always threw any worldview Kaz had in the latrine, you asked for just that. His eyes were bloodshot with astonishment.

“Why are you going to order something you don't know if you like it?” He asked as soon as you got the drink and paid for it.

"How am I supposed to know if something is good if I never try it?” You said casually, both of you going out of the store. “Wanna try out?”

You held out for he the plastic cup that was covered by a lid that had a hole in the middle, where a fat, transparent straw came out. Kaz looked at you as if you had created a second head.

“Come on, you'll never know if you like it if you don't taste it.” The two of you stopped, you still holding the glass gently towards his mouth.

“No.” Kaz shook his head.

“Come ooon.” You insisted, a petulant and amusing smile plastered on your face.

"No."

You shook the glass, holding it out once more. This time, Kaz gave you a slightly annoyed look.

"You're not going to stop insisting until I take this thing, are you?"

You laughed, with a triumphant and friendly smile “I'm glad you know me so well”

Kaz rolled his eyes, snatching the glass from your hand and bringing the hellish straw to his mouth. Hell, he felt so stupid pulling that stupid drink through that straw. As soon as the sweet liquid invaded his tongue, an explosion of flavors flooded his palate, causing him to remain unresponsive for a moment.

"You liked it!" But just as he unveiled all of your lookes, you knew how to unveil all of his.

Kaz handed you the glass. “Absurdly sweet."

"You liked that I know."

You joked and, for a second, you had aroused he a desire to smile. A succinct curve in lips. With your sunny smiles and summer expressions, you looked like you were out of an enchanted forest inhabited by mystical creatures. Sun nymphs. Maybe Kaz would even have let himself go lightly if, when you took the glass back, your lips had not wrapped around the tip of the straw.

Exactly where his mouth was a second ago.

He pulse quickened so fast that it made the blood burn in his veins. It was impossible not to look down at delicate mouth, the subtle but destabilizing curvature in the center of your lower lip. Suddenly, he was out of breath, his body numb and his heart stopped beating for a second before accelerating to an alarming level.

Everything became hot, stuffy. The world spun away, out of focus, out of existence, leading he on a waltz unlike anything Kaz had ever felt before.

Kaz Brekker was the Bastard of the Barrel. Dirty hands and scammer. Someone trapped by his own body and traumas, unable to allow himself to enjoy human contact. But, hell, he was still a man. And in that moment, in that insane moment, he wanted to pretend, even for a few seconds, that what he wanted was within his reach.

Kaz thought he understood the desire: an attraction. He thought he knew what lust was: a wish that people felt. He had seen countless examples on his bar counter, drunk and chattering about what it was like to want a woman, to long for her. He thought he understood.

And he found that he didn't understand anything.

The desire was a hot and feverish whirlwind that shivered he from head to toe, with dizzying speed, and dragged everything towards perdition, below any intellect, any rationality. Rationally, he shouldn't have thought you were even more beautiful. But he did. He shouldn't feel his breath catch, but he did.

He felt as if he were walking on a narrow suspended board. One misstep and it would be the end of it. Hiding his disturbing thoughts, Kaz looked away from you.

He was ruined for the rest of his life.

#kaz brekker #kaz brekker x reader #kaz brekker x y/n #kaz brekker x you #shadow and bone #inejgayfa #jesper fahey #kaz x jesper #kaz x reader #kaz x kruge #freddy carter #freddy carter x reader #kaz brekker fanfic #kaz brekker imagine #shadow and bone imagine #fluff #freddy carter fluffy #kaz brekker fluff #fanfic

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idy-ll-ique · 3 years ago

Text

See You Tomorrow On The Other Side.

Pairing: Vampire!Bucky Barnes x F!Reader

Genre: Fluff, Smut

Warnings: unprotected sex

Requested: nope

based on this prompt.

Summary: Nothing wrong with just wanting a taste, is there?

Author's Note: Hiya peeps! enjoy!

---

Wait, why is it so cold?

Y/N blinked her eyes open, flinching when she felt blinding pain in the side of her neck. Touching it, she found out that she was bleeding. What in the world…? "What the fuck?" she mumbled, moving to turn on the night-light but instead, she heard loud gagging noises coming from next to her on the floor.

She froze. I live alone. And then her instincts kicked in. She started screaming, only for her mouth to be clamped shut by a cold, freezing hand. "Shut up! Don't scream!" a raspy voice hissed. "Who the fuck are you?" Y/N demanded, though her voice came out muffled. "Forget that— why the fuck does your blood taste so gross?" the man asked instead.

Y/N's eyes widened with fear. "My— you— who are you?!" she yelled. "Shush! It's the middle of the night!" the man groaned, "My name is Bucky Barnes, happy?" Y/N huffed, clutching the side of her neck. "And what the fuck do you mean by your blood tastes so gross?" she questioned. "Did I stutter? I mean exactly that. Why the fuck is it so disgusting?!"

Y/N froze for the second time that night. Her first thought was that it was a dream, but the very real pain in her neck and the blood on her fingers suggested otherwise. The man— Bucky— he bit her neck. And that had only one reasonable explanation. "Are you a vampire?" she blurted out.

"Aye, see? Knew you were smart," he beamed and she stared at him, shocked. "Vampires aren't real." His face dropped and he rolled his eyes. "Then how do you explain me?" He flexed and Y/N scrunched her nose in mild annoyance. "First off, you're too annoying. Second— what the hell are you doing in my house?!"

"What do you think I'm doing?! I was hungry! Now answer my damn question— why is your blood gross?" He tapped her on the forehead twice. She blinked. Well, since this night couldn't get any crazier… "I have anemia? I guess that's why. Now you answer my question! Why did you select me to be your food?"

"Because you look like a snack?" he offered sheepishly but she only raised an eyebrow. Bucky blushed a bit; he very well couldn't tell her that he had had a crush on her ever since he had seen her— that was a few months ago. Nothing wrong with just wanting a taste, is there? "Okay wait, come back to you— you have anemia?"

"Uh, yeah? Why do you care? Go away, dude, you got your taste, you didn't like it, now leave me alone!" Y/N scoffed, turning to lay back down but Bucky put an arm around her, pulling her back up. "No, we gotta talk about it. Are you taking anything for it? Supplements, Vitamin D pills…?" Y/N stared at him.

"No," she replied flatly, "Medicines taste bad and I've already come to terms with my condi—" Bucky scoffed harder. "Really? You are a dumbass, you know that? I'm bringing you the medicines tomorrow, and you're gonna take them every night in front of me, got it?" Nothing wrong with being worried about your darling's health.

"Do you usually get this involved with your prey/food?" Y/N deadpanned. "You're not— don't argue! If you're not going to take care of your health, I'm going to have to do it for you," Bucky huffed. "As sweet as the sentiment is, I think the fuck not. Goodnight, Bucky, I will not see you tomorrow." She gave him a sweet, fake smile and lay down.

This time, Bucky didn't stop her. "Dumbass," he muttered under his breath as he stood on the window sill, promptly turning into a bat before flying away into the night.

---

"Hey, welcome home!"

Y/N screamed, almost dropping her bag of groceries on the floor as she whirled around to see Bucky sitting on the couch in the living room, flipping through the pages of a magazine. "Couldn't figure out how to turn on the TV," he muttered as Y/N eyed the magazine. She couldn't help but snort. "Ancient."

"Hey, rude." He narrowed his eyes at her and she narrowed hers right back. "Okay, had your fun reading the magazine? Now get lost or I'll call security," Y/N threatened him and stood in front of him, her arms crossed. He smirked and rose to his full height, causing Y/N's resolve to crumble.

He was much, much taller than her. "Go ahead, do it, baby girl," he whispered tauntingly, leaning in so that their faces were inches apart. Y/N whimpered involuntarily at his sweet scent, slapping a hand to her mouth in horror when she realized what she had just done. Bucky burst out laughing. "See? You want me here."

"Flatter yourself, Barnes," she mumbled but the truth was, she did want him there. The previous night, she had failed to notice just how beautiful he really was; now, she found out. He was also funny, charming, caring and sweet— not bad company. "So, am I cooking dinner for one or for two?"

"You? I'm cooking dinner! And you're gonna eat whatever the hell I'm going to make. Go take a bath in the meanwhile, I'll handle it." Bucky ushered her towards her bathroom and she blinked. "What, I— hey! Wait!" He stopped pushing her. "Why are you cooking for me?"

"Because your dumbass doesn't eat shit it should be eating and instead eats what it shouldn't! You're anemic, and yet I never see you eating food that has high levels of iron in it. You just don't care about your life, do you?" Y/N laughed, pinching his cold cheeks. "You're really cute, you know? Dude, I'll be fine—"

"Okay, how about this? I'm doing this for myself because your blood tastes gross and I gotta fix it," he suggested. "I have a solution: why don't you go find someone else to be your food? Look, my blood tastes bad, so why waste all your time trying to fix it? Get someone else, kill them!" Bucky pulled a face.

"Kill them? You think you'll die if I bite you?" Y/N nodded slowly. "Um, no, sweet pie, you won't die if I bite you. You'll… maybe get sick for a few days, but then you'll be fine," Bucky explained. "What if I don't want to get sick for a few days either? Just go away, find someone else, make them sick!" Bucky pouted.

"You really don't want me to be here?" he whined. "I— Fine! Fine! Cook whatever the hell you want, stay, but on one condition." A huge smile bloomed on the vampire's face as he nodded. "You don't get to bite me, ever." His face fell. "Not even a little…?" Y/N shook her head. He pouted harder. Y/N stared back, unwavering.

"A little, small bite…?"

"Bucky, don't push it," Y/N warned and Bucky immediately raised his arms in surrender. "Now go take a bath, I'm making food." With a small smile, Y/N entered the bathroom, starting to fill the tub up with water as she sat on the toilet seat, thinking back a few hours.

How did this even happen? First, she wakes up to find a stranger on her bedroom floor gagging on her "gross" blood; second, he reveals that he is a vampire and third, he wants to take care of her and wants her to get better. Teenage her, who was quite fond of Twilight, would've loved this dude.

But now? Y/N was still skeptical, but at least Bucky hadn't pulled any sketchy shit. So far, he had been nothing but sweet. "Maybe I can give him a chance," she whispered to herself. She had no doubt about the fact that he was a vampire; he was always cold, had sharp, pointy teeth and she had practically seen him turn into a bat last night.

So yeah.

Y/N was going to allow a vampire to take care of her.

"Oh good, you're here," Bucky called out when she finally walked out of her room in her pajamas. "Smells good, what did you make?" Y/N smiled, sitting down at the kitchen island. Bucky placed a plate in front of her. "Beans. We'll start small. Do you eat meat?" Y/N nodded, eating a spoonful of the beans.

"Mm," she groaned, "These are so good! You're a great cook, Bucky." He rubbed the back of his neck shyly as Y/N beamed at him. "Thanks. My ma taught me, back in the 1500's." Y/N's eyes widened. "How old are you?" she asked with disbelief as she picked up the bread he had prepared along with the beans.

"A few centuries. You kinda lose count after a long time," he laughed. "Were you born a vampire or were you turned into one later in life?" Bucky pondered for a few seconds. "I was born one. My ma and my pa were both vampires." Y/N nodded before looking at him with a curious look. "What do you want to ask?" he teased upon seeing her expression. She chuckled.

"Can I become a vampire too?"

Bucky froze. "Do you want to be one?" he spoke slowly. "I mean, sounds cool, don't you think? Of course, I'm not completely sure, I just— wanna know how you turn someone into a vampire. Can you turn someone into one?" she blurted out. Bucky gulped hard; God knew he had been dreaming about turning her into a vampire ever since he had seen her.

Vampires having relationships with humans wasn't uncommon but he wanted to spend the rest of his life with her. And with vampirism comes one boon— immortality. So, if he turned her into a vampire, they could be together forever and always, literally. "I— I can turn people into vampires. All it takes is a neck bite."

Her brows furrowed. "But you bit me last night, am I—" Bucky shook his head. "You aren't a vampire, Y/N. There is a specific spot on a person's neck that you have to bite in order to turn them into a vampire. I didn't bite you there." She nodded and exhaled. "Good. I don't wanna be a vampire just yet, gotta think more before making a decision."

"So in the future maybe, you'll be open to becoming a vampire?" Bucky asked, his hopefulness shining through in his voice. Y/N laughed. "Wanna turn me into a vampire that bad?" she teased and Bucky looked away, an embarrassed look on his face. "I'm not desperate," he muttered. Y/N finished eating her dinner, did her nightly routine and got into bed.

Bucky soon approached with two pills in his open palm, his other hand holding a bottle of water. "Just gulp it quickly and you won't have to taste the pills," he reassured her as she eyed the pills with disdain. Putting her doubts aside, she quickly downed the pills, pulling a face as she did. Bucky ruffled her hair.

"Good job, sweet pie! See, easy, wasn't it? Now get a good night's sleep, I'll see you tomorrow evening." Y/N lay down on the bed, pulling the covers on top of her as she smiled sleepily at Bucky. "Goodnight, see you tomorrow," she yawned and Bucky gave her a huge smile before jumping out the window like he had done the night before; flying into the night as a bat.

---

"Bucky! Are you here?"

Y/N walked into her dimly lit house, confused. All the lights were off, the house lit by candles placed strategically here and there. She could smell roses too. "Hi, sweet pie." A gasp escaped Y/N lips when Bucky walked out of the kitchen. He was dressed in an all-black suit, a suave smile on his face. She stood frozen as he approached her, taking her hand.

He pressed a kiss to her knuckles and Y/N found her voice. "What is this, Bucky?" she chuckled. "Our six month anniversary, sweet pie. Did you forget?" he pouted. Y/N laughed harder. "We're not dating." His smile stayed confident. "Would you like to?" She paused mid-laugh, staring at him through wide eyes filled with disbelief.

"Are you… asking me out?" she whispered and Bucky nodded. "Oh my— yes! Yes, Bucky!" She ran forward and jumped into his arms, ignoring how cold he was as she hugged him tightly, burying her face in his neck. As he stated, six months had passed since Y/N and Bucky became friends and Y/N was quickly falling for him.

He was literally perfect. There was nothing she didn't like about him; she had even gotten over the fact that he was a vampire. "Oh, fuck, I thought it was gonna fail," Bucky laughed as he pulled her flush against him, one arm wrapping around her waist as she other cradled her head. "No way, Buck, I've liked you for a while now."

Both of them walked into the kitchen, where Y/N got another shock. The floor was covered in rose petals; they formed the shape of a heart. There was a bouquet of roses sitting on the dining table as well, between two plates of delicious-looking food. Next to the vase were two bottles of expensive champagne, and two glasses.

"How long did this take?" she whispered, snuggling further into Bucky's arms as she admired the scene in front of her. "A few hours. But all worth it." He pressed a quick kiss to her temple. "The rose heart looks awesome," she grinned, thanking Bucky when he pulled out her chair for her. "Ha, thanks," he laughed.

They maintained a light-hearted conversation as they ate dinner; afterwards, Y/N took a relaxing bath, took her medicines and got into bed. "Bucky," she called out tentatively and he turned to her. "Yes, my love?" She smiled shyly. "Will you stay the night?" Bucky grinned broadly. "Thought you'd never ask."

He stripped down; only in his boxers as he got into the bed with her. Before he could lay down Y/N pulled a pro-gamer move on him and straddled his lap, rendering him speechless. "Sweet pie," he groaned when her lips came crashing down on his. He grabbed the back of her head and pulled her close, kissing her deeper.

Somewhere in the kiss Bucky's hands reached the hem of her t-shirt and he broke the kiss to pull it off of her. Another few minutes in, Y/N found herself laying on the bed stark naked under Bucky, who was equally as naked, his hard length poking at her tight entrance.

"Bucky," she whimpered as he slid home, a deep moan leaving his lips. "Fuck, sweet pie, so fucking tight," he praised, one of his hands toying with her breasts as the other grabbed her headrest, using it as support as he thrust into her repeatedly. Y/N's hands fisted around her bedsheets, the pleasure in her abdomen becoming too much to bear.

"I'm close," she announced breathlessly and Bucky dropped his head, pressing kisses to her face. "I'm close too, just a minute more." Y/N tried her best to hold the pleasure in as Bucky's thrusts started becoming sloppier. "Such a good girl for me," he grunted as he felt himself inching closer to the edge.

"Let go for me."

