#and then for vex to meet her knowing who she is and what happened to her

[laurasbailey]

i love how laudna’s entire existence is just marisha being like yes i love laura bailey and her characters what of it

[anhesacardia]

Forbidden Promises

Chapter 8 (Series Masterlist)

Pairing: Modernau!Sukuna x Mother!Reader

Genre: Hidden Baby Trope

Summary: Reader opens up a bakery after running away from her three year relationship with Sukuna, effectively ghosting him and hiding away in the middle of the countryside. Unknown to Sukuna, reader also had a baby, and now is living peacefully until an unfateful meeting starts to pull her back into the life she so desperately escaped from.

Tw: Also I love women and the depiction of women gushing over sukuna is purely for the plot point of reader realizing she’s not okay with Sukuna being with someone else and she still loves him. I don’t agree with the demonizing of other women jut because they flirt with someone who’s not taken and I think it perpetuates misogynistic standards. At the same time I would like everyone to remember this a fictional story and these are these are fictional characters, jealousy, Hana finally gets to know Sukuna is her dad!! That’s it for now, if anything else is there please message me and I’ll add it!!

Wc: 2.1k

The layout of your house was confusing for anyone who was visiting for the first time. At first glance, it would seem like the only way in was through the backdoor of the bakery, but what most people didn’t know was that the  main door situated between the bakery and the building to the right opened to a longer pathway which led to the entrance of the house. Not that it mattered, since you rarely invited anyone over to begin with. 

That’s why you didn’t register the doorbell the first time you heard it, years since someone had used the chime you chose half a decade ago. Your head snapped to the door, the ringing becoming incessant after a few vexing minutes..

A frown framed your face and Sukuna’s gaze darted towards the door, pissed that some asshole dared to interrupt his time with you. You looked at Sukuna for a second, murmuring some excuse as you ran down the stairs, quickly opening the door before you got a headache from all the ringing. 

Uraume was standing before you, worry painted across their features as they peeked over your shoulder, frown deepening further,

“Sukuna-sama, there is something urgent you need to attend to right now, it seems as though one of the investors have pulled out of the newest project,”

Sukuna walks down the stairs, hand skimming over the railing as he pushed his hair backwards,

“What the fuck happened now, Uraume?”

The man scowled, standing behind you with a hand on your back, resting the other one on the railing of the door as he looked down on Uraume. 

You felt worry claw up your spine as you watched the two converse about topics that you quite literally didn’t care about, only wanting to sooth the crease that had formed in between Sukunas forehead with your thumb. 

A few minutes passed by while your attention wavered between Uraume and Sukuna, the man’s hand on your back stopping you from leaving when you tried to slip away. You gave in and let yourself indulge in his touch even though you knew better.. 

Sukuna finally shut the door in Uraumes face after a flurry of curses, pushing your back to the cold wood and bending down to rest his head on your shoulder. Your arms wrapped around him reflexively, threading your fingers through his soft pink hair as he groaned. His arms encased your body, effectively caging you in, chest an inch away from brushing against yours,

“...What’s wrong?”

Sukuna didn’t respond, just sighing heavily,trying to bury his head further into your body. You took a peek at him, the tattoos on his face had faded a bit, more blurry around the edges compared to when he had them freshly done out of highschool, a sort of rebellion towards his parents when they refused to accept you. 

You were shocked when he first got them, mouth open as you stared at him for a good ten minutes before he barked at you to stop. You let him hold you a bit tighter that night, tracing the healed outlines with your finger as he leaned into your touch. 

Sukuna turned to look at you when he felt your gaze on him, smirking when you flustered at getting caught,

“Somethings come up, looks like I’ll have to go now. Uraume’s waiting outside,”

His breath tickled the hair on your neck, sending shivers down your spine as he moves his lips closer to your cheek, hesitating,

“What were you going to tell me, pet?”

You feigned innocence, pushing at Sukuna’s broad shoulders as you turned your head away, avoiding the dreaded question,

“Sukuna we should talk later, I need some time to think about everything, it’s just a lot to take in now and I-,”

Sukuna sighed, the sound making you pause as you looked at him, he untangled himself from you, hands itching to hold you again. 

“Got it, sweets. don’t have to worry your pretty little head over it,”

He punctuated his words with a flick to your forehead and you yelped, hands coming to soothe the ache. He smirked at the gesture, hand floating over your head for a second before he patted it once, pushing you out of the way and opening the door.

“See you later, pet.”

He raised a hand, waving, before the door shut close behind him, leaving only the scent of his cologne behind. 

The bakery was unusually packed, couples and families lining every table and filling the shop up with bustling chatter, warm smiles and carefree laughter. Fumiko was helping you out at the cashier, the waiting line reaching the end of the shop,as one by one, the pastries you worked hard on were starting to disappear with each satisfied customer.

The herd of customers had come to a slow stop around midday and combined with the lunch rush  earlier, it was getting far too overwhelming for you to deal with by yourself. Fumiko had even started to send customers away as per your request. 

You were a few minutes late to the pick up time, Aoi told you that her son had come down with a cold and was pulled out of school early. What you didn’t expect, by the time you reached the kindergarden, was Sukuna being surrounded by a dozen single mothers, manicured nails raking over his arms as they batted their lashes up at him. 

Your stomach churned with unease, feeling underdressed compared to them. You were still wearing work clothes, apron dusted with flour and other unknown powders, sweaty from half running to the kindergarten. You clenched your hands at your sides, mind rushing to think about how many women Sukuna had been with since after you. 

Even during college, Sukuna’s popularity had just skyrocketed, rumours about him being violent or cruel did nothing to deter the women that tried to hang off of his arms, no matter how many times he said he was uninterested. 

The dark feeling just multiplied in your gut as you saw Sukuna politely push them away, heart beating uncomfortably fast as you tried to gouge out every reaction from his face. 

Why wasn’t he pushing these women away, was he really going to entertain them after kissing you like that just a few hours ago? 

Your skin pricked with goose flesh, stuck in daze as you watched the scene unfold in front of you. Only snapping out when you heard a man calling out your name, 

“Ah it’s good to see you again!”

You turned your head around and he grasped your wrist in his, curling his fingers around the skin and making you want to pull him off.He was one of Hana’s friends' fathers, another single parent like you. His wife had passed away in childbirth and sometimes you would look after his daughter when he came home late after work.

He had found out about your situation when he trespassed your home to get his daughter one evening, noticing the lack of photos of a husband in your living room and questioning you about it until you eventually came clean and he promised to keep it a secret. You never trusted him though, always walking on eggshells for the slight chance he used the information against you. 

A practiced smile came over your features as you greeted him, he was getting far too comfortable with you, calling out your name like that in public and touching you without your consent. People could misunderstand this and you did not want Hana to be hearing things from her classmates or their mothers, god knows the last thing you need on your hand is rumours about you being promiscuous. 

“It’s good to see you too Mr.Takumi,”

You pulled your wrist back, cradling it behind your back as you tried to not let your displeasure show. 

It was then when the bell rang and the kids came running out, the teachers behind them chiding them not to run lest they fall.

Hana saw you and her face lit up, a similar smile dancing on your features as you crouched to catch her in your arms. Her tiny arms wrapped around your neck as she giggled into your neck,

“Mumma! You came!”

You smiled, getting back up as you patted her back. It wasn’t often that you came up to pick up Hana, only when the goods ran out early, which was rare or on special occasions- like birthdays or holidays or the one day you take off every year to go explore places with her.

Takumi had his daughter in his arms too, the little girls talking together as they leaned forward for a hug while still being in their parents’ arms. You leaned forward, shoulders brushing against Takumis as you held the same tight lipped smile. 

That’s when you felt Hana being pulled out of your grasp and you gasped, Sukuna was standing next to you, balancing Hana on one arm as the other wrapped around your shoulder and pulled you closer to him.

He had been watching ever since he heard your name being called, pushing away from the crowd of women as he strided over to you. Takumi sputtered for a second as he saw Sukuna, the six foot man was a good head taller than Takumi and was currently glaring at him, looking down at him through his nose. 

Sukuna bent down to nose your cheek, pressing a chaste kiss to the corner of your lips as heat rose up your cheeks at the action, eyes widening as you stared back at him. The man just smirked before turning his attention back to Takumi,

“Hope you don’t mind me cutting the conversation short, been a while since my wife got off of work early ,”

The shorter male fumbled over his words and Sukuna held in his grin as he waved goodbye, glancing back with amusement glinting in his eye. 

Hana looked at Sukuna and then at you, a suspicious expression on her face as she furrowed her eyebrows and pointed at Sukuna,

“Mumma, is the mean mister your boyfriend?”

You stopped on the sidewalk, turning to look at Hana in her fathers arms as you took her in yours, letting Sukuna hold her bag. 

Sukuna felt uncomfortably warm as he awaited your answer, huge body almost shaking in anticipation. His eyes trailed down to yours and held eye contact for a while before you brushed a stray hair from Hana’s forehead,

“Hana… why don’t we go home and have a talk hmm baby?”

Hana just nodded, ever the understanding child when it came to you, lying her head down on your shoulder as she hummed. 

Sukuna on the other hand looked like someone had just informed him that he had to spend thirty more days in the burning pits of hell while being forced to clean Satan's shit at the same time. He quickly plastered on a fake expression, hiding his true feelings once again.

“So how did it go?”

Sukuna was once again sitting at your dining table, this time playing with the utensils as he stared at Hana sitting at her own table and patiently waiting for her food. 

“How did what go?”

He turned his attention to you, brow cocking up in question as he looked confused. You stopped plating the food and made eye contact with him again.

“Your work? Uraume said something went wrong?”

Sukuna rolled his eyes, looking like a petulant child in the comfort of your own home. 

“Got that dealt with as soon as I could to see the kid again,”

Hana perked up at the mention of a kid, eyes gleaming in excitement as you finally put down the plates in front of Sukuna and Hana, dusting off your hands as they held the same hungry expression,

“Mister you have a kid? How old are they? Where are they? Are they a boy or girl?”

Hana’s endless curiosity had stopped phasing you long ago, you ruffled her soft pink hair with hand, pinching her cheek as you sat down in the dining table,

“Baby, mumma and mister have something to tell you before you eat your food okay?”

Sukuna glanced at you, then back down at your trembling hand under the table. He reached out, enveloping your own hand in his as he squeezed softly, calming you down with his warmth as you let out a shaky sigh.

Hana sensed your anxiety and immediately ditched her food, running up next to you and climbing into your lap with a scared expression,

“Hana, this is your father,”

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[tsukuhoe]

07. when they act this way i know, i got em

walking into a production studio, you’re greeted by a cavernous room with high ceilings and the chatter of a bustling camera n’ film crew. a blonde man in a tailored suit stood in the middle of the set, sitting in front of the camera with softboxes and a photographer. you weren’t even sure when you started staring. it wasn’t deliberate— more like your gaze had wandered, found something beautiful, and refused to move. the man made a perfect model. his sharp, symmetrical features radiate an aura of discipline and grace. his intense, almond-shaped eyes, framed by faintly tired shadows, carry a quiet depth. his tall, lean build, that embodies the perfect silhouette for high-fashion modelling. 

then it hit you. this was the well-known model: kento nanami. other than the fact that you’ve seen him in magazines and on your twitter timeline, his name sounded so familiar.  

nanami lifted his head, his eyes meeting yours. you froze, stomach doing an ungraceful flip. you should’ve looked away. but somehow, you couldn’t. his expression softened, lips parting in a silent question. before he could say anything, a loud holler interrupted the moment. 

“what do you mean, another team is here?! this is studio b, our studio, booked for the entire day!” utahime exclaimed in frustration. 

“funny, because our confirmation says studio b, same day, same time. maybe check with your admin before accusing us.” a man in suit scoffed, clearly annoyed at her. 

“i don’t need to check. i triple-checked with the office last week.” 

“well, unless you have a magic booking system, we’re not leaving. we’re shooting for GQ korea.” tension builds as the respective crews begin to notice the conflict. cameras stopped stuttering, crews stopped chattering. you cautiously walked to where the utahime was and stood beside her. 

“hime, what’s wrong?” you timidly asked, not wanting to provoke your friend any more than she already is. “what’s wrong is that the studio that we booked is being used by the modelling agency of our stupid management!” she snapped, then turning back to the man. “look, i don’t know who you are, but we have a full day’s shoot planned. our shoot can’t wait, so you can take that nasty attitude of yours and—” 

“whoa, whoa, woah! utahime! what’s going on here?” gojo’s voice boomed behind you. “gojo. i do not need you here right now. go meet with toji and the rest of the cast. y/n, please go with him.” utahime gritted teeth at him. she was frustrated and did not need anyone, especially gojo, to interfere with the messy situation. 

“sorry about what’s happening, sweets. i know this is your first time on set for a film…” the white-haired man sighed, leading you to the others. “normally this doesn’t happen on set. i swear, it’s a lot less stressful than this.” 

“it’s fine! utahime seems really upset right now, so i’m more worried about her than the current situation…” 

in front of you sat a tall, lean, and muscular man with a noticeable scar running down the corner of his mouth. toji fushiguro. an actor known for playing in multiple films such as the scream series, breaking bad, resident evil, the john wick series, and many more projects. “whatcha lookin’ at? like what ya see?” he smirked, face smug. 

you pursed your lips, trying your best to smile and appear friendly. heavy tension hung in the air as you opened your mouth to say something. 

“toji.” gojo’s tone dropped, giving him a bitter smile all while trying to mask an irritated glare.

“it’s nice to meet you! i feel honoured being able to work with you for my first—” “mhm.” oh. so it’s going to be like that? toji’s attitude irked you. his cocky attitude and superiority complex. however, you’ll be working with him on set. as much as you wanted to be petty, purposely causing friction with your colleague wouldn’t do any good. be overly kind for no stupid reason. that’ll annoy him, right? as long as it doesn’t seem obvious that you’re trying to vex him, it wouldn’t be bad for your image. operation piss toji fushiguro off is a go.

while gojo and toji were conversing, you looked back to the set. nanami was on his break, sipping a cup of iced water, and having his make up touched up. his gaze was soft, almost searching, but there was a warmth in it— an unspoken curiosity. he smiled, just a little, the kind of smile that makes you feel like you've known someone for much longer than you have. then suddenly you saw him talk with the make up artist, get up from his seat and start walking. towards you. you. 

“excuse me,” he said, his voice calm, but with a hint of amusement. “you’re y/n, yes? y/n l/n?” you nodded, offering a warm smile. “mhm! and you’re kento nanami, right? i’ve seen you on covers and in posts from shoko n’ hime!” he nodded back, returning a gentle smile. however, inside, he was confused. did you not remember him?

“you personally know shoko and utahime?” 

“yes!! i love them with my whole heart! we talk often— with yuki tsukumo! you’ve worked with her, right? for a vogue shooting—” 

“everyone, we finally have things figured out. there was a double booking according to the front desk.” utahime’s voice boomed. “we’ll be filming and taking our promotion poster photos after GQ korea’s sets are done. for now, please practice your lines for the trailer. we are not leaving today until the trailer has been all completely filmed!” 

after the announcement, there was a brief moment of silence between you and nanami, until you broke it. “so… nanami, would you like to give me some tips with posing? since you’re a professional, ya know?” you tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and smiled. 

do you really not remember him?

album bonus tracks: — toji has a reputation to be a pain to work with bts, but his output is really good! — soooo how are we feeling about nanami ^.^ — ive been dying to release this and the next chapter omg! — might update it later 2night

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[g1rlken]

too sweet 11

Rupert Campbell black x fem!reader, godfather!tony

— part 1 here. series list!

summary: Rupert comes forth with a proposal to help the Baddingham family out of bankruptcy

warnings: arranged marriage, mild swearing

word count: 6.4k words

-

That could not possibly be. Kissing, Rupert. Rupert. Of all people, that man. How could she be so devoid of self awareness like this. Deprive herself of proper principles kissing him back this time. She didn’t even reminisce to the sweetness of the kiss, if one would call it that. Agitated out of her mind she huffed returning back to the paperwork at the end for the bankruptcy which did not seem to have any viable result. Meeting one dead end after another over and over. She had the feeling of being a traitor, kissing the enemy, not being a useful asset to the war at hand and then she realise it wasn’t the 18th hundreds; she had to stop flipping about. Mistakes happen. They happen. Rupert happened.

Following that week she avoided Rupert as if the proximity he was present in was about to go through a disastrous calamity, like a virus, which he was which everyone said. She wasn’t married enough to catch him like that. The prospect in her mind was funny, had she befriended any people in this godforsaken town to joke about she would do so. But as of now she did not have the time nor the correct people. Imagine telling Bas that she’d kissed Rupert. She would much rather self immolate than have that conversation.

The days were so ghastly she was met with such guilt filled anguish about the kiss and the knife of bankruptcy lingering over, loosing solutions and seeing her uncle’s turmoil. It could not get worse than this. Scratching, crossing and throwing papers in her home office upstairs she barely adhered someone at the door, when the bell rang. But it was evening and nobody important visited at the time. At least not for her. Others were probably anyways home to answer the door.

Tony’s face fell when he saw who was at the door and he did not even try to pick it up because there was so much to his displeasure already, “Good evening.” Rupert, dressed in a well pressed suit and flowers in his hand. “Bas is not here.” Tony answered for the man wanting to be done with this interaction with lightening speed. Sending him off right as he came.

“I am not here for him.” Rupert answered, climbing a step on the well marbled entrance stairs to the Baddingham mansion. “May I?” He said, politely allowing himself inside even though Tony felt like being ambushed.

Very uncharacteristic for Rupert to be this way towards their house. Flowers and suits and may-I-small talk. Rupert found his way to tony’s sitting area and he followed behind the man. Both men sat in arm chairs across each other, Tony observed with a distasteful raised brow as Rupert sat on the edge of his seat. Trying to feign respect? Poise? Tony couldn’t figure it out but he was vexed regardless. “So what is it?” Tony inquired letting out a sigh.

“Is Mrs. Baddingham home?” Rupert asked as he kept clutching on to the bouquet of flowers he’d brought for god knows what reason. Nobody had died, Tony thought to himself. Well not yet anyways.

Wanting to get this antics of his over with as soon as possible Tony nodded and called for his wife who was already coming in with a glass of water for supposed guest she’d heard come in when the bell rang. “Rupert!” She exclaimed setting the tray on the coffee table. “Didn’t know you were coming in.”

“I am very fond of the look of surprise.” Rupert amused keeping it light hearted for the conversation upcoming, then he drank half the glass of water she’d brought him. “Sit, please.” He gestured to the arm chair next to Tony.

Just as confused as lord baddingham, keeping her grace and politeness up the lady sat anyways. With her positive smile, “I’m sorry to disappoint but I don’t think Bas is here.” She said assuming the same reason as Tony.

“He is not here for Bas.” Tony answered for Rupert flatly, absolutely underprepared for the curveball that was about to hit him.

“That is right I’m not.” Rupert agreed as he put the flowers forth and then sat back in his seat, clasping his hands together with a deep breath. “It is no secret, you are struggling with certain finances at the moment. Despite of our differences I want you to know I am not here to gloat nor empathise…I have a solution. I just want you to be patient and hear me out once.”

“I have one of the best and most educated people working on it. It isn’t even that big of a problem to begin with” Tony scoffed, it was the biggest problem yet but why would he mention that to Campbell Black? Most definitely here to gloat.

“Are you not nearly bankrupt?” Rupert inquired knowing the answer he just wanted Tony to realise the gravity of his mess.

“Are you not intruding the matter?” Tony snapped back, his patience no longer ran thin it had vanished. The might of this man was unbelievable, he came all the way to his house unannounced to meddle in his business.

“I am not. Like I said I have a solution.” Rupert said with a guarded, bordering polite tone which he never used with Tony as long as he could recall.

Lady Baddingham sought to excuse herself from this conversation since she did not handle business nor finances, “I believe I must excuse you gentlemen to this not being my subject. I could send y/n in, she is working upstairs anyways.”

Before Tony could refuse that, not to disturb y/n, someone who was actually working on the matter instead of this time waste of a man, “No no-“ Rupert said, rather immediate to stop her leave when she didn’t even attempt to stand up. “Don’t send her in.” He emphasised as though wanting her to be the last person for this conversation. “You ought to be here for this, please stay.”

“Oh alright…” she trailed off with an awkward attempt to laugh and make the direly situation lesser.

“I could help you with your situation, waver the tax fine off. It is merely a write off with the minister’s letter and your debt, I could fund that as an investment…if I were to transfer the money directly to my supposed familial-” he paused extremely hesitant to continue but did not let his confidence falter “wife’s account. Wife which I don’t have, but I could.”

Tony let a moment pass, just staring at the man with scrutiny and joined eyebrows as if he were solving some arithmetic in his head. “What?” He spoke finally with a huff, “a wife?” Zero situational awareness as to where Rupert was headed with this.

“If it is an account of your own family, you could easily pay off the debts it wouldn’t even be an additional loan. Even from me.” Rupert shrugged just beating around the bush explaining him the dynamics but not intent.

“Suppose yes.” Tony said turning business with this but he knew there was a score at the end of his deal which would shatter the land beneath his feet, “but you don’t have a wife and due to my deplorable luck l can’t marry you.” Tony scoffed looking away in disregard at his ridiculous offer.

“Ah Lord Baddingham!” Rupert exclaimed laughing as if he actually found that funny, “always so quick with his jokes.” He said pointing it to the man’s lady wife who flashed a small smile at the interaction. “No I don’t mean you…I happen to not have a wife, like I said.” Clearing his throat he shifted in his seat for the third time “and you happen to have someone in your family who could be courted, nudged towards marriage. Your niece-“ he could have paraphrased even more and more but the scrutiny was getting somewhat worse as he realised his point did go across.

The point went across Lord Baddingham like a knife to chest, he contemplated so silently and expressionless the under-reaction was a horror brewing. Even the ever chattery lady wife of his had nothing to say to lighten the tension. “You mean y/n?” Tony asked, as if to confirm.

The calm and guarded voice of his question almost made Rupert wanted to refuse that but he weighed heavy on confidence and answered “Yes.”

Tony nodded, taking in a deep breath bringing his hands together as he stood up slowly “Give me a moment.” He said casually and exited the room with slow strides.

Leaving Lady Monica with him in the wake of the tension of the proposal. “It is rather a generous offer, your kindness and charitable nature baffles me!” She spoke and her usual merry and forever unfazed expression was actually taken aback this time. The gesture and the guts. “As in truly baffles me.” Flabbergasted even.

Rupert just smiled at her words with a nod acknowledging that with modesty but as the time seemed to pass slow on Tony’s absence from the room he couldn’t help but feel anxious. He wasn’t someone who felt anxious often, worrying is for losers. His worry ceased to alarm as he looked up to Tony returning the room with his hunting rifle. “Woah woah now hang on a minute-“

“How dare you!” Lord baddingam enraged pacing across the room as he hastily loaded the rifle in his hands causing his wife to stand from her seat. “You think?! You think I will marry my only niece to someone as vile as you?!” He had added the bullets to the empty load box aiming the edge of it towards Rupert who know stood behind his seat. “I would never disdain the memory of my brother by wedding her to YOU!”

“He was my friend too. My good, honest friend I saw him as a mentor and I too wish to do this for your family on his memory this is beyond our rifts-“Rupert began a hasty explanation. Monica’s hands on Tony’s shoulders were a feeble attempt to hold him back as he fired it in his direction but went to his slant and missed Rupert. “Have you lost your mind?! You could have shot me!” Rupert exclaimed having easily dodged the poor aim he did not believe the man would actually shoot, forced to think against it as he was reloading the rifle again.

“I do intend to shoot you.” Tony parroted aggressively trying to add another bullet into his hunting gun.

“We can have a rational conversation on the subject getting hostile!” Rupert retaliated as Monica got Tony’s gun to lower its shooting end yet not completely out of his grasp.

“On the subject?” He huffed at the underplay of words Rupert used. “Marrying my godchild to a fucking cunt like you would be an atrocity!”

“It would just be one in name, arranged and completely transactional. Had I wanted to swoon her I wouldn’t be having this conversation of asking her hand in marriage with her uncle and aunt.” Rupert tried to explain how he referred to the situation in his point of view.

But it was no use to the offended Lord Baddingham, “You wouldn’t be able to swoon her in your next eight rebirths.” Tony said pointing to him with his gun again which was now taken away finally by Monica, shaking her head.

“Murder is the last thing we need on our plate at this point darling.” She told her husband and set the rifle aside with a heavy sigh.

“Get out.” Tony said approaching Rupert grabbing him by the collar of his blazer, “Get the fuck out of my house-!”

“Alright but you and I both know that even with your debts off, that tax fine is a number nowhere near all of your fortune.” Rupert said treading dangerous waters with practicality and the only language Tony understood, money. “The bank debts, I will transaction them off not as a loan. You wouldn’t have to pay me back. And the letter for tax fine. Think about it you know you need this.” He spoke on the border of his way out before heading out, Tony threw a glass on the wall he was behind, his direction which finally made him leave in a hurry.

There was no possible way Tony would even think of it. Gruffly he scoffed running up the stairs. In a bit y/n herself came downstairs but did not seem to find her uncle anywhere, “Is everything alright? I think I heard gunshots.” She asked her aunt leaning against the kitchen entrance.

“Don’t worry about it, it was nothing.” Monica assured her with a smile as her children settled for dinner. “Come I’ll set your plate.”

“Are you sure it was nothing?” Y/n asked because from the current state of life her uncle was very much in a position to shoot somebody or worse, himself even.

“Yes…” Lady Monica trailed off with a sigh as she ran a motherly hand through her hair, “don’t you worry, alright?” She always had this grounding way about herself who treated y/n the same as her own children.

There was so much left to interpretation but at this point y/n didn’t know what other problem she could tackle so she let it be taking her aunt’s word. Tony came downstairs rushing and dismissed the dinner call, grabbing his coat and running off out. It left the rest of them rather confused but his antics weren’t unseen of.

Tony spent hours with his accountants going through the dynamics of Rupert’s hypothetical plan. Wanting to see if that viper had a double side to this arrangement, that is, if he even thinks about it. The affidavit assurance he spoke of did make it solid. The accountants were very, very positive to go through this deal but he hadn’t told them the anguish of him yet.

He came home and discussed the matter over again with Lady Monica, “the accountants call it a golden deal but, Rupert?! I mean come on-“ he scoffed as he narrated it. “He’d marry her just to spite me. The intent, the motive it all seems so ghastly.”

“If the accounts have reassured you, I suggest you think this over rationally and not emotionally.” Lady Monica advised him from her seat, she loved y/n as much as Tony if not more but the stakes were rather unaffordable this time “Blessings in disguise don’t just come knocking at your door.”

“Rupert is no blessing.” Tony corrected her as his posture stiffened, his money and the post may just be so but himself was nowhere close to it.

“He doesn’t live that far” Lady Monica said with the undertone of considering the proposal, trying to give her husband silver linings.

“What does that have to do with anything?” He asked confused brows raising up at the implication.

“She wouldn’t be that far from us should you consider the prospect.” She explained meekly hoping it would get through without being offended. He did not get so, but he was still dismissal of the silver lining. “She is a smart girl. Why don’t you talk this over with her?”

“And tell her what? I am offered fortune of a dowry for her?” He scoffed shaking his head, he eventually would have to but he did not like that confrontation nor the subject.

“Tell her we are offered a way out, like the accountants said…a golden deal. She would understand.” Lady Monica said lastly as she bid him farewell and good night. He probably didn’t sleep the whole night that night with the information he had to relay on his niece the following morning.