Both of them let go at the same time, Y/N cumming around him with a soft whine as Bucky shot his load into her with a guttural snarl. "Oh, fuck," he panted as he fell on top of her, both of them out of breath. "Bucky, I— I wanted to ask you something," she whispered shyly as Bucky rolled off of her, only to pull her closer to him. "Yes, darling?"

"I wanna be a vampire."

Bucky turned to look at her, wide eyed. "Are you sure?" She lowered her eyes and nodded. "I— I love you, Bucky, and there's no one I'd rather be with than you. So please, make me— make me immortal." Bucky blinked back tears and cupped her cheek, tilting her chin up. "All mine. My beautiful girl. I love you too," he whispered, leaning in to press a soft kiss to her lips.

He then strayed to her jaw, peppering it with kisses until he finally reached her neck, nuzzling into it for a few seconds, breathing in her scent. Soon, he found the spot— the one that would turn her into a vampire. "It'll sting just a bit," he warned her, "Then you'll go to sleep. When you wake up, the transformation will be completed. Are you sure you want this?"

"I have never been so sure of something in my entire life." Bucky smiled and pressed a quick kiss to her spot before sinking his teeth into her neck; Y/N winced a bit at the sting but overall, felt fine. When Bucky pulled away from her, he was wiping blood off his lips. He then reached down and picked up her t-shirt.

Y/N smiled sleepily as he cleaned her neck, admiring the mark for a few seconds. "Looks good. And tastes much better." Y/N giggled and slapped his bare chest, making him grin. Both of them then lay down on the bed, arms around each other as they closed their eyes.

"Goodnight, Buck."

"Goodnight, princess, see you on the other side tomorrow."

---

A/N: Thanks for reading, leave a like if you enjoyed!

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x female reader #vampire!bucky #bucky barnes smut #winter soldier #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan x you #sebastian stan x y/n #sebastian stan x female reader #sebastian stan characters #disney #mcu #marvel #avengers #fanfic #writing #writeblr

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swtki · 4 years ago

Text

Dancing Days - Edward Cullen x Reader Smut

Anonymous said: 19&24 on edward smut? love ur writing!

A/N: Thank you so much :) also I’m so happy everyone is h*rny for Eddy. I decided I want to explore more period times with Edward, changing his persona in a certain decade, but still ultimately being in the same universe as cannon. This will play into the readers character a tad bit.

WARNINGS: 18+ CONTENT, SWEARING, S*X, VAMPIRES, ORAL SEX (MALE RECIEVING), VIRGIN! EDWARD, NON VIRGIN READER, GENDER NEUTURAL READER, MENTIONS OF WAR AND DEATH.

19: “Fuck me like you want people to know”.

24. “Thing is, I’m a virgin”.

_______________________________________

I brushed my hair into its usual part, making sure I looked flawless. The year was 1976, I was a senior in Highschool. It was a wonderful time to be a teenager, no longer afraid that my friends would die in Vietnam. Even in my dinky little Washington town, the culture was becoming our own.

The Led Zeppelin record playing on my record player stopped suddenly, alerting me that I was no longer alone in my room. I turned, my expression soft as I saw my boyfriend, Edward.

“Whats up with you and this album? Everytime I come in, its always House of Th Holy on repeat.” I rolled my eyes, lifted the record in question off of the tray, and put it back snuggly in its case.

“I can’t help it, Ed. Robert just speaks to me. I’m sure you’re like that with Louis Armstrong.” I waved my hand, walking back to my mirror to finish getting ready.

“Maybe, but the music you listen to it’s...” Edward paused for a moment, sitting on my bed. “It’s suggestive, Y/N.” I turned to him, my eyebrow raised.

“Suggestive? What’s that supposed to mean?” I placed my hands on my hips, and waited for him to explain.

“Well, for one that one song says ‘Sipping booze’, I quite think that is blatant alcohol reference.” I looked at him, dumbfounded. Then, I started to laugh, and I walked over to him. Instinctually, he pushed his head into my chest, enjoying the comfort it brought him.

“I love you, but god are we from two different Mars.” He chuckled, sending a rumble through my chest.

At school, I was an average kid. Fair grades, many friends, many ex friends. When Edward was paired up with me in math, I got through his cold, stone skin. At first, he was annoyed when I would fuck off, leaving him to do the work himself. Understandable, and once I realized how rude I was, I stopped. I talked to him, prodded him truthfully. I would ask him once we started dating if he had noticed me previously, because I had never noticed him.

“Yes, I noticed that you were the only one who didn’t acknowledge me. Ironic I guess.”

A year into our relationship, I would never let him go unnoticed. We walked the halls, hand in hand. Our outlooks were so different when it came to life. He was modest, I was free spirited. Edward was different from my boyfriends previously, I didn’t want to fuck things up, and I refused to even risk it.

School went slowly that day, possibly because my head was focused on what I would ask Edward, my boyfriend of one year, about sex. About us and sex.

I hadn’t told him that I wasn’t a virgin, I was worried he would only want a virgin girl, after all they can never look at you disappointed and say “I’ve had better.” A definite plus. Many a nights I tried to imagine him, moaning completely under my control. I wanted him, but I didn’t know if he wanted me. Surely in 50 years he had found a good fuck. I worried that he would be into someone else, forever tied to a vampiress.

The end of the school day couldn’t have come sooner, my anxiety rising as I got into Edwards car, starting a long silent car ride. I tried to keep my mind off of it, an attempt to avoid the conversation until we were at my house. I kept my mind busy with the lush scenery outside of the passenger side window.

“So... I know you want to ask me, and I know the answers to what I would ask you.” He said blatantly, putting the car in park outside my front lawn.

“I don’t wanna talk out here Ed, lets go inside.” I swung my bag onto my shoulder. Thats the thing with Edward, I never have to say anything, just as long as I think it.

My house was empty, making it easy for Edward to follow me upstairs to my room. I shut my door behind us, then turned to him. Unsure of what to say, I breathed in deeply.

“How long have you known that I wasn’t...you know?” He smiled, sitting on my plush navy sheets.

“Y/N, I knew before I met you what I was getting into. Your ex had a lot of thoughts about that one night where you guys-”

“Oh my god okay ew.” A blush rose upon my face, and I saw Edward laugh as he watched my body fill with embarassment. “Well why didn’t you say something?” I asked.

“I figured if it needed to be brought up, it would be. You and I aren’t exactly a physical couple so I didn’t worry too much.” I walked over to my bed, taking a seat next to him.

“I see...I mean it wouldn’t be a big deal for me so if you want to...” I bit my lip at him, his gaze turned to the other direction.

“Thing is, I’m a virgin.” My expression went from a seductive look, to a puzzled one. I wondered if I had heard him correctly. “I’m old school, Y/N. It wasn’t like how it is now when I was human. People didn’t just have sex in highschool, unless they were married because the man was off to war. So, it hasn’t been on the menu for me. You’re the first girl I’ve dated in fifty years, you know. And no, there was no vampiress or anything.” I smiled.

“Well, I don’t wanna scare you or push it or anything. It’s just you know-”

“You want to touch me, to be touched by me.” his eyes trailed back to mine, looking deep into my soul.

“Yes, I want you, Edward.” I pressed my lips to his, pulling away jut as it got intense. I could feel his disappointment. “I want to...but I can’t let you down. Tomorrow night. I’ll call you and we can talk about everything we want out of it, I’ll give you a fucking fairytale, my love” I chuckled.

I called him that night as I had said I would. We talked about my first time, and everything I liked, followed by what he had seen on video, what he wanted to try, and his fears.

“I don’t want to kill you, darling.” He said.

“Then don’t. I won’t let you.” He laughed at me, enjoying my lack of seriousness.

The next night rolled along with a quick pace. I looked at the clock and saw that it was time for me to start getting ready.

I made myself look simple, a small bit of makeup and hair product, but otherwise just a tank top and jeans. Sometimes, dating an old fashioned guy was a pain in the ass. Always complaining about suggestive behavior. But other times, my shoulders counted as being half nude.

“You look stunning, as per usual.” Edward said, stepping into my room. He was tense and barely moved. “I don’t know what to do..what usually happens with it if I’m not the one doing everything.”

If he had any blood flow, he would have been blushing right about then.

“We don’t have to do anything you know. We can just lay down and watch a movie if you want to, I just want to make you happy, Edward.” I walked over to him and put a strand of his messy auburn hair behind his ear. Without hesitation, he pressed his forehead to mine.

“I want to, thats the part that’s been eating me away ever since I met you. I want to make you feel good, I just don’t know if I’ll lose it and-“ I cut him off with a kiss.

“Even if you break my pelvis into pieces, I’ll still be happy. I’m always happy when I’m with you.” we both smiled, and suddenly the thick tension that once filled the room vanished. “I’ll take care of you tonight, just as long as you’re doing it for you. I just need to know you’re doing this for you, and you need to be sure you wont roll over afterwards and hate me.” I said, my hand clasped in his marble one.

“I want you, Y/N. I have no doubts that I’ll want you afterwards, too.”

I pushed his head down, level to my own. Our kiss was deep, filled with a years worth of hunger. My hands tugged on his hair, making him whimper. Suddenly, I felt my feet lift off the ground as Edward carried me to my bed. With a soft thump, the plush sheets surrounded my body. It was a contrast of warmth on my back, and Edwards cool body on my top.

His hands were balled into fists, clutching my duvet as if his life depended on it. I pulled away, panting for air.

“Sorry, I forget you need air.” He smirked. I rolled my eyes in response.

“Well, its a shame you don’t. Because I intend on taking your breath away.” we both made small laughs at my remark.

“What now?” He looked at me for guidance.

“Get on your back.” I said.

We switched positions, he was now on the bottom. My legs straddled his torso, I sight he visably enjoyed. I slithered my hands up to his head, cupping his face as I kissed him again. My left hand left its post, reaching down to the buttons on his shirt.

I paused, looking up at him once I got to the last button.

“Does it...work like normal or...” He threw his head back and laughed.

“It doesn’t have spikes, I can assure you its just like a humans. But Emmet did tell me to pull out so...I’m kind of worried about the implications of that but-“ I leaned down to shut him up with a kiss.

His hands were still at his side, resting on the bed. I picked up his wrists, and placed them on the side of my thighs. He squeezed them lightly.

My hands roamed over his bare chest, cool to the touch. I lached my lips onto his neck, causing his back to arch below me. I could feel his excitement beneath me, it gave me a big self esteem boost. His hand reached along my waist, tugging at my shirt. His eyes lit up at the sight of my bare chest. He reached for me but I pulled away to slide down onto my knees.

He looked confused, like I had left him high and dry.

“Sit on the edge.” I said softly, my knees burning slightly due to the rough carpet underneath them.

He rid himself of the unbottoned shirt, slidding over to me once finished. My hands slowly stroked his thighs, he was desperate for some type of touch.

I smiled, tugging on his belt until it came undone. He stayed silent, looking at me like I was the only thing in the world. I unbottoned the trousers, tugging on them. He kicked them off and was left in his breifs.

“Is it okay if I..” I looked up at him and he nodded frantically. I palmed him over his underwear, feeling how hard he had gotten from kissing. My fingers latched onto the waist band, pulling them down to reveal a pale yet pink cock. It wasn’t too big, but deffinitley satisfactory. I ran my finger over the tip, earning a small groan from the vampire. My eyes trailed up to him, so I could see him when I took him in my mouth.

He let out a breathy moan, eyes focused on my mouth. His lips were parted ever so slightly. I bobbed my head, and grotesquely sexual sounds arose from my throat. I felt Edward move a strant of hair out of my face, he looked at me like I was a god.

“Fuck..Y/N if you keep doing that there wont be anything for you, dear” He said in a breathy moan. I pulled back, my mouth feeling sore and tired. “Do you still want to?” He asked, grasping his hands on my waist.

“Yes, I fucking need you.” I threw off my jeans, I would worry about finding them later, I needed him. He layed back down, propping his head up on my pillows. Our lips collided in another kiss as I leveled myself with him.

“Are you sure?” I ask him, stroking his hard member.

“I’m sure.” He pecked my lips again as I got ontop of his lean figure. I spat in my hand, lubing up my needy hole.

“How do you want me to do this? I mean like slow? What do-“ He said with genuine worry.

“Fuck me like you want people to know” I whispered, “ Fuck me like you want the entire neighborhood to know that I’m yours and yours only.”

“I can make that happen, love.” He flipped me over, now being back to where we first started. He lined up his cock with my hole, running it around the tight area. I put my fingers in his hair, making a slight tug as he pushed into my body.

Pleasure filled my body as he filled me up, his cock stretched my insides in the right ways. Without pausing, he started to push his hips into mine, making sure not to hurt me.

He reached down to suck on my neck, adding to the pornagraphic moans in the room. My hands travled to his back, scratching my nails down the cold stone like skin. His moans echoed in my ear.

“Y/N, I can’t be on top I’m going to crush you” I laughed at him, tapping his side so he fell onto the bed. I swung my legs over him, sitting on his perfect cock.

“Perfect, fucking amazing.” He said as I steady myself onto him. His face was in a euphoric expression, the most relaxed I had ever seen him.

I began to rock my hips, sliding him in and out of me. His hands grabbed onto my hips, guiding me. Everything was a euphoric experience. My gut filled with that wonderful sensation.

“Edward I’m gonna cum, oh my god” I moaned out, picking up my pace.

Suddenly, the world went still. My eyes went black and I saw stars as my orgasm washed over me. My moans echoed in the room as my body twitched. A few thrusts up into my body and Edward pulled out of me, rubbing his cum out onto his hand.

I layed there panting while he sped to the bathroom, and came back with a clean cloth, wiping down my body. He put the cloth down, pulling up his underwear and handing me mine. I slipped the fabric on, slipping under the covers.

“Get in here, I wanna kiss you”

He laughed, obeying and slipping beside me. Our lips reunited in a soft clash.

“I love you so much, dear.”

#edward cullen #edward cullen x reader smut #edward cullen x reader #edward cullen smut #robert pattinson smut #robert pattinson #twilight shitpost #twilight headcanon #headcannons twilight #twilight fanfic #jasper hale x reader #jasper hale fanfic #carslile cullen #esme cullen

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saintshigaraki · 4 years ago

Text

the sun has not yet fallen

pairing: bakugou katsuki x gn!reader

word count: 2.2k

excerpt: You look back towards the setting sun just once. You don’t really know why. Perhaps to find some bravery in the beauty of it, to steal yourself a few extra seconds of this limbo you’ve found yourself in. Where everything is hazy and beautiful and hurts so bad you can hardly breathe.

a/n: me: i hate angst

also me: writes this fic

tags: angst, hurt/comfort, sometimes love requires work

in case you want to read it on ao3!

Katsuki is in a bad mood. He was uncharacteristically quiet when he walked through the door which is more often than not a sign he was trying his damndest to hold back saying something just a bit too cruel. And you appreciate the effort, truly you do.

On any other day, you would’ve let him be to work through his shit alone. He usually does that by cooking up something far too elaborate for a weekday night, and then after decompressing for a bit, he tends to slink back into whichever room you’re in and lay his head on your lap so you can work your fingers through his hair.

You’ve found over the last two years that that is what tends to work best. Giving him space and letting him come to you.

But today you’re feeling just as raw as he does. You can’t remember the last time you spent quality time together. You can’t remember the last time he didn’t go to bed so exhausted he was out before his head hit the pillow. You can’t remember the last time you didn’t feel this heavy cloud hanging over your head. You can’t remember a moment where there wasn't a timer counting down and down and down while you do nothing but wait for it to hit zero. You’re not quite sure what will happen when your time is up.

It’s selfish, probably, to want to be with him right now when you know he’s so weary, but you won’t even bother him, is what you tell yourself. You just want to be around him for an hour (or two) you want to stand so close to him you can smell the ever clinging scent of caramel and help him with dinner and think of brighter days. Better days.

(You want things to go back to the way they were before. You want to cling to him, just for a short while, stuff your face into the crook of his neck while he tells you everything’s okay. That you guys are okay.

But that’s for another day. It has to be.

How many times have you told yourself that?)

You follow him as he stomps towards the kitchen.

He aggressively grabs the ingredients for whatever he’s making and slams them on the counter, grumbling under his breath the whole time. You stand in the doorway worrying your hands, feeling awkward, and hating that you feel awkward in your own kitchen with your own boyfriend.

It makes that awful nagging voice in your head grow just a bit louder.

You approach him slowly while he sets up a pot filled with water and turns on the stove. He’s still grumbling to himself by the time you place your hand softly on his forearm.

He jerks away immediately and narrows his eyes. You viciously stamp down exactly how awful that makes you feel. How small and unloved.

“What do you want?” he says bluntly (and a little cruelly but a part of you says just ignore it, maybe if you close your eyes and cover your ears you can pretend that everything is fine, that you guys are fine) .

That was part of his charm when you two first started dating. You loved that he was blunt, that he got to the point, there was really no guessing what Katsuki was thinking because he’d simply tell you and if it were any other day perhaps his words wouldn’t have bothered you as much as they did now.

And it’s partly your fault, or maybe even mostly. Because you let it get this bad. You could have told him something was bothering you, that lately, you’ve been feeling a little insecure in this relationship. Katsuki was blunt but very rarely if ever cruel with you or your feelings. He would’ve understood, probably.

But anytime you thought about broaching the subject with him, he always looked so, so tired. Bone tired. And you thought maybe it was selfish, to want him to comfort you over something this dumb. Over something as frivolous as this. He just needs time.

(How much time, you wonder. How much more can you take? you ask yourself.)

“Are you fucking braindead or something,” he snaps, dragging you out of your spiraling.

“I was just wondering if I could help. It’d be nice to cook dinner together.” We use to do it all the time, you almost say. Now you can’t even remember the last time you did.

“You’re a shit cook,” he says.

It’s true, and on another day, a brighter day maybe, you would’ve laughed. Or at least smiled. Because it was true. You are an awful cook, a shit one, as he so eloquently put it, especially compared to him. But that never mattered to Katsuki before.

He always let you cook with him, always wanted you to cook with him, even if the majority of the time you ended up sitting on the counter swinging your legs and watching him do all the work.

To be fair, afterward, you always cleaned the dishes. It was a lovely, simplistic give and take, one you wish you had again so, so dearly.

“Yeah, I am,” you agree. You try to smile, but it feels forced. You’re tired, you realize, bone tired.

You don’t say anything else and he turns away. You know that’s technically a dismissal but you elect to ignore and start unwrapping the vegetables.

Just as you reach for a knife he grabs your wrist.

“What the fuck is up with you right now?” he grounds out.

“I just want to spend some time with you.”

Your voice sounds frail, even to your own ears.

And before he even opens his mouth you know what he’s about to say is going to bring all this to a head. And from the look on his face and the awful, gnawing in your gut, you know you’re not going to like it. You know that more likely than not, it’s going to break your heart.

(A part of you can’t help but wonder if maybe your heart has already been broken. That it’s made up of haphazardly glued together pieces. Perhaps that’s why you feel so fragile. Perhaps the damage is done and you’ve just been waiting for Katsu to bring down the axe. To scatter the pieces. To finish the fucking job.)

“God,” he spits out. And it’s like a dam has been broken and every hateful thing he’s ever thought about you can’t help but come pouring out.

“You’re so fucking needy, you can’t do a fucking thing by yourself. It’s like all you ever do is breathe down my fucking neck and tell me everything I’m not doing for you.” Distantly, you wonder if that’s true. It might be. Maybe it’s that ugly selfishness you’ve never really been able to hide. You thought you’d done a better job of tucking it away. You were wrong, it seems.

“So I can’t spend every single fucking second of every single day with you, sue me. I’ve got my own shit to deal with, my own problems, or have you forgotten that I have a life outside of you?”

No, you think. I haven’t. Or maybe you have. You’re not really focusing so hard on his words. You tune them out as much as you can. You’re staring at his face, taking in all the details. The deep red of his eyes, the pale blond of his hair, the sharpness of his cheekbones, the slope of his neck, the little scars peppering his face. You used to sit on his lap and kiss each and every one, no matter how faint.

You’re so weird, he’d say as you did it, but the tightness of his arms around you always spoke a different story.

You’re going to miss that, you think. Holding him. Loving him.

It takes you a while to realize he’s still yelling. It’s all hateful and cruel and so sharp. Like he’s taken a knife to your skin to flay you open, exposing every crack, every vein, every shattered piece of heart that makes you. You let it wash over you, like a particularly violent ocean wave.

“Sometimes,” he says, his voice finally quieting to a bearable level, “I wonder why I’m still with you.”

The breath you let out is shaky. No matter how ready you thought you were, there’s simply no amount of time that prepares you to hear those words from him. From the person you thought you were going to spend the rest of your life with. From the person you wanted to spend the rest of your life with.

The silence between you two is deafening. And heavy. So heavy it feels as though your chest will cave in from the pressure.

“Yeah,” you say at last, though you have to force the words around the burning iron poker in your throat. And then you laugh, you can’t help it. It’s all so fucked. You hate that it’s come to this bitter monstrous ugliness.

When had this all started to fester, to rot? you wonder. Is this really all that’s left?

“I can’t help but wonder the same thing.” It comes out more bitter than you'd like. A small jab to try to even out the gaping wound he’s torn open in you.

But it’s also true.

You can’t see his reaction through the tears clouding your vision. You don’t really want to anyway. What’s done is done. What’s said is said.

You grab your phone and keys and walk through the front door, closing it softly behind you.

He doesn’t say a word.

You think if there was any part of your heart left unbroken, his silence has shattered it to oblivion.

You walk for an hour or two. Until the sun has dipped almost completely below the horizon and it’s surrounded by hazy blood-red waves.

It’s a good place to think. To set your jumbled thoughts in order.

It takes a special kind of selflessness to love a hero, you realize. A type you don’t possess, not even nearly. You’ve always been just a little selfish when it came to love. But there’s no room for that when with people like Bakugou Katsuki.

And that’s okay, you tell yourself.

It’s a lie. It’s not okay. And the hollow aching in your chest that beats in time with your heart agrees.

You look down at your phone.

33 missed calls from Katsu

You look back towards the setting sun just once. You don’t really know why. Perhaps to find some bravery in the beauty of it, to steal yourself a few extra seconds of this limbo you’ve found yourself in. Where everything is hazy and beautiful and hurts so bad you can hardly breathe.

It’s not long before you’re biting the inside of your cheek, turning on your heels, and heading home.

You don’t even have your keys fully out of your pocket before the door swings open, with Katuski on the other side looking a bit worse for wear, though you doubt you’re one to talk.

His eyes are bloodshot and his nose is a bit pink. He’s been crying. You can’t remember the last time you saw him cry.

(That’s a lie, you realize. You had gotten in the crosshairs of a particularly brutal villain versus hero showdown. The resulting injuries you suffered were severe. You’d apparently been a bit touch and go for a while. When you opened your eyes for the first time after everything, Katsu was right there, looking like hadn’t slept, showered, or eaten for days. Later you found out it’s because he hadn’t left your bedside since you returned from surgery.

Katsu, you’d croaked out weakly, stretching out a shaking hand toward his face.

He broke down into sobs so violent they wracked his whole body. It took him over an hour to calm down.)

You got about half a foot through the door before he threw himself at you. Wrapping his arms around you so tight it bordered on painful. He sinks down to the floor. You sink with him.

He’s sobbing into your shoulder repeating a mantra of, I’m so sorry and I didn’t mean it. Please, please. I didn’t mean it.

You think about that old saying. What a person says in anger is how they really feel. You don’t necessarily believe that. You yourself have said things out of anger that you in no way meant, that were purely thrown to hurt the person on the other end.

You want to believe he didn’t mean it, more than anything you do. Because you love him. Because you really do think that Katsu is it for you. That he’s always been it for you.

You pull away about as far as he’ll let you.

“Do you love me, Katsuki?”

The words hang in the air. You feel raw. Like you’re the one who has taken a knife to your own skin and flayed it all open for him.

You don’t quite know vulnerability until you ask someone if they love you. It’s a different sort of weakness.

“Yes,” he responds. His voice rough from his tears. “More than anything.”

You watch one last tear fall from his eye.

You hold his face in your hands and wipe it away. Softly. Gently. Lovingly.

You guys are not okay and now that you’ve accepted that you think there’s a chance that one day, you will be.

#bakugou x reader #bnha #mha #bnha x reader #mha x reader #bakugou katsuki #bakugou imagine #bakugou katsuki x reader #vicwritesbnha #bnha imagine #mha imagine #i’m thinking a shinsou hitoshi fluff drabble next 👀#vicwrites

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brisugu · 3 years ago

Text

Carapherneila

(S.Gojo x F!Reader x S.Geto)

Series Masterlist

Series Summary: Where she reminisces of the past.

Chapter: ten

Title: You’re gonna wish never ever met her at all

Warnings: Mentions of blood, misogyny , soft nsfw(if you squint), Noaya

Word count: 15.5 k

"C'mon, Nanami, I know you can do better than that."

"Why aren't you putting in the effort? C'mon, don't be boring."

"Nanami, what's gotten into you? Did I accidentally give you a concussion?" You gave him a big smile as you bent down to his level to ruffle his hair. "We haven't even got into the fun part yet."

"Well, if you hadn't woken me up at four in the morning, then maybe I would put in the effort," he scoffed and swatted your hand away. Chuckling, you took a couple steps back, so he had enough time to prepare himself for your next attack.

"I told you it wouldn't be easy," with the back of your hand, you swiped sweat off from your forehead. "I told you what would occur when you agreed we would do this. " You raised your hand to show him. Wiggling your hand, Nanami squinted from your reminder. Your bare hand without the ring.

Six weeks ago, you came to him for a favor. You asked him to help you use your cursed technique without relying on your ring. You believed only he could help you with this, and as a result, both of you would meet once a week, but the day and time are irregular. It was a perfect plan to hide from both Gojo and Getou. You told Nanami, "it's to get stronger." However, he doubted that was true. Whenever he asked about the real reason you want to fight without your ring, you would brush it off.

"Yes, I'm well aware," As he stood up, a thought occurred to him. Why were you only training with him? Gojo and Geto are strong shamans who could help train you. And Haibara, who is much stronger than him. So why did you pick-

Nanami found himself slammed into the tree six feet away from you with a blink of an eye. "Letting your thoughts wander in a fight? Nanami, I taught you better than that." For a moment, Nanami felt an uneasy feeling from you. It made his hair from the back of his neck stick up, his heart rate sped up, and even caused the birds to stop chirping.

"You're enjoying this, aren't you?"

"Me?" You placed your hand over your chest, "Nanami, you're hurting my feelings." You wiped a fake tear in the corner of your eye before, placing your hands inside of your pockets, you brought out a lighter and a pack of cigarettes. It was ironic how you lit the cigarette before resting it between your lips and taking a puff. You remembered how you would scold both Shoko and Getou for poisoning their lungs. As you took the first puff, the feeling of adrenaline ran through your veins, and for a split second, it felt good. Then instantly, your body re-wired itself to stay fresh, so it ends up being useless. Resting the cigarette in between your fingers, you noticed Nanami held a stoic expression as he rolled his tongue against the inside of his cheek. Something was bothering him.

"Well, spit it out, Nanami." He narrowed his eyes before letting his fingers run through his hair.

"Why me out, everyone at school?" you arched your eyebrow. "I'm not as strong as Gojo and Getou senpai, and I'm definitely not as strong as Haibara." Nanami set his eyes to the ground, and you noticed he tightened his fist. "So, what is your deal? Did you take pity on me just because I-"

"You are strong." you interrupted, and Nanami looked up at the sky. The sun had bloomed on the horizon, and sunlight began to filter through the trees. When he slowly let his eyes meet your gaze, he watched as the sun kissed your skin. "Don't doubt yourself. I chose you because I admire your strength and trust you," dropping the burning cigarette, you crushed it with your foot and walked toward him. "Believe in yourself, Nanami. You will lose yourself if you don't and die." His eyes widened as the words echoed in his head. He felt a sudden rush of gratitude. Nanami isn't one to get emotional from words, but he couldn't help but appreciate you. Unlike his other upperclassmen, he respects you. "Now, let's get inside before the others notice." You smiled before putting your left hand in your pocket to take out your ring and place it on.

As you walked along the path, you noticed something damp coming from your nose and when you placed your fingers in the groove of your nose. You discovered a stain of dark red liquid on your fingertips.

Wiping it off on your shirt, you didn't express a sign of worry or fear in your face. After all, this wasn't the first time this had happened.

________________________________

"I'm bored."

"Then unbore yourself."

"That makes no sense."

"Then make it make sense."

You kicked Getou in the back with your foot, and he instantly looked over his shoulder with an annoyed look on his face. "Oww, (y/n). Stop being a brat." You stuck your tongue as he rolled his before turning back. Gojo and Getou have played Mortal Combat ever since you returned from a shopping trip with Shoko. She had become used to the ''new friendship" that you, Gojo, and Getou had formed.

"As long as you’re happy and don't get hurt," she told you.

"Our poor girl," Gojo fake pouted. "Whatever we can do make you less bored, hm?" His head looked over his shoulder, and he extended his hand to your thigh. His sunglasses hid the blue that you adored.

Three months after you confessed your feeling to both boys, you decided it was best not to get into a relationship as you feared it would ruin your friendship with them. And so, instead, all three of you agreed to "help each other out." It would only be makeout sessions with each one or riding on their thighs. Nothing more, nothing less.

As his hand began to rub your thigh painfully slow, you slid down from the bed to feel more. His cold hand began to warm up, prompting him to slide his hand up to your shorts. You heard him smirk and mutter something under his breath.

"What?" You whispered, and Gojo sniggered before slapping your thigh and removing his hand from warm, plush skin. Your eyes twitched as you attempted to kick Gojo, but his hand caught your ankle before you could.

"You little shit!"

"I thought you said you liked it when I tease you," Gojo cooed.

"No, I didn't!" You retorted, trying your best to escape from his grasp.

"Pretty sure you did."

"No."

"Yes."

"Bite me."

"I'm sure you would love that." You opened your mouth to throw an insult, but Getou was faster.

"Leave her alone, Satoru. She's reading. Let's just finish this game." Gojo smirked before releasing his grip on your ankle. Turning around, Getou resumed the game, and now you’re back to square one. Groaning, you let your head fall back to your pillow.

"This diary is boring. All they talk about is how much they hate your family, Gojo."

"So they were obsessed with us and wanted us dead," Gojo laughed as he slapped his thigh. You rolled your eyes as you grabbed the thick book from your side and opened it.

This book that you were reading held your family's documents that were thought to be lost. You had found it four months ago in an underground temple. It was that time when Yaga informed all three of you would be assigned to a mission at the Hida province in Gifu. It was a typical mission, find the curse that was wreaking havoc, capture it, then go home and get ice cream. Except... it wasn't a standard assignment.

When you arrived, you came to find out that the province was odd...

Odd by means, they worshipped Sukuna.

The Senkoji temple in the province had honored Roymen Sukuna as a hero and benefactor. It was strange hearing their stories from their own perspective. Apparently, he had defeated an evil dragon, brought Buddhism to the province, and became the region's ruler before the Yamato imperial house invaded. Supposedly he resisted the invasion of the Yamato led by Take Furukuma and fell in battle while protecting his land. Sukuna was full of resentment after being desecrated by the Yamato house and came back as a Vengeful Spirit carrying the visage they described to take revenge on them.

The rest is history.

The three of you concluded that you could be dealing with one of the fingers of Sukuna and a possible grade one that is drawn to it.

Staying at the hotel nearby, you three slept in the same bed before going out tomorrow morning to look for the curse and the finger. You remembered kicking them out of your shared bed because they wouldn't stop poking you, and one of them farted. And the next thing you knew, you were underground in the center of a rune circle that was from your blood.

Both shamans told you that you woke up during the witching hour, but your eyes were closed. They followed you as you slept walked to the Senkoji temple. Watch in bewilderment as you cut your palm and used your own blood to draw a rune circle that revealed an underground shrine.

But what was more unexpected was the fact that the moment you woke up, something had appeared behind you.

Never you would've thought of meeting one, especially if they were supposed to be extinct. And it was strange how you didn't scream or feel afraid of the curse. You felt calm and at ease. It was as if the dragon recognized you and wanted to protect you.

But Getou had captured the curse before you had the chance to interact with it.

One thing leads to another, and you find yourself bickering with Getou. Luckily, Gojo interrupted you both by revealing a book and Sukuna's finger. You remembered seizing it from Gojo and returning to your hotel room.