The sunrise had never seemed so very dreadful before as it rose with the household. Tony had to put forth the happenings of yesterday and he hated it already, the sense of upcoming heartache. “You called for me?” Y/n’s knock on his home office door pulled Tony out of his trance as he nodded and gestured her to sit. She followed as she sat on the teal arm chair. “I have to go submit the appealing papers for an extension on the tax notice today did you look at the papers?”

Tony had long forgotten about those papers he had to go through previous night and they just rang a bell as of now. “Oh? Yes, the papers” he spoke paying less mind to it and then with a heavy sigh he sat slant to her on the sofa. “There is something else I wanted to talk to you about.”

The somber yet serious pitch of his tone was new these days, “what is it?” She asked placing her file on the desk to listen to him attentively.

“Rupert, came here last night and he has told us something that might change things.” Tony briefed her in vaguely even though he had thought about it the entire time last night he couldn’t find the right words to relay the information on her now that she was right in front of him.

“Rupert” she repeated trying to undermine the anxious paranoia rising within her. The fright she felt as to what he could have told him, the kiss? He wouldn’t stoop that low would he. It was a mistake. “What did he have to say?” She asked trying her best to maintain a level proper tone and not let the obvious anxiety show.

As he narrated about the proposal the colour on her face drained bit by bit, her uncle explained her only the dynamics of his money oriented offer and only lastly added “…that is, if you are to marry him.”

Y/n just started at him for a moment zoning out in the tense silence and then her shoulders relaxed as she gathered Rupert didn’t tell him about the kiss. “Marry him?” She let out a huff, “How dare he?! Has he gone mental to even think he can come into our house and bait us-“

“No no listen” Tony interrupted her before she was about to mirror the exact reaction he had from when he first found out about it. “I went to the accountants last night and they went through it. The dynamics of it—they said it is a golden deal.”

Oh. The fact that he was taking this in consideration and not ridicule and offence just sinked in. But she could not fathom it, “Are you asking…” the proposition was so ghastly to even say it in a sentence she just tailed off in implication.

“I don’t know if I am.” Tony said honestly because he had the same feelings on saying that out loud. Asking her to marry Rupert Campbell Black? “It’s a bad way out of this, it seems to be our only one.”

“What are you saying-?!” She exclaimed as she stood up from her seat in shock and disgust, “are you serious uncle? Rupert? Rupert?! Of all people? Rupert Campbell Black?” She scoffed speaking out her distress all in one breath “That man?”

“There is no need to panic like this I wouldn’t force you to even breathe in his direction let alone marry him if you don’t want to.” Tony assured her standing up with her and he walked across the space to get her a glass of water. “You have worked on this, you know what’s at stake and what else are our options.”

She took the water he offered her and gulped the full glass all at once to ease the nerves, “I know, I understand I know we don’t have time even, but” she let out a heavy breath even repeating that man’s name again felt like saying a slur. “This is-this is ridiculous!”

“You my darling are the first born of this family.” He told her putting a hand on her shoulder reassuringly “I would never want you to marry someone you don’t want to let alone that swine. You are worth a fortune for me alright? I have never asked anything of you all your life and I’m not even asking for this. I just want you to be open to it”

“But he’s Rupert!” She let out an exasperated sigh and moved away from him, pacing back and forth “If I marry him I’d never be able to show my face anywhere” she said considering that ugly life.

“This pains me more than it does you but he is not, not-reputable” he briefed her trying to provide whatever consolation.

"I don’t mean here" she said with an exasperated sigh running a hand through her hair. "I have friends everywhere but this place, honest, educated people. They would look down upon me if I was Mrs Campbell Black." It was more than a horror to loose even more people she could call her own. The city colleagues, people she trained with, went to university with. Forward minded new deal politics people would discontinue friendship with the conservative MP's wife.

"You will always have us though and you do have friends here, work, Corinium, you do have plenty." Tony explained, what seemed to be a big concern for her wasn't as dreadful for him. After all she had never given him a reason to think she considered countryside to be a small pond.

"It’s nowhere close" she muttered well aware she would not be able to get this point across.Besides she did have lots of other concerns to dwell upon "He is infuriating, a deceit, a hedonist and he is so much older!' She did not intend to let that come out as a whine.

"You do not have to clarify that to me, I have spent more years loathing him than you have seen winters." The godfather in him anguished more than he empathised with her. It was beyond understandable that it was only his disdain which had seeped through her due to all the right reasons which would make this even harder for her.

“My life would be over." Words couldn't put front just how much of dread occupied her heart and mind to even consider this.

"You know this doesn't have to be permanent. At all." He plotted in a low tone providing her actual theory to look forward to "Two years and you can divorce him. Our funds would be steady, the new earnings would be consistent and we can drop him like dead meat."

With a sharp intake of breath she thought his words over, that could be so. Knowing Rupert his own whim wouldn't last that long. "Two years maximum?" She asked for reassurance as she sat back down on the chair.

"Maximum." He confirmed positively mirroring her seating. "Consider him a means to an end. Two years is all I ask from you and then you can always marry a boy of your choice again!" All I ask from you y/n, his words echoes with the same blend of plea and demand of his tone.

She had felt this undertone of owing her godfather woven fragments in the tapestry of her life. He had raised her, like her own, it is only fair she repays it with her life however she can. Most days he felt hyperaware of the debt in her emotions, her unsaid obligation he did not feel like putting out like a house fire but raising more like a forest fire. She had started to feel this weight as she grew more sentient and emotionally mature, the weight grew more and he never bothered to tell her otherwise. A price for a parental figure she felt like paying for, pursuing careers he told her to, leading a life he asked her to. Neither him nor Monica ever made her feel a void in place for a childhood. She could say it was blissful and healthy despite of the tragedy. Tony articulated sense of purpose for her, she abided. Always. Forever bound to gratitude. "Ultimately this is your choice, if you refuse to the marriage we wont have this conversation again. You have my word."

You can always get another degree of your choice! You can always marry a boy of your choice again! Over and over and over twice the time for twice the decisions because she had to live it up for two people. Herself and her godfather. It was barely an illusion of choice, her uncle was not a level heeded man when cornered. If not today, next week when, if not then when the third notice comes in, that is when he would loose his composure and she knew him well enough to see that.

With a day or two to her demise and battling against the circumstance, there wasn’t even any other road to not be taken. The universe had put forth one and only one way out of this and it was an incomprehensible burden to carry. A simple, “Alright then, Rupert it is.” And the wedding bells rang like an alarm in a troubled country. Tony rushed to inform Rupert of it in the very same day not even an hour of time difference since she agreed. To have a second thought himself or offer her more guidance and a space to change her mind which she so desperately wanted to. There was no time, they had more than just wedding to make arrangements for.

Her godfather had asked y/n if she were to join him in informing Rupert of her acceptance but she abruptly refused. Which was understandable, why would she endure the man in optional settings. Tony didn’t force her on attending for now anyways, she was doing a lot in retrospect.

However the exchange left Rupert with an unsure and skeptical attitude to the lady’s willingness when she did not come with her uncle to relay her answer. It felt rather strange and knowing Tony he would most definitely answer for his niece and then force her to the outcome he wanted. So he decided to take matters into his own hands to cross check.

Somewhat late in the night post dinner as the countryside fell quiet to the crickets and nightly mist. Easily making his way through the estates he calculated exact space to her room by standing right below it. Unaware that a heartbroken y/n was lying in bed listening to her vinyls trying to angst out the gradual foreseen depression with music. She missed the pebbles clashing on her balcony door. It was only when their amount grew and the feeble sounds became frequent that she was pulled out of her horror-dreaming trance of envisioning her upcoming life. She pulled the needle off the vinyl and turned away from the record player to inspect over the balcony. Hugging her cardigan closer to herself as she was exposed to the chill November air outside of her room. She lowered her gaze to inspect where the direction of the small stones that lay around her balcony. That is when she saw Rupert halfway through the tree adjoining her balcony. “What are you doing?” She asked as her eyes widened and her face fell at its sight. He was rather swift with his movements and study grip over the old tree and then he jumped off to the side, then the pipe, a bit too much of sturdy gymnastics and she was more freaked out than concerned or amazed. “Have you lost your mind-?!” She was whisper yelling as she looked back to her room to see if someone was there to interrupt this madness.

He managed to climb up to her balcony. Leaning on the railing from the outside as she distance herself, catching a breath creating a winter fog. He smiled through panting out his determination, swaying his leg across the railing as he made his way into her balcony. “I would have come through the main door but you ignored my calling.” He said referring to the small stones laid around them, in the wake of his attempt to catch her attention.

“What is wrong with you!” She exclaimed knowing well enough that there was plenty, “what if you had ended up on the wrong balcony.”

“I did. Your cousins, the children. They directed me here.” He said plainly as if he were to end up at any other room would be a horror for him. Nothing fortified his will more than what his heart desired “I wanted to see you.”

“At this hour?” Making her away inside to her room given it was unbearably cold outside for just one layer which she’d worn. She was in no mood to cater to his stunt but he followed her inside and she did not refuse him anyways.

“You could have come to meet me yourself today, when your uncle did.” He said with a shrug, closing the door behind his hands. Rupert wanted to cross check if she even knew that Tony had visited him today to affect his proposal.

“I didn’t want to then and I don’t want to now.” She spoke with an alerted and agitated look on her face. Alert to look out for any noise outside of her room, concerned footsteps if they heard conversation from her room in the dead of the night.

“Has he even told you?” Rupert said with a scoff, he was more confident over the fact that Tony would have said yes to their marriage for his self serving ways and not even considered her. It couldn’t possibly be that she herself couldn’t be bothered to visit him herself to give her ‘yes.’

“Told me what?” Bemused look on her face, unsure that there was more information for her uncle to withhold from her.

“Unbelievable…” he scoffed putting his hands on his hips as he looked around and then back to her, “just as I thought. He came to visit me today to tell me you accept the marriage proposal.”

“I know that” she answered with a unfazed look on her face, not even of sorrow or remorse. “He told me he was going” hell, even lady monica wanted to go with a proper basket and celebratory essence of it but it was neither celebratory nor familial so she did not attend.

“And you did not deem it necessary to come?” He was surprised to say at least, blissfully unaware to a large extent of her despise towards him he thought it was all to change after the kiss, not spike overnight of course. But aren’t some things sealed with a kiss?

“I do not have to endure you a second longer than actually required, why would I go voluntarily?” She raised obvious brows at her reasoning not taken aback by his assumptions and extractions of her attendance.

“The way you are marrying me voluntarily.” He reminded and also questioned to confirm if it was a voluntary step or not.

“I am trying to save my family’s fortune voluntarily.” Y/n rephrased the proposition, that is what she told herself too. It was his scrutiny towards her for not accepting his proposal herself which threw her off, in her house in her own room was this man making her out to be answerable to him. “What are you even here for? Out!” She said pointing to the balcony door again, her aunt was a light sleeper anyways she wouldn’t risk that.

“I wanted to confirm if you weren’t being forced into anything.” He responded truthfully however it seemed like his integrity held account for something so small in her eyes.

“Well now you have.” Answering his illogical concern she shrugged, she wasn’t being forced but at the same time whose choice would be Rupert. “You can leave.”

“So you will marry me.” He said plainly wanting a real answer where she would not just brush it off. Taking a step closer to her gently taking her hands in his.

If he was being so direct she could not rephrase the situation, arranged setting, business deal, financial consequence, “this is a violation.” She said gesturing to him holding her hand and took it away.

“Violation like when you kissed me.” Rupert said with his usual smug, grin and he could see the buttons being pushed in her head.

“That was a mistake.” An obvious agitation was not the blush he expected. “As is the marriage I’m telling you. I’m miserable as it is you will lose your mind. This truly is a big mistake.”

“A mistake I’m rather fond of.” He dismissed her paranoid concerns and fragile self perception. “We will find our footing.”

“What if I don’t that want with you.” She told him crossing her arms always panning out the worst but she did feel that way, at least show she thought she did.

“Then I will wait.” Ever so confident he could make so much work with her, it was beyond infatuation and also her understanding just how much he was capable of in his want and yearn.

“I won’t change my mind.” She told him firmly and in all truthfulness to put out the flames of affection and domesticity he may expect from her.

“And what of your heart, my love?” He asked further, more straws from him to grasp on and the straw was her heart. How inconveniently determined.

“I am not your love.” She affirmed bringing her brows together as a response to her unaccounted detest to the word.

“My bride.” Rupert added an option to her being his to a certain configuration whichever she found befitting.

“—Not yet.”

“Fiancé then?”

“That generally requires a ring.” She would much rather have a stone drown her down a stream than a stone on her finger which symbolises being his.

“Oh does it?” He asked nonchalantly as if he had something brewing, he certainly did. He reached out for his pocket bringing out a small red box.

“God no” she sighed as she realised what it was without him even opening it. There was a ridicule in the tragedy of this situation.

Getting on his knee, slowly, he opened the box and his eyes never left his bride, “will you-“

“There is no need for this dramatics this is simply a business arrangement and a finance-“

“Do you ever shut up?” He interrupted her still from his place situated on one knee.

“I should just shut up and marry you?” Going in for her turn to not-shut-up she said in between spaces of his sentences which caused him to revert what he was going to add.

“Shut up and marry me” he nodded, despite of his assurances she was so headstrong and stubborn. There was more a logic in a sentence so simple than further explanation.

There was more to the question than just marriage and him. Fragments of obligation, dutiful girl’s perfect life and her godfather’s generosities upon her. But in moments like these, the kiss, him climbing a tree to her balcony in the middle of the knight, the kiss, him wanting to reassure her despite her coldness, the kiss, him down on one for her, the kiss…the damned kiss. Taking the ring out of the box she but it on her finger in a swift motion only so he would stand up.

Rupert wanted that part to be intimate and his, but this is the closest to that he could get with a possibility of having her throw the ring on his grinning face. He didn’t want to take any chances. “Suits you.” He stood up staring at his ring on her finger.

“Farewell then…” she trailed off not wanting to feel the ill fabricated heavy emotions of his close proximity. As he was about to turn to her door out the room she stopped, getting in his track. “Not from there! The balcony” she pointed, her aunt was a light sleeper he ought to go out the way he came.

“How come? I will just use the main door it’s the same distance.” He answered unaware of her concerns of wrongness in his presence at the mansion this late.

“You can’t do that someone will find out you were here!” She exclaimed shaking her head.

“And? Your uncle has already put forth your terms of wanting a separate room, separate bed after marriage it’s not as if we would be having pre marital sex” he huffed at the sanctimonious assumption, jokingly implying she cared for the sort. She was too modern and he was too adulterated for that. However them not doing it had several other reasons, mainly her.

“Even post marital sex with you is far from dreams please don’t get ahead of yourself” she scoffed. He was pompous with the amount he’d bedded and could do so which repelled her even more to share a ‘marriage bed’ with him. He wouldn’t force himself on her so she did not specify that, it was an obvious boundary. It’s just his ballon of pride she wanted to guest perhaps over and over again.

“Afraid you’ll like it? Just like the kiss?” He knew the kiss was a tingling subject for her and he misused it full to his advantage.

“Get out!” Running out of replies she realised she did not owe him any. Feebly shoving him towards the balcony finally made him give in.

“Alright alright” he sighed standing halfway out the balcony door smiling the entire time. Before his exit he placed a gentle peck on the side of her face and made his way out, the same gymnasium of tree lunges and balcony railing. “Good night, my love!”

Already repulsed by his kiss the last words irked her further “not your love!” closing the door and curtains to the balcony on him at once she returned back inside to the disrupted serenity of her room. The music long abandoned she fell on the bed again, rethinking the interaction and overanalysing her thoughts.

Looking down at the ring on her finger, the more she looked the more it seemed to weigh and she had barely slept enough on the fact that she was getting married to Rupert Campbell Black. She couldn’t sleep in his ring.

Removing it from her finger to the bedside table she turned off the lamp to match the dark phase of her life. With a sigh hoping for sleep or morning, whichever outruns her thoughts.

—

Next part is the wedding and you’re all invited ;) please let me know your thoughts in the comments it really motivates me

Series list!

🏷️ @playbucky @theoceanandthestars @omgbrianab @melancholicandmessy @nebulastarr @sarahsobsession

[edenspoem]

what if u get a scratch and vampire ellie smells u from a mile away and she’s so desperate to have your blood that she lures you into her house and begs you for just a little taste. she whines and apologizes over and over again for being so needy while drinking your blood.

no smut. but suggestive! doc version included

๋࣭ ⭑⚝ oohhhh.. literally loser!vampire!ellie. the layout would be reader who's ultimate best friends with her; long time childhood friends potentially? and, let's also exercise the chance that ellie was fortunate enough to keep her vampirism veiled from your knowledge all this time. (if edward cullen could, she can too.) so, on one superficially mundane day near the woods where you happen to break skin by means i will leave up to individual imagination, ellie just so happens to be a mile away - returning home after a hunt proved to be in vain (girl had to feed bad but was way too delirious to concentrate.) - so, what transpires when she picks up the familiar scent of her beloved friends blood, an aroma commonly encountered, but always ignored despite her bloodstained appetite? yield.

"hey, my cars' just by the curb there. can give you a ride back to my place, patch that scratch up. 'ts not a big deal."

strange for her to utter that - it's not a big deal, when your puny little scratch is incapable of even irritating you that bad, but ellie insists, softly. what she omitted, is exactly what will happen between plopping on her bed and actually plastering a band-aid on that scratch. blood was drawn, crimson had dripped, and nothing goes off without a hitch when a voracious vamp meets the nectar of life, nothing. "you don't have to look— just, let me, please? again, i'm so sorry for asking." her voice withered and apologetic, a breathy and sedated mess with her fingers twiddling and twining with yours, sat adjacent to you just looking so so guilty for even bringing the topic up; vex with herself that she couldn't ignore it, like all the other past instances. "ellie, i— ugh, okay. if it's only a little.." and— that reply of sanction should excite her, god forbid she doesn't have the biggest crush on you, and now she's doing this thing viewed as intimate by some of her peers? but she can't help but feel.. sorrowfully faulted at first.

she drags her lips over the nub of your wrist before she separates them and bares her pretty teeth, poking your skin in little dints. vampiric foreplay. "you do this with every girl?" and you say it earnestly, yet with a light heart. no ill will bending in your tone nor intention. yet vulnerability casts a pall over ellie right now, taking blood from the one she can't keep her damn desires off, "i don't— i don't, no, fuck.. never, you're the only one so far." she mumbles, withdrawing her teeth a moment to spew that recital of apologies "so fuckin' sorry, please don't watch me. i just need.. just need—" she's literally so ashamed of her vehement needs for your taste, she can't even complete her sentences, unsheathing her teeth once more and burying them into the flesh by your wrist bone, grunting simultaneously with your pretty little wince.

although it is strange— on the edge of daunting, you managed to muster a fondness for it after a minute or so; the adrenaline rush at first bite, the excess of blood smearing her pale rose lips in a blotchy pattern, sometimes trickling the rise of her chin, those cursedly cute noises she makes during the feed, the fumble of her fingers trying to pull your arm deeper into her mouth like your wrist alone wasn't suitable of quenching, suspending her sucks with a spluttered or breathless, "damn it, sorry, just a little longer." whispered unto the delicate massacre painting your lower forearm— you love it. too much, you love her sudden jump in energy, pinning you on the mattress with her whole body and lodging her knee between your thighs, all while pleasuring you with pain, you fucking adore it. she has to know.

"take all you need, ellie. i don't mind, you can have me all you want, hmm?"

who knows where her mouth ended up next.

MASTERLIST . DAILY CLICK . IMPORTANT TLOU POST . PALESTINE INFO . BIG TEXT VER

ignore why i wrote sm i did not plan to yap this much apologies if its rushed i am quite tired.

[thinemoonshine]

⋆𐙚₊ 𝓫𝐚𝐦𝐛𝐢 ˚⊹♡

—⋆˚𝜗𝜚˚⋆ he hates being good. to him, good only meant bad. he only ever wants to be her bambi boy

good boy!heeseung x bad girl!reader content(s): fluff(?), mentionis of smoking, angst, kisses, reader and heeseung both fall but heeseung falls down bad, possessive and toxic mannerisms type: oneshot word count: 1.6k

heeseung’s eyes don’t stray from the girl who leans against the brick wall, enraptured completely by her. with her black cropped jacket falling off one shoulder and revealing her striking red tube top, her short black skirt reaching her mid-thigh swaying ever so slightly from the wind and her dark, glittery sheer tights paired with black knee-high heeled boots that only add more allure to her pretty legs—she’s simply a vision.

and from the look of the crowd around her, he’s not the only one who shares the thought. heeseung’s stare intensifies when he sees her giggling so casually—flashing her gorgeous smile and entrancing them with her pretty sounds which only ignites the flame that’s already raging in his heart.

why can’t she accept him? why must he only be allowed to watch her from afar—to never be able to reach her even when she’s only a door away?

(y/n) crosses her arms as her amusement die—still retaining her smile however, it subtly falters when her eyes catch the familiar face in a vehicle parked just across the street.

heeseung’s unrelenting stare eventually results in their gazes meeting and the memory of her rejection floods in his head, making him relive the despair of that day once more.

“why? why not me?” heeseung asked with a countenance of confusion as he looked down at the girl.

the latter let out a heavy sigh before she clicked her tongue and met his eyes. “heeseung, you’re just…good. you can barely hold hands with a girl without turning beet red and you choke at the smell of cigarettes. heck, i’m even surprised that you’re able stay around me without an inhaler.”

her condescending remark vexed him and yet, he was still unable to form a glare towards the girl who’s captured his heart. “that’s it? i told you, i can change. i even bought a car because you keep telling me how you always need to catch a ride after the club!”

“exactly,” the other responded, lackluster. “that’s exactly what i mean, hee. you’re just too good. you don’t belong in my world and i don’t belong in yours.”

the male’s throat tightened and chest clenched at her declaration. his eyes glistened and rims burned red as tears begun to brim but he quickly blinked them away. seeing him cry would only lead to her pushing him away more. “you don’t know that. you’ve never given me the chance to even step foot into yours.”

(y/n) scoffed as a confident, knowing smirk formed. “i don’t need to. i can see it already—what will happen if you do. and i don’t make it a habit of mine to break innocent, good boys like you.”

her constant emphasis on him being ‘good’—a word of praise he would usually welcome and be proud of—only buries a seed of hate deep in his chest for it. it’s ridiculous to despise something so unanimously known to be desirable but that’s exactly how heeseung feels.

he hates being good. to him, good only meant bad.

“listen, bambi,” she called in a sigh, and the nickname only poured salt into his invisible cuts—tears brimming once more. “i let you hover because you’re cute. but enough is enough. we’ve got our own crowds.”

and just like that, she never bothered to greet him, let alone glance at his direction and it’s as if they’re complete, utter strangers. so now, two weeks later, heeseung finds himself parked across the club (y/n) frequents—aiming to end this blatant ignorance from her once and for all.

“(y/n), are you listening?” the guy who threw joke after joke to the girl in hopes to attract her, asks upon noticing her straying attention.

she whips her head back to him. “huh? oh, sorry. what were you saying?”

he lets out an awkward chuckle, slightly nervous and flustered at her declining interest. “i said that—hey!”

unfortunately for him, he might never get the chance to finish his story now that heeseung’s whisked her away.

“heeseung! what are you doing?” (y/n) asks frantically as she’s unwillingly dragged away by the said lad although she doesn’t really put up a fight anyways.

he remains silent and speed is unchanging, making her stumble over her steps as they cross the street and she glares at the back of hee’s head—same sharp stare casting down to his hand that’s tightly wrapped around her wrist.

she clicks her tongue. “lee heeseung!”

no answer.

“bambi, what the heck are you doing??”

finally, he stops.

turning his body towards her, his face is stoic and jaw clenched—defining the outline of his jaw more than it already naturally is. “i don’t like it.”

“what?”

“to see you giggling and beaming at another man, giving him attention that he so clearly doesn’t deserve,” he hisses and opens the passenger’s seat of his car. “so i’m putting a stop to it. get in the car.”

(y/n) scoffs, a look of disbelief forming. “and what makes you think that i’ll listen to you?”

“oh, i don’t think it, darling,” he condescendingly taunts and takes a step closer that inevitably causes her to take a step back. “i know it.”

his unfamiliar character, one so different yet the same as the heeseung that she knows, makes her lose her mind. he acts cold and demanding yet his eyes hold the transparent adoration and tenderness for her, his voice incredibly gruff that it makes her shiver and yet his hold gentle and secure as if she’ll crumble and flitter away at the slightest gap.

he’s right. she is going to listen to him.

click! heeseung snaps on her seatbelt for her as soon as he joins her in the car and (y/n) nearly breaks into a grin of amusement. how he’s acting so ‘bad’ and rough yet, here he is—opening and closing the door for her before making sure she’s tucked in safely with the seatbelt on.

it’s endearing but—no, it doesn’t mean anything. he hasn’t changed. he’s still the soft-hearted, warm and nice guy she rejected and it’s for the best. he shouldn’t be with her, to be where she is. that would mean rewriting himself in all that he is.

she watches from the side as he harshly slots in his own seatbelt before stamping his foot onto the pedal. her eyes widen and body jumps at the sudden acceleration.

“wha—where are we going??” she asks with a raise of her voice as she whips her head to him.

heeseung’s fingers are taut around the wheel and face sombre. another unfamiliarity. the sparkle in his eyes and sweetness in his mien whenever he would see her—even when it’s for the briefest of moments—are absent.

replaced by a fervent fire dancing in his dark pools while his countenance spells nothing short of conviction and unrivaled tenacity. he’s…different.

“somewhere, anywhere—as long as it means your attention’s on me. and only me,” he declares and the girl’s skepticism and incredulity grow.

“did my rejection go over your head? did you not listen to a word i said? i thought for the past two weeks that you’d finally gotten it. but turns out, i was wrong and you’re still as foolish as ever,” (y/n) snaps, scowling with arms crossed but they quickly untangle to grip the sides of her seat at his reckless swerve—stopping abruptly at the side of the road.

anger bubbles up at his rash manner and she turns—only to crash against his lips as he seizes hers into a heated kiss. she gasps into it and he’s quick to sneak his tongue through. a guttural groan rumbles through as her taste—one that he’s been yearning for the longest of times, to be able to only dream of—spreads and satisfies his tastebuds.

when he pulls away, they’re both left panting violently with faces flushed and lips red and glossy, mirroring one another but she’s quick to recover.

“did you…smoke?” (y/n)’s voice is shaky as she’s still collecting herself. the adrenaline gained from his passionate, hungry kiss still buzzing through her but she won’t admit. she won’t admit how bone-shaking, mind blowing, wig snatching-ly amazing it was.

but gosh, the devilish smirk that stretches on his ravishing visage daunts her resolve.

“yeah,” he breathes out and only then does she notice the seductive smell of cigarette and musk emanating from him. her thighs press and he doesn’t miss it, he never fails to notice anything when it comes to her, even the most minute. “can’t say i like it, though i understand why you do.”

she gulps when his beguiling eyes trail on her up and down before they meet hers once more with an intensity so fierce he might just disclose each and every one of her secrets.

“heeseung—”

“bambi,” he interjects as he turns to the face the road again and lowers the handbrake. “from now on, you only call me bambi.”

a sly thought crosses his head and a corner of his lips tug at it—facing her once more. he chuckles darkly at her shocked reaction and yet her eyes are swirling with a type of crave he’s only been graced with a number of times before—that is, before she denies it away.

“and i’ll call you mine,” he finishes and pecks her nose once before driving away past the speed limit—impatient to have her all to himself.

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ you, a lucid dream (jongseong ver.), puppy boy (jaeyun ver.), skater boy (sunghoon ver.), foxy... baby (sunoo ver.), pretty kitty (jungwon ver.), teeth (ni-ki ver.)

𝜗𝜚 disclaimer: i do not condone any reckless behaviour portrayed in this work. this is entirely fiction and does not depict the member's real personality. if you enjoyed it, don’t forget to leave a heart and reblog—they give me some motivation, ya know? but please do not spam like!! X♡X♡, romi ⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

copyright © 2024 thinemoonshine all rights reserved

[fanficsformyfaves]

Or What?

Rhea Ripley x Uso Sister!Reader

WARNING: SMUT 18+, ANGST, Enemies To Lovers, Confessions, Semi-Public Sex, Use of Nicknames, Oral Sex (R Receiving), Fingering (R Receiving), Orgasm Denial (R Receiving), Degradation and Praise Kink (R Receiving), Mommy Kink, Choking Kink (R Receiving), Strap On Sex (R Receiving), Choking (R Receiving)

PREFACE: Reader has always known Rhea to be arrogant, callous and mean, so it only made sense that she despised the eradicator, especially after what she did to her brother...but what happens when they find themselves in a broom closet alone together?

A/N: Jey and Rhea are feuding in this A/U

Announcer's Dialogue In Bold and Colored!

Texts in Italic, Colored and Bold!

As I waited for Jey to finish up his match, I hear the sound of boot heels clicking from down the hall and when I turn my head to see who it was, I was immediately vexed.

Rhea fucking Ripley.

I couldn't help but roll my eyes. She was easily the most smug-faced asshole I'd ever met and not only that, she had the audacity to make my brother look stupid in front of the entire world.

I stuff my phone into my back pocket, before crossing my arms over my chest.

"Well, if it isn't little (Y/N) Uso. What's a cute thing like you doing out here by yourself?", she teased.

I simply looked away, ignoring her comment.

"Hm, never took you for the shy type", she said,

Taking a step closer towards me.

"From what I've seen, you're quiet the firecracker", she brushes a hair from my face.

I grab her wrist, staring daggers into her eyes.

"Never...touch me"

She lets out a dark chuckle, using the grip I had on her to yank me closer. Our faces were now merely inches apart.

"Or what, princess?"

"Or...I'll..."

"Mhm, use your words", she whispered,

Leaning down closer to the point her breath brushed against my bottom lip.

What was happening? And why was I not pulling away? I should've...but I just couldn't.

Just as I was desperately trying to regain my composure, the crowd outside goes wild and the speakers go off.

Announcer: And here is your winner...Jey...USOOO!

My brother's theme song began playing and I knew he was just moments away from bursting through the doors.

Shit, if he sees me causing trouble, I'm gonna be in for it. I could already hear him and some guards just around the corner. With seemingly no other option, I push Rhea and myself into the closet directly behind her and close it shut.

"What are you doing?"

"Saving both of our asses", I whispered,

Stepping away from the door. The footsteps were getting closer with each passing second and my heart was pounding so hard, I could barely breathe.

As if getting caught in the hallways wouldn't have been bad enough, I could only imagine what would happen if Jey found us in a literal closet together.

The shadow of his feet stop right in front of the door and I was panicking like I never have before.

"Have y'all seen (Y/N)? She said she'd be waiting right here"

"No, sir, not since before the match started"

"Hm", he hummed dismissively,

Before carrying on towards his dressing room.

Once he was finally gone, I let out a breath I didn't realize I was holding.

"Jesus, that was close"

"You're telling me", she replied.

That's when I finally noticed her towering figure hunched over behind me, with an arm around my waist and her hand flat on my stomach.

I turn to face her and there we were again.

Her lips almost meeting mine, as our eyes found one another in a tense exchange. I couldn't comprehend much of anything that was happening, but mostly, I was confused at why I wasn't pulling away again.

She humiliated my brother and betrayed him. I had every right to hate her...right?

"You know", she breaks the silence,

"You're awfully adorable, when you aren't staring daggers into me"

There was that stupid smirk again, only this time it affected me differently.

Instead of becoming agitated, I felt a second heartbeat I didn't feel before. Every inch of my skin was overheating at her touch and she knew it.

"Oh...you like this, don't you?"

"What? No-"

"Such a cliche, falling for your brother's enemy"

"I don't-"

"Then how come you aren't shoving me away and telling me to fuck off like you usually do?", she questioned,

Gently turning my body to fully face her, before pinning me to the wall by my arms.

"I think we both know the answer to that question, darling", she whispered,

Ducking her head down on my shoulder, whilst trailing kisses up my neck.

"Just say it. Say you want me and put a rest to this tiring act of pretending like you don't"

Was she right?

Have I just been in denial about the attraction I felt for her and hid behind anger all this time?

I couldn't quite focus on finding a proper explanation, as she reached the lobe of my ear, nibbling on it and forcing a whine out of me.

"God, even the sounds you make are sweet. Wonder if you'll taste as sweet as you sound", she mumbled against me,

Running her hand up my thigh.

"R-Rhea"

"All you have to do is tell me to stop and I will. Is that what you want?"

I contemplated for a moment. This was wrong. Getting involved with someone like her would only ever end in chaos, especially with the bad blood she had with Jey...but in that moment, any voice of reason was no match for the way she was touching me.

"No", I ultimately answered.

"Good"

Not wanting to waste any more of the limited time we had, she finally presses her lips against mine.

They were soft and gentle, which surprised me the most.

One of her hands let off my waist and trailed up my skirt, brushing against my bundle of nerves through the underwear I had on.

I whined against her mouth, which curled up into an excited grin.

"Sensitive, are you? Let's see how long it takes till I have you cumming on my tongue"

Just then, she drops to her knees, flipping up my skirt to take a good look at the mess she was already making of me.

"God, I barely touched you yet", she mocked,

Before pulling my thong to the side and licking up my slick entrance.

"Mmm, so fucking sweet", she praised,

Throwing my thighs over her strong shoulders, so I was sat on top of her. It didn't take long for her lips to wrap around my bundle of nerves, as the grasp she had on my hips tightened with each passing lick.

I intertwined my fingers in her hair, whilst her name repeatedly spilled out of me like a prayer that would never be answered.

Eventually, I feel the tip of two digits press against my slit, before slipping themselves completely inside me with no resistance to stop them.

Her momentum immediately fast and relentless.

Already, the knot in the pit of my stomach began to tighten and threaten to snap. I could tell by the way she smirked over my clit that she knew it too.

"Not so tough when I have you at my mercy, are you? Maybe I shouldn't let you cum", she teased,

"No! Please, don't stop!", I pleaded,

"Good girl", she says,

Continuing her unletting efforts to bring me over the edge, but before she could, voices on the other side of the door interrupts us.

I immediately let out a gasp, causing Rhea to slap a hand over my mouth.

"Jey's looking for (Y/N)"

"Wasn't she just here earlier?"

"Yeah, but I don't know where she went"

The security guards eventually move past the closet and I let out a sigh of relief.

I get off of her, arranging my skirt and she eyes me up in confusion.

"What are you doing?"

"This was a mistake"

She scoffs, getting up and dusting her knees.

"You didn't seem to think this was a 'mistake' when my tongue was wearing you out", she tested,

Pushing my head up with a hooked finger.

"Now...what did you say about me never touching you again?"

I roll my eyes and push her hand away.

"Wait five minutes before I leave", I instructed,

"Whatever you say", she smiled,

Looking down at her feet.

I carefully opened the door, whilst peaking my head out to make sure the coast was clear and once it was, I step out and close it, when I turn back around and was ambushed by my brother.

"Fucking Christ, dude!", I exclaimed,

As my hand went over my chest.

"Aye, language", he warned,

"Sorry"

"Where were you? I've been looking for like twenty minutes"

"The...bathroom"

"For twenty minutes?"

"Yo, what's with the interrogation, dawg? Woman business", I snapped,

"Alright, alright. I was just asking", he throws his hands up in surrender,

"I wanna grab food on the way back, come on", he says,

Putting an arm over my shoulder and walking me out. I quickly glance back at the closet door and prayed it stayed closed till we were out of sight.

Once we got into the car, I was finally left to my thoughts.

The guilt that overwhelmed me was all consuming and burdensome. I had just slept with my brother's nemesis. The person he hated most and here I was, pretending like it didn't happen, as he went on and on about his current win.

In that moment, I get a notification on my phone and I go to see who it was. I didn't recognize the number, but once I saw the text, I knew immediately.

Unknown Number: We should talk about this

Me: There's nothing to talk about

Unknown Number: Oh please, spare me, are you really going back to being in denial?

Me: Denial about what?

Unknown Number: Whatever

Unknown Number: But, when you do come to your senses, you know where to find me, beautiful ;)

I lock my phone and shove it inside my purse with a sigh.

"You good?"

"Yeah, just tired"

"Well, you look tired", he says,

Mimicking the sweat dripping down my face, causing me to hastily swipe it off.

After stopping by at a pizza place for dinner, we head to the hotel and made our way back to the suite.

"That was scrumptious. We needa head back before going home", Jey emphasized,

Opening the door and letting the both of us inside.

"I call the shower first"

"Dude", I go to argue,

"Ah! Winners get special privileges", he mocked.

I roll my eyes and he chuckles at my response, before stepping into the bathroom and closing the door behind him.

I lay back against the bed by the window and looked over the entire city.

As breathtaking as the sight was to behold, I was still hung up on Rhea. Why? Why her? Of all the people I could've hooked up with, it had to be fucking Ripley?

As disappointed as I was with myself, I couldn't help but look back at the encounter with a certain sense of reverie.

I'd never been touched like that.

None of the people I'd been with before had ever gotten me that close...I wonder what would've happened if I had just stayed there in that closet with her.

Before I could delve any deeper into my thoughts, I hear my phone go off once again and I already knew who it could be.

Unknown Number: Can't stop thinking about you, precious

God damn it, again with the nicknames.

Me: Rhea, please

Unknown Number: Please what?

Me: We can't do this

Unknown Number: Oh yes, we can

Unknown Number: The only person saying we can't is you

Me: You hurt my brother

Unknown: Hey, he decided to attack Dom, I couldn't just sit idle and let him

Me: Yeah, after the fact he slammed Jimmy with a chair

Unknown: Listen, I have no control over what the boys do

Unknown Number: Nor do I have control over who I want

A frigid chill run up my spine.

Unknown Number: What happened wasn't ideal, I get it

Unknown Number: So allow me make it up to you

Me: How?

Unknown Number: By picking up where we left off of course

Unknown Number: When I had you on the brink of cumming, before we were so rudely interrupted

It was getting harder and harder to resist her tempting.

Me: This is wrong

Unknown Number: Did it feel wrong? When you were begging me to make you unravel on my mouth?

Me: Rhea

Unknown Number: Tell me, when did the regret set in? Was it before or after my fingers found themselves inside you?

The pulsing sensation in my center began to intensify with every text she sent.

Unknown Number: You can lie to yourself all you want, darling

Unknown Number: But we both know that you want me just as much as I want you. I'm just making it easier by admitting it first

Unknown Number: Ball's in your court now, Uso

It took all the strength I had to resist, but it still wasn't enough. I ultimately caved, needing to feel her against me again.

Me: Where are you?

I just knew she was grinning like a wildcat on the other side of the phone.

Unknown Number: Location📍

The hotel she was staying at was only ten minutes away.

Me: Room?

Unknown Number: I'll be in the lobby to let you up. See you, beautiful ;)

I facepalm my forehead.

What was I doing? Once could've been a mistake, but twice? Now, this was betrayal.

Jey steps out of the bathroom, drying off his hair.

"Shower's free"

"Actually, I gotta go. Naomi wants to have a girl's night"

"For real?"

"Mhm", I hesitated,

He contemplates for a moment, before shrugging.

"Aight, just text me when you get there"

I let out a sigh of relief, before grabbing my phone and leaving.

Besides the obvious thoughts going through my head, all I could think about was how conflicted I felt. On one hand, family meant the world to me and out of all of them, Jey was who I was closest with...but on the other hand, there was Rhea. I didn't know what could transpire from this, but I guess I was just gonna have to find out.

Eventually, I got to her hotel and tried my best to avoid any paparazzi by keeping my head down and speed-walking into the lobby. I allow myself a moment to scan the room, before my eyes finally landed on her.

She was sat on one of the couches with elbows resting on her knees and scrolling through her phone.

With one last deep breath, I made my way towards her.

"Hello, there", she grinned,

Looking up at me, as she stood up.

"Hi", I greeted,

Avoiding her piercing gaze.

"I appreciate eye-contact, whilst speaking", she says,

Using my cheek to make me face her. I was already melting into her touch and blushing a bright red hue.

"D'you enjoy the ride?", she questioned,

Causing my eyes to widen.

"The car ride, darling", she teased,

She knew what she was doing.

"How about we get you upstairs?", she suggests.

I nod, as she took my hand and lead me to the elevators.

Once we were inside and the doors close us in, she pushes my hair aside and ducked her head into the crook of my neck, leaving wet kisses lingering on my skin.

"Couldn't stop thinking about earlier. I've never tasted anything better", she murmured,

Gripping my waist.

"R-Rhea", I whined,

Holding onto her shoulders. If the elevator doors hadn't opened just then, we would've had our way with each other right there. We rush towards her room and she uses my body to slam the door shut.

My hands creeping up into her hair, as her teeth tugged on my bottom lip.

I pull my sweater over my head, leaving me exposed to the cool air.

"Goodness", she exhaled,

Cupping the bottom of my breasts and licking my hardening buds. My skin was ablaze and my jaw drops with every moan that fell past my lips.

I go to pull my skirt down, when she stops me by my wrists.

"The skirt stays on"

Fuck, was I dripping.

"But...these need to go"

She reaches up and hooks her fingers around my waistband, yanking my underwear off and helping me out of them.

"I've already gotten a taste, now I need the whole show", she says,

Undoing the buttons of her jeans and revealing the toy already strapped around her waist. My eyes widen and she chuckles at my reaction.

"Like what you see, princess?"

"Y-Yes"

She bites back a smile and carried me to bed, before laying me out against the soft comforter.

"You're such a good girl when you aren't running your mouth", she praised,

Shoving her thumb into it, as I gladly accepted.

She then pulls it away and pressed it against my clit. A gasp rips out of me and my legs clench together, to which she pushes them apart and keeps them in place with her broad shoulders.

"Don't try escaping me now, you wanted this"

As she began rubbing firm circles on my bundle of nerves, my core dripped onto her ready palm.

"You are such an easy brat. All those time of you screaming at me, when you should've been screaming for me. All I had to do was put you in your place", she mocked over my moans.

Eventually, she pulled away and left me whining at the loss of contact.

"Patience"

She trips herself of her pants and tank top and the sight before me was something straight out of my wildest dreams. From her ample breasts, perfect waist and the sweat collecting on her fair skin, I was growing more and more desperate.

"As much as I love seeing you gawk at me, I think we should switch gears"

With one swift motion, she flips me onto my stomach and drags my ass into the air by my hips.

"This ass, babe. God", she mumbles,

Leaning down to place a gentle kiss on one cheek, before biting down hard and smacking the other.

I scream out, gripping the sheets.

Just then, I feel her rubbing the tip of the toy up and down my entrance, furthering the torture.

"How badly do you want this?"

"Please, I need you", I whined,

"Oh...you need this, huh? Think you've earned it?", she challenged,

Yanking me up against her by my throat, squeezing tight.

"Y-Yes, Mami, please!"

With one more wicked grin, she fills me to the hilt. The stretch burning, as I cried out into the air.

Her pace was immediately brutal and relentless, like the grip she had on my neck.

"Such a precious little thing", she praised,

Pounding repeatedly on my g-spot and causing stars to cloud my vision.

She'd been teasing me since the night began, so it should've come as no surprise to me when my walls had already begun pulsing around her.

"So good for me. So fucking good", she growled against my ear.

"I'm gonna cum, Mami, please!"

"Not till I say so"

"Please!"

"Keep whining and I'll make you wait even longer", she threatened.

Not wanting to face those consequences, I bite my tongue and held onto her hips for dear life, digging my nails into her flesh.

By this time, the room was nothing, but the smell of sex, sweat and tear-filled moans. The orgasm that I'd been chasing was now hounding me down and threatening to overwhelm me. It was getting harder to fight it off with each of her harsh thrusts.

I was just surprised we didn't get a noise complaint.

Once she was satisfied with how weak she had me, her hands reaches for my clit once more.

"You look so good this way. Fucked out and drenched in sweat and tears for me. Cum for me, darling. Show mami just how good she makes you feel"

That was the last thing I could make out, when the knot in my stomach finally snapped and pushed me over the edge.

All I could see was a rush of pure white, before falling limp on my stomach, out of breath and gasping for any air my lungs would allow.

She then pulls out of me and discards the toy from her hips. I was then picked up and placed delicately onto her bare chest.

"You did so good, darling", she muttered sweetly,

Wrapping her arms around me and pressing a kiss to my forehead.

Maybe...this wasn't such a bad idea.

I snuggled deeper into her embrace and she welcomed me in with a satisfied chuckle.

"Who knew beneath all that cold exterior was a soft little angel?", she jested,

Making me roll my eyes.

"I'm really glad you came. Well, in that sense, yes, but also you making the trip here", I interrupt with a playful smack to her shoulder.

"I wasn't too rough, was I?"

"It was perfect", I reassured,

Craning my head up to meet her lips.

"About your brother-"

"We don't have to talk about that"

"But we do"

She sits up, as I did the same, covering myself with the comforter.

"It’s always so easy to get caught up in messes, but that doesn't excuse what I did or let happen"

"I love my friends and I'd do anything for them...but not at the cost of someone like you. I've admired you since the day we met. Your passion, your drive and not to mention your everlasting beauty, it seems"

I couldn't help, but blush at her confession.

"Though I'm used to your fiery, protective side, I've also caught glimpses of your heart when I see you care for the people you love...I couldn't deny that"

"So I thought the best way to keep myself away from you was to make you hate me", she continued.

"Because I knew letting myself fall for you was betraying The Judgment Day, when lo and behold, you felt the same all along. We were always so consumed with putting other people first, that we forgot that our own happiness mattered too"

The more she spoke, the more it all made sense.

"And at some point, I couldn't hold back anymore...so I just let it happen. You can tell me that I'm wrong and that nothing that I said made sense, but I know, by that look in your eye, that I'm not"

By the end of her speaking, I was in tears, having felt so seen and understood. I gently cup her face in my hands, kissing her once more.

"You're not wrong", I sniffled,

Pulling back.

"I don't think I would've ever had the courage to say those things to your face"

"Of course, you would've. You're braver than you think"

[sweetflanfiction]

Asymetrical Symphony - Part 22

Universe: Arcane (LOL)

Pairing: Viktor x reader

Summary: You had been on the rooftop with Jayce and the Herald and somehow you were sent to a place where things can be different with your help

Disclaimers and Warnings: If you want me to tag you on the chapters let me know! Also leave a comment with your thoughts :D Not finished, not proofread. English isn't my 1st language. All I know about LOL is from google and all I know about Arcane is taken from the show, so inacuracies will be plenty. I have a sort of idea on how to I'm gonna go with magic and runes, so bear with me. The reader will be written as GN (going by they/them) to get everyone involved, but if you see any discrepancies let me know

A.N: A big thank you for all of the peeps who read this and not only comment but leave little hearts on the chapters as they read! I love seeing y'alls progression. I see you and I appreciate you!

Part 1 • Part 2 • Part 3 • Part 4 • Part 5 • Part 6 • Part 7 • Part 8 • Part 9 • Part 10 • Part 11 • Part 12 • Part 13 • Part 14 • Part 15 • Part 16 • Part 17 • Part 18 • Part 19 • Part 20 • Part 21

• ··········· • ············ •

The high sun on the veranda shone on you like a natural heating lamp as you scribbled intently on your notebook. The house was mostly silent, with only Voltaire in the kitchen with his pots and pans, since your mother and Willah had taken a romantic getaway to Demancia. 

After your quick but stressful hospital stay, Esther had been a wreck, to the point she would pace in the living room every time you went out until she saw you again. It took a very convincing and assertive dialogue between her and Willah for her to even think about going anywhere. However, after a few days of sulking, Willah managed to get her on an airship, and off they went.

You were trying to remember the runes that other Viktor had sketched on the blackboard, but between what happened in that dimension and then the jump, your memory was a bit faulty when it came to that.

The small and brand-new yellow notebook, a gift from Viktor, was taking the brunt of your frustration, pages after pages with lines and sketches that did nothing but vex you further. 

Adding to that, the council had just come out with a brand new... suggestion... for the lab's work environment. They could decline and let it drop on deaf ears, but that was exactly what they wanted.

According to the council, any outsider to the lab had to get approval from the council, and all work had to be stopped for their appointment. If the outsider was someone of a minor or major house, it had to be accompanied by an enforcer or a councillor itself other than Jayce.

You felt a little guilty when you had found out since it had been sort of your fault that the new rule was applied, and no matter what the two scientists told you otherwise, it still felt that way. The emotion quickly dissipated as soon as you saw Sky happily making her way toward you, berating the enforcer that was stopping you from going up. That had been the last time you went in uninvited.

The knock on the penthouse door startled you from the scribbled pages as Voltaire shouted that he would get it. 

You kept your face towards the door, not expecting anyone at that time. Viktor would probably visit you in the evening to exchange rune notes, and Jayce sometimes came with him unless he had a 'meeting' with Mel.

“It’s probably Mr. Korith with the groceries.” He told you, walking to the door and cleaning his hands with a towel.

You nodded and smiled at the chef, happy with the explanation, and turned your attention back to the notes. 

The last page of the book had a little table drawn by hand with rows and columns. The first column was for the facets you remembered; next to it was another column for a checkmark, tallying the ones you think corresponded, and another for what each rune did.

Air - ✓ - creates gusts of air/moves things/when sustained, creates wind/when solidified, creates whirlwinds

Earth -

Fire - ✓ - heals by transferring someone's rune to the rune speaker’s body (theory: the speaker’s body heals better/faster because of magic). 

Earth -

Sun -

Moon - ✓? - creates small marbles of light/when sustained, they can go forever until dispelled/when solidified, creates lightning.

Chaos - ✓? - ??

Order - ✓? - puts things back to their original form (mends broken objects) / never tried sustaining/solidified creates a simple missing piece if any is needed

Time -

Space -

Creation - ✓? - hand rune

Corruption - 

Missing: unlock rune (softer chaos?)?Corruption of an original state? Creation because of finding new runes?)

Elevator call/banner falling

“It seems Mr. Korith dragged a stray in with him.” Voltaire’s amused voice boomed through the quiet house, making you turn around to look at the chef and the 'stray.'. 

Viktor stood there with a small smile on his face. He looked tired, but seemingly in a good mood. He was also not in his uniform, which by itself was already a curious thing, but when you added the time of the day, it made it a downright mystery.

“Hello!” He waved and started walking towards you, his desired target already in his sights. The blue armchair next to where you sat.

“Will you stay for lunch, my friend?” Voltaire asked, already making his way to the kitchen.

That made Viktor pause and look at the other man and then back at you. You gave him a one-shoulder shrug. He was always welcome to stay and eat.

“I could eat, yes, if it’s not too much trouble.” He threw a wide smile at Voltaire, who nodded happily.

“The more, the merrier. I’ll make a quick dessert too. The one you like!”

“Oh…oh no…there’s no need.” Viktor quickly refuted, shaking his head.

“Nonsense.” His voice was already accompanied by the sounds of pots and pans.

“What’s the dessert?” You asked when the scientist restarted his trek towards his little piece of cushiony heaven.

It was still funny to you that, after years of knowing someone who looked exactly like him, in this timeline, there were still so many things to learn. 

Other Viktor's favorite dessert? Coffee with three packets of sugar and a drop of sweet milk. 

Is this Viktor’s favorite dessert? No idea. Probably something with so much sugar it would make his blood turn to caramel.

“Lemon Tart.” He said as he gently plopped down on the chair with a happy sigh, straightening his leg and melting into the seat, his crutch leaning on the back of the chair. “I like how he burns the white cream things on top.”

“Have you ever been to his restaurant?” You looked at him, smiling at how peaceful he looked with the sunbathing his angular face. He looked at you sideways and made a disapproving face.

“Have you seen my salary?”

You knew other Viktor made some money but didn’t like spending it on frivolous things, so you were almost sure this Viktor had enough money to have at least one meal at Voltaire’s restaurant. 

Hells, you were more than sure your mother had invited him at some point. But still, Viktor didn't think an expensive meal was worth the money, probably going to spend that value on something for the lab.

“Remind me to take you there sometime.” You threw out looking back at Piltover’s skyline and then at him from the corners of your eyes.

“And then I am the one accused of being sneaky.” He squinted his eyes at you in fake annoyance, and you shrugged.

After a moment of silence, you turned back to look at him, half expecting him to be already napping, which you found immensely adorable.

It had become a completely normal occurrence for you to come back from rehearsals and have him, Jayce, Willah, and your mother just relaxing in the living room. They would talk about politics, science, or even the latest gossip, something that Viktor enjoyed as long as it wasn’t about him or Jayce or even the lab. Every other rumor he found strangely entertaining.

And whenever the conversation became too boring, it was just as normal to find him lightly snoring, his head either leaning on his hand or against the back of the chair. You found it adorable.

But at the moment, even though he did have his eyes closed, you noted his breathing was regular and his fingers tapped on the arms of the chair. He was just enjoying the warmth of the sun. You tried to commit this weirdly familiar situation to memory.

Viktor was wearing a burgundy knitted polo vest with a light blue button-up shirt under. His gray slacks were bunched up where the leg brace fastened. The brace itself was different from what you’ve seen him wear in the lab. It only strapped around his thigh and in the middle of his lower leg; instead of going from hip to foot, the metal brackets and mechanism only aided his knee joint. 

“You're staring again.” he warned jokingly, his golden eyes heavy-lidded but looking at you.

“I sure am.” You answered bluntly, nodding proudly, and he chuckled.

“You have become bold.” He closed his eyes again, but his eyebrows raised. “Do tell me then, why am I under scrutiny this time?”

“I am trying to figure out the whole thing with the civilian clothes…”

“Oh…” he adjusted himself in the chair, his demeanor changing from peaceful to tense in seconds. When he looked back at you, he had the most annoyed look on his face. “I was promptly kicked out of my lab by Councilor Shoola and her surprise inspection.”

“What?!? Why? I thought those had been scheduled now!” You turned on your seat, the sides of the chair acting as a sill where you placed your elbows.

“Apparently not.” He rolled his eyes, mimicking your pose. “Only outsiders need to make appointments. The councilors can just walk in and demand an inspection, or a debriefing, or... whatever they call it, no matter what we are doing or if it’s opportune or even if it is safe. So, when they announced only one of us was needed for whatever they wanted to do there, I was promptly but subtly kicked out. And in protest, I went home and changed. I won’t go back to the Academy today. Councilor Shoola can volunteer to fasten the bolts and do the math on my work. I wish her all the luck with that.”

You blinked a few times trying to process what he just spit out. His ramble was almost comical, his accent becoming stronger as he talked on, his hands starting to accompany his rant with exaggerated movements. But it angered you that they had, promptly and subtly, dismissed the co-creator of hextech, one of the most brilliant minds in this part of town.  It wasn't exactly new that they didn't enjoy his place of birth, but they were never this... blunt about it.

“Anyway, Sky gave me your note, so… here I am.”  He took a couple of calming breaths and leaned back into the chair, a scowl on his face.

“Right!” You grabbed the notebook. “I'm about to make your day...sort of...I may have found something about the...”

Viktor straightened quickly, grimacing as his leg jerked with his movements. You opened the notebook, showed him the table with the list, and pointed to the first column.

“Do you know what these are?”

“Yes!..." He said excitedly but then frowned. "Wait... no... maybe? Some of these are theorized to be the basis of the arcane. How do you know them?”