As you read the text, it was revealed that your ancestors had ruled at the Hida province with Sukuna before he turned to a curse. Your ancestor's entries about themselves and Sukuna amazed you. You learned why your family despises the Gojo family. Apparently, before your ancestors made a binding vow with Sukuna, they fell in love with a six eyes user. But he deceived her, causing her to spiral out of control. She vowed vengeance on the Gojo family. She met Sukuna in Gifu, and while the remainder of the pages were blurry, some were ripped. Nonetheless, you were both delighted and shocked by the material you read.

But it later turned into worry and fear. Each page you read held dangerous and deadly information about your ancestors and what you can do. Gojo and Getou begged you to tell them. You lied, coming up with excuses about a boring rant that that previous gravity manipulator had about the six eye user.

As you flipped the page, your face had widened, and your mouth agape. "Holy shit," and you quickly sat up.

"What is it now, (y/n)?" said Gojo as his eyes were glued to the small screen. You noticed his facial expressions rapidly changing as he was losing from Getou. "I swear is this some kind of messed up story about your ancestor gouging my family's-"

"No!" you examined. "I-its something else," your eyes began to rapidly blink as you dragged a hand down your face. "Remember when we went to that mission in the Hida province, and we found Sukuna's finger instead of the curse that they assigned-"

"Get to the point," you narrowed your eyes. He seemed to be irritated that he was losing.

"Hey Satoru, maybe if you weren't wearing those dumb sunglasses of yours, then maybe you'd be winning." Laughing at your own remark, it wasn't long after Gojo turned to you and glared. Even with his sunglasses on, it delivered a deadly gaze. You found it amusing to get on his nerves.

"Anyways, Do you remember why I was angry?"

"Was it because I made that joke about your hair," he groaned as Getou did a deadly strike on his character, almost causing him to get eliminated.

"No."

"Was it because we took all of the hot water," Getou chimed in. "'We told you to join in the shower, or you'd be killing all of the turtles." He looked over his shoulder and gave you a mischievous smile. It was fascinating how he managed to multitask while still beating Gojo. "the poor turtles," he whispered before turning back. Heat suddenly rushed to your core, and you couldn't help but rub your legs together. You rather not be reminded of that.

"No, you imbeciles," you grumbled. "It was when Suguru ate that dragon curse, and um -" your hands start fidgeting. "I found out it belonged to my family."

Gojo coughed, and Geto gulped. Leaning towards the console to pause the game, Getou turned around and scratched the bridge of his nose.

"You're serious?" You nodded shyly and gave him a small smile.

"The dragon guarded my ancestor's shrine, and apparently, they worshipped it as their god."

"So I'm your god now." You laughed, and not long after, both Gojo and Geto laughed as well.

"If you want to."

"Will it mean you'll be on your knees worshipping me?" Getou cocked his head to the side and gave you his signature smirk.

"Haven't you already had enough praise, hmm?" You tugged your lips upward before crawling towards him. You were mere inches away from him, and with your fingers, you twirled the strand of hair. Your eyes traveled down to dark marks that were imprinted on his collarbones. Oh? "It seems that you and Gojo had a good time while I was gone." You noticed Getou's cheek instantly turned pink and avoided eye contact with you. You thought it was cute how Getou gets flustered over the white hair shaman. You always knew they had affection over each other, whether that was romantically or platonically. "Shame, you both didn't wait for me to come home."

Suddenly a hand grabbed your cheeks and pinched them together. "I never saw you as the jealous type, sweetheart," Gojo teased. His sunglasses were off, and those marvelous blue eyes that you adore send chills up your spine. "Don't get me wrong, it's kinda hot but also makes you bratty."

"'M'not a brat," you mumbled.

"Ahh, but you are." You watched him lick his lips before glancing at Getou. "Whaddya say, do you want to teach her a lesson about manners." Getou didn't need to answer as you felt his hand toss your hair back before giving you a peck on the neck.

"N-now let's all talk about this."

"Too late," beamed Gojo and smashed his lips against yours. Your hands shot up to clutched his ivory locks, and your lungs were on fire. Heat rushed through your bloodstream. This...would never get old. As his lips departed from your own, he let out a small exhale and licked his lips. "Just make sure you're quiet this time."

______________________________

Death to them both.

Your eye twitched as your fingers touched the dark marks that both of them left.

"I'll fucking murder them."

You glared at yourself through the mirror. It would take hours to cover this up with a concealer. Groaning to yourself, you opened your drawer to get your makeup to cover it and get ready for dinner.

Just as you were about to apply the cosmetic to your skin, the door opened, and without warning, a voice made your body jolt.

"Hiya!"

You dropped the concealer on the table and looked through the mirror and saw no other than the devil himself. Gojo had slowly come up behind you and pressed his chest against your back while his chin rested on your shoulder.

"What is it, Satoru?" Gojo smiled before running his finger along with the marks he and Getou made earlier.

"Why, I can't check up on you?" He mumbled as his lips brushed against your skin. Rolling your eyes, you flicked his nose.

"I'm sure you can handle at least thirty minutes without me."

"You take an hour getting ready," he pouted before pushing himself off of you and shifting to the right to lean on your desk. "I'm just checking to make you weren't crying. I know how much you get emotional about makeup."

"Well, I explicitly told you and Suguru to not do this." You pointed to the markings on your neck. "I told you guys that it would be a pain in the ass-covering these up." You whined, but it didn't seem to interest Gojo as he seemed to chuckle. Hitting him in the chest, you began to scold him.

"The Zen'ins and the higher-ups are starting to suspect something. Last week I had to lie-I told them I was burned by the curling iron."

"Wasn't it the time when I saved you from those old farts and the nose picker?"

"You showed up unannounced. "

"Did I?" He pursed his lips to hide his smudged face.

"Satoru!" You scolded.

"Sorry, Sorry." He put his hands up in defeat. "In all honestly, I came here to check up on you. Because as you know, the Goodwill event is tomorrow." You froze in place. You've been so preoccupied with perfecting your technique you complete that you would compete with Kyoto tomorrow. Your mind flashed to four months ago when Yaga-Sensei had forced you, Gojo, and Geto into rigor training to win the games as punishment for sneaking out to Shibuya. You shivered, recalling running four laps around the school grounds.

"I mean, I'm pretty nervous about it," you confessed. "But we'll be fine. We have Nanami, Haibara, Suguru, and you."

"Are you sure?" You noticed he began to chew the inside of his cheeks. "Cause I heard that Noaya is coming." Your mouth slightly twitched, and you placed your hand on your lap.

"I thought first years aren't allowed to the competition unless-"

"Unless their senpai permits them-yea I know." You cursed under your breath and fisted your hand. Your hatred for Noaya grows strong every day. You are disgusted and afraid of his obsession with you. Every time you met him( forced by the higher-ups and the Zen'ins), he would patronize and antagonize you. He would also explain how you are useful to him for his bloodline and strength.

"Don't worry about it. I'll figure out how to deal with him." Huffing, you placed your hands on the table to stand up. Talking about Noaya causes you to have a headache, and you felt it best to end this conversation about him. "Listen, can we not talk about this, and let's just focus on how we are going to win tomorrow?" Gojo nodded, but you noticed how uneasy he felt. He chewed the inside of his cheek, and it was as though he was trying to come up with words to say. Unable to withstand the awkward silence, you called out to him. "Is there something else you wanted to tell me?" You watched Gojo purse his lip before letting out a sigh.

"Before you say anything, I want you to answer this truthfully."

"What are you-"

"(y/n)!" you put your hands up in defeat and mouthed 'fine.' You felt the atmosphere in the room shifting. You rarely see Gojo nervous, and it would consistently deliver goosebumps through your arms. You watched him cross his arms as he said, "why are you and Nanami sneaking out every week." Oh fuck.

You bit your lips and tried to prevent any expression that would give out the truth. "I don't know what you are-"

"Bullshit," He scoffed. "I could sense your cursed energy spiking every week. Every time it happens, I know you bleed." He stepped in front of you and grabbed your shoulders to set you down on the chair. "I-is this about what I said." Your body began to radiate in heat. You were felt humiliated and infuriated simultaneously; he acted like a hypocrite. Was he not the one who kept secrets and lied to you?

"Mind your business, hypocrite, " You spat. Gojo could feel the veins bulging out of his head. He rubbed his hand down his face before setting it back to your shoulder.

"Did you forget that I did it unwillingly?" He gritted. "Do you really think I would willingly hide that you are sharing curse energy with Sukuna, how you are in the black and bridal market?" His grip tightened at every word. "Do you really think I would hide the fact that the higher-ups want me to kill you?" You stiffened your muscles.

Four months ago, Gojo told you privately that the higher-ups wanted you dead; it wasn't that much of a surprise. However, you were taken aback when he said he would be your executioner. He mentioned that initially, you weren't supposed to enroll in Jujutsu tech and were supposed to be locked up or, even worse, killed. But he somehow persuaded the higher-ups that you weren't a threat yet. They agreed to allow you to be alive and enter the school but only if you didn't represent a threat to them or humanity. Not only that, but Gojo had the choice of telling you from the start but chose not to, and he did not inform Getou either.

"It took you almost a year to tell me!"

"Because I did not know how would you react!"

"Oh yea, I guess I took it just fine, right?" Your voice was sardonic, and to make matters worse, the way Gojo's body caged yours and his chilling expression made your blood run cold. As he slowly brought his index finger to softly caress your cheek, he smirked before poking the hollow of your cheek.

"Sometimes, you make me want to kill you." He said bluntly and monotonously. You craned your neck a bit and let your eyes scan for anything that would show he was joking, but you found none. For a moment, the room seemed as if the air had been sucked out, and the silence became unsettling. Then without warning, he jabbed you in your ribs before making a run for it. Well, making an effort by skipping towards the door while laughing manically.

He can't be serious right now. Your mouth twitched as you turned around, and you extended your arm to release your technique. Pulling him away from the door, you threw him to your bed. Whenever you mentioned anything that had to do with your situation or that he could kill you at any given moment. Gojo would find an opportunity to make a joke or otherwise irritate you in an attempt to distract you from your worries. You must admit you were grateful for it, but sometimes it pisses you off.

"You little shit, you need to stop doing that," you prevented him from leaving your bed as you slowly made your way towards him. You watched him struggle to sit up.

"Don't be crude (y/n)," Gojo cooed. You rolled your eyes as you straddled him and raised your hand to hit him. Attempting to pay back for what he did earlier.

"Every time we talk about it, you find the worst time to act uncivil."

"It's fun riling you up," he snickered. "It always leads up to this-" slap. The sound of your hand slapping him across the face echoed through the room. Gojo's eyes widened as his head was whipped to the side, and his mouth slightly opened. His cheeks instantly turned a shade of pink, and his pants tightened. You noticed, and heat rushed through your body.

"You fuckin whore!" you grimaced. You grabbed his hair and pulled it so his face would look at you. "why is it the simplest things I do you always get hard?" Gojo laughed softly and rolled his tongue in the inside of his cheek.

"Heh, I mean...you are really attractive." You had the sudden urge to slap him again, but you pushed those thoughts away.

"Stop that."

"Stop what?"

"Whatever you're doing."

"Do you like it?"

"Do you want me to slap you again?"

"Yes," you scoffed and raised your hand to hit him again, but Gojo was faster this time. The slap came so sudden, and you didn't have the chance to react. The moment when your head was shipped to the side, Gojo started to laugh uncontrollably. "I-'m so sorry!" His head fell back to a pillow, and the vibrations made your ears perk up. It sent blood rushing towards your cheeks. You saw tears start to prickle in the corner of his eyes, and his face turned crimson red.

You began to hit him on the chest with your lips pursed. You tried again to get him to stop laughing, but it didn't work. His laughter seemed to go on forever. ''Toru, shut up!"

"I-can't." Gojo covered his mouth to muffle the sounds. You gave up on punching him when your eye twitched from frustration. Raising your hips, you attempted to get off of him, but you felt a tight grip on your hips that prevented you from moving.

"Satoru," you gave him a blank expression. You tried again to free yourself from his grasp, but it was unsuccessful. It was then for a moment you realized why Gojo was preventing you to "Can I leave?" you gulped.

"No."

"I'm sorry I hit you," He gave you a playful grin.

"Y'know it really hurts."

"And I said I was sorry."

"That's not enough." You rolled your eyes and attempted to get off him again, but Gojo moved his hand to your waist and wrapped his arm around it.

"Satoru, I'm warning you," you grumbled while placing your palm on his chest, your gaze fixed on him. Gojo's eyes lit up as the sapphire ring on your finger glistened.

"My little sadist," he cooed and took your finger from his chest to his lips. "are you gonna make me bleed again." He started to softly peck each fingertip, and it promptly sent heat to flood your core. "I love it when you go feral on me. It reminds me-"

"How much of a masochist I'am? Yeah, I know."

"Ah, great minds think alike," He chuckled and interlocked his hand with yours. You pursed your lips and furrowed your eyebrows.

"That's an insult, Toru. I'm not an idiot like you."

"That's an insult, (y/n). I'm not stubborn like you." Your mouth twitched from his response.

"At least I'm not clingy and needy for attention."

"At least I don't beg for someone to make me cum."

"..."

"I do not beg," you snapped as your nose wrinkled. Gojo snickered as his finger pointed at your nose.

"Your nose wrinkles when you lie."

"Do not!" You tried to hit him with your free hand, but he caught it. Then with the hand interlocked with Gojo's, you tried to pull free, but his grasp tightened, preventing it from happening.

"Do too."

"Shut up!"

"No."

________________________

"Ow."

"Sorry."

"Ow!" He pulled away from your grasp and brought his hand to his hair. "I told you to be gentle," Getou scolded as he turned to you.

"Well, if you washed your hair last night like I told you, then it wouldn't be so difficult tying your hair up." Getou gave you a blank expression before rolling his eyes.

"You're such a mom."

"I'll take that as a compliment," giving him a cheeky smile. You both were preparing for the exchange event that will take place in less than an hour. Getou was between your legs on the ground while you were on your bed, trying to fix his hair. Letting your fingers run through his hair. "Now, be a good boy and let me-" your eyes widened as you felt a knot in his hair. "Did you even comb your hair!"

"Yes, I did!" He defended.

"No, you did not!" you began to tug the knot, and you watched Getou winced from the pain. He tried to move away from you, but you pulled him back. Grabbing the comb next to you, you violently started to loosen the knot in his hair. "Why do I have to do everything?" You huffed, ignoring Geto's pleas and whimpers. "Who has to cover up hickeys?...me," tug."Who has to clean up your dirty laundry?...me," tug. "Who has to fix your hair every morning?"

"You wanted to do my hair," he chided, and he side-eyed you. You responded by hitting him on the top of his head with your free hand. "Ow, stop that!" He swatted your hand away and attempted to grab the comb from your hand, but you retracted your hand back. "Give me that!"

"No."

"You're so annoying."

"So are you." Getou huffed in annoyance and mumbled something about Gojo's bad influence on you. As you finally loosened the last knot in his hair, you removed a hair-tie from your wrist and wrapped it against Geto's hair, then tied it into a man bun. Tapping him on the shoulder to turn around, Getou shifted his body to face you. You smiled as you pulled strands of his hair down to his face. Heat rose in his face when you brushed his cheek with your knuckles. Not long after, he brought his fingers to your lips and softly skimmed the outline of your lower lip. From the arguments, the bickering, and the insults, you could never be angry with him. How could you? You considered him a part of you, and so does he. Maybe even more than Gojo. Perhaps his heart had felt more special towards yours than Gojo's. As you let Getou part your lips, you leaned in for a kiss. But it was short-lived when Gojo kicked the door open.

"You guys better not blame me for being late!" Startled you both were, you pulled your body back and rubbed the back of your neck as pink hues spread across your cheeks. Gojo gasped and looked from you to Geto, then back to Getou. "You both are disgusting."

"Shut up!" You grabbed a pillow next to you and threw it at him. Gojo snickered as he caught it.

"As much I would love to have a pillow fight, Yaga-Senesi is waiting for us to come outside to greet the Kyoto students."

"They're here already?" Geto inquired.

"No, they're on their way."

"Do we have to go?" You pouted and crossed your arms against your chest. Getou smiled softly as he stood up and leaned into you. His hands were placed on each side of your hips, and his mouth was inches away from your ear.

"If you don't complain, then I'll carry you on my back," your face lit up, and your smile was wide and bright.