"I read about them…” ‘in a blackboard while the other version of you explained it to me…’ you wanted to add but kept your mouth shut.

“Oh?” 

“There’s a book on it…” You hoped there was a book on it.

“Yes, we have it in the lab.” He nodded.

“There you go…that's where I read it.” You cleared your throat, nodding along with him. “Anyway…you didn’t use them in hextech?” 

“Eh... Well... some.” Viktor observed you for a second trying to read something unknown in your face but gave up after a while. “Some looked too unstable to work in an already volatile environment. But your runes look nothing like the ones in the book.”

“Do you remember which ones you used?”

Viktor nodded and grabbed a stump of an orange pencil from the breast pocket of his shirt. You snickered and shook your head. Why he had the tiniest stump of a colored pencil in his breast pocket was beyond you, but he had it, and he was proud of it.

“What made you think of these?” He questioned still working on the rune.

“Alena. She…told me a story, and it’s…” He stopped what he was doing and looked up, encouraging you to go on. “It’s a stretch, but her grandma told her a story about an old man that never got older, who would go around Zaun writing ‘symbols' on walls and call kouzel…kouzelnivi?”

Viktor’s eyes had gone back to the drawing until you said that word, and then his neck snapped up to focus on you.

“Kouzelnictví? Magic?” He corrected you, and something about Viktor speaking his native tongue was sending waves of heat to your cheeks.

“Yes. The one her grandma asked about was fire…healing fire." You continued, trying to focus on the conversation.

“Oheň” 

“Yes. He told her that it was the symbol of healing. Her family believed in it so much that Alena has the rune tattooed on her wrist. Because fire heals and keeps you warm.”

He had stopped scribbling and was now looking at you intently. For a moment you were scared he was going to laugh in your face from the leaps you were taking. But he only tilted his head and nodded favorably.

“You don’t think it’s a far-fetched idea? Not to dismiss the story as just a tale? It may be just a bedtime story—

“Hextech was created on far-fetched ideas, fairy tales, and confiscated material.” He smiled brightly at you. “Your story has more proof than that. And even if there was no proof, it should be a path to be explored.”

Viktor ripped the page he was drawing on from the notebook and gave it to you. You took it but kept looking at him. There was something about his optimism, his belief in your idea, that threw you off. The way he was looking at you with a lazy but excited smile, his whiskey eyes shining with life. You found yourself consciously stopping your arm from moving to stroke his handsome face.

“You’re staring.” He said, a hint of red on his cheeks.

“You’re handsome.” You blurted it out before your brain caught it.

For a second you thought about apologizing. You didn’t know if he enjoyed compliments or if he even wanted them. But with the way he was smiling, you mentally squared up your shoulders and gave him a smug grin.

“Well, you are. So…” you both chuckled, and he mumbled something close to thank you. “Anyway, I need to go to Zaun.”

“What?” The smile on his face faltered. “Why?”

“Alena and the story.” His face told you he didn’t get the connection. “I need to go and find the rest of the runes.”

“Did she tell you where they were?” 

“No. But someone must have seen or heard more stories.”

“It was her grandma, yes?" You nodded, and Viktor closed his eyes. “So, let’s say her grandma lived until 70… mmm… 80 years, and that Alena is probably our age… so that’s a story with—

“90-plus years. I know. But there have to be people who’ve heard it as well.”

“There are…”

A glint in his eyes made you look at him intently, and a small gasp came out when his eyebrows came up and he bit his lips.

“You know about it, don’t you? You’ve heard the stories…” He nodded sheepishly, looking down at his hands. “That’s why you didn’t dismiss it at first.”

“It is just a children’s story.” He sighed. “There was never talk of symbols in my version, just some old man that would visit Zaun in a blue robe and wander the streets like a ghost. My mother used it so I wouldn’t come home after dark. ‘Modrý muž tě dostane.’...The blue man is going to get you…”

“How do you know it was the same guy?”

“The old man who never got old.” He gave a small smile and a shrug. “He was some kind of wanderer, eating children after it got dark.” 

An idea burst into your head quickly, and you grabbed the notebook from his hand, receiving a questioning sound from him.

You drew the fire rune and showed it to him. It dawned on you he had probably never seen the fire rune, and if the fire rune was present in Zaun as the apothecary symbol, he might have seen it.

“This is the fire rune. Do you know it?” He shook his head, and you deflated.

"Wait..." He grabbed back the notebook. "Maybe..."

He turned the book towards the bright windows, singling out the page where you wrote the rune, and looked it through the back of the sheet. The rune was mirrored on the back of the page as the light hit it.

“My mother used to get an ointment from this little store down from where we lived. The lady from there knew about my condition and added some medicated sweets to the order. This was the brand on the bag.” He closed the journal and looked at you, his eyes still hazy from the memory.

“That’s the fire rune. It’s just mirrored. That’s Alena’s grandma's rune.” You told him softly. “Fire heals. Air moves. Moon lights the darkness.”

“It helps us with a location as well. If I heard it when I was little and if Alena’s family is the same as the apothecary, then the wanderer must have passed somewhere near there.” He was nodding to himself and smiling. “It is a good starting point. When do we go?”

You chuckled at his enthusiasm and then shook your head when what he said sunk in.

“We? No. You are not going anywhere.” You shifted in the chair and went to grab the book from his hand, but he moved it out of reach. “Viktor…”

“What is your plan?” He asked seriously, keeping the book out of your reach.

“Go to Zaun, where the apothecary is, ask around, talk to people, and figure out what kind of stories they have. Once I’ve gathered enough info, I’ll explore further.” You explained feeling a bit more confident as he nodded along, perceiving it as an approval of your plan.

“The apothecary is at the Entresol level, so you might be lucky, and that is where the runes are.” He looked at the ceiling and squinted his eyes, and you knew by the arrogance written on his face he was about to throw your plan out the window. “Best case scenario, the gangs will smell a Piltie, kidnap the Piltie, and ask your mother for the highest amount of gold they can think of. Worst-case scenario, the gangs smell the Piltie, kidnap Piltie, and sell them for the highest amount of gold they can think of.”

You were divided about this. It would be a good thing if he came; he knew the place much better than you, since you’d been there only a couple of times in another dimension. His utility and company would be greatly appreciated. 

However…one wrong move, one wrong look at one wrong person, and he’d be dead. You'd both be dead. And you can’t let him die. It wasn't just about him becoming the Herald. If he died, you don’t think you could handle it. You could not... you will not... lose him again.

"You'd need to justify to the council why you were bridge hopping." You argued without much conviction.

“The good thing about being invisible to the council... is not being seen by the council,” he countered. 

“They’ll notice.” You softened your tone, already knowing this was a losing battle. 

“Let them. I am not doing anything wrong. What will they do? Arrest me for visiting my home?” He snorted in defiance and looked at you. “I would not feel good having you wander into Zaun alone. I understand you are very capable of taking care of yourself, but…I also want to help.”

He stopped for a moment and took a deep breath, looking back at you again. Something weary behind his handsome eyes.

“This rune.” He shook the notebook. “When you spoke it... it took over you, and then it harmed you—”

You were about to interrupt him to argue it didn't do it on purpose. It was just easier for magic to heal you than to heal Sky.

“I know the theory.” He put a hand up, stopping you from arguing. “But, at the end of the day, you were the one bleeding on the floor. The one in the hospital bed. If any other rune does this, you need someone there to help you.”

Arguing with Viktor was always a gamble. You could win the argument without warning, carving a response so fierce he would not be able to reply, or it would be easily won when the gears on his brain spurred on. But yet again, you were raised by a lawyer. 

“I can’t protect us both. If anything happens to me, I can distract them enough to run…” you blurted quickly, the hurtful part unsaid. He frowned.

“My leg is not a hindrance. It never was. It never will be.” He frowned for a bit. “There are other ways to escape that don’t require running.”

“It’s not about your leg; it's about you.” You let out an exasperated sigh. “Viktor, if something happens to you down there, I won’t leave you behind.”

“Good! Great! Because I will do the same!”

“No!” You groaned and thumped your head on the chair’s armrest. “I forgot how exasperating you are.”

“Well, you are also very stubborn.” He tilted his eyebrows. “Especially because you know I’m right.”

You looked at him deadpan, and for a moment his expression matched yours. After a few seconds, you rolled your eyes and got up from the chair with a swift movement.

“I’m telling Voltaire not to burn the meringue.” You announced over your shoulder.

“You wouldn’t.” He gasped when he figured out what you were threatening.

From behind you, there was the clear sound of him shuffling to get up from the chair and grab his crutch. The rhythmic sound of him quickly approaching made you giggle.

• ··········· • ············ •

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[pineapplehazard]

Imagine

Canon divergence where Buck and Eddie didn't become friends after the grenade

Instead of the 'you can have my back anyday' dialog, one of them try to compliment the other but end up saying some that deeply vexes the other and then they're back on their rivalry

Still at work they manage to work together perfectly well, but they're definitely not becoming friends anytime soon (so do they think)

So they continue with small snarky comments here and there, they kind avoid each other during calm times at the station, but never to a point where it's really uncomfortable for the rest of the team, it's just a little awkward rivalry between them

Somehow they still do things to help the other : Buck still is the one that brought Eddie and Chris back after the earthquake, and he also sends Carla in Eddie's direction (just less directly), Eddie helps Maddie move...

They don't even admit to themselves that they care a little about the other (like Buck totally getting why the girls at the cowboy bar would want Eddie's number) (like Eddie being more bothered by Taylor Kelly when she talks to Buck than to the others)...

When they're dosed they get pretty friendly and cuddly, they might even say some stuff to each other... But they awkwardly do as if nothing happened on the following shift

On Halloween, Buck leaves Abby officially

Then Buck, Actually happens

Eddie gets worried for Buck during the Lola/Norman intervention and get angry at him afterwards for being too reckless (like trying to negotiate with an armed woman not knowing if you will help or anger her more)

The Thomas and Mitchell emergency happens, and Buck comes to certain realisations about himself (bi bi bi) that he thinks about all day

Then he goes to the bar with Chimney and Maddie and while they're singing he receives a drink 🥁🥁 from Eddie! (who was supposed to meet friends from the academy) (the drink is a peace offering?)

Then they weirdly flirt over beating each other at pool or darts or something "wanna go for the title?" card is thrown

Maddie and Chim join them but end up both leaving when Chim offers to drive Maddie home > the boys are in the middle of a very competitive match at that point, Chim is worried leaving them alone might lead to a murder not-so-mystery

They continue playing and drinking and Idk how they get there exactly but they end up making out in the bar's bathroom (and then Eddie's house) (Chris is at Pepa's)

They wake up being all awkward saying stuff like 'this won't happen again right ahah?' and then Buck is about to leave and suddenly they're making out again

So this become a regular thing, while at work they get a little friendlier. The rivalry is still there but there's no bite to their little comments anymore

Now Eddie tries to get Christopher into his new school and needs to contact Shannon. They do not get back together (Eddie doesn't know what to do with his attraction to Buck and men yet, but he's not about to be snooping around with TWO people) but they do start seeing each other more often

Buck thinks Shannon and Eddie are back together, he doesn't initiate anything more than friendly with Eddie anymore (still he can't resist when Eddie initiate it)

Seeing as he's not sleeping with her but actually talking, it's easier for Eddie to trust Shannon again to be part of Chris life (but since the school transfer happened later than in the show, maybe the reunion still happen at Christmas)

Buck and Eddie still take Chris to see Santa, and after the 'you two have an adorable son' Buck feels guilty about liking the idea, he feels like it's not his place, especially now that Shannon is back

Shannon, Eddie and Chris do more family outing after Christmas (it's a little soon to leave Chris alone with Shannon yet so, step by step) and now Buck feels like he need to step away completely from Eddie and Chris's lives.

Around the same time, Doug happens.

Which means that with the emotional turmoil this brought, Eddie is not surprised that Buck is more distant, he just thinks Buck needs time to be focused on Maddie and Chim for now

Then 911 going down and the bank heist go approximately the same, just things are awkward between Buck and Eddie

They do end up talking, and clearing the miscommunication around Shannon (they decide to still keep their situationship (it's a full relationship at that point they're just too dense to see it) a secret at work until Eddie finishes his probationary year at least)

maybe after that Buck even get invited to a family activity with Shannon Chris and Eddie (that's when, seeing Buck doing something cute with Chris, Eddie realizes he's falling in love with that guy) (Shannon realizes that too and she's teases Eddie about it afterwards) (that's when they realize they never got divorced) (Shannon actually help Eddie with being okay with his sexuality)

Then Shannon dies. And it kills Eddie a little too. Buck stays by his side at every step. He helps put Christopher in bed, he helps planning the funeral, he gets Shannon's stuff out of her apartment... He doesn't know if he should come to the funeral, if Eddie wants him there, but of course he does (Chris too really need the support)

He doesn't go to the family dinner the next day though, and doesn't see Helena and Ramon try to make them come back to Texas. He doesn't see Eddie being reprimanded for bringing a stranger in such an important moment for Christopher. Ramon is enough of an asshole to imply maybe buck was there because Shannon was sleeping with him (in a derogatory way)

The serial bombings start. Eddie voices his concerns about Chris' school getting targeted after they receive the school bag call, but Buck tries to reassure him with facts about serial killers and patterns and he starts to info dump on serial killers and oh wow Eddie's in love with him.

Then boom the firetruck explodes, Buck almost dies and Eddie holds his hand through all of it.

Buck survives and Eddie tells him he loves him and Buck thinks it's only because he almost died.

Eddie offers Buck to move in with them at least until he recovers, since the house in adapted for Chris already

Buck refuses at first, then he talks to Maddie and tells her everything about Eddie, she advise communication with Eddie (about the I love you thing because that's what's blocking buck really)

They communicate (🎉) and Eddie makes a beautiful love declaration to Buck and Buck tries to do a beautiful declaration back, but he's crying and on meds so it's a bit wonky but Eddie loves it anyway

Eddie's ceremony happens, Eddie tries to make sure his parents and Buck exchange as little as possible (actually he tries to make sure his parents talk to anyone from the team the least amount he can) and after the ceremony they start moving Buck's things to Eddie's house

[cringefailvox]

Ooh... I know a lot of things have changed since the pilot, but do you think Rosie and her cannibals are still canonically Hellborn? It vexes me lmao:

She's an Overlord, which are supposedly all Sinners, and she deals with souls, but everything else indicates otherwise. Everyone living in her district has the same eyes and teeth and diet and culture, implying they're a distinct species. They can reproduce even though Sinners can't; those cannibal kids we see are too young to be deceased Sinners- traditional Christian law states that everyone who dies under the age of 13 immediately goes to Heaven because they're not old/mature enough to be considered accountable for any sins. And we see Cannibal Babies and Animals.

my headcanon for this is that cannibal town is so close-knit and uniform because in general, the nature of cannibalism tends to cluster in intense survival situations with specific groups of people, like the donner party or the essex crew, or populations suffering intense siege famines. cannibalism is rarely an individual incident though it does happen with serial killers and other cases of mental illness. so i do think that they are all sinners, even the kids, because hazbin's whole thing is about the injustice of the system and how we don't even know what sin actually is, so it seems perfectly plausible to me that a kid could wind up in hell, and returning back to the family/group cannibalism thing, those situations very much include kids participating as well

and i doubt hazbin actually cares about what xtian doctrine says, since so much of the worldbuilding departs massively from xtian canon anyway. so i've settled on the idea that cannibals are sinners, they just tend to group up together as a matter of habit, because i can imagine that the rest of hell really isn't into having cannibals for neighbors and rosie can provide a structured environment to meet everybody's needs that the city proper can't. i would still like to know the canonical answer to this question but that's what i'm going with for now

[ppystkposts]

Thoma x Ayato - Gift to ppy

written by @bananacatcan

words = ~3k

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

The day so far had been a particularly long one for Thoma. The blonde young man had greeted the rising red sun as it climbed up from behind the mountains, and as it slowly settled further in the sky he found himself hard at work for Ayato. At first, he was tasked with trivial pursuits, running missives to officials throughout Inazuma, making sure flyers and gubernatorial materials for his Lord were passed about and taken care of. After, Thoma had moved to more involved tasks such as having tea with conspirators that worked for Kamisato clan. 

These kinds of things were his favorite to do. Not that he was afraid of hard labor, in fact, Thoma loved it! It was the kind of work that you could just turn your brain off and get things done. However, talking and swapping rumors and stories was what the man loved best – especially since information warfare was the name of the game in Inazuma.

And so, he found himself in a small teahouse, gossiping with a cup in his hand as the early dawn sky turned towards the morning blue. The woman before him had some juicy information about the head of Yae’s Publishing House, and though she never steered him wrong, Thoma still doubted the veracity of her story.

“Really? That happened to Lady Miko?”

He hesitated before smiling with a chuckle.

 “I haven’t heard about it until you told me!” Thoma nearly choked on his tea as his information recounted about something that happened to the kitsune. Apparently, at a cafe somewhere in town, she had a little incident concerning whip cream ending up in places it shouldn’t due to a laid-off worker’s efforts! He brushed his blonde fringe from his face and smiled again. “As nice as this chat has been, I was supposed to have met someone ten minutes ago at the docks.” Thoma rose from his seat and bent his head respectfully, “Accept my most sincerest apologies.” 

A few coins were placed on the table, along with a couple more slid over to the woman. She counted the change and tucked it into her yukata as Thoma left the building with a lopsided smile spread across his features. 

This next task would be his last for the afternoon and he would be remiss if he didn’t recount what happened to Yae with Ayato!

***

It’s no good to worry about something like this, especially when I know our merchant is skilled and well-versed in transactions. Ayato’s brow was creased, and his hands were clasped behind his back. Normally, he wouldn’t be so forthcoming with his feelings, choosing to mask his emotions behind a passive expression. 

However, in the privacy of his own room, the Lord of Kamisato allowed himself to be… himself. It wasn’t like him to be so vexed, especially because he prided himself in being in full control of himself and his emotions, but today there was an important deal going on that he couldn’t personally oversee due to the supposed danger of it all. The truth is, House Kamisato was in the midst of a trade war with Yae Publishing House, and it was neck to neck right now. 

An important client who had the potential to sway the economy in whichever direction he went was meeting with representatives of both houses to discuss business policies and contracts. Ayato had worked hard to restore House Kamisato’s tarnished reputation, and now that it was polished to a keen shine, he would like to restore his coffers. So, to say that he was a little distressed would be an understatement. He’d nearly gone three days without sleep, but if it wasn’t for Thoma’s insistence that he get some rest, the young Lord would’ve done it. Instead, he’d slept for a pittance of four hours and was now wearing a hole in his carpet from pacing back and forth. 

This is no good.

He sighed again and glanced into a mirror. To the untrained eye he held his noble visage with pride, but those few who truly knew the man saw the signs. Rather than stare down the other Ayato in the mirror, he turned to his window and peered out into the throngs of people as they shifted about their day-to-day lives. Seeing so many hopes and dreams at work settled him a little, and he found that his shoulders went down when he thought about Thoma. Somewhere out there in the sea of lives, that green-eyed menace was working his magic. 

Ayato straightened himself up, and immediately felt his shoulders shoot back up upon hearing a knock at his door.

“Come in!” He whirled around and watched as one of his servants entered the room.

“My Lord!” She bowed her head quickly. “It’s Thoma, there’s been some trouble!”

Trouble?! 

Ayato tensed up. He cleared his throat of any anxiety that might have shown. 

“Trouble, you say? What happened?” His voice came out cool and collected. Calm and deliberate. This was done with intention as he waited for the girl’s next words.

“Well…”

***

Thoma’s last job for the morning was to help one of Kamisato’s dockworkers load a shipment of… something. Ayato was secretive about the contents of the barrels but whatever they were, they stunk something terrible! The dockworker seemed to be unfazed though, he elected to roll barrels up the ramp while Thoma carried them over. Carry and roll, carry and roll. This work continued until the sun was beginning to reach its zenith in the middle of the sky. 

That’s when it happened. 

For some reason or other, maybe the barrel wasn’t secured, or whatever was inside had eaten through whatever seals kept it from loosening. Whatever the explanation was, the barrel was in Thoma’s hands. Had he taken a moment to inspect it, he would have noticed that the banding was warped. The planks were bending. The smell, odorous as it was, was more pungent than the others for some reason. Either way, when he hoisted it up with a grunt, it splintered instantaneously and the foul liquid inside splashed all over the hapless young man. He could feel the smell seep through his clothes and coat his skin. He retched, and as if to add insult to injury, Thoma slipped in the slick spill and hit his head. The other worker’s words echoed softly as the world blinked before Thoma, his fleeting thoughts turned to Ayato and…

***

“...I see.”

Ayato was not amused, far from it. His sleeves, usually flowing and elegant, were plucked and pulled with every heavy footstep as he thudded down the hall towards Kamisato’s bathhouse. 

Thoma was inside, according to a passing servant. The Lord nodded and opened the door quietly so that he could enter without disturbing Thoma. 

***

The blonde-haired young man was underneath the surface of the warm water, blowing bubbles as steam rolled down his forehead in small beads. The back of his head still pulsed. A tentative touch confirmed it – Thoma had a tender knot swelled behind his head. With a frustrated sigh to himself, he let himself sink deeper in the water until it was up to his forehead. He’d never hear the end of it from Ayato.

And, as if right on cue. 

“Ahem” 

Thoma bolted up as water splashed into the pool, his body glistened underneath the dim light of the candles above. Immediately, he dipped his head as his hair curtained his features like a wet mop. “My Lord.” He began, before Ayato cut him off. 

“Knock it off.” Ayato clicked his tongue and stepped a little closer so that he could see Thoma better, his eyes were firmly glued to his head as if searching for something, and to allow the man some semblance of privacy. The sultry warmth of the bath house dusted both boys' cheeks with a light shade of pink, both of them stood in silence with only the drip of water falling from Thoma’s body. The strange tension was broken by Thoma.

“My Lord.” He tried again. “You look so tired. I realize that you’ve been pushing yourself so hard lately.” Thoma used one hand to hold his towel, and the other pushed his damp hair away from his face as he brought himself to his full height. [] He recognized the expression on Ayato’s face as his “I’m going to give you a lecture.” expression and quickly tried to placate the exhausted man. 

“How about this? Once I’m finished down here, I’ll go right on up and cook you something delicious. Anything that you’d l–” 

“This isn’t the time for that!” Thoma shrank back as Ayato barked at him. Remorse quickly filled the young Lord’s heart and he spoke a little softer. Firmly, but softer. “–Sorry. But, look.” He sighed tightly and let his hand hang low, something that was only reserved for the people closest to him. “What am I supposed to do? How should I feel? A business deal is happening right now, one that can either fund House Kamisato or put us behind Yae’s Publishing House. A deal that… that I can’t oversee for concerns for my own well-being. Then, my right hand. My lance. My kni–” His voice caught, “My night would have been completely ruined if something serious happened to you.”

Thoma bit his tongue. It was hard to resist cracking wise about the purview of what qualifies as a serious injury, cause hey, your head is pretty important. Instead, he waded closer to Ayato, green eyes locked in his. He could see the price of ambition in his Lord’s eyes, weighing the man down with the effort of resurrecting House Kamisato.

“Ayato…” Thoma began gently. From behind his ice-blue hair, Ayato peered up at Thoma. How long had it been since Thoma referred to him by his name?

“I apologize for worrying you.” The distance between them lessened. Ayato hesitated and the chandelier above seemed to highlight Thoma’s eyes. “But, if I may speak? Not as your right hand, and not as your lance, but… as your friend, and as someone who cares about you…”

Thoma watched his Lord’s shoulders fall. He smiled and brought his knuckles up to gently brush against Ayato’s chin. Small goosebumps swelled at his touch and the Lord shivered in response. Thoma was warm, warmer than usual today. Inches apart now, Ayato waited for Thoma to continue. Then, without warning., Thoma wrapped one sinewy arms around Arato’s lithe figure and lifted him across his shoulder!

“T-Thoma!?” He was alarmed, and keenly aware of how strong the blonde was. “Cease this at once and put me down!” He fought back gently, nearly swiping at Thoma’s head before recalling why he was in such a bad mood in the first place. His pleas only fell on deaf ears. Thoma’s laughter echoed in the bath house as he brought his fingers against Ayato’s back, softly trailing them against the fancy materials of his robes. The Lord spasmed and his voice rose an octave, “Thoma! Cease this unruly behavior!”

“Nope, you’ve been really cranky lately. I hate to see you in such a bad mood, and besides, I was only going to tell you that you should lighten up some!” This time, Thoma spidered his fingers across Ayato’s back, letting them fly up to his collar. “Tho-hohahaha I’m- I’m being s-serious heheh-here!” Straining to push Thoma away was tough, and getting tickled at the same time only made it more difficult for Ayato as he tried to free himself. 

“Can’t hear you, My Lord. What’s so funny?” Thoma teased Ayato’s collar away from his neck before grazing his fingers lightly against the sides before fluttering his fingers tenderly against his skin. Ayato howled with laughter at the sensation as he twitched and writhed!

“Yo-yohohoho-ahem-YOU FIENDHEHEH!” Ayato succumbed and felt his neck turn red as he tried to stifle his laughter. Acting quickly, the Lord wiggled his fingers around Thoma’s firm obliques.

“N-nono-nohoaahHAHAHAHA, Ayayhahato!” The shift in balance buckled them both, and with another rub of his sides, the two men splashed in the water together! 

Ayato’s renown garb quickly became saturated as he sputtered back up, but Thoma wasn’t going to give his Lord a single inch of quarter! Just as fast as they fell, the blonde leapt upon his prey and let him have it. 

He let his fingers grace Ayato’s chest as the Lord thrashed and splashed in the warm water, sploshing and laughter bouncing off the walls of the room. When Ayato grabbed Thoma’s arm, he simply elected to slip his fingers underneath his armpits which elicited more stifled giggles. He felt his toes curl as his chest caved from the sensation. Water splashed over them as Ayato’s legs fluttered and kicked.

“O-oo-ohhohoho OKAY! Yo-youhuhu m-made your po-point! S-sTAHAHAHAP!” Thoma made Ayato’s voice rise again as he pulled away, letting his wet fingertips gently glide against the surface of his skin. His robes were wet, and clung to his body, which only gave Thoma’s tickling touch even more power than it had. Still, this moment of reprieve was much appreciated. How long had it been since he let himself laugh like this? His chest rose and fell as he gazed at the ceiling in a trance, perking up just as he felt Thoma work at his shoes.

His shoes.

Ayato squealed and covered his warm face with his hands as he let his legs pump and kick, he could feel Thoma’s abs brush against the sensitive skin of his soles.

“Don-EYHAHAHAHAHA! STAHP STAHAHA NO MORE! I-I’m gonnahahaha kICK YOU!!” 

It wasn’t well known, if known at all. But, one of Ayato’s most sensitive spots was his feet, something that Thoma would tease him with when they were younger. Small, fleeting things. A brush of a feather, or a gentle poke against his soles when they slept together. His most favorite sensation was the sand running beneath his soles as the tide rolled over his feet. 

And now, Thoma was exploiting that weakness. Ayato squirmed and squealed, curling his pedicured toes in as he thrashed in the water like a fish!

Keen on making Ayato laugh his worries away, Thoma daren’t relent, and in his determination was one flaw. A swift, (accidental? perhaps) against his solar plexus. Not enough to hurt, but enough to get him to back away and fall on his palms, laughing along with Ayato. The Lord pounced on Thoma and began his own counter-attack, fingertips sending prickles against the blonde’s sides, poking and teasing at his taut, firm muscle. 

“NO-NOOhoOhohoho AYATOOHOHOHAHA!”

Ayato didn’t relent, he prodded up Thoma’s sides and Thoma responded in kind by bucking and laughing breathlessly as water splashed all over the pair. With two fingers, Ayato whisked at each firm ab until he reached Thoma’s chest. Every single touch sent laughter and spasms through the Thoma’s body! Ayato paused for effect, and beamed down at Thomabefore letting his thumbs run circles around his nipples. He shivered in response to his Lord’s touch and erupted in mirth again as his collarbone was attacked with strokes! Thoma drew in a sharp breath and let out pure mirth once more, only this time he slipped. 

With a yelp, Ayato fell onto Thoma’s chest and Thoma splashed into the water. Both men felt something ridgid between them. Ayato’s cheeks shaded scarlet and Thoma sat up, too embarrassed to look at Ayato. 

“That was– “ Thoma mumbled.

“I needed it.” Ayato reassured before clearing his throat. 

Thoma nodded, and found the courage to level his gaze with Ayato’s again. Wordlessly before smiling at each other. Their smiles stretched until they chuckled, then they  both threw their heads back and howled in peals of laughter about everything that had happened today. Thoma at his bumped head, Ayato at how worried he’d been these last few days. Their laughter echoed together within the bath house until they both sighed and sank into the water. 

Ayato would be the one to break the silence between them this time, rising to his knees to wade closer to Thoma.

“...Thank you, Thoma. I needed that.” Ayato grunted softly as he rose further from the bath, steam rising from the wet clothes that still clung to his tight body. 

Thoma watched intently.

 Ayato was lithe and thin, the opposite of his own muscled and toned body, and yet… he admired how aesthetic he was. Ayato lifted his arms and shrugged his clothes away, letting everything fall into the water before stepping out of the cloth and scooping it up. With a wry smile, he flung his clothes into Thoma’s face.” 

“If you stare like that, I’ll get embarrassed.” Ayato huffed in jest. 

Thoma pulled away Ayato’s clothes and threw them to the side, noting that they smelled faintly of Inazuma’s sakura blossoms. Despite his protests, Ayato approached Thoma before lowering himself into the water next to him, facing him as he closed his eyes and sighed. Wordlessly, he put his hands around Thoma’s neck – Thoma flinched just a little before relaxing as he realized that Ayato wasn’t going to tickle him again. Instead, his Lord pulled himself closer to his body and set his hand against the back of his head. 

With gentle guidance, Ayato lowered Thoma’s head and felt around for the lump. When he found it, he clicked his tongue and brought his lips gently against it with a soft smooch. 

“I’m sorry, Thoma. For worrying you. Look at what I’ve caused to happen.” He kissed Thoma’s goose egg again and continued, “I won’t have you make dinner tonight, instead, let me bathe you.” 

Thoma turned to face Ayato, and his Lord merely held out his finger.

“No funny business. I’ve learned my lesson, and I can already feel how sore I’m going to be tomorrow because of you.”

Thoma smiled, and let his hands fall on Ayato’s back, shying for a moment when he felt his Lord’s body shiver. Thoughts about how the rest of this night was going to end up as. He couldn’t help but grin to himself. 

…After all, Ayato was a firm believer in revenge being served cold…

[barblaz-arts]

Ok I lied, one more Hazbin character ask.🙏

Thoughts on Lucifer, Carmilla, Rosie, and Adam?

Lucifer

I love love love him. Terrible dad tho! Lmfaoo

Genuinely think Charlie let him off the hook too easy for all the neglect imo. It's kinda weird how most of the fandom suddenly thinks he's a great dad. He's okay at best, tbh. Just because he has a gorgeous singing voice(Jeremy Jordan is the fuckin BEST man) and a silly personality doesn't mean everything's swell. I hope the second season further tackles this. I remember someone saying before that Lucifer resembled a dad who accidentally had a baby as a teen and doesn't actually know how to be a father and I haven't forgotten about how accurate that is. Still tho! Great character! I'm not even exactly mad about him being popular, just a little bothered by how he's viewed by most people. I hope the show has him do more than sing a musical number to EARN Charlie's forgiveness

Carmilla

I love her, even if the way her character is written is a little, um, how do I say it? Weird? Doesn't make sense sometimes.

Like how she's a demon Overlord who sells weapons but has a line that goes "I always thought that I would keep blood off my face". So does that mean she's never killed anyone before? Or maybe she swore off killing at some point? If she's only ever taken a life to protect her daughters, what sin did she commit to get her to end up in Hell, with her daughters no less. I have my speculations, but with how little we know about her, speculations don't change the fact that Carmilla is a strangely written character. She has some moments that are just questionable choices from the writers too. Like, how they had Carmilla point out how obvious Vaggie's nature is, making Charlie's feelings of betrayal look a little stupid on Charlie's part. Or how Carmilla sang to Vaggie that she should focus on love and not revenge, even though all Vaggie has ever thought about is protecting Charlie while never showing any signs of even thinking about getting back at Lute. Such a strange character. I hope she makes more sense next season when we get to see more of her, because I truly do love her. If this is never tackled though and I just happen to be overthinking, it's fine. I still like her anyways.

Rosie

A really sweet lady for a, um, cannibal. I can never get behind the fact that she and the other characters eat people RAW though! No matter how beautiful she is, the hotness factor is knocked down as long as you don't clean, cook, and season your food, maam. Nasty.

I hope we see more of her relationship with Charlie though. People keep talking about how Carmilla and Vaggie are similar, but I feel we should talk about her similarities with Charlie too. Throughout the show Charlie is ridiculed and given no respect by her people because of her sweet nature and jolly disposition, but here Rosie is being all those things and yet has a whole town to lead! I hope them meeting is set up to have Charlie learn even more from her.

Adam

Oh man he vexes me lol I don't completely hate him, because he has some funny moments, and kickass songs, and the OG Broadway Beetlejuice voices him, but he's suuuuuch an asshooooole. He's not even the kind of villain that you still like to see and romanticize even when he's evil. At least to me. I think my brother explained accurately why. He hates Adam in fact, and that's because his attitude and personality is too accurate to incels that you can see in real life. I enjoyed him as the first season's villain, but I do NOT want him coming back somehow as a sinner like others want. I want him to stay dead. It's Lute's turn to be the new big bad. I still have Pentious if I want more Alex Brightman anyway.

[blorbologist]

Architects of our Demise | Chapter 22

[ Age of Arcanum AU | Perc'ahlia | M | Updates every 2 weeks]

[ Vax is the Warden of Ravens, Vex is his Champion, Percival is the creator of aeormatons, and FCG is ~vibing~ ]

[Chapter 22: Keyleth of the Gau Drashari seems to hold the last pieces of this puzzle. But will it be enough?]

--

Percy has never stepped through a tree before; he places a hand on the smooth azure trunk to steady himself as he follows Keyleth. There’s no blinding light, no vertigo of teleportation. Just an involuntary blink.

When he again reaches back for balance, deep-grooved bark scratches at his palm. Glancing up, the canopy almost vanishes into pitch black - if not for the smattering of candles on its branches and the halo of galaxies painted in the sky beyond.

They’re certainly not at the party anymore.

Trinket shoves him the rest of the way through; Percival stumbles to Keyleth’s side. 

“This is incredible,” he murmurs. “I’ve never seen trees so tall!”

She beams. “I know, right?! Apparently what happened is that the first Gau Drashari were all ‘yeah we’ll protect this holy site’, and the Dawnfather said ‘thanks - but shit, this is a mountain and not much really grows here’, so He planted some trees from His orchard and -”

The portal closes with an ancient groan, leaving only the festive lamps and stars to illuminate them. To illuminate Vex as she strides over, straight as an arrow. She pokes Keyleth viciously, an illusory long nail gliding right through cloth and leather with each jab. 

Rapid-fire and piercing: “Who are you? What the hell is going on and how are you involved? How the fuck do you know my brother?”

Keyleth swallows; Vex redirects her glare towards the throat. Something about this allows the Archdruid to find her footing and regain some confidence: “Hey, that’s really uncalled for. He’s the one who told me to get you!”

“Bullshit -”

“Vex’ahlia,” Percival says. 

It’s then she takes a moment to glance around and notices, as he had, that there are a lot of druids here. In the middle of the festival their arrival interrupted.

Percy continues carefully: “This is - understandably - very shocking. However, I’m not certain we have the time for the full backstory at the moment? And if we do, it should be covered in private.”

Reluctantly, Vex steps back. Gau Drashari begin murmuring. Keyleth speaks in a flurry of language unfamiliar to Percy. Apparently it is enough to convince them to return to their festivities, though not without a look of concern.

“Where was I? Oh, right! We probably have time,” Keyleth says with a weak laugh. “I mean - I dealt with the guys that jumped me after I, you know, came back.”

“No,” Vex says, “we don’t know - and we have our own urgent shit to attend to. Can you give us a rundown, darling?”

“I - sure?” Keyleth inhales: 

“So I’ve been leading my people for a long, long time, and assholes keep killing me, and every time I die I meet this guy - the Warden? - and we talk a little and he says it’s not my destiny to die here, so he just sends me back. And that happened again tonight, several times, and he was really upset about that and told me to go find you, and it’s my guess it has something to do with the Replenishment or the Solstice or both.” Gasping for breath, she smiles. “I think that’s everything?”

In the silence between them, Percival can finally hear Cathmoíra itself: the laughter and talking of citizens, the crackle of dozens of merry fires, the groans of massive trees waving their branches overhead.

“Maybe we need the long version after all,” Percy muses -

and ducks instinctively as massive explosions roar overhead, each BOOM crashing into the next. 

--

A bounty of reds and golds and whites and blues and all manner of animated illusions bloom in the sky, a backdrop to the approaching City of Crowns.

The Firework Extravaganza is gorgeous to behold, even from the ground.

[From the beginning] [Keep reading on AO3!]

[inknopewetrust]

𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚐𝚎𝚗𝚌𝚎

summary: you are recruited to the spider society after conducting a batch of vigilante actions against the men who killed your husband, miguel and well... their leader isn’t like the man you remembered.

pairing: miguel o’hara x spider-woman!reader [wc: 12.7k]

warnings: language. this has got everything: backstory, meeting, conflict, angst, sadness, tie-ins with the film, (i hope you're reading this in a stefon voice), ethical dilemmas, vigilante shit, violence, romantic love strains, etc., etc.

Manhattan was rainy. It was always rainy.

But let’s do this again, shall we?

The skyline was high. Muddled variants of blues and reds, the colors that had painted your life for a decade now. It was silly to imagine a world of color beyond that–it's all you knew, you had nothing left.

And all of that nothing was the consequences of the dealings of a few bad men.

You breathed in deep. They were right there, right below your feet.

Their laughter in their indifference to life was vexing. It made your blood broil and bubble to the surface where you thought your eyes may have been red and your grip on the stone building was onerous.

In the distance, police sirens blared across the city where crime did not take a backseat because their most treasure hero was rogue. People were in trouble but you saw cessation of hope with every second that passed and those in charge did nothing to avenge your husband.

Husband. Nevertheless, what you had was gone and never coming home to you. The least you could do was try to find the justice to be brought by your own hands.

"Nah, man..." One of the men–a blonde, high-tech worker from the east side of town–shook his head. "We can't go there. They've got cameras all over the place! Ain't no way we are gettin' out free."

"Well then we go downtown and hit one alongside the river. We'll set up a boat and get us to Brooklyn before they can even suspect anyone was there," another collaborator said. Blondie shook his head determined.

"You think Spider-Girl isn't gonna be waitin' for us?" He scoffed, scuffing his shoes against the pavement. You perched straighter as you peered down. Spider-Woman. It was Spider-Woman.

“She got Mikey last week, Simon two days ago… we don’t have much left and if you think robbin’ fuckin’ Wall Street is gonna save us, you’re wrong.”

A sensible criminal with blood on his hands. Nice.

“Besides, they got the police captain on her ass and while they’re out lookin’ for her, they won’t sweat the small stuff,” blondie pulled a black ski mask from his jacket.

“It’s now or never,” he slipped it on and walked to the door of the bodega on the corner. He held out his hand as if his friend was actually a true friend and not a piece to his own networked puzzle.

Your stomach turned and the sight made your spine tingle.

Outside on the sidewalk of the street in the rain of New York City, the two men who were left of the dirty dozen walked into the grocer with no intention to buy anything.

It hadn’t dawned on you that as you dropped to the pavement, you weren’t wearing your suit or mask.

The hub was quiet.

In this slick world, everything was silver and green and the headquarters were no different — yet too different for Peter to know that he wasn’t from this universe and always felt out of place.

A picture on desk that wasn’t his grounded him to a separate reality; one of love and hope and a small child’s laughter.

Spider-Byte’s was typing away on the keys beside him while he tapped away on the table top.

Nothing exciting had happened since the… glitch. It had been a long nine months without the glue that had put him back together.

That was until Spider-Byte’s computer started beeping in a manic fashion. It was a sound neither of them had heard before. A high pitched siren blaring loudly from a machine the the left of Peter, a button glowing red and flashing.

“Uh,” Peter pointed to the button, “you got any clue what that’s about?”

Spider-Byte shook her head as she pulled up a database on a screen. Her tech hands glided over the keys like music, fluid and fast and working with a purpose.

“Some system Miguel’s got here,” she muttered and Peter attempted to cover the small speaker beside the button with his hand—it didn’t work.

“Where is he? He said he’d be right back and now we’re facing the end of the wor—“

“I doubt this is the end of the world, Peter!” Spider-Byte cut him off harshly. “Now would you be useful and go find Miguel?”

As the dutiful Spider-Person he was, Peter rushed out of the central lair and into the bright white halls of the headquarters. Everyone he passed he asked the same question:

“Hey! You’ve seen Miguel anywhere?”

“Yo! Seen the big man around?”

He slid up to a group of variant Julia Carpenters as they sipped on coffee in the cafeteria. Peter gave them a sly smirk, trying to be cool, and snapped his fingers.

“Have any of you seen the boss today? Looking fine as usual.”

Synchronized, the Julia’s pointed to the empanada station and sure as shit, there was Miguel, talking with the vender who yes, just happened to also be a Spider-Man.

“Miguel!” Peter screeched from the table and Miguel’s mind went soured. A violent jolt to his instincts as the new father came barreling toward him.

“¡At no…!” Miguel mumbled to himself as Peter skidded to a halt, dropping his hand on Miguel’s shoulder with a clunk.

“Hey, Boss! Whatcha… watcha doin’ out here?” Peter chuckled nervously and Miguel narrowed his eyes. “You said you’d be right back.”

“I did,” Miguel drawled. “I told you five minutes and it’s only been three, Peter.”

Peter laughed, glancing around the space as confused gazes began to pick up on the pebbles of sweat that dripped from his temple.

“Oh! You don’t say?”

“What’s so impo—“ Miguel began but never finished. Lyla appeared out of thin air with a casual urgency unlike Peter’s frantic one.

“We’ve got a doozy here for ya, boss.”

With Lyla, everything came to life smoothly. As she snapped her fingers, holograms of screens appeared like magic and on them, an un-masked, Spider-Woman was beating the shit out of thieves in a bodega.

“Jesus,” Peter whispered to himself.

“He doesn’t come here,” Miguel replied without a smile nor a chuckle but it took Peter back.

Miguel was watching the woman carefully. This Spider-Woman was not apart of the society and was actively doing what no Spider-Person should do. However, Miguel knew the actions. He felt them deep within his bones and the mistakes he had made as a newly minted Spider-Man 2099.

“Name’s Y/n L/n… a former nurse who got mixed up in a bad batch of blood for a transfusion. This isn’t the first time we’ve been alerted about her,” Lyla debriefed and Miguel snapped.

“What do you mean, ‘not the first time?’”

“These are a group of men she’s been targeting. It’s got to do with her,” Lyla cleared her throat that was nonexistent, “canon event.”

“We have to bring her in,” Miguel began walking away from Peter and Lyla followed. “I am NOT having some vigilante shit show up on this doorstep. Peter, get Jess, brief her and get a day pass to bring along.”

“Miguel,” Peter wagered, “what if this is associated with her canon? What if she’s just an anti-hero in her world?”

“She’s not,” Lyla piped back in. “She’s a hero, hero. And this isn’t part of her canon event. You’ve gotta know how grief moves people?”

Miguel grunted, Peter sighed.

“Get Jess. I’ll wait for you,” Miguel pushed on Peter’s shoulder to send him the other way.

Once alone and down the winding halls near the center of the headquarters, Lyla spoke again perched on Miguel’s shoulder.

“Miguel, I think there’s something you should know?”

“Know what, Lyla?” Miguel’s attitude had always been sour—she had been there from his creation and it never changed. He never truly smiled, he never truly laughed.

Miguel O’Hara was a tough nut to crack in a world full of people who lived off joy and laughter.

But she could feel the sensations radiating off of him. Those strident lines of afflictions that were masked by the way he covered his face. The tense nature of his shoulders as he walked further and further away but closer to a person he’d never thought to face again.

It felt like an intrusion all over again.

“You know what, Lyla?”

“I know what you’re thinking,” she defended, hologramed hand squeezing his shoulder. “But there are a million Peter’s and Gwen’s and MJ’s out there.”

“This isn’t her,” Miguel huffed. “She would never do this.”

“But she is, Miguel… and her canon event is you.”

“So a possible disruption?”

“It’s already happened,” Lyla explained, giving immediate explanation to your actions. Miguel did not know you in this way, but he could imagine why such feelings would manifest in violence.

“Good, good.”

Lyla scoffed, hopping to her feet. “I wouldn’t say it’s ‘good,’ boss. You died in her world. You were married in her world. I think she’s gonna wanna slap you for even existing in another timeline.”

“Why?” Miguel quirked a brow. “You know her or something? Keeping secrets from me now?”

To save her, Peter and Jess entered the lair with their bands glowing. Lyla simply shrugged and disappeared before they jumped into an Earth that would feel like they own but be nothing like it.

“Miguel," Jess was already shaking her head. Three months pregnant and still doing work, both Peter and Miguel would not be surprised if the child arrived wearing a suit of their own. "There's no anomaly there–there hasn't been a case in that world of a villain glitching from another."

"It's not about the bad guys," Miguel walked toward them to meet them in the middle. "What she's doing no Spider-Person has done before and what's the purpose of a society if we don't help one of our own?"

Lyla appeared between the three ready to open the portal.

"One last thing, folks!" She walked around casually glowing and pushed up her heart shaped glasses to her hairline. "She's not wearing her suit - so if you don't work fast, her identity will be known to the public and well! We just can't have that, can we?"

"Fantastic!" Peter complained as Miguel opened up the portal. "They are a bit suffocating really, if you asked me."

"Well we didn't," Miguel gruffed.

"What's her name? Just Spider-Woman?" Jess asked. "Should we just yell 'Hey! Spider-Woman! Stop it! You're actually a good person!'"

"Y/n. Her name is Y/n and don't freeze up when you see her, alright bud? Alright! See you all when you get back! Have fun!" Lyla waved, patting Miguel's leg as she walked the floor and disappeared once more.

Stretching out his legs, Peter did not miss the glare Miguel gave Lyla. His eyes cold and hardened; he knew so little of this leader but felt he knew so much. Miguel wasn't like the other Spider-People and well, he assumed perhaps you were not either.

Peter missed that he should have recognized your name.

He had been there with Miguel when the other world collapsed.

"Anything else you wanna tell us, boss?" He pushed. Miguel shook his head and slipped on his mask in more ways than one.

"She's disturbing her own canon by going rogue. I'm not going to let her destroy it because she's... upset."

Jess laughed and Miguel was indignant. "If she's a bad egg, she's a bad egg, Miguel. You can't save everyone."

"She's not a bad one!" Miguel scolded her, pointing out toward the darkness of the portal. "She's not supposed to do this and we need to fix this! Y/n is good!"

Peter smirked, wiggling his brows. He could sense Miguel's anger muddled with a nervous fear he never had. "Y/n, Miguel... first name basis already and we haven't even met her. You move fast, don't you?"

"Oh, you are so fucking annoying! She was my wife!"

Peter's eyes nearly popped out of their sockets. "Oh no! Not again, nope!"

"She doesn't exist in this world anymore, Peter," Earth 928, "and in another timeline, she's taken the mantle."

Jess jutted her hip out as the whirring of the portal loomed over them. "So you exist in her's too then? This won't be too confusing. It's just like Peter and MJ or Gwen in the thousands of realities that exist."

"Sure, sure," Miguel said. "But there are only three realities where she exists and," he cleared his throat as he looked down the portal, "this is the last one left."

"We shouldn't risk it. We can't collapse another world."

"We won't collapse it."

"How do you know that?" Peter questioned. There was always a level of selfishness when it came to those someone loved most.

"I just... I just know! You're not in charge here, Peter. If I don't have any hesitations right now, then neither can you."

"Well then," Peter strutted through the portal and turned around before his body was completely gone, "Let's go get us another Spidey then, yeah?"

And he saluted Miguel and Jess before jumping in.

"You've been monitoring her world?" Jess asked and Miguel looked to his feet. She had never seen him so bashful. Never one to make a scene of rash emotional actions, the causation would need

"I watch over many worlds."

"Yeah but come on," She dug, "this is a lot different than those worlds. You know her."

"I don't know her," Miguel defended himself and took a step further into the portal. "She isn't my wife. She's just a version of her that I don't know."

"Mhm," Jess hummed and drummed on her arm as they remained crossed from the moment Miguel said you were his wife. "Let's go meet her then. Then you can go on and on about how she's everything you remember but not the same."

And she walked through the portal before she disappeared to leave Miguel alone.

With clenched fists, Miguel breathed in deep and appeared in a reality he promised never to interfere with.

Inside of the bodega, the two men bartered with one another in the aisle. They looked to be two friends having a conversation in the middle of the shop but their intentions were not pure.

The bell above the door rang as you entered. Shoulders and hair wet from the rain, the cashier paid you no mind as he changed the station on his portable radio sat on the counter.

There were three civilians inside. One, the cashier who was oblivious and that is the sole reason these thugs decided to hit the bodega. An 'easy' target to get in and out. Two, a woman who was going grey at her temples. And three, a teenage kid with untied sneakers.

You ducked behind a shelf as you watched them in the aisle beside you. Between the chips and pretzels they concocted their idiotic plan in the presence of innocent people as they always did–it was how their bank robbery disaster went sideways six months ago.

When civilians are present, one of them will always try and become the hero. It is what Miguel did and now he's six feet under in a cold box.

"Excuse me, Miss," the older woman pointed to the bag of chips that your hand was resting on. She turned your attention away from the men. "Could I get one of those? I don't mean to be a–"

The men began to make their moves and you were distracted by the woman. She had kind eyes. Easy and familiar and a familial feeling to them as she waited patiently for you to move.

"Yes, yes," you replied as you got out of her way. "Sorry."

You didn't know why you apologized. Maybe you felt sorry she found herself in this bodega at an hour such as this.

"No worries, dear." The boy wasn't far from her either. He was shuffling through a freezer looking for a drink that wasn't there.

As she grabbed onto the bag, the radio dropped to the floor and turned off. It startled everyone inside and the cashier filled the silence with his desperate pleas.

"Oh my," his jaw chattered, "please... I don't have anything.... I-I-I I've gotta lot of student lo-o-oans and I really n-need this job."

He was staring into a silver barrel of a gun by the hands of the blonde who orchestrated everything. The older woman screeched behind you and the freezer door slammed shut with a "oh hell no!" following its thud.

You imagined the fear they felt was the same Miguel felt that day. Sitting there, hostage on the bank floor with a check to cash from his mother for his birthday.

The check was in evidence splattered with his blood.

In the neon light of the bodega, you made a choice to never let that happen again.

The cashier kept muttering whole-hearted pleas and the friend reached over the counter to open the register's drawer but it was locked.

"Unlock it!" Blondie ordered, shaking the gun closer and closer to the cashier who looked close to wetting himself. Behind you, the older woman crouched to the floor began praying to herself.

"Unlock it now, you son-of-a-bitch! You wanna end up on the floor? Open it!"

The cashier, who now you realized had a name badge on that read 'Max', began to reach for the keys that were hooked onto the counter.

Fear in his eyes, anticipation in theirs, anger in yours.

Anger always caused the tides to turn.

You reached your hand forward in a quick motion and the web that released itself from your wrist snatched the keys from the hook. Max flew backwards in a jolt of despair and the barrel was soon pointed at you.

"Oh you have got to be kidding!" Blondie screeched and fired a shot. He missed. It was sent right into a chip bag and exploded them all over the floor. You tossed the keys to the older woman and went for the gun.

Like child's play, the gun flew across the bodega and into your palm to be crushed like a piece of fruit. It was still hot from being fired and its pieces crumbled to the floor.

"What the fuck–" the woman stuttered.

"So," Blondie spoke and you hated his tone. Condescending and mighty. "Spider-Woman has a face..."

This friend pulled a bracelet from his pocket that lit up green. It glowed as brightly as the neon signs in the window blurred by the rain.

"She does," you replied. "And it will be the last face you see."

He laughed. They always did. It was an inescapable pattern of dealing with enemies who thought they would win. They never did, and they all thought the same way.

"Is that so? I would really hate to have the Bugle's headline to read: Spider-Woman killed innocent civilians at the 6th street Bodega." He let out a series of tisks with a shake of his head. "Who knew heroes could be so bad?"

He looked to his friend. "Herman..."

The friend, Herman, locked eyes on you and approached quickly and with a heavy hand charging with the green of the gauntlet. You could hearing the whirring and the loading of the power.

Instead of moving out of the way, you turned and pushed the older woman away. She slid on the slick floor into a corner with her bag of chips still in her hand.

The shock hit you with a staggering power. It blew you backwards into an ice freezer in the back of the store. As you landed on the ground, the woman whimpered in the corner and the boy caught your eye underneath a table by the restrooms.

He couldn't have been more than fifteen.

And he wasn't going to die today.

So, you got back on your feet and brushed off your jacket. The residual sting of the shock began to wear off and the men looked at you with a challenge.

"Who knew fighting the Spider would have been so easy?" Blondie laughed. "Where were you when we started? It would have been a much more fair fight."

"Busy," you spat.

"Huh," he hummed with a nod of his head. It was like he was trying to clock you–the way his eyes squinted and he tilted his head just a bit higher than it normally would have been. "Say, have we met before?"

"I'm sure I would remember. This is certainly a pleasurable encounter."

Blondie didn't let the words sting. You weren't a Spider who stung with a bite.

"I've seen your face before..."

"Maybe I just have one of those faces," you quirked a brow and Herman charged his gauntlet again. "Is this the worst you can do? Threaten a few innocents and have your friend do all the work? What happened to real criminals, huh?"

"Funny," he walked like a villain. Hands in his pockets, shoes scuffing the floor. "I've heard that one before." His mind raked the last time he heard that.

"Well it must say something about you then."

Herman went to shock again and you shot a web at him. He went soaring into a wall, head hitting it hard.

"I know!" He snapped his fingers like a lightbulb went off inside. Clarity now in a world filled of unclear ways. "I've seen your picture before."

"So what?" You matched his movements as he moved toward the center of the store. Every tight aisle blocked your view like a shutter.

"'Is this the worst you can do?' Someone told me that a short time ago. A man who tried to get in my way."

Miguel.

He was at the bank. He had his check ready, he was at the counter. Miguel had his wallet out and prepared.

He had a photo in his wallet.

"And I think you know how that turned out for him. But here's the thing, Spider-Woman... I don't hate the idea of having that same fate met you tonight. I imagine being so deep underneath the ground it gets a little lonely."

He stopped at the center, so did you.

"I think it's time for you to join him."

But all you saw was red.

There was an intense pulsing pressure inside of the bodega. You weren't sure how much time had passed as your fist dug deeper and deeper into the man who spoke too much and had little to act upon.