"Really?" You sounded like a six-year-old child when they found out they were going to the park or they could get candy from the store. Geto nodded his head and turned around for you to climb on his back. Wasting no time, you crawled on his back then wrapped your arms around his neck to secure your position. You noticed Gojo's underlying jealousy.

"Hey, what did you say to her?" Gojo asked as he pointed his finger at Getou and you.

"It's rude to point Satoru," Getou said.

"But that's not fair. You never give me a piggyback ride," You giggled as Gojo began to whine. Stomping his foot on the ground, he huffed. "I won't let you pass unless you get off or you let me join you." He then spreads both his legs and arms to block the doorway.

"No thanks," you said quickly. "I rather eat glass."

"You little shit." He stomped his way towards you, and Getou extended his hand to prevent Gojo from going anywhere near you both.

"Move," Getou grumbled as he pushed Gojo back. Although it was a slight push, you were confused about why Gojo fell to the ground. His dramatic cry pierced your ears. Getou deadpanned as he looked down at his friend. "Dude, I didn't even push you that hard."

"You did," Gojo sniffed and wiped non-existent tears in the corner of his eyes.

"You're being dramatic."

"Am not!"

"Are too!"

"You're going pay for this," Getou scoffed as he walked over Gojo's body.

"Yea, right," Just he was about to reach the door. Gojo somehow grabbed onto Getou's leg with both of his hands. Getou attempted to shake him off, but he wouldn't budge. "Satoru, let go."

"No."

"Let go, Satoru," you whined.

"Bite me."

"You're acting like a child," Getou scolded as he attempted to move his leg. Still, each step dragged Gojo behind him. Feeling fed up with Gojo's actions, you used your cursed technique to remove Gojo from Getou's leg.

"Finally," you sighed in relief as Gojo's tantrum came to an end.

But your victory quickly ended when you felt an uneasy aurora coming from Gojo. Not given a chance to speak, Getou exited the room and ran off to the hallway. "Come back here, you two!" Gojo shouted. "You need to pay for that!"

"See you later, Satoru!"

______________________________

"The fuck is this?"

"Watch your mouth. A woman like you shouldn't speak such vulgar tongue." A vein popped on the side of your forehead. You are frustrated that Noaya was invited to the sister exchange. To make matters worse, he and the four other Kyoto students would be staying over for the second day of the event.

"Maybe you should watch your mouth," you attempted to reach the Kyoto side of the room to hit him, but Getou gripped your arm to prevent you from moving. You watch how Noaya smirked. Amusement was written all over his face.

"Of course, you like a dog on a leash. I have to admit I must give bangs praise for that," his patronizing tone had made your blood run cold. "The good thing when you are mine, he'll transfer that leach to-" you felt Getou's grip loosen. Just as you were about to take the chance to beat him up, you heard a familiar voice from behind you that interrupted your thoughts.

"Is everyone here," the sounds of a cane approached the room. Your eyes narrowed as Yoshinobu Gakuganji walked into the room. The man who is part of every messed up thing of your life. You tightened your fist as he walked past you, not giving much of a glance.

"Don't think about it," Getou warned, and his grip tightened, "It's not worth it," just as you were about to say something, your teacher and Shko entered the room. As she stood next to you, you smelt the slight aroma of cigarettes. Turning your head towards her, you gave her a disappointed look. "Really? you were late because you wanted to smoke."

"Quiet, hypocrite," you chewed the inside of your cheek while Getou led out a small chuckle. Shoko turned to him and gave a lopsided smile. "Getou, I don't know why you're laughing. Weren't you the one who was throwing a coughing fit thirty minutes ago?"

"Alright, let's get started." Yaga clapped before rubbing his hands together. "The first day would be-" he paused, then frowned at you and Getou. His index fingers aimed at you both. "Where are Gojo and the first years?"

"He said everyone is with you." You said, perplexedly looking at Yaga.''He texted me and said he'd be here soon."

"Well, obviously, they aren't with me."

"Then where are they?"

_________________________

"This is soo not fair!"

"Get off me Satoru!"You attempted to push him off of you, but his legs and arms surrounded you. Gojo pinned you down on the couch and pressed his entire weight on you.

"How come you guys get to participate in the first event but not me," He pouted, and you would've sworn you saw drool come out of his mouth. "I get it that I can find the curse in under a minute, but this soo not fair!"

"Oh, I don't know? Maybe it's because you were fifteen minutes late and duck taped the first years together on the wall." You sneered. "And stop complaining. Shoko is not participating, and I don't see her throwing a tantrum."

"Don't forget that he insulted the Kyoto principle," Geto chimed. Gojo rolled his eyes, stuck his tongue, and blew it at everyone.

"Oh boo, all of you are sensitive."

"I wouldn't call it sensitive," Nanami huffed. "Annoyed is the most appropriate answer."

"Appropriate my ass," Gojo responded.

"Satoru, please," Getou pleaded. "we have to strategize how we are going to win this team event." He crossed his arms against his chest and huffed. "Does anyone have any ideas?"

"The best approach is to divide into smaller teams of two," you murmured, gasping for air as Gojo's weight made breathing difficult. You had to punch him in the stomach to get him to leave you alone. You watched him roll on the ground, clutching his stomach and muttered gibberish about dying. You ignored him and continued, "I can team up with Nanami, and you can team up with Haibara." Except for Getou, everyone nodded and agreed.

"I think you should be with me, and Nanami should be with Haibara." You narrowed your eyes at him. He can't be serious right now?

"No offense Su, but you should put your personal feelings aside if you want us to win."

"I'm not being emotional!" He defended. "I'm just being rational. It makes sense."Getou scowled and then muttered something about you being stupid and stubborn.

"No, it doesn't because the other team will attack Nanami and Haibara since they are first years, which is why one of us should team up with them." He always had the stupidest plans, and you would be the only one to call him out on it. You found it annoying how he believes his plans would work. "You're the stubborn one here."

"Well, I'm the captain, so what I say goes," you heard a snicker from Gojo. "And you should just sit down and deal with it."

"Y'know your top lip and your bottom lip need to meet and become friends so you can shut up." A laugh came out of Gojo, and it delivered him a glare from both you and Getou. 'quit it ,' you mouthed.

"Y'know you look better when you're gagged."

"You look better without hair."

"Your face looks like something I'd draw with my left hand," oh, he really went there. Licking your lips, you gave him a wry grin before standing up from the couch and slowly walking towards him. Getou smirked as you approached him.

"I can't believe you were that sperm that won." You saw his nose wrinkled as he chewed the inside of his cheek.

"My middle finger gets a boner every time I see you," you laughed and threw your head back.

" You, in general, get a boner every time you see me." instantly, pink hues formed on his cheek, and that signaled you to lean your face inches away from his. Getou turned away to hide his flushed face, and you saw his mouth move, but nothing came out. "What was that?" You brought your fingers to his right cheek and pinched them.

"I said we can go with your plan," he softly muttered. You beamed before ruffling his hair. His fractured ego was always a sight to see, and you took pride in that.

"Thank you," you beamed as you ruffled his hair. Turning around to face the group, you joined your hands with your right fist on your left palm. "Alright, let's get started."

_________________________

When Nanamai was first told about the Goodwill event, his first thought was that it would be dull and uninteresting. He didn't want to participate in the first place. You had convinced and recruited him and Haibara to join because there were more needed people on the team since Shoko wasn't partaking in the events. It was supposed to be a friendly competition where everyone would get along. But impaling someone in the shoulder with their katana against a tree wasn't a part of the program.

"Why did you do it, you bitch?" The sounds of flesh ripping and gutting made him queasy. It was the first time he saw you angry like this. Sure there were times when you looked like your head would come off because of Gojo and Getou, but it was never like this. "Answer me!" You pushed your weapon deep into the opponent's shoulder, and she cried out in pain.

"Ow, you are hurting me!" She shrieked. Nanami couldn't figure out why she attacked you. Wasn't the game supposed to be a team battle where whichever team exorcises the most spirits before sunset wins? So how did it get from here?

"Oh, yea?" you darkly chuckled. "You didn't seem to care to think about me when you nearly tried to slit my throat."

"I didn't mean it to happen! I was only supposed to injure you until Noa-" she froze then quickly closed her mouth. Narrowing your eyes, you leaned down on her.

"Until what?" The girl shook her head.

"I can't tell you," a vein popped on the side of your head. She was hiding something, and you doubt she decided to attack you on a whim. "Just forget what I said and let me-" you interrupted her with a hit on the face. The girl's eyes widened, and her mouth agape. "Don't hit me! My face is sensitive. I'm going to get a scar."

"Does it even matter?" you gritted. Your patience was wearing thin. Time was running out, and you didn't have the time to play games.

"Of course, it matters. It doesn't even concern you because you're a special grade and pretty, so you don't have to worry about moving up a grade." Is this what it was about? Getting promoted to another grade. "Women are expected to be perfect and pretty in what we do. Our male counterparts don't do shit, and they have the privilege to get promoted to grade one sorcerer."

"So let me get this straight," you pulled out your weapon, and she gasped in pain. Your body towered over her as you leaned down. "You attacked me because of the double standards we as women face, just to make a point." You forcefully grabbed her collar. You lifted her a couple inches off the ground. "Who cares about being perfect or being pretty. I don't need some stupid title that validates me. I don't need men educating me on what I can and cannot do. I am self-aware of who I am, and as long as I believe in myself, I don't need anyone to tell me otherwise."

"Then you're naive to believe that," her scornful expression offended you. Nonetheless, you felt sorry for her for thinking this way. You despised how the system brainwashed her, and you wondered how many other girls think as she does.

"She's all yours, Noaya!"

Huh-

You quickly turned around, and your face fell as you saw Noaya standing six feet away from you, looking smug. So this is what she meant from before. Stalling you until Noaya comes in and do god-knows-what. "Good girl Yuri," he said, praising the girl you assumed her name was. You looked around to find Nanami but didn't. "If you're looking for that emo boy, then I'm afraid to say he was disposed of."Without breaking eye contact, you dropped Yuri and knocked her out.

"You're gonna pay for that!" you threatened as your finger was pointed at him. Your cursed energy leaking out from the sapphire ring on your finger. Moments later, you focused on the gravitational field around you as you flattened your palm. However, before you could do anything, you were violently pushed back and slammed into the tree in a blink of an eye.

"What were you saying?" mocked Noaya. He had pinned you to the tree. Your breaths were erratic as you felt blood slowly trickling down your brow. You tried to touch him, but he smacked your hand away and laughed at your poor attempt. "I wonder what Gojo would say. How pathetic and weak you are. the very thing he praises is nothing near as competent as he claims you are." Your head began to pound, and you wanted nothing more than to put him in his place. "Such a shame," he tutted. His disapproval sounded as if he expected more than you. Something that he wanted, and it scared you. "If only you were in Kyoto with me, then you would be tamed on a leash like you were born-"

Slap

The sound of your forehead striking his lips was heavenly to you. You sadistically grinned as you watched him stumble back and cover his mouth. "You really need to shut up."

"And you need to be put in your place," he uncovered his mouth to reveal blood dripping from his mouth. He spat on the ground and clenched his teeth. He walked around and preyed on you. Without having your weapon with you, you had to rely on close combat or your cursed technique. You moved to your left when he stepped forward. Both of you circled around the area, stayed ten feet apart, and waited for the other to attack.

You could feel the tension rising, and the burning sensation in your stomach was blossoming. You had to act first if you wanted to win. "You're a smart girl, aren't you?" Naoya asked. This slightly caught you off guard, and you contemplated for a moment if you should answer. But before you can, Naoya responded to his own question for you. "Oh right you are," he snapped his fingers, and you delivered him a scowl. "I let you in on a secret, yea?" You froze. His tone of voice darkly reminded you of four months ago, and you shook your head to prevent the memories from flooding in. " Do you want to know why I was invited to participate in the games?" He was offering the answer to you. His tone was persuading you to answer, and that scared you.

'Don't answer him,' said the voice inside of you. 'Don't do it ,'.

"I can answer it for you."

What the-

It was in a flash when he appeared next to you. You didn't have the chance to react once his hand pressed against your chest and pinned you down to the ground. You gasped in pain, and your sweat grew cold. "My sweet girl," he cooed. You shuddered as his face was inches away from yours, "the only reason why I'm here is because of the agreement my family made with-"

"Stop talking," you interrupted. Your raspy breath was amusing to him. You were his prey. Naoya grinned as he grabbed your cheeks and squeezed them together. You tried pulling away, but his grip tightened, and he smirked as he watched you struggle to escape.

"You're so disrespectful," he stifled a laugh. "No wonder they're agreeing to let me marry you after this," your eyes widened as you stopped squirming. Your heart had sunk to the bottom of your stomach, and you felt something piercing your veins. It paralyzed you, and your body stopped staying vigilant. "Apologies. I mean after I win the goodwill event. You'll be my trophy wife," he beamed, and for the first time in your life, you saw him smile. Like actually smile, white teeth, and everything.

You break out in laughter.

Naoya deadpanned from the unexpected reaction. The least you could do is fight back or scream at him, at the least. "I never could catch a break, don't I?" A minute has passed, and you were still laughing. Even tried to cover your mouth to muffle the sounds, but it made you laugh louder. "I-I can't believe it," you wiped your tears from the corner of your eye and sighed. "I can't tell if you're joking or not. Man, I gonna have trust issues because of you," you placed the back of your hand on your forehead. "Y'know, the least you can do is buy me dinner first."

"Are you serious?"

"Obviously," he scoffed before grabbing a fistful of your hair and pulling you towards him.

"You have been corrupted, my dear. There needs to be someone to put you in your place," with his free hand, he reached to brush your skin, but he stopped when you saw a white flash in the corner of your eyes. And not even a second later, someone pulled Noaya off of you.

"You shouldn't have touched her."

As you saw your kouhai standing before you, placing his arms around Naoya to keep him from moving, the corners of your lips twitched upwards. Despite the bruises on his arms and the scrapes on his face, he grinned slightly when you said, "You're late, Nanami." Naoya, on the other hand, was not too pleased with this.

"You really think the emo boy can beat me," he gritted, and you watched him move his hand to reach something in his pockets. You smirked as you noticed the disappointment on his face.

"Looking for this," your eyes twinkled as you pulled out a small pocket knife from your skirt. "Never knew you were cheater Naoya. What happened to be an honorable man?" you scoffed as you threw it on the ground. "As much I would love to chat." you extended your towards both shamans and concentrated on your cursed energy. Feeling the earth's gravitational field around you, you nullified it to space around you. The back of your hair stuck up as you watched as debris from the ground started to hover around Noaya and Nanami.

Blood dripped from your nose, and your skin began to burn. You're going to wish you never ever had met me."

___________________________________________

A booming sound rattled Getou's ears, and he covered his ears as the ground began to shake. His first thought was you. If you were ok and safe.

The past ten minutes had been hectic. Three of the Kyoto students had attacked him and Haibara and asked where you were. Getou like the calm person he was, pretended to not know and did not engage in fighting. And it wasn't a total lie. He just wanted them to get off his back and figure out why they needed you. That was when one of them accidentally said that Naya was looking for you... that was when he snapped.

He did successfully incapacitated the students with the cost of Haibara. It was nothing serious, just a couple of broken bones(although he did make one of them cry.)"Oh shit," he gasped as he grabbed onto a tree next to him. This was definitely you. He wondered what prick made you so pissed.

As the rumbling passed, he let go of the tree and stumbled as he took a couple steps back. He waited until his legs stopped trembling before searching for curses. Getou began to regret leaving Haibara unconscious in the middle of the forest. He should've called Shoko and sent out a team to recover him. I am soo irresponsible. (y/n) is going to kill me. He knew you cared about the first years and always put them first, unlike him and Gojo. If you find out he left Haibara unconscious with curses crawling around the area, he might as well dig up his own grave.

"Shit," he mumbled under his breath. "Shit, shit, shi-" he stopped walking when the corner of his eye laid upon a familiar weapon. As he walked closer to examine it, he realized it was your katana. His eyes widened. You would never leave your katana lying around irresponsibly. It was like your own god damn child. Worry stretched across his face once he picked it up. There was dried blood on the blade. Getou began to be paranoid. Where could you be? Did Noaya do something to you? Where is Nanami?