Whimpers of those left inside were deferred. The begging of his friend fell on deaf ears.

In the corner beside the three civilians–the woman, teen, and cashier–a glowing hexagonal portal opened to the dimension in which they lived. It hummed like a freezer and moved like something from the cinema they watched last year but instead of aliens appearing from the abyss, three people emerged no different than the way they walked.

They were people, human. Three Spider-People in a world that already had a Spider-Woman.

In their perspective the heroes were welcome. They were terrified and huddled within one another as one robber was webbed to the wall and the other was being beaten to a pulp by a woman with super-human strength.

"Peter," Miguel motioned to the civilians in the corner, "get 'em out of here."

The humble servant Peter was, he acted quickly. His nervous high-pitched voice soothing their fears with panic and disbelief that three masked people walked through a portal as though it was any other day.

"Get the man down, Jess," Miguel pointed to the guy webbed to the wall. Jess tipped her head to the side with an amused, sly grin on her face as he wept. Chick's a badass, she thought.

A violent one at the moment, albeit, but a badass nonetheless.

Fist hovered in the air, you went rigid as the sensations coursed through you. A striking feeling that felt more like a severe headache that came on too quickly, the immense pressure your body suddenly took on wasn't unfamiliar.

You had felt them before. It happened when something in the air changed. When something you knew could disappear or when time was suddenly running short. There was no term for it nor did any other person in this world feel what you felt.

The man below you gurgled. It was, just like the sensation, a sound that awoken something within you. It cleared the vision from red to reality and suddenly the harsh lighting of the bodega and the reflections of the neon signs on the linoleum filled in the edges.

"Shit," you stammered as your grip on his body lessened with every second.

Those consistent strums of radiating itching went from the top of your head to the base of your skull. A humming in the distance turned into a whirring sound that was too extraneous to come from a small place such as this one.

In an instant, the aluminum window covers were pulled from the ceiling by a pair of red, glowing lines reminiscent of webs. It shut out the outside world and the rain that had been pouring down for hours. The neon lights no longer reflected themselves on the flooring.

A hero, a villain... at some point those had all become the same to you.

The ideas that propelled them to act were all based in something that made them feel passionate enough to target an opposing force. When a hero turns to the fragmented middle of the road and balances the line of enemy and friend, the revelations of such shame grow from a deeper place of pain.

"Let him go."

The voice in your head sounded so much like Miguel.

And once your senses stopped going wild, your heart lept into your throat at the thought.

You buried him. You buried him six feet under.

The door to the bodega's alley opened and closed.

"Come on," the voice said again, "let him go and we can clean up this mess."

"Stop," you mumbled, shutting your eyes as your fists clenched the man's jacket harder. The one that had been in the air dropped to his chest. It was wet with the mixture of sweat and blood.

"Stop it please. Please stop it."

"Those civilians are gonna go get the police," his voice was low. It was that kind of voice that Miguel would use to talk you down from a nightmare–or maybe what this dimension had made you.

"And when they get here, what do you think they're gonna do when they see you sittin' over him?"

"Stop talking, stop talking, stop talking–" you repeated again and again. A thud in the distance set the blonde's friend on the floor and a web kept him in place once more.

"Boss they're gonna take her," another voice, not one you had ever head before filled the room and suddenly you were terrified that it wasn't voices you were hearing in your head. "We gotta bring her back with us."

"Alright! Three darling innocents saved again by, you guessed it," a far too cheerful voice added to the collection, "me."

You were curled into yourself over the blonde. Peter saw a woman, not dressed in a traditional uniform, use her powers for bad. But he saw the destruction of the man and knew that it wasn't from sheer wickedness.

He had seen you care so much before. It had to come from a place of caring.

"Well," he cleared his throat, "this is... a lot." And then he blanched.

"Jess," Miguel motioned to your static figure. He turned around and walked away as if to say 'you got it.'

There was an inflection in his voice that made Jess bristle. She hated the tone; removed and vacant. He was already living a humorless existence and the idea that this dimension made you act this way fractured himself in a new way.

"You heard him," Peter went scouring the aisles, plucking a bag of dried beef from a shelf to shove his mouth with. "You got this!" He gave a half-hearted thumbs up.

So, Jess had this.

She didn't crouch down. She didn't attempt to place a hand on your shoulder or help clean off your hands.

Jess kneeled on the other side of the man and your distant eyes met hers to know you weren't alone. You weren't alone in your pain and you certainly weren't alone in this world.

Your first thought was that she was pretty. Your second thought was that this woman was pregnant and that made you sad.

"Looks like you've gotten yourself in a bit of a mess," she spoke quietly but acted quickly. She placed her fingers on the pulse of the man.

He was breathing.

"Who are you?"

"Name's Jess."

"Jess," you repeated, "and Jess comes from...?"

She saw your lip tremble, eyes welling with tears. Jesus, she thought, she wasn't ready to be a mother if she couldn't deal with a thirty-something spider-woman who happened to be Miguel's wife in three different dimensions.

"Earth–404."

"Earth?"

"You felt that, right?" She motioned to her head, mimicking a tingling sensation with her fingertips. You nodded.

"Well, a lot of us have it... and I mean people like you and me... and I know it makes no sense, but if you can fight mutant enemies, maybe you can imagine there are other worlds out there."

"Like planets?" You sniffed and your hands began to shake. Everything bubbling to the surface of pain and anger. "You're from another planet?"

"Not really, but kinda, sure," she agreed for your sake.

"And your friends?"

"Different planets too."

You breathed in a shaking breath. Somewhere in the distance, you could hear the sirens begin to blare. It may have been 10 blocks or 6 blocks, but they were coming and they were coming in fast.

"Now," Jess cleared her throat, "it looks like you've gotten yourself in a little situation that needs a bit of help."

Jess was the most sympathetic she had ever been. The way your hands shook, your tiredness expanded beyond you. Maybe it was the fact she knew what made you go off the deep end that made her feel more thoughtful.

"They, um-"

"It's ok," Jess said and didn't let you finish. "We just need to get you somewhere safe, ok? Me and my friends can help you."

The sheen in your eyes was cloudy. Face wet and brushed with splatter of a man who was not yours, there was a lifeline to get you out of here and you had to take it.

You shook your head softly before it became more frantic. "I don't have anyone to go to... I don't have anyone."

"You do," her hand hovered over the man's body as Peter came back and lowered himself beside Jess. "You're gonna have a whole group behind you if you let us help."

"We'll get you all cleaned up and then introduce you. There is a whole universe of us out there."

"Us?"

"Spider-People?" He questioned, brows furrowed. Jess hadn't been explicit.

"A society," she drew back from Peter. "Like myself and Peter," indirectly introducing him, "and you and–" she stopped short.

"And you want me there?"

"Yeah," Peter said. "I mean, we could use some more badass Spider-Women around."

"But I–"

"Don't worry about all this, alright? We all have our moments."

Peter reached out his hand for you to take. There was a certain level of hesitancy you felt; perhaps it was a trick or maybe you were trapped in another nightmare. But Peter gave a small smile. He gave off a warmth that Jess had exuded and made you nearly forget that there were three voices and not their two.

You took Peter's hand.

The man was breathing, he would live even if he didn't deserve to. The sirens were no more than 3 blocks away.

"You gonna need one of these," Jess held out her hand to reveal a rubber bracelet.

"A day pass," she explained, "to help you adjust."

"Adjust?"

"It's better to ask fewer questions," Peter scrunched his face. "Less confusion for you."

You slipped on the bracelet.

"We good here?"

It was that voice again, the one from the back of your head.

"We gotta go. Time is ticking."

Except this voice wasn't the back of your head now that you've realized there were others in this bodega. As you rose from the floor and began walking as Jess led the way, the friend was passed out on the floor and a glowing hexagonal portal was lingering in the back of the store.

The sounds, the sensations... it meant something.

"All good, Boss. The robbers will live."

The man in the blue suit–from what you could tell–nodded and looked in your direction but said nothing. There was something in your body that was sending alarm bells to your mind but you ignored them.

They weren't like the sensations you had felt before. These were different in a way you couldn’t explain.

“Right let’s, ah,” he hesitated as his hands rested on his hips. You looked at him and he looked away. “Get moving then.”

“What’s going to happen when I go through that thing?” You pointed to the portal.

He didn’t look at you. He couldn’t look at you. All he saw was his wife who used to laugh at his corny jokes and rest her head on his shoulder in bed. He saw, in one dimension, the mother of his child and he saw a happy, generous nurse who loved her job.

But when he looked at you know, part of that image was shattered.

You were a little bit broken and a little bit worn down by the world you lived in. You had blood-splattered clothing and tear stained cheeks and it was enough to make his heart ache more than it already did.

“It will pop you out just where we want you,” Peter said as he took a step into the portal and his body began to glitch with the moving sphere around him. “Just walk in and it will do the rest.”

“And it’s safe?”

“So far, yeah!” And he ran off before he disappeared.

“I’ll see you there, alright?” Jess turned to you, then looked at Blue before giving a smile that was as flat as a dead man’s heart beat.

She walked in just as suave as she came.

Suddenly, it was just the two of you and it felt strange.

There were so many feelings lingering that you couldn’t grasp onto. The air was comfortable but hesitant; there was a barrier of distrust and burden, but one that itched to reach out a hand to help.

“You know,” you sniffed back a chuckle, “I half thought I was crazy for a second.”

“About what?” He asked. “The fact that you almost killed a man or the portals? Both are equally crazy.”

In any other circumstance you would have thought he was being sarcastic.

You shook your head. You were beginning to feel the weight of your actions.

“I thought I heard voices… a voice in my head.”

“Mhm.”

“Yeah,” you glanced at the portal.

A lull. The whirring of the portal, the sounds of police cars went mute when you looked back. Blue was looking at you but you couldn’t see his eyes. You couldn’t see a thing and indeed, you didn’t know his name.

Blue.

Miguel’s favorite color was blue.

“Thank you,” you said earnestly. “For coming here. I think I’m still a bit shell-shocked,” you laughed and he knew you were, “but maybe I was waiting for this… I don’t know.”

“It’s our job.”

Blue was done with the conversation at that point. He walked to the portal, his body glitching just like Peter and Jess’s did.

“Come on,” he motioned to you.

“What’s your name? The other two—they introduced themselves.”

“Spider-Man.”

“That’s not your name.”

He let out a huff. “You wanna be caught by the police? Fine.” He began walking again and the glitching became more erratic.

“Who’s to say you’re all not some group of aliens trying to kidnap me? At least the other two looked like me!”

His patience too was skating on thin ice.

“Come on, kid, let’s go.”

Maybe you weren’t crazy.

“What did you just say?”

He turned his body back to you and walked out of the portal. On the precipice of where you stood just beyond and where he did, he towered over you.

“I’m giving you a chance here. You come with me now or you’re dead here.”

“Kid. You said ‘kid.’ Why did you say that? Why did you say I was a kid?”

“I didn’t mean it like that, let’s go.” Like a rhythmic pattern, he turned back around.

“I’m not crazy. I know I’m not fucking crazy.” You sure as hell looked it. “Why did you say kid? Who told you to call me kid?”

“No one—“

A sudden banging on the door to the bodega caught the attention left in the room. Blondie started to gurgle, you stood steadfast, and Blue was agitated.

You took a step into the portal. Progress.

“Nobody calls me kid, no one. Why won’t you tell me your name? Who the hell are you people? Who are you?”

“We don’t have time for this!” The way he said your name that followed was one you had heard a million times.

It was just like Miguel used to say.

“Take off your mask.” You demanded and stepped further again.

“Take off your fucking mask or I’m stepping out of this goddamn thing and going to prison.”

The police began to feverishly hit the glass with their batons.

“Take it off,” you begged, “please. Please let me see you.”

And how could he say no to his wife who begged so mercilessly?

There was a time where you replayed that moment over and over in your mind.

You could still feel the way your breath caught in your chest. An immense wave of emptiness washed from you and filled with a jittery dismay that had no outlet.

His eyes were no different; the way his lips sat and his brow furrowed.

You felt the silent shed of tears mask your face before the glass breaking set Miguel moving toward you, grabbing your hand and pulling you through the portal.

His touch was the same.

And when he opened his mouth, what he sounded like was different from what he said and you were quick to realize that this Miguel was not your Miguel.

This Miguel despised people who lived happy lives.

This Miguel was mean and callous and demanding

This Miguel worked beyond reasonable hours and made being a Spider-Man his life’s purpose.

That was not your Miguel.

There was no making sense in that moment. You either believed it or you didn't and if you didn't, then they'd drop you back off in a world that had your face plastered on wanted posters and big screens in the middle of the city.

So you made sense of it and made some semblance of life within the four walls of the Spider Society headquarters with the Grade A asshole known as Miguel O'hara – not your husband.

The grief of that worked in waves. It came and went when life continued to move. It was strange to think that what brought you here, to this future, occurred one year ago.

Sat by a window looking out into an Earth that was not yours, you swung your legs as those thoughts crossed your mind. The chatter of a thousand Spider-people filled the space around you.

A thud sounded on the beam a few feet from you. Soft, nearly mute shoes tapping their way beside you. Green. The color of artificial grass in a children's playset, nearly blue.

"Watcha doing?"

There was never a moment of peace here. But you closed you eyes, sighed and a smile quirked on your lips.

"You daydreaming? I wonder what it's like out there..." Gwen Stacy joined the Spider-Society three months ago. "It looks so... contempo."

"Contempo? Where did you hear that?"

"I read you know," she tipped her head up in mock offense. "Kids do read when they're in school."

"Yeah, yeah," you brushed her off.

"So... what are you up to today? I was thinking we could monitor the dimensions with Jess and maybe catch a bad guy or two–" Gwen's fists mimicked boxing, "–and then Peter said he'd bring Mayday around–"

"Slow down," you chuckled. "I am up to nothing, thanks for asking and if that's what you want, sure."

Her eyes lit up when on most days they didn't.

"Really!?"

"Mhm, yeah, sure."

"Great!" Gwen got to her feet and wrung her hands. "Jess was in the control center so–"

"Control center?"

Gwen hummed, hands clasping behind her back comically.

"Yep! Just... chillin' by a screen. You know, she's got that baby on the way and all so we thought it'd be best to keep her inside for the time being and she doesn't like that but she said–" Gwen went on and on as the words came pouring out.

"Gwen."

"–that she would rather die than have to sit here and watch screens all day. I told Peter she would hate it and he agreed with me but sometimes he brings–"

"Gwen."

"–Mayday around just to cheer us up that we haven't gone on that many missions and its always well... you know... and we feel like we can't do anything to help out sometimes–"

"Gwen!" You shouted at her. She stopped her rambling; blue eyes wide and ears listening. "Just... take a breath, alright?"

"Sorry," she said sheepishly.

"You don't have to be sorry," a sharp breath steadied you. "I'm not going to go with you to the control room."

"Please," she begged. You imagined this is what it was like having a teenage daughter who wanted the most unattainable of things. "I promise it will be fine! Miguel's not even there so you don't have to worry about what he said last time!"

"That was three days ago, Gwen!"

"So what!?"

The last time was three days ago.

Ever since you arrived, it had been nothing but anger and hostility pushed toward you from him but you were not easy on him either. It was hard facing a piece of your past that had every connection but no foundation at the same time.

Earth 9591 was in ruins and the screens replayed the horrors of the people over and over. It was desolate. Earth was crumbling in on itself and a medieval Rhino had found itself in the mess as Earth 9591 Peter was on his last leg.

According to Miguel, this Peter was supposed to experience this.

"We can't just let him die, Miguel," you argued as he stood up on his platform above you and Peter. "There is a chance he could live and we're reducing him to nothing because of his goddamn canon?"

"We can't mess with it, you know that." Miguel's patience was running thin. "Every time we can't interfere you come here with the same argument and the answer is always no. It will always be no."

"Why?" You pushed. Sometimes just seeing his face now made you mad. The questions of why this Miguel got to live when your's didn't was something that constantly simmered within you.

"You plucked me from my Earth and brought me here so why can't we do that for him? He'd be healthy and safe here."

"This is supposed to happen to him," he huffed your name as he turned back to the screens. "Not every battle is going to be one that Spider-Man wins and if we mess with it, we threaten that whole dimension."

"Well it sure as hell looks like it's in a bit of trouble, boss," Peter let out a nervous chuckle.

"And so it is."

"But what of Rhino, hm?" He hated the way you rose your eyebrows in question. Every version of you did that. "That's not supposed to be his fate."

"One less villain we have to worry about."

You let out a frustrated groan. "When did you become so heartless? We save people here, Miguel. We don't let them suffer."

"I'm not heartless. I'm being realistic and the fact is that 9591 Peter isn't gonna live and his world will become uninhabitable. That is part of his canon, end of story."

"So my canon said to bring me here?" You asked, hands on your hips. Peter inched backwards from you because he could feel the rumblings of the volcano bubbling.

"Take me from my home and bring me here for what? To have another person go along with every decision you make? Newsflash, Miguel, that's not going to happen."

"Oh, really?" He laughed, sarcastically, and looked down at you from above.

"Yes, really. Maybe this canon bullshit is just that, bullshit. Maybe you made a mistake–"

"I didn't make a mistake," he defended loudly. "I am not letting other worlds get destroyed because of stupid decisions."

"So it's only a stupid decision when it's a reality that we both exist in?"

If Peter hadn't known any better this would have sounded like a fight between a married couple.

"That's not what I said," Miguel brought his hand to the bridge of his nose and squeezed. "We can't go around making those same mistakes. I am not putting any other lives in danger."

"But you did it when it benefitted you."

Miguel mumbled to himself up there. You couldn't hear. Peter took more steps back and Spider-Byte ducked behind her consul. Miguel's brown mop of hair slicked back with the motion of his hand.

"Well you would've liked that world too."

"I liked the one I was from."

God, some days he really disliked you.

At the same time, when Miguel looked down at you, he saw the wife he knew in a different capacity and it sent his mind spiraling. He didn't sleep, he barely took the time to care for himself because all he could think about was the dimensions of happiness that you both had and the one you've both found yourselves in now.

He hated that he loved the body of the woman he knew but couldn't fully trust the version of you that existed now.

"We're not going."

"Miguel,"

He lept from the platform and onto the level you stood on. Still as large as before, his shadow filled your space before he did and for some ungodly reason, the presence of this Miguel made your heart pump furiously as your husband had.

Miguel had that look in his eyes that made them appear red. Fist clenched at his sides and that same lingering sadness emitting from his person.

"Not another word."

He hated the challenge you took from him.

"Why is it ok that you took me from my dimension? To serve some sick purpose of remembering your wife?" You spat at him.

You were just like her... just a little more broken.

"I'm not her, Miguel."

"You think I don't know that?" His voice was nearly caught in his throat. "You think I don't know that you're not her? It's pretty goddamn obvious you're not her."

"Oh yeah?" Your voice was no different.

You hated when you fought with Miguel in your dimension and that didn't change in this one.

Peter thought he should look away.

"Well she's not here, is she?"

Miguel stared at you. He couldn't help the way his eyes moved over your face. He saw the same eyes, nose, and lips. You were his wife just as he was your husband.

"No," he said as a ghostly whisper, "she's not."

"And maybe I'm not like her but you're not like my Miguel either... so don't make this fall on me. I didn't ask to come here."

"You're here now," Miguel's voice was devoid of feeling. "So get used to the rules. We're not going."

And he stalked off with Peter following on his tail.

If you closed your eyes you could see fragments of Miguel. Now, however, this Miguel was beginning to eclipse those memories.

"Shit..." Spider-Byte snickered from behind her monitor. Her blue glow filling your vision as you looked at her. "I wouldn't take that, mama. I'd kick his ass."

Miguel wasn't there. He was off saving a dimension because canon was all that mattered and Jess was monitoring that other universes just as Gwen had said.

It was a relief.

So, you sat back and watched as Jess and Gwen flipped through the different footage from the dimensions that either lit up red for an anomaly or maintained green for a perfect balance.

Jess flipped through them quickly. Every world passing by your face within a second of seeing the light on the panel turn green. The few instances of red sent her pressing on a communication button before Gwen could complain that she wanted to go out and fight.

Gwen lingered on worlds. She looked at the images as though she wished to be a part of them.

She hesitated moving on from a boy in a black suit just a second too long.

"Gwen?" You asked her as her hand hovered over the button. She was intently looking at him as he moved about the fire escape.

"Gwen?" You reached out a hand to shake her shoulder. She bristled out of her spell and pressed the button before you could ask any questions.

It would be several months later that you'd learn that the boy was the source of it all.

Miles Morales had heard a million versions of the same story.

It all began with a name and that named person being bit by a radioactive spider that magically gave them powers and they used them to save the world, or fight street crime, or kill mice (in the case of that Spider-Cat he saw in the lobby).

They were all the friendly, neighborhood hero that the world needed.

Until the collider messed with their functions and required a society such as this to take on a much larger purpose.

And Miles was taken aback.

He had never felt so seen sans the moment he walked through the doors of the complex. Every turn he made, a new Spider-Person was uniquely fit into their world so different than his own.

Within the chamber of villains from other dimensions, he saw a Spider-Woman without a suit.

"So people like, live here?" Miles asked Gwen who shrugged.

"Some do. We can stay for as long as we like and then go back to our dimensions when we need to."

"And suits are optional?"

Hobie turned around and gave Miles as questionable gaze.

"A uniform is binding, man," he told Miles. "Use what makes you comfortable."

Gwen nearly galloped ahead to the Spider-Woman with a digital portfolio. Miles saw the way Gwen's eyes lit up just as they did when they saw each other again.

Hobie was the one to introduce you. Your named rolled off his tongue like butter–so casual and cool in a way Miles did not believe he ever could be.

"She lives here," He explained. "Can't really go back to her dimension so she does a lot of cataloguing. The main man doesn't want her out of missions... you know," Hobie spun his finger near his forehead, "little crazy that one."

"I'm not crazy, Hobie," you called out as Gwen pointed toward your group.

"No, you're right," he corrected himself. "He's the crazy one."

"That's more like it," you smiled and Miles felt a boyish crush form in his stomach. "Hi Miles. I've heard a lot about you."

You did. Gwen had been giddy in the way she reminisced about her time with Miles. Even Peter put in his two-cents about the way he trained him and it went incredibly poorly for the greater part of their journey together.

You missed a good chunk of time by not being present when they all converged on the same dimension. It may have saved you from yourself.

"Hi," he waved back nervously.

The party kept walking with your addition. Beyond the orange cells of villains captured and waiting to be returned home, a center of technology he could dream of appeared in front of him.

It was just a tour.

Lyla appeared beside you.

"Miguel's hangry," she complained as she looked at her non-existent nail-beds.

"He's probably just angry."

"No," she shook her bob, "it's the hangry kind. You should have the kid pick up something for him... a gift."

"Gift," you chuckled. Miles looked so green. He was amazed by the technology of the go-home-machine that you weren't sure how he would react when he reached the hub. Walking through all of the test technology before going to Miguel's station... he'd be on cloud nine.

"He'll be expecting the party soon."

"I'll stay behind."

You were certain Miguel would be able to hear this conversation but Lyla had a mind of her own–she was artificial after all.

"You should come with. Miles could use your perspectives."

"What perspectives?" This was the longest conversation you had ever held with her. "Oh, Miles," you mimicked, "don't beat criminals to a pulp... um, don't let your anger get the best of you... don't kill people.... yeah, good advice."

"I meant a motherly figure here."

"I'm not a mother, Lyla. Besides, he's got Jess for that."

Lyla glitched to the other side of you. "Jess hasn't taken to him like she did you and Gwen."

"He's got Peter."

"But he could use you too."

You gave a tight-lipped hum.

"Or," she countered, "maybe you need someone like him. It's always strange what effect kids have on adults... makes them... soft or something. You should see the videos of Miguel!" She laughed, you didn't.

"He liked to play soccer with her."

Her. In another dimension, you had a daughter.

"Why are you telling me this?" You asked her.

She waved her hand dissuasively. "Miguel's not going to, so I might as well."

The party began to make their exit. Down to the liar they went and as they walked, Lyla floated in the air beside you. Miles kept peaking back like a child on a holiday.

"Miles," you called out to him.

"Yes?" He turned around quickly and at attention. He was a cute kid. So nervous and out of his element. If it weren't for his merry misfit group of friends, Miguel was sure to eat him alive.

"Do you have a question or is there a reason you keep looking at me?"

He rubbed his hand on the back of his neck. Miles then pointed to Lyla.

"Is she a Spider-Person too?"

"No," you told him and Lyla glitched to him. "An A.I. that Miguel created. She knows all."

"She flatters me," Lyla murmured back a smile.

Miles turned back around and continued on with his conversation that bounced between Gwen and Hobie. Lyla disappeared from the hallway as the sounds of old, tinkered experiments and Miles' struggles painted a picture of a much different boy in your mind.

While his struggles were not yours and you'd never understand them completely, his want to belong struck a chord with you in a way it did with Gwen.

There was a family that could be built here if the realities of pain could be ignored.

Above on his floating platform, Miguel slowly descended as Miles gaped in a slight awe. Yes, it was dramatic. Yes, it was unnecessary and it made you roll your eyes.

Hobie stuck to the wall in the back. Gwen took Miles to the edge and you leaned up against a pillar not far from Hobie.

"Miguel O'Hara," Gwen introduced, "meet Miles Morales."

And then Miles butchered his introduction with cheer. He offered up those empanadas which Miguel slipped right into the trash.

And like Gwen, he fumbled his words by rambling about how to catch Spot.

Miguel threw the trash can at them both only for Hobie to sneak the empanada out of the box and into his hand without blinking.

And then everything spiraled out of control.

Miguel's meter began to spike an angry red as the frantic nature of his focus within this world had been protecting the multi-verse. Here, in this room, Miles was the supposed source of it.

If it wasn't for Miles, many of his problems wouldn't exist and he'd be grateful but he can't be, simply because they are truly real.

"Hey Miguel!" Peter's voice broke through the silent seconds. Miles perked up at the sound. "Come on, go easy on the kid. He had a terrible teacher. He had no chance."

"Peter!"

The two hugged like old friends.

"Miles!" Peter put a hand on his shoulder. "Don't be afraid of my friend Miguel. He just looks scary. He's got no bite."

He had seen it once. He chose to ignore it.

So he went on with his little break up of Miguel's serious moment and you watched unfold from the shadows, the orange glow of your tablet keeping you busy while Mayday swung around the room and Miles exasperatedly came to terms with Peter being a father.

"-You always say the 'fate of the multiverse' and my brain dies."

You chuckled to yourself, glancing up at Peter as he circled Miguel. Miguel was holding Mayday like he had never held a child in his life.

That was the kind of thing your Miguel did.

"You guys smell that?" Peter sniffed into the air. He swiftly picked up Mayday and swung right by Miles and Gwen and straight to you.

"You smell that right?" He held her up high. Yes, yes you did smell that.

"That is entirely your problem, Peter."

"Miles–" Miguel caught their attention again. "–You disrupted a canon event."

"Canon event?"

"The kid wasn't thinking," Peter interjected. He held onto Mayday as you strung a web for her to bounce on. Miguel was half torn between the conversation he tried to be stern about and the watching you weave a web for that little girl.

"That's not how he works."

"That's insulting," Miles commented.

Hobie got up from the floor to stand next to you. He caught Mayday in the air, saluting her with two fingers.

"Taking a crap on the establishment... I salute you."

"What are you upset about?" Miles furrowed his brows as Miguel stepped off the platform and walked towards him. The boy would be amiss if he hadn't felt his stomach drop to his feet in the menacing way Miguel O'Hara walked.

"When isn't he upset about something?" You murmured from the back.

"I saved those people."

Ah, yes. Pavitr's dimension. Miguel had been in the go-home-department when it happened.

"And that's the problem," Miguel clarified. "Lyla, do the thing."

As she always did, Lyla appeared with a semi-oblivious nature.

"Huh? What thing?"

"The thing... what do you mean 'what thing?' The information explaining thing!"

She gave a casual 'ok' and the room changed before you.

You had never seen everything before.

Jess had talked about it, Peter mentioned what it looked like, and a few others who had seen it claimed it left them more confused than anything.

It was a bright blue tree, in a sense. Woven with a variation of color that reminded you of the sea at mid-day and the sky at night, everything was a timeline of complete facts of the world. Every moment of every person's lives were tied to this one branch of 'everything.'

Expansive and high, the tree of everything bloomed over your heads and Miles was the one trying to come to terms with the sincerity of it. However, just as he had begun to grasp the idea of everything being resembled by a tree with branches that diverged from its timeline, the room changed to a red web.

Hundreds and hundreds of webs interconnected by lines that captured the very lives in that room. All of them facing convergence by multiple lifelines to different events, canons, and realities that make up a person's existence in the, as he had coined, the Spider-Verse.

"The lines... where the nodes converge?" Miles asked aloud.

"They are the canon."

Every web around him had different nodes. Some had more than others, some had barely any. He noticed a cluster of three big webs with few canon nodes.

"Their chapters apart of every Spider's story, every time. Some good, some bad... some very bad."

Miguel pulled down a cluster to showcase the very bad. You had a sinking feeling somewhere along the line the 'very bad' also included you.

A row of Spider-People emerged in the same position. He saw Peter, he saw Gwen, he recognized you, and then himself leaning over the body of a loved one who perished too soon.

Like a story, Miguel walked through varied canon events that were to occur in many Spider stories. A police captain, a lover, the event that turns someone into a hero, the struggles of the hero.

Miles looked at each of you as a fragment of your past appeared before him.

"That's how the story is supposed to go. Canon events are the connections that bind our lives together and those connections can be broken that why anomalies are so dangerous. Inspector Singh's death was a canon event."

A police captain.

"You weren't supposed to be there."

Even though you weren't there, you saw it unfold from the safety of Lyla's simulation. People running, a bridge nearly collapsing.

"And you weren't supposed to save him. That's why Gwen tried to stop you."

You could see the gears in his brain turning. He was hurt, misguided in his efforts to be a good Spider-Man because it was suddenly becoming a conflict for him. Miles tried to be good. He tried to save people and even doing so, he seemed to mess up.

It was so different from the Spider-Woman you used to be.

"I thought you were trying to save me," Miles admitted to Gwen who had turned her back from him. She kept her eyes to the ground.

"I was. I-I was doing both," she took a chance to gaze back at him only to see the hurt.

She was just doing her job.

"And now, Miles," Miguel sighed and he walked around the space. He planted his feet beside you and Miles took a glance and couldn't tell who was friend or foe.

He didn't know where he stood himself.

"Because you changed the story, Pavitr's dimension is unraveling. If we're lucky, we can stop it. We haven't always been lucky."

Miguel looked at you. He looked at you with a sheen in his eyes that you'd hadn't see from this version of him. For once, he looked as sad as he felt on the inside.

And for once, he wasn't fighting with you about what was right or wrong in that moment.

"That wasn't me!" Miles defended. "That was the Spot."

"It's what happens when you break canon."

"How do you know?"

"Because I broke it once myself."

There was a part of you that wanted out. You wanted out right that second because you had seen enough. You had seen the destruction, had been part of some destruction, and seeing Miguel's world crumble animatedly in front of you wasn't something you wanted. But your feet stuck to the floor. Planted, like mud, waiting to be freed.

It was your story too and you didn't even know what happened.

"I found another world where I had a family. Where I was happy."

In the web, the cluster of three was connected by one single strand to a much larger web with varied canon events. Whatever this was, Miles imagined, was Miguel's universe.

"At least a version of me was. And that version of myself was killed."

This time trying to catch a thief who stole a woman's purse. Not a bank robbery.

"So I replaced him. I thought it was harmless."

You looked away at the scenes. Miguel with her. A little brown haired girl who loved soccer and he did her homework at the kitchen table with her. A father who looked adoringly at a daughter who was joyous and knew no pain.

"But I was wrong."

Then the world began to collapse. In his arms, the girl disappeared as though she had never existed.

"Isn't that right, Peter?"

Your head shot up towards Peter who looked away from you. He had seen you before, in a different reality where you too were happy with the life you lived and where you were happy with a daughter who loved Miguel too.

"Peter?" You gave a weak call to him. He shut his eyes tightly. "Peter, you knew?"

Miles felt the way you felt. A shell of a hero without a purpose with people who made very choice feel like a mistake.

You walked up to Peter. Miles saw the white-knuckle grip you had on the pink robe. This was more than just friends making choices feel like a mistake.

"You knew me?"

Miles glanced back at the web. The three small webs that had little to them stuck out like a bouquet of flowers. Each their own small story.

“Whose is that?” Miles gestured as he tried to ignore the way you prodded at Peter for answers. Perhaps Miles already knew that Miguel had made this more complicated than it needed to be.

He had already destroyed one reality for happiness. Miles imagined that this man could ruin many more if it meant one more second of living.

“These ones?” Miguel pointed to the web of three.

You knew it was yours without even realizing it.

“That’s mine," you breathed in deep.

Even though you hadn't gotten along in this world, Miguel felt the weight of his secrecy fall heavily onto his shoulders.

“You see, Miles,” Miguel started, “there are infinite dimensions were we exist. All these webs here,” he pointed to the connecting lines that reappeared of many lives, “are realities were someone like you may exist. Maybe not as Spider-Man but as something.”

Miguel looked to you and for the first time since he met you in your reality, he saw the woman he fell in love with.

“And her dimensions look a bit different.”

“Why?” Miles questioned. “Why don’t ours look like that?”

“Because you can exist in infinite realities, Miles,” you told him in a voice that reminded him of his mother telling him a relative died. “And I can’t.”

“There is only three of her that exist in our… Spider-Verse, as you put it,” Miguel stated. “And one of them collapsed.”

In a hologram, he saw you in the world they had all just witnessed disappear from reality. Miles saw you running and running and he could see the destination, Miguel and that child, so close yet too far away.

And then there was nothing.

“Oh,” Miles felt sadness creep within him. Gwen wanted to comfort both you and Miles but couldn’t muster it in front of Miguel.

Peter wasn't sure what to do.

One strand of three disappeared.

“And in the other, she’s not here anymore.”

"What dimension is that?"

Miguel sighed. Hands on his hips, he met Miles' intense stare instead of yours.

"This one."

“So there is only me now,” you have a half-hearted smile.

“I thought you said you were the only Spider-Man in this dimension?” Miles asked Miguel as he tried to make sense of this world he found himself in.

“I am,” Miguel clarified. “She’s not from this dimension. Her… alternate self isn’t here anymore.”

He recalled the images of all the Peter’s and Gwen’s and Jessica’s mourning their canon disasters. Loved ones, friends, lovers.

The second strand of three disappeared.

“Does that mean if you…?”

You nodded your head at Miles. Peter put his hand on your shoulder at the admission.

Miguel focused on that hand. He saw the comfort, he saw the friendly love and knew he had wasted time. He had wasted months being angry at you when you weren’t the cause of it.

He had watched over your dimension to keep you safe while you struggled and in his own pain, he made the unity between you strained and unrealistic.

But he also knew the greater purpose.

“I guess I just have to pick the right side.”

You tried to bring levity.

You didn’t realize that you’d be picking Miles and your friends or Miguel and the person you knew because if you didn't you'd lose everything.

And you needed to save yourself in one dimension you still existed in.

Earth 42.

A/N: this isn’t proofed yet. I can totally see a million different sequels to dive deeper into the relationship between reader and Miguel.

As always, comments and reblogs are the best feedback a writer can ask for. I love reading any comments you all leave 🥺. Thank you so much for reading.

Tags:

@csmt-m @er4tous @gracielou0518

[oakbuggy]

Liar, Liar Chapter 4

Recom!Neteyam x female OC

Summary : Tala of the Tawkami gets captured by a familiar face and to both of their misfortune, they are trapped together due to circumstance. They are extremely vexed by this and each other and also very horny.

Warnings: Minors DNI, non-con+dub-con, explicit smut, dirty talk, authority, power struggle, mentions+depictions of blood, minor violence, character death, marking, biting, scenting, ANGST

!! Each chapter will have images throughout the chapter, only the AO3 will have the NSFW-uncensored versions. Please keep this in mind as you read !!

Chapter 4 (NSFW) ~9.8k words

AO3 Link Here!

Prev Chapter / Next Chapter

Tala unceremoniously woke up in her cell, her body completely sore and wrecked, and no memory of how she got back. She endured hours of self-pitying and Orlek’an’s intense questioning of what happened and if she was okay and yes, the sex was extremely good and she didn’t want to think about it anymore.

Her next sessions in the lab were more bearable, a silver lining of pleasantries was included in each meeting. Patty had also surprisingly apologized and ‘gifted’ the Tawkami with her own starched white lab coat, filled with pockets.

Well, it was less of a gift and more of a ‘all the bites and marks on your body are making us uncomfortable so please wear this piece of clothing’-type offering. Tala did question why not they just look away but she couldn't necessarily blame them, the soldier wasn’t very gentle with his ‘playing’. She had also been spared embarrassment and given a replacement tewng, but this one was so strange. It was a tawtute piece of clothing, underwear that dug into her hips a bit, an ugly grey color. Still, better than the shreds Neteyam had left her with.

Scientists trusted her more and allowed her closer to materials. So much closer that she was able to build up her own collection, including a paralyzing agent to coat Orlek’an’s crude darts and needles with. The pockets were like godsend.

The only one who didn’t trust her any more in the time she’s been here was unsurprisingly and so frustratingly, Corporal Tom.

He dragged her away at careless hours of the day and night since then, to the quiet and somewhat disturbed acceptance of all the scientists and Patty. Every kiss was wounding, every touch was rough, and his steadfast meanness was grating on Tala’s resilience.

And by Eywa, so was his stamina. Any peak she caught of the soldier in the hallways made her scowl. While each step made her wince and tremble, oh no, perfection himself had the swagger of a palulukan prowling their territory. 

He’d come to find her every few or so days, so Tala took these breaks as little gifts from Eywa. Hidden in high corners, hallways, and window corners, she would etch clues of the prophesied danger. ‘Tsefta’ Eywa’ [Eywa’s Revenge], she wrote. Vrrteps could translate it, true, but the People would know it was a warning, a true sign. Even if Tala got caught, the rest would follow in spreading the message, though she obviously hoped this wouldn’t happen. 

A few days passed, it was no worry. The few days stretched into a week and she still hadn’t seen neither boot nor tail of him. Not that she was worried. 

Not that she missed him, Great Mother, she’ll poison herself before she ever admits that.

“Haven’t seen Corporal Tom in a minute, he… alright?” Dr. Hanson said awkwardly as the two of them waited for the droid to bring out the next sample. Tala snorted, how would she know?

Patty knew. “He sick.”

The Tawkami proudly fought the urge to twist her body at a breakneck speed to interrogate the guard but her shoulders did tense. He’s never been sick, and, extreme headaches aside, he was all the makings of a healthy and hardy soldier. 

Dr. Hanson spotted Tala’s pinched focus on the table, so he took pity and asked for her.

“Sick with what?”

Patty shrugged.

“Ramirez spotted him hiding out in his room and the medics are salty ‘cause apparently, that’s just ‘what he does’ instead of going to them.” The guard explained, picking dirt from underneath her nails which only got a scolding from the other scientists. Tala could feel her ears perking up, intrigued, but she kept her mouth shut and her eyes focused on the plant material before her. It wasn’t any of her business, even if she burnt for answers.

Before her was a cluster of hardened plant sap and crystals before her, golden, and still connected to violet tree bark. Previous thoughts of the Corporal were quickly replaced by delight.

“Oh. This is… sweet thing. Honey.” She replied in her simple English, and Dr. Hanson’s previously unreadable expression broke when his eyebrows shot up.

“Honey? So, just edible, no medicinal properties?”

Tala smiled and quickly swiped a tiny crystal to taste, causing the scientists around the table to squawk.

“What are you doing!”

“H-hey!”

“Spit it out!”

Tala let it melt on her tongue, smiling cheekily. “Properties… makes other medicine easier to eat.” She said with a giggle and pushed the cluster towards the tawtutes. They eyed each other before shaking their heads, deciding to input their observations instead. She shrugged, savoring the sweet, tart, taste, the flavor like a melody on her taste buds. It’s been so long since she’s really tasted anything besides those miserable dry bricks of vitamins. As she licked her fingers clean she remembered something.

He liked honey when they were younger, didn’t he?

Tala blew some dark strands out of her face, eyelashes fluttering like a tizzy and she paused. Her green eyes snapped up to see Dr. Hanson’s extremely observant and bespectacled brown ones.

She felt her cheeks heat up, Great Mother, how affection-starved was she to consider Neteyam’s continued absence discomforting? 

She blinked twice before smiling, pointing her ears down as if bashful. “You’re staring very hard, it embarrasses me.” She teased and puffed up internally when he sputtered.

Dr. Hanson sheepishly looked down and with a glance around the room, pushed the honey cluster towards her. 

“You can have it.”

“Really?”

“Well, I think honey’s a small price to pay for saving my life.”He said with a small smile. He straightened up nervously but Tala delightedly leaned across the table close to his face. She blinked prettily at him and smiled, her nose almost touching the glass of his exo-pack. 

“I think you just like me!” She said delightedly and carefully placed the little cluster in her pockets, licking her fingers. When the tawtute’s face flushed, Tala smiled to herself. She was far more used to this sort of reaction. Not Corporal Tom’s indifference tinged in distaste.

She grimaced suddenly when the sweetness on her fingers made her feel so terribly homesick. 

She missed her medical alcove, the crunch of grass as she walked, and the smell of everything in the air. She didn’t miss the raids, nor the trepidation she felt every time she awaited her friends to return from their own missions.

But now because of one single prick, she was forced into a new normal. Tala was sure he saw it as Eywa’s strange sense of humor that he was burdened to come find her for his aching head. Both the one on his shoulders and the one between his legs. 

The mark on her neck stayed ever deep and ever sore. And yet despite the evidence of his outright obsession, which Tala felt like she was running in circles in making him admit, his bruising indifference was prevailing. The tranquil seed in her back fangs didn’t feel like enough to get back at him for, not by a long shot.

The mechanical doors whirred open and already her mouth poised to snark at the corporal for his absence, but the face she saw was much uglier than she was expecting. Corporal Halloway smiled broadly, to her chagrin, and noisily stomped into the lab, arms wide open.

“Hey there eggheads, and Private!” Corporal Halloway walked into the room with the confidence of a man who was not sporting a healing black eye. The disgust replaced shock when he grabbed her chin, making her hiss.

“Aw, hey to you too, sweetheart. Still mad?” He asked with mocking kindness. A hazmat-suited scientist guffawed from the corner.

“Your black eye looks like it’s healing well.” They said in the back smugly. The corporal flipped them off and fingered through Tala’s braids roughly until he found her kuru and pulled it harshly to get her feet. She shouted from the pain and her legs bumped painfully against the side of the table.

“Not feelin’ like talking to the eggheads today. How about you and I get some privacy?” Corporal Halloway said heatedly, eyes dangerously gleaming. She grimaced and the rest rose to their feet as well.

“You can’t-“

“We’re in the middle of-!”

“Hey-!”

The corporal leaned over Dr. Hanson in a way that made the scientist step back and strain his neck. He didn’t say anything, he didn’t have to and even Patty was shifting her eyes in apology.

After a few seconds of tense silence, he suddenly laughed.

“Thought so,” Halloway said and quickly dragged Tala out of Lab 12. In the narrow halls, he dug his dirty nails into her hip.

“Hurts.” She tried to say without hissing but her revulsion peaked through too obviously. His loud boot stomps echoed along the floor, her own feet skidding along. He had dragged her out so quickly that thankfully her inhibitor cuffs were still unlinked, but who knew how long that would last?

“You don’t seem to mind when it’s the big blue boy scout doin’ the hurtin’.”

Her nose scrunched up. Maybe her reaction was a touch dramatic because the Recom barked a laugh loud and hard, so pleased.

“What, you don’t like him either? That’s a shame, I think you’re his favorite.” His eyes looked strange when he said that last word. Tala didn’t like that, didn’t like him, for some reason, she felt like something more dire than a disappointing fuck was awaiting her and her mouth felt dry. His gaze right after he kicked her to the floor was so… intense. Scary.

The sour aftertaste of honey stuck to her tongue.

Corporal Halloway nearly dislocated her arm when they made a turn into an unfamiliar set of hallways. While Tala appreciated the new addition to her mental map of the facility, the pit in her stomach grew. Just weeks ago she was fine with Halloway’s advances, but now he seemed even more disgusting an option. His already awfully-stale smell was mixed with blood and gunpowder, smoke. He had returned recently from battle.

Tala’s green eyes worriedly darted around, the empty metal passages, the corporal’s face that towered over her with an unsettlingly friendly smile, and his gun still holstered on his harness. She had forgotten that despite his harshness, ill-treatment, and manhandling, Corporal Tom never acted with an intent to kill her, not really. Corporal Tom cursed and used her, but he was at least reliant on her, even if he hated it.

Tala avoided making any further eye contact with Halloway. She knew that looking into them would only set off more dread.

–

Neteyam could smell her before he could hear her and at first he thought those whiffs of honey and rose were only his delusion.

His body was sore, his bedsheets were covered in his sweat and he huffed, vexed at the thought of her.

A simple mission turned out to have much more annoying consequences than Neteyam had expected. It was a simple raze and redevelop; Raze the ground and redevelop for more RDA bases. More Bridgeheads.

The roads were developed but on this side of the moon, barely inhabited. Most fled, the few warriors the na’vi were more focused on evacuating the many young they traveled with, which the Omaticayan thought was so outrageously reckless of them. How could one think to travel with so many helpless clan members in the open? How could they let themselves be targeted like that?

Neteyam’s scope remained fixed on grown warriors, knives and bows in their calloused hands. Halloway’s accursed chuckles from his throat comm about ‘easy pickings’ made his jaw tense. 

But his headaches and mind soothed with each shot he, as a soldier, took. Perfect, accurate.

The battle was barely worthy to be called such. His migraine returned to manageable levels, his supplies were hardly dented and when Quaritch recalled the team to the center of the field Neteyam saw no movement.

The arrow shot at Neteyam’s clavicle was surprising, to say the least. He had seen the half-dead na’vi on the ground, her arm still in the air, and the both of them dropped onto the grass to bleed out.

Visceral shadows of sensation coursed through his body as he bled out, it prickled muscle memories that he didn’t know where from. Had he bled out before? His scars felt like they glowed red-hot but he had enough sense to apply emergency care and pressure to staunch the bleeding.

“Tom down, requesting extraction.” He hissed into his throat-comm and he knew he was conscious as another squad member arrived and dragged him back to the helicopters. He knew he was awake when the Colonel asked for his condition, of which he answered positively, and Halloway painfully clapped his hand on his back like a dickhead.

And maybe Neteyam was awake when Quaritch then told him to report to medbay and Neteyam instead went back to the darkness of his private quarters, deciding he’d rather hunker down and tend to himself. He had made his own collection of RDA medical supplies inside his room, increasingly avoiding any medical staff if he could.

He didn’t know why he did. He just never wanted them to touch him, never to set him inside one of those chambers.

Neteyam, still in bed, looked down at the haphazard bandages awkwardly applied around himself to cover his clavicle and the dried blood on his mattress. Ah, yes. After he got shot, he developed a fever and continued to seclude himself.

He groaned when he realized he could still catch her scent, still provoking him and perplexing him. It must have been days, how did she always manage to worm her way into his thoughts? She confounded him, which was precisely why he avoided seeing her. Neteyam needed actual strength every time he saw her, or else he’d end up falling for her cloying words or stabbing her dead, it was for both their sakes really. He kept her distant even despite their intimate closeness, kept her screaming with his fingers instead of letting her poke her away around his mind with careful touches. He kept her shut up with kisses that made them both taste blood because even if he couldn’t stand her, his feet would take him to Lab 12 and back in the sights of her infuriatingly pretty green eyes.

Damn her. And damn Eywa, for making him reliant on her, he could feel the veins on his forehead pulse and it felt like gunshots were hammering away in his head. He was fine before he found her.

Halloway’s barking laughter was so loud Neteyam could hear it through his door and thankfully he harbored absolutely no goodwill towards that irritating person. He regarded his fellow Corporal with the barest respect, he was more cruel than he had to be on the battlefield. It bristled against Neteyam’s previous warrior sensibilities, he would definitely have considered Halloway dishonorable.

Neteyam shot up in his bed as the pieces of his mind finally clicked together. Halloway and Tala?

The soldier walked to his door with minor difficulty and it hummed fully open. There was Halloway, lecherously draped around Tala, leading her through the soldiers’ living quarters. Her tail was swishing anxiously.

Neteyam glowered when the two of them turned towards him but all he was focused on was Halloway’s hand squeezing her ass through her lab coat.

Her fucking pert, round ass he’d watched bounce on him just a week before-fuck. His nose wrinkled, he didn’t feel like sharing.

“Get over here.” Neteyam’s voice rumbled through his chest dangerously low, not acknowledging his fellow squad member. Tala blinked her stupid pretty eyes and she cautiously leaned her weight forward, toward Neteyam. The soldier above her kept her still.

“Hey sunshine, you finally awake? How you feeling, big guy?” Corporal Halloway greeted him, friendly, but when he adjusted his grip on Tala to kiss into her hair she could feel the temperature drop as Neteyam’s pupils turned to pinpricks

“Fine. How’s your eye?” The snark in Neteyam’s voice felt too personal and the way Halloway’s pulse quickened made Tala immediately look back up his face, the black eye. He did that?

“Cute. I’m gonna go get my dick wet now, you can have her when I’m done. But, uh, I wouldn’t wait.” The Recom said dryly, winking, and began dragging Tala back to their original destination. Neteyam’s growl was enough to get everyone to freeze and Halloway faced him again, she could see Neteyam’s knuckles turn white.

The Tawkami na’vi thought quickly, a second option had become available to her and though she loathed to admit, Neteyam was by far more attractive. As an option.

She discreetly rolled the thinnest of Orlek’an’s crude darts at the bottom of her lab pockets with her thumb and finger. The Anurai woman had taught her some new tricks and Tala’s tongue ran over the tranquil seed still tucked securely in her back fangs, another option if things went awry.

She could do this.

Tala pressed herself firmly onto Halloway’s arm and let him feel the contours of her body through her closed lab coat. Both soldiers’ ears perked up, alarmed. She fluttered her eyelashes up at Halloway coquettishly while ignoring the holes she felt burning on the side of her head.

“Can we go already~?” She whispered with a small whine, and Neteyam could feel his fever spreading tenfold down his fucking bloodstream what the fuc-

Halloway’s eyebrows shot up and the wolfish grin on his face was so immense Neteyam considered kicking his teeth in. Halloway turned to him, dramatically shrugging.

“You heard the little lady.” He said before picking Tala up, she tried to hide her yelp as a squeal of delight. When her eyes caught Neteyam’s unreadable yet simultaneously rageful expression Tala tilted her head and smiled innocently, her tail flicking lazily behind her.

He looked so stupid, what was he all angry for? Adorable.

The Omaticayan was losing his mind, his scowl was deep and he huffed when Tala smiled. When the door shut, he bruisingly hit the side of his fist against the wall. Yomioang [chalice plant], he couldn’t have picked a better plant for her, she seemed all too fine with ensnaring whoever she could with her nectar and it left a bad taste in his mouth.

Neteyam felt all too much like the stupid boy he’d acted around Tala when they had first met as children. Pretty flowers, sweet scents, he wanted to murder something.

Tala wondered if she had gone too far, seeing the way the male na’vi’s back muscles flexed, tight. His hair had whipped away from her so dramatically. But her attention was demanded when Halloway punched in the code for his private quarters and nearly threw her in his bed.

The smell overwhelmed her, and so did he as he immediately ripped her coat open, groaning at the sight of her in this grey underwear. He grabbed at her hips and pawed at her breasts, and Tala obliged despite feeling her skin crawl.

“Finally got you all to myself. Come here, sweetheart…” *He breathed into her darker blue skin as she held the crude needle in her palm. She sighed breathily and arched her back to wrap her arms around his neck, pulling him closer.

Halloway started to laugh. “Don’t worry I’m not going anywhe-ERK!” Halloway’s body nearly suffocated her as it fell on her diaphragm, heavy as a rock. She quickly pulled out the needle from the space near his adam’s apple, just as Orlek’an had taught her. A new trick, just to cause a fainting spell.

Tala blew more dark strands of hair away from her face as she poked him hard a few times and checked if he was still breathing. He was out cold and Tala nodded to herself, impressed. She would need to ask the Anurai woman to teach her more, though she did also offer a quick prayer to Eywa that she hadn’t just killed him.

After some major effort, Tala rolled the soldier off of her, bit into his skin here and there despite the revulsed reaction it brought to her tongue, and scampered quietly to Neteyam’s door.

She knocked. Nothing. She knocked again, louder.

A crack opened and even from the tiny space, Tala could confirm what she thought she had smelled earlier: dry blood.

She could see Neteyam's bright golden irises blaze at her through the crack and she beamed at him.

“Missed me?”

The door quickly shut and she made the brilliant decision of letting Neteyam nearly break her toes as she tried to stop it. She bit her lips and hissed in pain. Neteyam smiled, almost amused.

“Ow!! Really?” She whisper-shouted to him, feeling extremely vulnerable out in the bright hallways of Bridgehead.

“What did you do to him?” Neteyam asked, eyes flicking to Halloway’s door. Tala rolled her eyes. “He’s fine, he’s just taking a little nap.” She grumbled and attempted to get further inside by squeezing her arm in now, the door digging painfully into her tit as she tried to force her way through.

“You told me to get over here, didn’t you? I had to think of something.” She huffed.

“You looked like you were enjoying yourself.”  He kept his hand firmly against the door, though her efforts amused him. He kept enjoying the view of her breast squeezed, her lab coat now open, he let his eyes rake through her exposed figure.

“Toys have to look like they want to play if they want to survive, adorable warrior.” The tease in her voice died when Tala’s nose scrunched, the smell of sickness apparent on him. “Let me in, you’re hurt.”

Neteyam quirked his brow but relented, not wanting the two of them to get caught by anyone.

Tala entered and immediately re-examined him. His striped body was covered in a light sheen of sweat and pale, She noted a mass, of bandages she assumed, protruding from underneath his black, tight shirt, around his right-side clavicle. When her hands reached out he pushed it away.

“Show me your pockets.”

“What?” Tala’s ears folded back. Neteyam raised his brows as if his request was predictable and she was the one being unreasonable.

“How did you ‘make him sleep’, Tala?” He said, a slight growl to emphasize his soberness.

Tala made a face. This wasn’t cute.

“How do I make you sleep, Neteyam?” She replied, a challenging swish in her tail. She crossed her arms, they stared at each other in silence, his mouth was set in a hard line.

They stared.

Neteyam lurched forward and dug his hand into her pockets himself.

“You-!”

He pulled back only to reveal fingers covered in sticky and spiky clusters of honey. Tala’s heart had jumped out of her chest for a moment there but his fingers were mercifully too big to sense the tiny needles still deep inside. She made a very good show of her innocence with sass.

“Yes! I poisoned the poor corporal with honey, best be careful. This yomioang is just full of tricks.��  The Tawkami woman said tartly as he stared down, still confused about what the heck was on his hand. He hadn’t seen honey since he had left the forest with his family.