Millions of questions were etched into his brain. His breathing picked up, and his hands began to tremble. "Fuck," he croaked. You had to be safe. You're strong, perhaps stronger than him. With his other hand, he ran it down his face. He needs to focus on finding you. Bending down to pick up the weapon, Getou suddenly felt a sudden shift in the aura. He felt his blood pressure drop when goosebumps began to form on his skin. Immediately he knew there was a curse behind him. Clenching his jaw, he turned around and prepared to attack until something or someone pulled him away from the curse's view and forced him behind them.

"What did I tell about letting your guard down, Suguru?"

Relief washed over his face when he saw you alive and safe. He muttered a thank you to the gods as he watched you exorcise the curse with your bare hands. "These damn things are annoying," he saw you wipe your forehead with the back of your hand before turning around. Getou's eyebrows furrowed when he was met with your pale face with cuts and a dried bloody nose. Strands of your hair had stuck onto your forehead, and he noticed there was dried blood on the side of your head. Not only that, your outer jujutsu jacket was not on you, and your white polo shirt had been torn to the point your black sports bra was revealed.

"So, how have you been, Su?" The corners of your mouth twitched upwards and let out a shaky breath through your nose. Getou immediately recognized your fake smile as he dropped your katana and cupped your cheeks. Pulling you close to him, he leaned down and scanned every detail on your face.

"What happened?" His voice was deep and calm.

"Pft, n-nothing really exciting, you should know about," he heard a slight crack in your voice, and he frowned as his thumb rubbed your cheekbone.

"What happened?" He asked again. This time it was a whisper.

"Nothing."

"You can tell me," you shook your head and inhaled sharply. Your hands gripped his shirt, and your eyes drifted down to your feet. "Hey, look at me." Getou lifted your head, and he pinched his eyebrows together. "Is this about-" He stopped talking when he noticed you tightened your grip on his shirt and a gurgling sound that escaped from your throat. "Ok... Ok, I'll stop talking." Just as he was about to bring your head to his chest, you pulled away.

"Um, we shouldn't-" you wiped your face and your nose. "T-they're watching," you softly mumbled. Getou looked around and found not one but four crows. Damn you, Mei Mei. He recognized the young sorcerer's birds. He was not fond of her, and although she was strong, she was a greedy person. Monetary value is the most important thing for her other than that, nothing else matters.

With a flick of his wrist, he released a grade four curse to exorcise the crows. "C'mon," he grabbed your wrist, picked up your weapon with his other hand, and dragged you with him to find the remaining curse for the game.

After a while, he felt you tug his hand. "Suguru, what happened to your hand?"

"Huh?" he stopped walking turned around. He lets go of your wrist and looks at his hand. "Damn," he found a couple of blisters and splinters in his fingers and palm. He checked his other hand and found some as well. "It's nothing. I'll go to Shoko after this," you nodded.

"Another thing," you bit the inside of your cheek. "Where is Haibara." Fuck I'm screwed.

"Uh...somewhere," he led a nervous laugh and averted his gaze at yours.

"Somewhere like what."

"Somewhere."

"Suguru-

"Where's Nanami?" Getou grinned at you, hoping that by shifting the subject, you'd gloss over the fact that he has no idea where the first year is. However, luck isn't on his side since he swears he saw a vein shoot out of the side of your forehead.

"With Shoko," you gritted. "Now, I won't ask again."

" You look beautiful today."

"Suguru, I swear to god-"

"Nope, stunning is the most appropriate answer."

"If you left Haibara alone with-"

"I think you should rest and let me take care of things from here, yea?"

"Curses flying around, I will-" Getou didn't hear the last words that come out of your mouth because his eyes glimpsed at your stomach. There was blood rushing, and it had painted your white shirt. You must have not noticed because you took a step forward. "You both n-ned to learn how to-" you froze, and Getou saw your eyes rollbacked to your head as your body began to fall backwards.

He quickly caught you before your body hit the ground. "You're OK," he brushed some strand of hair out of your face. He caressed your skin and murmured, "You did good (y/n)," he lifted you and carried you in his arms. "You did good."

_________________________________________________

You woke up and found yourself on your warm bed. You looked around and noticed the sunset reflected in the window. A stab of pain pierced your forehead as you raised your body slowly. When you touch your head with two fingers on each side, your mind immediately flashes back to the past.

"Shit!" your eyes widened, and you lifted your covers. Nanami, he must be alright. And Getou ... you wondered if he is okay. Quickly sliding to the edge of your bed, you wanted to make sure everyone was okay, not severely injured. But just as your bare foot reached the woody floor, your body gave up on you, and you fell to the ground.

"Jesus Y/N, try and rest for a couple more hours, will ya." Your eyes widened, and you looked up to find the raven-haired boy sitting down in a chair. The back of his head was against the wall, and his eyelids looked as though they were partly closed. How long he has been sitting there .

"Well, are you going to just gonna sit there, or you're going to help me up?" A soft chuckle came out of his lips, and he stood up from the chair and walked towards you. You smiled as he lifted you off the ground and placed you on the bed.

"How are you? Are you in pain?" he asked, standing between your legs and holding your chin up. His concern for you made your heart melt.

"Besides a headache, then no," Getou sighed before sliding his arms around your back and pulling you into an embrace. As you grasped your blankets, blood rushed to your face and ears."I-Suguru-"

"I'm glad," he muttered into your hair. "Fuck, you scared me. You were losing too much blood, and Shoko wouldn't let me-"

"It's alright," you said, not wanting to hear the rest of the story or how guilty he felt. "It's not your fault," you said as you let go of your sheets and cupped his face. "I'm thankful you were there when I fell," you said, giving him a comforting grin that made him feel better. He muttered a thank you before leaning his forehead against yours. The warmness of your heart intensified as he placed his hand on your waist and started to rub against it.

"Can I kiss you?" he whispered, sending a shiver down your spine. It felt good, and you leaned your head. Licking your lips, you placed your hand on his shoulder.

"Haven't I already said-" you whispered, "You can kiss me whenever you want."

The moment when his lips met yours, your heart exploded with infatuation. The way his lips synced with yours made you hum blissfully. He tilted his head to deepen the kiss, and it allowed your tongue to push past his lips. He groaned as your tongue slid against his, which caused him to tighten his grip on your waist.

When he pulled away, a string of saliva connected both of your lips, and you both were out of breath. As he moved his forehead to your shoulder bone, he said. "So when are you going to tell me why was Noaya and the other Kyoto students were after you?" You cursed under your breath.

"You had to ruin the moment, don't you?" You scoffed and pushed his head off your shoulder. " I don't want to talk about it."

"Well, the truth is going to come out eventually, and I would prefer to hear it from you rather than some stuck-up jerk," you rolled your eyes. At the same time, Getou gave you a lopsided grin, and his fingers pinched your cheek. "C'mon, sweetheart, y'know I don't like to be waiting," you whined as you tried to pull his fingers away, but his other hand swats it away.

"If you let go, then I'll tell you," you grumbled. Getou arched an eyebrow and squeezed your cheek to check if you were joking or not. "Ow, I'm being serious. Can you please stop? It hurts."

"Just making sure you're not lying to me, sunshine." You blushed from that nickname and felt the weight in your bed as Getou sat next to you. "Ok, shoot, what do they want from you?" You sighed before grabbing his hand and interlocking with yours.

"Well, yeah, it's not something they necessarily want from me," you squeezed his hand, and he squeezed it back. "It's that—" you bit your lip, unable to express the words you wanted to say. "If they win, then I will be promised to Naoya. So they were trying to sabotage us to win." You looked down and stared at your lap. Your eyes started to burn, and your breaths began to be heavy. "S-so, there is the answer you've been dying to hear." You turned to him and tried to smile, but it was unsuccessful as your lips began to twitch. "But no need to worry. I have faith in all of us." You noticed Getou's jaw was clenched, and his grip on you tightened.

You could see it in his eyes that he was saying something, something along the lines of 'we're going to kill him, right? We'll kill him and then disappear. You, me, and Satoru could all live together on an island or something, away from this bullshit'. You hummed, wishing nothing more than this. But both of you knew that this was impossible, merely a fantasy. You let go of his hand and brought your fingers to the strand of hair that was hanging over his face, rubbing it before twirling it on your finger.

"Let's just hope it doesn't happen," you gave him a slight grin before letting your hands fall to your lap. "I'm going to Shoko. We'll talk later, right?" He nodded, and you slowly stood from your bed. Getou insisted on helping you walk to the infirmary since you were sore.

Just as you were about to open your room door with Getou by your side, the door flung open. You met Haibara in front, Nanami behind him, and Gojo looking smug.

"Um, hi-"

"Oh, thank goodness," your eyes widened. To your surprise, Haibara wrapped his arms around your waist and lifted you up the ground a couple inches, and twirled you around a bit. Your cheeks began to burn from the sudden affection. "Gojo-senpai told us that you died and your ghost was haunting your dorm. We were going to exorcise it and bring you peace." You flashed a glare at Gojo, and he stuck his tongue at you.

"You really need to stop listening to his lies." He muttered a sorry before setting you down. Ruffling his hair, you gave him a cheeky smile. "How's my favorite kouhai doing?" You heard a tsk from Nanami but pretended to not hear it.

"I'm great!" he chirped, and a delighted smile formed on your lips. This was one of your favorite qualities about Haibara. He was like a bundle of joy and always had a cheerful expression. If anything, you compared him to the sun. "Look," he pushed his hair back and pointed to a bruise on his forehead, inches away from his right eye. "I told Shoko-Senpai that I'm going to be matching with Getou-Senpai!" You nodded. The way he spoke about his other Senpai made you a hundred percent sure he was his favorite...This was one of your least favorite qualities about him. "Oh! Speaking about Getou-Senpai, you should've seen him when he was fighting the other Kyoto students." Haibrara showed you his hands, and he started making crazy hand gestures. "He was like pow! Then boom!" His eyes widened in excitement as he recalled the earlier events. "Then he said to one of them, 'you're not going near her.' “ You chortled as he tried his best to mimic Getou's voice. " 'Oh, you want her? How about I shove this curse up your ass, then I'll consider-

"I think that is enough," Geotu interrupted Haibara with a nervous laugh. "How about you go in the room and pick out a movie for us to watch." He nearly dragged Haibara into your room to prevent him from speaking any further. You snickered as you heard Getou plead with Haibara to not tell you what happened in the woods.

"So, Nanami, how are you?" The last time you saw him, he was holding Noaya, preventing him from moving and his final words to you were, 'you got it from here, L/N-Senpai.'

"Never better." He muttered. You scrunched your face up. "But I'm thrilled to hear you are alive and well." In the corner of his eye, he side glanced at Gojo before excusing himself to enter your room. ' so weird,' you muttered under your breath. As you gave a glance over your shoulder, you saw Nanami went to sit next to Haibara on your bed while Getou was recommending movies to watch. Smiling before turning your head back to face Gojo.

"Hi, Toru, how are you-" Your body froze when Gojo's arms wrapped around your back, and he leaned down to allow his face to rest in the crook of your neck. "What is with people today being all touchy-"

"I'm sorry." He muttered against your skin. Your eyes widened, and you immediately understood what he meant as you brought your hand to his hair and began to knead it through your fingers.

"It's not your fault." You whispered. You let go of his hair and placed your hands on his cheeks, "none of it is your fault." You smiled as his sunglasses fell to the bridge of his nose, revealing his oceanic eyes, which you adore."We are the strongest. We're going to win no matter what." He stifled a laugh before planting a chaste kiss on your lips. He then ruffled your hair before flicking your nose.

"So, are you going to let me in or what?"

_________________________________________________________

"She gets hit by a school bus at the end."

"Fuck you Satoru!" You watched as Getou hit Gojo's face with a pillow while he laughed maniacally when Getou pinned him down to the ground. You were annoyed but not surprised. You should've expected this to happen since Gojo was known to spoil every movie you guys watch. With the remote next to you, you turned the tv off. Shoko was laid next to you in bed, and she rolled over to the end to watch her friends fight.

"Oooh, Suguru, I have never seen you do that before." Whistled Shoko.

You giggled as you shifted to get a closer look. "Sucker, punch him, Getou."

"C'mon, Satoru, use your infinity." You chimed. Shoko hit you in the shoulder. "What? Satoru never wins in a fight with Suguru. I just want him to win once."

"You know that is never happening. He barely knows how to use his stupid technique," she snorted. Both of you watched as Gojo wrapped his legs around Getou's waist and successfully flipped him over. You smirked at Shoko, but it quickly turned into a frown when Getou grabbed Gojo by the throat and forcefully removed him. "Yes, Suguru now-"

"Respectfully, the both of you, please shut up." Getou gritted his teeth, and you noticed the veins in his arm bulging. You pointed your finger at it and turned to Shoko.

"Shouldn't we-"

"Nope." She placed her hand in her pockets and brought out her lighter and cigarette pack. "It would all do us a favor if your sweet Getou kills your boyfriend." She picked out the cigarette before placing it on her lips and lighting it.

"He's not my-" Shoko puffed her cigarette at you. "Boyfriend."

"Mhmm, sure," she let out another puff before she got off your bed and made her way to your door. "I will let you handle," she waves her hand at you and both Gojo and Getou. "That."

"Sho-" She opened the door and closed it. You groaned, now being alone with both shamans. Both Nanami and Haibara left to prepare for tomorrow's events. And Now Shoko left you to deal with 'your boyfriends.' You turned to the boys on the floor and heard a choking sound coming from Gojo as his face turned a couple shades red.

"Let go of him, Su," You scolded and hit him in the head. Getou took the hint and got off of Gojo. "You both need to learn how to get along," you frowned as Gojo coughed a bit before standing up to rub his neck.

"We do get along," Smiled Getou. His lips twitched, and you could tell he tried his best to give a smile, but you knew it was fake. "Right, Satoru?" He wrapped an arm around Gojo's shoulder and pulled him in. Then both of them gave you a heart sign with each other's hand.

"Great, can you both please get out of my room?" You rolled your eyes as you pointed to the door.

"I thought you said we can cuddle with you," Getou faked a pout and gave you puppy eyes. You scoffed, not convinced from Getou's attempt to guilt you into changing your decision.

"Your cuddle privileges have been revoked." Protests came out of both Gojo and Getou's mouths, and you smirked as you pulled your bed covers and got in. "Now, if you excuse me, I'm going to have my beauty sleep, so do me a favor and get out." Just as you were about to turn off your lamp lights, you felt a heavyweight that dipped from the bed. "Haven't I told you-" You were pressed down to the bed by your shoulders and was met with Gojo's towering body over you.

"Cute, how you think we're going to listen to you," Gojo smirked as he pulled the covers and got into the bed with you.

"Did you hear what I just said?" you sneered. "Unless you and Suguru figure things-" You felt a tug in the covers as Getou joined next to you.

"Ahh, you are right, Satoru. She looks cute thinking that," Getou chuckled, and his leg wrapped around yours. You groaned and slapped him on the chest.

"Will you both ever listen to me?" Getou glanced at Gojo and gave him a lopsided grin before saying, "No."

"I hate you both."

"We know."

"You better not snore."

"Ok." Getou snorted.

"Or drool."

"That's all Satoru, babe." Gojo faked a gasp and attempted to hit Getou, but you swat his hand away. Not wanting to get caught in the crossfire with them.

"Do not!"

"Do too!"

"Do not!"

"Shut up, the both of you!"

"No, you!"

_______________________________________________

"A tie!"

You were bewildered by the news that yesterday's events resulted in a tie. You remembered exorcising a dozen curses and was confident when Getou said he vanquished a second grade, which would mean the end of the game, and the school could be considered the victor for the event. "Yaga-Sensei, that doesn't make sense. We definitely won. Suguru exorcised the second grade, and that is beside the point." You pull your shirt slightly up to show him a scar on your stomach. "They attacked all of us. Two attacked Nanami and me," you let go of your shirt and pointed a finger a Getou, who was sitting next to you. "And three attacked Suguru and Haibara."

"I understand that, but nothing is going to change. I'm sorry." You scoffed. "But can we please move this past us and let me explain today's events." You were annoyed how he disregarded your complaint. You knew it was not his fault, but it irritated you. As Yaga continues to explain the individual battle and the best strategies to win. Your mind was focused elsewhere...Naoya. You tried to remind yourself that everything would be fine, and you guys would win, but the doubts came flooding in like a plague. You clenched your hand hard enough to make marks, and you began to bounce your leg. Your skin felt like ants were crawling up and down your body. 'It's going to be fine,' you reminded yourself. ' It's going to be okay, it's going to be-

Your thoughts came to a halt when a cold hand was placed on your leg. You turned to your left, and although he was not looking at you, Gojo made sure to let his presence be known. His index finger softly tapped against your skin and made you feel reassured. Your skin felt hot, and you tucked your chin to hide your smile.

"...fifth," you untucked your chin and looked up. Your sensei had his arm crossed, and through his sunglasses, you felt his glare piercing through you. "I said you are fifth," you tilted your head confused.

"Fifth for what."

"For the individual battle," you mouthed an 'oh.' "But I do not who you're going to fight, so be open-minded to who your enemies are." You nodded before giving him a thumbs up. "And another thing before we leave, (y/n)."

"Hmm."

"Make sure you cover..." he pointed his finger at your neck. " That," Your eyes widened. 'That's where-,' you quickly covered your neck with your hand. "You are terrible with hiding secrets," He sighed before heading towards the room. "Well, I'll leave you all to it." There is no way he could've known. Have you been that reckless these past few months?

"You said people wouldn't see it!" You were furious that they both lied to you about the marks on your skin. In the morning, they told you, 'it's barely visible, so you don't need makeup.' Your eye twitched as you heard them snicker. "Shut up!"

"I'm not surprised you still listen to them," you turned your head to the corner of the room where Nanami made that comment. "You have complete trust over them."

"Is that supposed to be a compliment or an insult?"

"Both?" You narrowed your eyes. He can't be serious right now? "Not be an offensive or anything, you should really stop-"

"Nanami darling, you don't see me insulting about that bite mark on Haibara’s shoulder." Your cheeky smile caused Nanami's nostrils to flare. You knew about their relationship when you walked in on them kissing each other's lips. Nanami forced you to promise not to tell anyone, especially Gojo and Getou. He said he feared he would 'not see the light of day.'

"I'm sorry, not everyone is not like you, Senpai. "

"I'm sorry, I'm not an emo."

"Aren't you dating an emo?" You glared at him and stuck out your tongue.

"Touché."

______________________________________________

"Fuck my life."

"I should cut your tongue when we fight, but you're lucky I'm such a gentleman," you gagged a bit. " Besides, I wouldn't want to mess up that pretty face of yours." He took a step forward while you took a step back. It felt eerily similar to a predator approaching his prey. You never expected to be alone with Naoya or expected to fight him for the individual battle. You will be in a field fighting him in a few moments while the other students and teachers watch. Waiting on the sideline, you watched as Nanami failed to deliver the final blow as the Kyoto student knocked him out, making him the victor.

You wrinkled your nose. This made Kyoto tied with your team. 'My day couldn't possibly get any worse-.' "Is that makeup?" A chill ran up your spine. You didn't even realize he was next to you. You can feel his hot breath on your skin, and the scent of his cologne has dried your throat. Your eyes began to burn, and your head started to feel dizzy. ' There is no way.' Naoya looked at your neck before meeting his gaze at yours. His tongue rolled from the inside of his cheek just as realization struck him. "Oh, you fucking whore." You shoved him back.

"Get away from me," a sound came out of your throat. "I-I don't know what you are talking about." Something burned in your stomach, and you felt something sinister crawling up your skin. It pestered your mind, casting a shadow over it...the one thing you feared came true. You prayed he wouldn't tell the higher-ups, but this is Na0ya that we are talking about. He runs his mouth at the ever possible moment. The thought of him telling his father, the higher-ups, scared you for potential outcomes. You knew they wouldn't dare to touch Gojo, but Getou...that is a different story. It could haunt you, and your guilt would anchor you for a lifetime. But your thoughts were interrupted when you heard the announcer call your name, and you wasted no time getting out.

"You have no idea what you got yourself into, do you?" You flinched before freezing, and your hands gripped your skirt. Don't falter. Think about winning; nothing is going to happen to you.' You inhaled before turning to him, your eyes had the courage to send him a piercing look, and you could've sworn a saw him shudder.

"You're not going to marry me, and you're not going to win," despite the weakness he had just shown, you watched as his lips curled upwards to a sinister smile.

"May the best one win."

_____________________________________________

Gojo had lost the will to breathe.

Your legs were bloodied and bruised. Your hair was a mess, and he spotted blood painted on them. He couldn't make out your face as you were laying face down on the ground, your body limp. He had a hard time swallowing the lump on his throat. It's painful to watch and not help.

Naoya didn't even have a scratch on him, which disgusted Gojo. You cheat. Naoya stabbing you with your own katana played in his mind over and over again. It was making him sick, and he had to force down the bile coming up from his throat. He refused to look at Getou. He knew it would make him feel worst.

Naoya had this fucking gleeful expression that was plastered on his face. And it reminded Gojo of when they were kids how excited he was every time they would meet or join each other for sparring matches. He considered going down there and beating him for what he'd done to you.

He should really do something.

He knows he shouldn't, but it was really tempting him to. He watched as Naoya gripped a fistful of your hair and muttered something that he couldn't make out. It was at this point he had enough of him tormenting you.

Just as he was about to stand up, a hand came to his shoulder to prevent him from moving. "Have faith in her," he turned around, finding Getou's eyes comforting him. "Have faith in her that she will win," his touch and voice soothe him. Gojo looked at the field, then looked at Getou.

Gojo Satoru finally breathed.

Gojo felt Getou's hand against his as something metallic touched his skin. "She gave that to me before she was about to fight Naoya. I found it inside of my pocket," your ring in Gojo's hand glistened through his eyes. "This is how I know she is going to win. I trust her enough to know that she is strong enough to not rely on the ring anymore." Gojo didn't say anything. He didn't have to. A nod was all it took to understand.

"I won!" exclaimed Naoya. Both Gojo and Getou quickly turned their heads. They found Naoya lifting your body up by the back of your shirt. "Women are so easy," Gojo clenched his fist to restrain himself from going down there. "Let's pack it up and bring my fiancee-"

A laugh.

A laugh that stopped time and made Gojo's blood run cold. Your laughter usually brought music to his ears and warmed his heart...but this made him feel apprehensive.

"God, this blood loss is making me go high." Your amusement confused Naoya, and it gave you enough time to grab his throat quickly. Gojo's eyes widened as you instantly glowed blue. He watched you exhale before activating your technique to push him back. He launched six feet away from you, but Naoya broke his fall. You blissfully sighed as you stood up, and Gojo watched in amazement as you suppressed your cursed energy to stop it from flowing. Blood streamed from your forehead and in the corner of your mouth. Naoya was furious, and he had clenched his jaw.

"You little bitch-"

"Did you know when a woman is mad, the devil sits and takes notes?" You giggled as Naoya attempted to come closer to you, but he was met with a force that pushed him back. "I find it so funny that you actually thought you won." You threw your head back and laughed again. "Did you honestly believe I would really go down that easily?" You placed your hand over your forehead. "I should thank you because now I feel glorious!" Gojo side-glanced Getou, and both boys are shocked by how you were acting. ' Did you give her something?' Getou shook his head.

"You're crazy!" You chortled as you looked out front and tapped the side of your forehead with your fingers.

"Of course I am! I mean, you did hit me in the head so many times!" Then your eyes widened. "Oh, you liar, you told me you wouldn't hit my pretty face!" you smiled so sinisterly that it caused your cursed energy to spike. It revealed a glimmering blue aura around you. Gojo shivered from the quick change of your demeanor. "I'm going to fuck you up."

In a blink of an eye, you crouched down, and your hand laid its palm flat on the ground. Instantly Gojo as if his cursed energy pulled towards you. His pupils dilated when he soon realized he was floating a couple feet off the bench. "Shit," he muttered. His sunglasses slipped out of his face as he tried to hold onto a pole, but a strong force pulled him away. He looked below at his feet and found himself about twelve feet off the ground. "Damn it, (y/n)." He muttered under his breath. Gojo then found Getou not too far away, offering his hand to him. He grinned, extending his hand, but just as their hands were about to meet, Gojo's muscles tensed up as a sharp pain in his head.

"If she loses control...eliminate her. No matter what happens, do what you have to do to get rid of the girl."

From the corner of his eye, Gojo found Gakuganji floating in the air glaring at him, his index finger pointing at him. It was a warning, a chilling warning to commit a terrible act. Gojo then looked at your upside-down form. You were upside down floating, and your eyes were closed, unaware of your surroundings.

"You alright, Satoru." Gojo turned his head to Getou. Suddenly an idea popped out of his head.

"Grab my arms," Getou furrowed his eyebrows.

"What-"

"Grab my arms. I don't have time to explain," Getou quickly grabbed Gojo's arms and pinned them behind his back. "Swear if I try to do anything, you'll knock me up?"

"Why would-"

"Swear!" Getou hesitantly nodded, and Gojo could tell he wanted to say something but held his tongue. Now looking at you, he prayed you to find control. He closed his eyes and squeezed them tightly. "C'mon, c'mon, c'mon."

Then a warm sensation tingled his fingertips.

Gojo opened his eyes, and for a moment, everything felt at ease as the wind breezed through his face. It was then he realized that he was free falling. Luckily Getou was there to break his fall as he released his cursers for him and everyone. As he got off of Getou's curse, his legs shook as he went to sit down.

"Fuck!" A scream pierced Gojo's ears. He recognized Naoya's voice as he was laying stomach first on the ground. He saw you run towards him and pin him down with your right knee. Your hand grabbed his hair and pulled it up for him to face the proctors of the game.

"Say it!" You yelled at him. He noticed Naoya struggling to get up, but your knee forced him down on the ground. Your other hand grabbed his finger and snapped them. Naoya screamed in pain. "Say it, or I'll pull that shit I did just a minute ago, again." Gojo wished you didn't. He looked over to his right and saw the proctors whispering to each other before nodding. You didn't say anything. Your face held no emotion as you got off of Naoya and walked out of the field. Just as you were about to step out of sight, you turned around. It caused Gojo's lips to tug upwards.

There you were, sticking out the middle finger.

_________________________________________

"And the girl?" The old man rolled his tongue. The thought of saying your name disgusted him.

"It appeared that Gojo is fond of her. Too fond," Gakuganji muttered. After today's events, he realized that Gojo wouldn't kill you because he showed remorse and weakness. Something that wouldn't be forgiven. Gakuganji placed his hands behind his back, "So if we can't have Gojo get rid of the girl, what do we do now." As he looked through the panels that surrounded him, he saw the old man's lips curled upwards.

"Set a bounty on her head for five hundred thousand yen, or whoever can bring her to the Zenin household will be offered a vile of her blood for one million yen." Gakuganji nodded. "She may have won today, but tomorrow I doubt she'll survive. I know that Fushiguro boy is good at what he does."

______________________________________________

At least a warm bath had calmed your nerves.

Bloody and broken nose, a bruise in your arm and legs, along with new scars, was what you came out of when the games concluded. Flicking off the teachers and some of the sorcerers may have been the highlight of your day. But not as much when you found out Naoya had a broken rib and threw a tantrum wanting to declare a rematch.

Stretching your limbs and throwing your head back against the wall, the water hugged your body. You blissfully sighed before reaching out the tub for your phone. You saw a notification from Shoko.

from Sho <3

Yoo, did you hear the news!! :o

You caused a mini earthquake in Tokyo. Lol, you're such a badass

Sho <3 sent a photo open to view.

You clicked on it and cursed under your breath.

Shoko sent a photo of a bruised-up Gojo while Getou looked like he was about to blow his whole head off.

Sho <3

Lol, your boyfriends fought about you xD .

Hey, how come you didn't tell me that Gojo was assigned to kill you -_-

"Fuck," you muttered. You quickly sent her a text.

You

Getou found out?!!

Oh damn, sorry Shoko, ` Gojo promised me he wouldn't tell anyone.

Sho<3

Wowww

Glad that you are alive tho.

Promise me you'll tell me everything tomorrow?

Just as you were about to message her back, you felt a vibration and saw a notification from Gojo.

From Highlighter

(╥_╥)

He found out.

Should we kill him and bury the body? I heard Jeju island is fun this time of year :D

You rolled your eyes.

You

Don't do anything let me handle it.

Highlighter

Oooh, do tell ^_^

You

-_-

I'm serious

Don't piss him off anymore.

Highlighter

Is it too late to tell you that he is making his way to you?

"What," your eyes widened. You turned off your phone and quickly got off the tub. You reached for your bathrobes. "Shit, shit." He could be here any second, and you knowing Getou, you knew he hadn't taken the news lightly. You placed your phone in your pockets and tied your robes. Just as you opened the door, you found Getou leaning against the wall. A burning cigarette was placed in the corner of his lips, and his raven hair was sprawled on his shoulders as he slightly smirked. The smell of nicotine burned your nose.

"Well, you got off earlier than I expected." Chewing the inside of your cheek. You closed the door behind you and locked eyes with his scratched and bruised knuckles. Getou seemed to notice as he led out a puff of his cigarette. "Don't worry about Satoru. His pretty face is perfectly intact." You scoffed.

"Y'know I hate it when you both fight."

"Cute how you think we are going to listen to you." You rolled your eyes as you pat your hair with the arm sleeve of the bathrobe. "So, are you going to explain why you didn't tell me, Gravimon?" You deadpanned, and Getou could've sworn he saw a vein bulged out of your forehead.

"I told you to not call me anymore or else-

"You wouldn't kiss me anymore, yea, I know." He took another puff, and this time, he slowly walked towards you. "it didn't take long for me to figure out that Satoru is assigned to kill you if you lose control." You stepped back until the back of your foot was met with the door. Getou leaned in and caged you when he placed both hands on each side of your head against the door. He bent down to meet eye level.

"Suguru, I couldn't tell you," he wrinkled his nose before he gave a soft chuckle. You glimpsed smoke escaping from his lips. "I'm being serious," you smacked him in the chest. His eyes widened as he noticed you weren't wearing your ring. He held his breath as his mind flashed to the time you touched him with your bare skin. Shuddering from memory, he took a step back, but you seized his shirt and gave him a lopsided grin. "Don't worry, I can control it. You're not scared, are you?"

"Me?" His lips tugged upwards. "You wish." giggling, you let go of his shirt and run your fingers through your wet hair.

"I still need to work on it, though." Your hand quickly plucked out the cigarette from Getou's lips, and you swat your hand away as he tried to get it back. "Can't touch someone like you for too long, or else it's going to mess me up." You placed the cigarette on your lips and sucked the smoke. You felt heat in your lungs as you puff out smoke in Getou's face. Then like a flick of a switch, your body magically felt brand new, as if you didn't smoke the cigarette at all. Sticking out your tongue, you took the cigarette out and placed it back on Getou's lips.

You noticed his baffled face could not comprehend what had happened. His rose-tinted cheeks become visible. "I-uh," He blinked at your amused expression. Getou cleared his throat before continuing. "Sorry about being all pissy and punching Satoru," You frowned. "I understand now why you and Satoru made that choice." Is he serious?

"You were just mad just a minute ago," you arched an eyebrow. "Don't tell what I just did get you whipped." When he didn't answer, you began to giggle as you brought your hand to his cheeks and pinched them. "Awe Su, look at you getting flustered."

'Stop that," he muttered.

"No, you look so cute." You softly laughed as you let go of his cheek with one hand to bring out your phone. Turning on the camera, you took a photo. "I'm going to send this to everyone," and the biggest grin formed on your face. "I'm going to tell everyone how Getou Suguru has the biggest soft spot for me." Just as you were about to send the photo to Shoko first, you saw fluffy white hair in the corner of your eye. Turning around, you found Gojo standing a couple feet away from you.

You noticed he had dried blood in the corner of his nose, and when you looked down, you saw him holding a pillow. "Sat-" Your eyes widened as he ran down the hall screaming while holding the pillow up. You pushed Getou for him to get hit, and he looked at you betrayed. Gojo tackled Getou on the ground and started slamming him with the pillow.

"This is payback for punching me," you watched as feathers emerged and flew everywhere. Gojo tossed the pillow out of view and quickly turned Getou to place him in a chokehold. You attempted to hide your smile as Getou turned his head to you, asking for help. 'So Satoru finally did it.'

Chortling, you took a photo. "Shoko," you yelled over your shoulder. "Satoru finally beat Suguru, come look!"

93 notes · View notes

writefightandflightclub · 3 years ago

Note

I really enjoyed your Nathan fluff 🥺 we love this angry peach fuzz king 👑💖 would you ever write him being comforted after having a nightmare? 💕

First of all, LOL @ “angry peach fuzz king” 🤣🤣🤣

Second of all, here you go! 🧡 I will warn you - I think I forgot the fluff a little bit though. It became more hurt / comfort? More angst than expected? It ends nicely though and comfort is given to Nathan - but only after I’ve subjected him to rattling around in his own head and house for a bit.

Through the looking glass (Nathan Bateman x GN!reader)

Summary: Nathan has nightmares after The Incident. After so long alone, he doesn’t realise how badly he needs a little comfort - and maybe he doesn’t believe that he deserves it.

Author’s note: hopefully this isn’t too similar to All Better. I know they both take place post-stabbing, but I tried to give this a different focus. I know I could have made the nightmares based off of anything given the ask, but this timeline / focus seemed most sensible to explore the character.

Warnings: nightmares following traumatic incident (a stabbing); mentions of blood and injury - not graphic. Self-harm (punching the bag until injury); Body horror if you squint (some gruesome descriptions occurring in-dream, but fairly abstract); swearing; implied alcoholism recovery if you squint; mentions of therapy; Nathan mildly injured in fic; reader offering comfort.

Rating: MATURE for themes mentioned above.

GIF: by @santiagogarcia (this whole gifset is magic- check it out + reblog!)

Nathan wakes up breathless, plastered to the covers by a sheen of sweat - and not in a good way. On instinct, or out of habit by now, or maybe somewhere between the two, his palm slides over his body to the site of the wound.

He is so slick that he half-believes he is soaked with dank, deep blood again, until his fingers trace over nothing more than a half-concave, half-ridged scar. The lack of searing pain is the next point of evidence leading him towards an alternative conclusion. He’s not dying (again).

It’s just another gruesome nightmare.

Although… there is nothing “just” about it.

The nightmares are pretty brutal. Brutal enough for him to wake with ragged breaths and a hammering heart, his sheets dampened and coiled up around him. Enough that it takes effort to sift through the layers of terror and distinguish reality.

With what can only be described as a whimper, Nathan swings his legs over the edge of the bed, bringing himself into a seated position and bracing his head in his hands until his racing heart levels.

In his mind, he’s telling himself to be logical about this. That Ava hasn’t truly arrived to finish the job she started; but logic is not the safe haven it used to be.

She could come back.

She’s still out there, somewhere, and Nathan distinctly got the impression, last time, that she was vehemently not a fan of him.

His hand trembling, Nathan reaches for the glass of water by his bedside, glugging it down so eagerly it spills into his bushy beard.

Since the… accident? Malfunction? Functioning just fine, actually? Failed experiment? Greatest achievement known to man? Attempted murder? (Truth be told, Nathan isn’t quite sure what to call it, so he simply calls it The Incident.)

Since The Incident, Ava has begun to regularly visit him in his sleep.

The visitations are not waning with time. In fact, they are happening more often, not less. They are happening more since you moved into the house.

It’s a bad fucking time to have quit drinking.

You’d been sent by the board. Something about Nathan taking “tortured genius” a slice too literally. Something about him being in isolation too long and needing another human around in the compound.

Well, that’s not technically true, is it? The shit all started when he opted to get social, after all.

Fucking Caleb.

Before that, he was doing just fine.

Nathan doesn’t like it at all - having you here. Being watched. Observed. Having someone monitoring his actions. Waiting for him to either fuck up or prove himself.

Ironic really, considering where he kept Ava. The experiments he ran on her.

She’d probably find it poetic, if she could truly understand such a concept.

At the thought of her, Nathan physically shudders, and reaches for an old vest to haphazardly mop the excess sweat from his skin. Then, he balls up a change of clothes and tracks nude to his wet room, feeling relief as the luke warm water sluices over his skin.

He watches himself in the mirror as he stands there naked. It’s not a vanity thing - at least not any longer. These days, he examines the way his form has changed since it happened. He lost some of his muscle and bulk during recovery, whilst unable to exercise, his arms slightly smaller and his abs softer. His stomach a little more rounded.

There’s also the puckered scar, of course - that permanent reminder of where he was skewered through the chest like a piece of kebab meat.

His gaze travels up over his body, until his eyes settle on his still haunted face. He doesn’t have his glasses on, and somewhere between the blurred vision, misted mirror, clouding steam and sluicing water, his reflected face distorts. It transforms - for the briefest of moments - into her.

Still amped with adrenalin from his harsh awakening, this briefest flash sends a surge of panic zipping through Nathan’s chest, his heartbeat racing so hard he can feel the pounding of blood in his ears.

Fuck, he curses, reaching his arms out to brace himself against the shower wall above him, his body trembling and his head dipping down between the cradle of his broad shoulders as his legs threaten to buckle.

He turns the water cold, until it is practically glacial and thundering on to the back of his neck, subduing this spiking heat.

She really did a fucking number on me, didn’t she?

It’s true though.

Ava is haunting him. When he sleeps - and at other times too.

Nathan didn’t know robots could do that. Didn’t know they could spawn ghosts.

Nathan doesn’t believe in ghosts, of course… but he does believe in trauma and its effect on the brain. He at least concedes that it is natural to continue to feel afraid; but this?

Being dogged by the spectre of her taps into Nathan’s deepest insecurities.

After all, there is nothing a genius fears more than doubting his own mind.

Nothing a God fears more than his own mortality.

And the man? Turns out, there is nothing he fears more now, than dying alone.

With a ragged breath, Nathan towels off and pulls on his grey sweatpants, tugging on his black zip-up hoody over his bare chest. And then, keen not to return to his damp, tangled sheets, he tracks towards the kitchen - mainly for want of any more favourable option.

Of course, he had returned to the compound after The Incident. Something about that many fibre optic cables being a bitch to lay down. Sunk cost fallacy and all that - too much already invested.

But it possibly wasn’t the best choice for his recovery.

Nathan has certainly gotten more used to walking down that hallway since he returned from the hospital, and yet he still finds himself holding his breath until he is free of it. Still finds his pace is just a little faster as he passes through. His gaze deliberately averted from that spot.

Once, you’d found him lying in it.

Lying in that exact spot, his body arranged like a crime scene photo, his eyes closed.

Hey, it’s hardly his least healthy coping mechanism, is it?

What in the fuck are you doing, Nathan?

Re-enacting my death, obviously.

Uh-Kay…. A beat. A devious smile. Shall I get some popcorn?

Absurd as it was, he had laughed. Laughed for the first time since it happened, and, with an extended hand, you had helped him up off the floor.

Still, now that he’s alone, he does not dwell in the corridor, colder and darker as it is without your light in it, and he tries not to think about your face or hers as he pads to the kitchen.

When he arrives though, he bypasses it entirely - heading out on to the decking, the crisp night air soothing his hot skin.

He wants to be outside.

There are too many ghosts in his house now.

He has tried to shake it. Tried to desensitise himself to Ava’s face. Spent longer than strictly necessary poring over footage of her.

He built her. Shouldn’t that take the fear out of things? Not to mention the fact Ava’s face was simply a composite of some manipulable nerd’s wank bank browsing history.

Fucking Caleb.

Still, once Nathan had looked her in the eyes and seen a rage that was all too human, things seemed a hell of a lot different.

Nathan crosses to the punchbag on the deck -lit by creeping dawn- on instinct, or out of habit, or maybe some combination of the two, his unease riling him enough to sock some punches at its midsection. Right at the equivalent site of his corporeal puncture.

He punches so hard that the skin on his knuckle splits, but Nathan doesn’t stop. He throws punch after punch until his hands are scathed and bloodied, and a trail of spit hanging from the corner of his mouth. Until he hugs the bag - the closest thing he has to a warm body to hold - and slides down it, coming limply to his knees, wiping his face on his sleeve.

He stays there, dead eyed and still for some time, the pain in his hands raw and singing. Unpleasant, but better. Better than what he was feeling, and worse all at once.

He considers his tired, cumbersome body, and contemplates remaking the world one more time. Uploading his mind into a machine or some shit, so that he doesn’t have to contend with the fragility and failings of his own existence.

He stays there, until some motion in the interior of the compound causes the light and shadows to dance differently over him, and he looks up to see your figure there, cast in a soft halo of yellowed light.

He tips his head up slightly, opening his mouth as though he might cry out to you for help, but no sound comes out - only a thin, dry croak.

So, instead, Nathan watches you for a moment, moving seamlessly around his kitchen as though it is your own. Maybe it is - more yours than his now.

Observing you like this, through the tall, cinematic windows, it is as though he peers in on another world entirely. Something less resembling a nightmare.

Lighter than that. Something more like a good dream, albeit a good dream that Nathan cannot be part of. One he can only ever watch, from the outside looking in, always fated as he is to be on the other side of the glass.

Truth be told, you haunt him too. You represent everything he could have and yet doesn’t deserve.

You appear in his nightmares and his dreams, in various terrifying and beautiful incarnations. Many variations of which his therapist would have a field day with, he’s sure - or, she would, if he’d ever fucking call her.

When you first arrived here, he was plagued by grotesque visions of you. Grotesque visions of the skin being peeled back from your body. Sometimes, circuitry beneath, and other times, muscle and bone. Sometimes, Ava’s face was buried beneath the chilling slip of your fleshy mask.

Sometimes it is a better dream. Sometimes you save him. Sometimes he saves you.

Sometimes it is a good dream. Ava isn’t there at all. But the good dreams never seem to last for long.

Sometimes you kill him, and sometimes...

The glass door slides open.

“Reenacting your own death again, are you?” you tease, though not unkindly, interrupting the spiral of Nathan’s incessant thoughts.

A lump forming instantly in his throat, Nathan swallows thickly, and looks up at you helplessly with a thin, joyless smile. He snorts as though it’s funny, but it really isn’t. “Over and fucking over.”

You nod once, and, without hesitation, you extend your hand towards him. Your gaze cuts through him as you search his face and he feels suddenly see-through, as if he’s about to be hit with some Shyamalan-esque twist. Was he the ghost all along? Did he die here after all?

If so, is this purgatory because Ava is here too, or heaven, because you are?

Christ. So fucking schmaltzy, Bateman.

After hesitating, Nathan takes your hand and you yank him to his feet, drawing him inside, through the looking glass.

The room seems warm on the other side. It feels… safe.

“What happened?” you ask, as you look down at your joined hands, your thumb painting a smear of red across his split knuckles.

You mean now. What happened now, but Nathan’s mind harks back further than that. In his mind, everything is connected. Every thing threaded to another. This one smear of blood to that weeping flower of red.

The thought -the thoughts, all of them- halt him in place, his feet firmly planting on the ground. Nathan’s hand clenches tightly around yours as though it is a lifeline, as he is cast adrift on this familiar crimson tide, his face growing increasingly angular and stern.

“She...” He swallows, unable to complete that precise thought, his eyes dropping down to his feet.

You turn your body towards Nathan as he croaks, still not letting go.

Your eyes flitting around his face, attempting to search his eyes, you tentatively step closer, sliding your palms slowly over his tense shoulders, feeling them rise with an uneven, stuttered breath as you do so.

He’s so tired. He’s so very, very tired.

And it happens all at once on the exhale.

Suddenly, your arms are tugging him closer, and his face is contorting as a violent smattering of tears beads in his long lashes. You are encasing his body in your embrace and rubbing circles into his back as his buzzed head sags all too willingly toward the junction of your shoulder, your fingers splaying along the smooth flesh at the nape of his neck and pads dancing over the gentle prickle of his hair. You are shushing and soothing and reassuring and squeezing and smoothing and cradling and Nathan can feel it. Can feel his heart race in his chest and…

Finally.

Finally, his heart is not pounding because he is reliving his death.

It is pounding because he feels alive again.

When was the last time he cried, even? The last time someone really hugged him? He doesn’t remember the last time. The serendipitous combination of Nathan willing to be vulnerable, and another being willing to hold space for his pain is an all too rare thing.

There’s a reason -or several - he’s so emotionally constipated, after all.

Fuck. I’m taking a huge emotional shit right now.

Nathan remains in the welcome circumference of your arms longer than is strictly necessary - until the tear trails over the bridge of his nose begin to feel cloying. Until his breaths steady, and until his thoughts and ego creep back in. Until he notices the way his hands are clasped at your waist like claws, fingers sinking into your softness, and he thinks to release you.

Then, he leans away, a weight on his brow making his expression stern.

He waits for you to judge him, another swallow trailing thickly down his throat.

However, your eyes are kind and level, dancing with soft concern. Not with judgement or satisfaction or pity, or with anything he fears.

It is refreshing not to feel so afraid.

Finally.

“She…” Nathan begins again, finally finding courage. All at once his eyebrows shoot up towards his hairline. “She fucking stabbed me.”

You take his words in. You listen.

His “reveal” is simple. Plain and factual. A little indignant. Kinda salty. It’s not overly emotional, or articulate.

But it is enough.

Your eyes narrow, and you nod slowly, trying to understand the true meaning beneath his words.

You even reach up to cup Nathan’s face, his springy beard a cushion beneath your gentle palm as you hold him. “Yeah, genius,” you tease, with a tentative, lopsided smile, dropping your arm all too suddenly, perhaps as you catch yourself. “I got that from context.”

In response, Nathan chucks air from between his teeth, bringing his hand up to comb through his beard - perhaps to obscure his involuntary smile, or perhaps chasing your tender touch, the impression of it left warm on his cheek.

As he brings his hand up, your brows draw together, and you hook his bloodied paw delicately in yours, examining the wound, and leading him gingerly across to the couch as though his whole being might be hurting along with it.

It is.

You order him to stay put while you fetch the first aid kit, and then, in stages, Nathan watches you with fascination as you painstakingly clean and tend to his wounds, without ever being asked to.

He watches you carefully swipe the angry red away from his skin, and, to his overactive mind, it’s all connected. This red is one and the same with the flower of blooming red from The Incident.

Ava hurt him then, and she is hurting him now too.

And you…

“Going to tell the board about this?” Nathan asks, his voice weak and scuffed.

You search his eyes, holding your words back for a moment before answering. Then, you launch them on a big breath. “Fuck the board, Nathan. I told those assholes to stick it.”

Nathan blinks in confusion, shaking his head, his hand flourishing emphatically through the air. “Then… what the fuck are you still doing in my house?”

“Well. I’m… here for you,” you admit, sucking in air through your teeth, your voice shrinking. “If you want that.”

Well, that’s news to him.

Welcome news, perhaps?

You’re not watching him at all, are you? Not observing. Not asking him to evidence his humanity. Not waiting to see whether he fucks up or proves himself.

Instead, you’re seeing him. You’re seeing him and you’re not running.

Nathan had begun to think that maybe he was the nightmare. He’d begun to think he might always be haunted.

Always alone. That he might die that way; again.

And now, here you are.

Nathan thinks about that. He could so easily revert to his old ways, in this moment. Of pride and ego and stubborn independence.

But, perhaps those assholes from the board got a few things right - he’ll admit.

Maybe he had been in isolation too long. Maybe he didn’t need to take “tortured genius” quite so literally.

And so, Nathan almost protests. Almost rejects your presence and your comfort and pushes you away. But the truth is, he’s just so… tired. He’s had so many nightmares, and this time, he’d like to be on the other side of the glass. He’d like to step into that dream.

Nathan takes a deep breath, and releases on the exhale. Releases more than air.

He slowly, ever so slowly, shifts towards you on the couch, angling his body until he can safely dip his head towards your lap, his nose pointed in towards your abdomen and his knees curling around you.

“Th.. this okay?” he asks weakly.

You throw your splayed hands up into the air in surprise as the weight of Nathan settles there, but as he curls his arms around your middle and shuffles closer, you ease into it. You snake your fingers in intricate caresses over his head and neck and shoulders.

“Yeah, Nathan. This is okay,” you soothe gently, voice taut with emotion.

You comfort him.

And finally, Nathan does not need to peel your skin back to know what’s underneath.

He knows you’re not a robot, and that, as your kind touch finds him corporeal, that he is not a ghost.

He closes his eyes. And this time, when he next wakes, he knows that whether the dream is bad or better or good, it doesn’t matter. Because you will be there with him.

He wants you with him.

It’s not at all natural to him, to have you around. For the longest time, he didn’t like it. It didn’t come instinctually, and he has formed no familiar habits.

It isn’t easy - he doesn’t make it easy.

But he wants it to be.

And, in your arms, he can finally dream that it will all work out. What’s more; he can dream he deserves it, too.

#Nathan Bateman #Nathan Bateman x reader #Oscar Isaac #ex machina

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