“Why do you have this?” His voice was more full of wonder than she had expected.

“The scientists. They-“

“They?”

“Dr. Hanson just gave me some as a thank you. That’s it.” Tala looked up at him through her eyelashes. “And I didn’t hurt the corporal or poison the honey if that’s what you’re going to ask next.”

Neteyam pursed his lips, it was. Tala sighed and stepped forward and he was damned to admit that the gentle air of her perfume did make him feel better.

“If I wanted to hurt him I wouldn’t have come back to you now.” She cautioned another step forward and she delicately picked out the sticky sweet crystals from Neteyam’s hand. He froze, eyes warning as the veins on his neck pronounced itself. She was close enough for him to count the tanhi on her face and now the real sweet thick substance was setting his nerves on fire.

“I promise, I won’t hurt you. You know I know how to help, let me help you. If I’ll heal the vrrteps, I’ll heal you. Please.” Tala said again, her green eyes gazing straight at his, she noted how the golden syrup reflected against his eyes. She used to think he was sweet. For that, she couldn’t ignore how his mottled blood-stained stank, how the sick clung to his skin and his breath was short.

Neteyam’s eyes softened a percentage under Tala’s determination. The plea in her voice seemed sincere to him.

He sighed and kept his eyes on her, suspicious. She frowned, about to give up and her fingers started to leave his skin. 

The soldier sighed again, tugged off his shirt, and sat on the edge of his bed.

Tala let out a breath she didn’t realize she was holding as she quickly looked around the windowless room, closed off and the only comfort it possessed was that it smelled like him and the forest. Pine, sunlilies, and, somehow, sunlight.

She picked out what she needed from the available medical supplies and sat down delicately next to him, barely disturbing the wrinkles.

The bandages were decent, but they were old, Tala worked quickly. He hissed when she cleaned the wound.

Tala pushed the small cluster of honey she had recollected from his hand into his mouth as if she were comforting a child.

“Tawtute medicine stings, you’ve always known that. Just enjoy this.” Tala said, a small smile quirked on her lips as she foresaw the scowl begin to sink into the wrinkle of his mouth.

He definitely didn’t appreciate it but kept stoic as he let the honey roll around on his tongue. Sweet, his eyes flickered to the navi in front of him. The scene felt so… familiar, despite his best efforts to resist 

The Tawkami alchemist finished and quietly touched his exposed forehead. The fever wasn’t too strong, he had sweated out the majority of it and Tala had spotted some pill bottles earlier. She wished she had her usual ingredients, the Tawkami medicine and recipes that could heal him faster.

“How did this happen?”

“Do you really want to know?” Neteyam mumbled though he did admire her handiwork as he looked down.

It wasn’t from uncooperation that he asked this, Tala knew. She paused if she really did want to know. What was a messy scar and a fever for this solder was likely something much more permanent for whoever did this to him, it made her chew the inside of her cheek. The tranquil seed was still always an option.

“Why didn’t the vrrteps heal you? Your wound shouldn’t have gotten infected.” She switched her question.

“I told you I don’t like the scientists.” Neteyam thought her change in topic was prudent.

She nodded and he realized she still didn’t understand.

“I’d rather tend to myself, I know how to and I don’t need them to run their… tests on me. Keep me under observation for something as small as this.”

Curiosity flashed in Tala’s eyes and Neteyam mentally decided he’d only humor her for as long as this small ball of honey in his mouth lasted.

“Do they do that often? Keep you under observation?”

“They brought me back from the dead, Tala. Of course.”

“What do they do?”

“They check my vitals, lay me inside one of their bio-lab chambers.”

“And what else?”

The ball of honey was melting fast.

“I’m unconscious when I’m in the chamber.”

“But does it… hurt? When you wake up?”

Neteyam didn’t feel like answering, so he sucked until the honey disappeared completely on his tongue.

“Thank you for tending to me, Tala. I’ll call a guard to escort you back.” He was not surprised from the severely offended look on Tala’s face.

For she didn’t appreciate the clipped ‘thank you, get out’ from Neteyam’s mouth. Tala kneeled up to tower over him, letting the unbuttoned lab coat fall off her shoulders as she placed her hand on her hips.

The soldier would hurl himself off a cliff before confessing that his eyes strained not to stare at that deliciously thin, tiny, piece of grey cloth that covered her cunt. She looked too good in it, no loincloth to cover the supple fold of her flesh, her thighs and pelvis meeting- focus.

“You didn’t answer my question.” She said.

“I’ve answered enough.”

“You didn’t answer an important one.” Tala was slowly realizing she should not have missed him as much as she did in his absence. She sighed, and Neteyam took minor offense to being treated as if he was the source of her vexation.

“I’m just… Of course, I’ll leave, you need to rest.” She figured she wasn’t going to get any more information and a larger part of her was scolding her for trying in the first place. This skxawng wasn’t worth the effort, she had done her duty as a healer and alchemist. This was enough.

Neteyam stilled his movements, taken aback at her so quickly giving up. He regarded her suspiciously and sighed. He lets the wrist tech fall to the floor.

“You drop-” Tala was about to be very helpful and reach down to retrieve it until Neteyam suddenly grabbed her by her waist and pulled her down with him, letting his back fall onto the mattress.

“Neteyam! Your wound!” She yelped.

“Just be quiet.”

Tala looked at him in complete disbelief, Neteyam kept his eyes trained on the ceiling since he didn’t need to look at her to already know what her expression was like. She was stunned, to say the least, but Tala was also minding the feeling of her body pressed onto his bare chest. This felt the closest thing to tender between them.

She decided being a little selfish for the comfort wouldn’t be the end of the world.

Instead of asking more questions, which the soldier was preparing himself mentally for, Tala surprised him by simply sighing and settling in, tracing the stripes on his chest. Her fingertips danced lazily on the skin, careful over his old gunshot wound on his left pec. Whatever, looks like she was stuck here.

Now Neteyam knew he was still delirious from his fever when he found himself not stopping her. When he found her soft curves like a blanket on top of him and her careful touch endearing. This was why he needed strength every time he saw her, already he was letting her entrap him like a small animal, attracted to her warmth and smell. He had to remember that even wasps also settled within her, waiting to attack him on all fronts.

His tail thumped softly against the side of the bed, agitated. Tala noticed but stayed quiet. She reminded herself that every show of embarrassment was because his ego was crying, not because he considered her capable of affecting him.

“Why do you help me?” When Neteyam asked it he wondered to himself why he was so eager to get eaten and stung.

Tala could feel the bass of his voice tremor through her and she raised her face to look at him.

“A healer doesn’t need a reason to heal, remember?” Tala replied softly, simply, she rested her cheek on her arm. In the end, this was what she believed in, even if her wartime experience told her this was reckless.

The Omaticayan was not expecting to be so unscathed.

“Mm.” He hummed.

“Did you give Halloway that black eye?”

There it was, the first sting. Neteyam shrugged and then winced. Tala was immediately amused and scooted closer to his face, grinning.

“How come?” She asked, beginning to sound all too excited.

“… You were unfairly punished, remember?” His heart didn’t know whether to feel lighter or heavier when she giggled.

“You got revenge for me before I even asked!” Tala was smiling, wasn’t this a treat? Did this skxawng actually have the capacity to be charitable? “How come you didn’t tell me?”

It was when it dropped that he realized he was smiling at all. He trained his eyes back on the bare ceiling. He remembered when he used to ache to see stars.

“What would you have done if I did?”

“I probably would’ve kissed you.”

He furrowed his brows at her, unimpressed. Tala scoffed and laughed again.

“A real kiss. Not that bloody mauling you make us do with our lips.”

Now that offended him, Neteyam propped himself up by his elbows.

“I don’t ever hear you complainin-”

Tala pressed her lips so completely softly against his, it should’ve been so easy for him to shove her off. 

Yet his voice broke off instantly and her eyelashes brushed against his cheek. Her eyes were mercifully closed so she couldn’t see the war his ears flushed red.

Another sting.

“You taste like honey,” Tala said, smiling into the kiss. She didn’t have any real reason why she was doing this. Maybe she wanted to prove herself wrong. Maybe she wanted to check really how little Neteyam cared for her… and how much.

His body felt hot, Great fucking Mother why was she so… It was embarrassing how quickly he was getting enraptured by her whims. She always did whatever she wanted, he hadn’t seen that as something attractive before.

The Tawkami pulled her face back and so embarrassingly his own chased after hers until she put his hand over his mouth.

“See? A real kiss.”

Neteyam dumbly nodded and only when Tala ever so softly giggled did he regain some sense. He scoffed and quickly turned the both of them to properly lay in his bed, pulling the covers over them.

He settled his face into her soft breasts, the only thing that he felt hadn’t betrayed or embarrassed him that day.

“Excuse me??” Tala squeaked, amused though.

“Shu’up. Tired.” His voice was muffled into the fat of her breasts but Tala basically understood. She chortled, was this fondness she was feeling? His resistance towards her was bordering so much closer to adorable than to infuriating just then, the flashes of his old self were… bring up warm reminders. Of when he was much nicer and much funner to be around, much kinder.

Tala settled in, supposing correctly she wouldn’t be let go any time soon. Her hands softly patted his back as they laid there.

“Fine, I’ll leave you be since you’re hurt.” She said in her magnanimous good grace. She decided to also ignore Neteyam snorting between her breasts. 

Silence returned and Tala considered speaking of something of much more substance, of importance. Like the war, his family, but the words stuck in her throat. They were virtually strangers. Even strangers in war could share intimacy like this if they were desperate and tired enough.

The thought made playing with Neteyam’s unadorned braids of hair feel… invasive. She stopped.

They were just starved for warmth, that was all. Neteyam felt lucky that he was drowsy now. Like Tala, there was too much he didn’t want to think about, no intention to release it all.

Both kept silently awake for hours before drifting into slumber.

—

Neteyam’s face was lit by stinging sparks of fire and magma.

It was hot, so hot he could barely breathe. He looked around, coughing, and there he saw the slender back of someone who looked too eerily familiar. He groaned internally, he had always hated Eywa’s ability to send visions in dreams, did he really have no place for solace?

“Mother.”

Neytiri turned, her amber eyes wide and blazing as she looked at her son with a face of anguish. She ran towards him, through plumes of burning stone.

“Maitan [my son]!”

Neteyam grimaced as his mother’s arms encircled him, her grip tight and pleading. She was shaking, he could see how aged the skin on her hands had become, her smell of daffodils.

He saw his songcord hanging on her hips and he felt as if the splatters of fire were less painful a sensation than seeing that.

Neytiri stepped back to look at her firstborn, miracles and blessings on her tongue. Her fingers wandered along his face, his scars, the one on his forehead was hidden from her however.

Her reverie was cut short when she truly looked at the RDA vrrtep uniform he was fully clothed in

“You are alive.” Her voice trembled regardless, too much pain and happiness bubbled up to the surface as the lines of her conflicted smile deepened, she was trying not to sob.

“Mother.” Neteyam couldn’t help but want to be kind. He had often daydreamed of how such reunions would go. He had calculated soon enough his mother would see him, as he is now. He knew she would know she’d have to kill him and how she would want to refuse to. He counted on it.

“M-my son, how could you think like this?” His mother’s voice broke at the question, somehow everything the two were thinking was so plain to them here.

Their ears flicked at the roars of fire and heaviness settled.

“If the People give up Jake Sully, I won’t have to.” Neteyam said and he could feel his mother start to draw blood. Nothing, it felt like barely anything.

“What is this poison, Neteyam? What have they done to you, maitan?” Neytiri nearly shouted, her own songcord swinging as her whole body shook in anger, imitating the volcanoes around them. “I will kill them, I will avenge you-“

Jake Sully first. He alone should be the only casualty, Neteyam knew that, all of Eywa'eveng knew that. But even in his clearheadedness, not at all shrouded in migraine, he could feel his scars emanate a heat hotter than fire. Nothing to hide behind, resentment filled up so much of his core.

His head and his heart wanted revenge. It wasn’t even his fault, none of theirs, Neteyam knew so logically.

“Bro…?”

He turned his head so quickly his plain braids whipped to see a na’vi too familiar to him. Five fingers, eyebrows, face and limbs inked with dark tattoos, and taller. He walked towards them, somehow feet not burning and the heat made his visage blurry but not his emotions.

“Lo’ak…” it was their mother, Neytiri called out to him in warning. The son in front of her, she would not dare take her eyes off of him now.

Not when the inferno reflected in Neteyam’s eyes was overflowing, his jaw tightened, if his nails were longer he’d long be drawing blood into his palms.

“You do not want this.” Neytiri’s voice rose as Lo’ak approached them, his lips parted. Wonder, horror?

Guilt.

“Bro-, Neteyam. Neteyam I’m so sorry-“ Lo’ak wanted to believe it was because of the way even the air sizzled that he found it harder to breathe, not because of his… did he have the right to call him a brother?

“First, Dad. Because we shouldn’t even exist and you know it.” Neteyam’s voice was eerie and he stepped closer to his younger sibling, it made Lo’ak’s feet falter and Neytiri’s throat bubbled up with panic.

“What- What are you talking about-?”

“There was something Quaritch told me since the time I’ve come back.” Neteyam spat at the words ‘come back’ as if he had any choice in the matter. Neytiri followed as her sons came closer and closer to each other, no one backing down. The lava was following the steps of each warrior.

“Something about the ‘sins of the father’ to be paid by his children.”

Lo’ak kept his gaze steady, his hands twitched at the threat. Neteyam didn’t have a clue what his face was like now, but he could feel it through Lo’ak. Monster, freak, he supposed it was unsurprising. 

A son that was supposed to be dead.

Both sons of a traitor.

Neteyam stopped a meter away from the younger. Their heights seemed even, Lo’ak’s warrior garb and belly band looked similar to the one he had had. He wanted to laugh, was that a tribute to him?

Lo’ak’s ears turned down, jaw set.

“Do you really think that’s fair, baby brother?” His voice was too calm.

“Neteyam, stop this, they have poisoned you against your own family, your people! Please, just come home maitan-“

Lo’ak heard the mistake in his mother’s plea too late.

“Home? Like when I asked to come back home when I died?” His fury was overwhelming, Neteyam was seeing things he did not recognize. He was shot in the head, when had he the time to tell them? What was this dark view of the stars, faces of loved ones looking down on him, where was this from?

The other two sensed the confusion, only making their own burst through.

“Neteyam, please, just listen to us-“

“Maitan, it will be okay! Your-your father has barely slept since you-“

“Why should the People continue to suffer for his actions? Jake Sully already doomed this place-!”

“Dad doomed this place? Are you out of your fucking mind?” Lo’ak’s tone turned grave with this outburst and he ventured closer to his brother despite Neytiri’s protests.

“You’ve got to fucking joking. You’re actually on the side of the people that ruined our lives, destroyed our homes, killed everyone, killed you, mom’s family-?!” They were growling at each other now, Neteyam no longer had the significant height advantage he was used to. Their fangs gleamed red in the dream, as if already bloodied, he always hated Lo’ak’s were sharper but he was confident it wouldn’t help that much.

Both were suddenly aware that in their respective war costumes, both had knives strapped to their bodies.

“No!” Neytiri sobbed with a pain that both brothers knew they’d never forget. She reached for her own, to protect, to defend, Neteyam’s gloved fingers wrapped around the handle of his black combat knife, and Lo’ak’s citrine eyes begged for peace as his hand reached for his carved hunting knife.

Neteyam recognized that knife. He gave it to him, a present for Lo’ak’s iknimiya, recently sharpened. Neytiri’s knife hung with a feather he had gifted to her as a child.

Neteyam now truly knew Eywa was cruel.

-----

“Neteyam!!”

The soldier gasped and immediately hurled his body forward to break the bones of whoever was in front of him.

Tala choked and she placed her hands on his face.

“Breathe, Neteyam.”

One blink and he could see the cool-toned blues and greens of dull and dark silver walls in shadow. Bridgehead. His room.

Inferno-yellow eyes met cooling leaf hues. Green, green eyes, Tala.

The breath he let out was shuddering and violent, he immediately crumpled tightly around her and Tala found herself now trying to hold the soldier up with wrinkled, damp blankets.

“I’m sorry, shit, I’m sorry…” he gasped out quickly, his entire body felt so fucking cold now, it hurt. Tala blinked owlishly but her sleepy state focused on comforting him.

“It was a dream, just a dream. You’re okay, you’re okay.” She whispered soothingly, she rubbed his back. They were sitting up in the middle of his bed now, though Neteyam was still hunched over and breathing hard to regain himself. She felt his calloused hands dug into her body as if tattooing her stripes into his palms…

“It’s your fever, you’re sweating, you’ll warm up in a bit.” Tala continued and her voice stayed calming and even. She couldn’t do much else when Neteyam’s remedy to whatever he had seen in his sleep was to bury their bodies impossibly closer together. The soldier hadn’t meant to hurt her. 

He pushed his face into her softness, desperate for real warmth, not the clammy fabric of the blanket.

“Li’Tala…” Tala jerked her entire body away, stunned. He didn’t know why he said it, her full name, one that he knew-

“Don’t call me that, Neteyam.” She said, her firm voice edged on icy.

“Only my mate is allowed to call me ‘Li’Tala’ so I don’t want to hear my name out of your mouth again, you!”

“Oh, and I’m sure your mate will be crying tears of gratitude for finally becoming worthy of it, of you, beautiful Li’Tala.”

Their second meeting as young adults was not… frictionless. But as childish as it was, Tala never wavered in this little dream of hers. Who cared that it was immature, she didn’t allow exceptions, even though the Omaticayan prince bristled hard when not given one.

Neteyam always remembered this of her, yet her insistence and denial of him now made his body feel that much more frozen-numb.

He chased after her skin and stuck his tongue out to taste its natural salt, reminding him of the first time they had reunited. Her taste and her everything, his whole body was shaking for it.

“Li’Tala, Li’Tala…”

“Neteyam–stop–” Now Tala started to squirm in his desperate hold. She could feel his hardening arousal between them, settling so perfectly against her vulva. She pushed against him.

“You need sleep, not a fuck.” She hissed. Tala shivered as the soldier switched between licking, sucking, and biting lightly along the tanhi on her shoulders and chest.

“I need you, Li’Tala.” He rasped deeply. She ignored the way his voice made even her toes curl because now her blood was pumping far too loudly. What did he just say to her? Was he losing his mind, what pills did he take??

“Eywa, get a grip!” 

He suckled at the flesh of her tits, Tala shoved his face away with the thick metal of the inhibitor cuffs. He groaned and settled for simply pulling her onto his lap closer than ever, taking a break from his ministrations.

She huffed, she was panting much harder than she realized.

“What happened, what did you see?”

Great mother or whatever being out there, if there ever was one…  what could he do to make her realize his ache for her?

“... I need your help, Li’Tala.” He started, fangs catching onto her skin as he spoke. It all made her freeze, she peered down and tried to gently bring his face back towards hers. He let her and looked up at her, she caught herself thinking it was as if he was beseeching her. There was no way.

“I need to forget it. I know you can help.” He said, sunspot yellow met with her cool green. She knew she could to, it’s just…

“Stop calling me Li’Tala” She tried again, this time much more softly. He groaned.

“Let me pretend.” He whispered hotly, his fingers reaching for her cheek. His fingertips barely touched hers and yet she felt only heat.

He still felt so cold.

She gulped. What did pretending mean, what was he thinking of? Tala usually felt like she was the one getting burnt by him, now it seemed like he was starving for her kindling because now… his fire was weak. He was begging her.

Tala bit her lips, frustrated, conflicted. She could just do the same to Neteyam as she did with Halloway, she didn’t need to comfort him.

The Tawkami glanced at her wrists still heavy with metal inhibitors, he needed her?

She would blame her drowsiness for it, just… fuck it. Fuck it.

“You follow my lead then.” Tala whispered and Neteyam swore he could feel his cock twitch at her tone. He nodded eagerly.

Tala then smashed their lips together. His tongue immediately sought inside her, to explore the cavern of her teeth.

She was practically sitting on him now. She could feel his bulge dig into her thigh, he was pawing at her, palming whoever fat he could. He groaned into her perfume.

Tala shushed him softly. She raised her hips just enough for him to frantically shove down his sweats and Tala delicately pushed the tawtute tewng to the side, it squeezed her pink and puffy folds so perfectly that it made him nearly weep. He was already leaking as he heaved, not noticing the bitter look on her face.

“Don’t worry.” She cooed so nicely in contrast. Her voice was like those tawtute myths he was told about by his father, angelic. She slowly and carefully sunk down her pelvis, his cock head breached her open none too gently and she muffled a high-pitched moan, letting Neteyam’s hard shaft split her open. The stretch ached but she kept her voice even and breathy.

“Be good.” She whispered and waited for his reply. The soldier groaned, every strand of muscle forcing him to not push her down right there and then.

Tala sunk down completely it made Neteyam groan harshly and loudly at the feeling of her tight and warm walls surrounding him. His nerves were shot. Naturally, he was about to fuck into her heat when she did it for him. She dragged her hips up unbearably slowly, both reveling how her cunt squeezed each ridge, so hot, so tight.

“Stay still.”

She slammed her hips down with a ferocity that made both of them moan loudly, she nearly cried out. She started to bounce, holding onto Neteyam’s broad shoulders for support.

“Mmmm…” Tala moaned low, each moan punctuated every time she felt her ass slap against his thighs. He moaned with her, finding himself on the receiving end of her fast pace. He groaned into her hair wantonly, cock twitching inside her.

“Fuuckkk, hahh, fuck.” He cursed softly then latched his mouth on his first mark on her. She stopped suddenly and it embarrassed him how nearly he fucking whined.

“No biting.” She cooed and Neteyam thought he was being driven insane tonight. Today. Since he had taken Tala.

He growled but nodded, settling into a tight embrace instead. He looked at her expectantly, was this allowed?

Tala’s smile was enough to replace the ache for stars he usually felt whenever he looked up in his room.

Then his eyes nearly rolled back when she slammed and bucked harder onto him.

“F-uuuck, haaah, aangh~” Tala graphically moaned into his ear. She panted and her tits bounced as she pistoned herself on his cock. “Aahhh, nnnggg…” she quietly moaned, angling her hips just so to make the fat tip brush against her sweet spots. Neteyam rutted into her uncontrollably, losing himself as he mindlessly chased her warmth. His mouth was open in a silent moan, holy shit.

Tala’s so fucking wet now and she rolled her pelvis to award herself louder moans from Neteyam’s lips.

“Li’T-tala, so good, fuck you’re so good.” He praised, face still stuck to the crook of her neck. She switched her pace and started rotating her hips, rolling them as she still lazily stroked herself along his shift. She felt her self-satisfaction spike when the soldier’s yellow eyes rolled up and fluttered, pupils were so blown out. She admitted he was adorable like this too.

She brought Neteyam’s hand to her belly, pushing down his hand with hers against the bulge there. They both groaned deeply at the sensation, Tala was near hiccuping from the pleasure. A toy that she was, she had only a toy’s ability to see Neteyam unravel. And she chased it hungrily.

His vulnerable expression contorted from the pleasure. To say Tala’s pussy was the best medication he’s had all week would be an understatement.

“Am I doing good, mighty warrior?” Tala squeezed her walls tight for good measure, a moan ripping out her throat as she did. It was worth it, hearing Neteyam’s louder and deeper one that ended with his teeth back on her skin. He quickly ripped his head back when he remembered her little rule.

“So fucking good, please. Fuckk…” He groaned, massaging her belly now even harder, the thought alone made him want to cum. Tala gasped.

“Mmmm, nnng!!” She squealed, and she fucked herself on his pulsating and thick cock even faster, the squelching sounds fueled the both of them.

Plap, plap, squelch, the mattress started to creak. The soldier switched to holding onto her hips, just to make each thrust that much deeper, to feel her cunt flutter at every brush near her cervix and Tala was seeing stars.

Each ridge and thick vein on his shaft was melting and massaging her cunt. She was enjoying herself fully, from the perspective of the toy she was. He certainly needed this toy so badly now.

“Mmm, mmm!! Haah, hahh, is this really helping? Is your toy pleasing you? Maybe we should stop…” She teased, suddenly slowing down, and was delightfully surprised when he mindlessly begged.

“NO! Fuck, please, dont’s-stop, such a good toy, Li’Tala. So fucking wet, so fucking tight.” He blathered, arms only tightening around her desperately.

Tala threw her head back when Neteyam reached between them, with intense accuracy, to squeeze her clit.

“Oahhh!! Mmmg- Neteyam!” She cried out, the sounds of slapping skin made him laugh dumbly. Their pelvises were completely covered in each other’s slick.

“Take my cum, Tala, need you to take all my cum..” he muttered into her ear and he used his grip on her clit to guide Tala’s pace, she was so close now. 

“Don’t stop, so fucking good ma’fil, Li’Tala…” he breathed out, his voice unsteady and deeply tinged in pleasure. The way Neteyam husked her name made her pussy walls convulse.

“Haa, haaa, ahh, I’m close~! I’m close, Nete-yam, Neteyam, so close, close!” Tala whined and dug their pelvises so tightly together that her pearl of nerves rubbed harshly against his toned muscle. She grinded on him wildly, his cock hitting her gummy walls so good, she abused her sweet spots with him.

“So hot, so hot…” he was praising her, the sight of her had made him completely forget how he felt like he was freezing just moments ago. Her soft breasts bouncing, torso in a light sheen of sweat and her eyes so fucking focused on him, her cunt was devoted to squelching lewdly every time she grinded on him.

He was close too, he could feel how heavy his balls were now and without either of their warnings, Neteyam spilled his load into her, it made her mewl as she came hard with him.

Black spots dotted their vision as they painted, their juices had overflowed inside Tala and usually the sight would irritate Neteyam, making him wanna fuck it back into her.

But Tala didn’t mind the mess. In fact, she wanted more. After a few seconds, she rolled her hips again and even though they stuttered, she felt herself able to overcome the crackles of overstimulation.

Her hands delicately laced through his hair to gently stroke at the base of his kuru.

Neteyam hissed loudly and squeezed onto her ass in warning, barely able to stop himself from bucking into her overflowing cunt.

Too fucking soon, the sensation of her pink flesh was overwhelming, the friction was making his muscles involuntarily twitch, he groaned as he rested his head back.

“What’s wrong? You don't want to?” Tala asked, her voice soft and sultry. The question just sounded like the deadliest taunt to him. She was rotating her hips and twisting him from inside her, his cock felt like it was being choked in different ways, squeezed and massaged in a way he hadn’t been before. She was fucking milking him, Neteyam only dumbly shuddered and thrusted upwards weakly.

Her tiny pussy was soaking him, his balls, and his mattress but that didn’t matter when it was the only thing on his mind, her gummy flesh was the only thing reminding him he was still breathing. 

After what felt like an eternity of the most delicious torture, Tala finally screamed her last climax and mercifully stopped, shivering from aftershocks of pleasure. She had pulled so much more ropes of cum from him and just staying inside her nearly made him cum again, it made Neteyam whimper low and hotly, his golden eyes barely able to stay open. Tala finally collapsed on him, muscles were burning and she was breathing heavily, but the look on his face made it all so worth it.

She was impressed with herself, her body was heavy with what felt like deep buckets of creamy liquid spilling out of her. She noticed now how tightly his tail had encircled her thigh, a slight mark left from it now.

“Fuck… Li’Tala…” Neteyam drawled out wearily, he collapsed onto his back and brought her with him. Her full name brought back shudders along her spine, the way he said it was positively lewd and so, so, intimate.

Tala hummed, fully able to feel the slowly calming pulse on his neck. She licked her lips, she was enticed. Not one had she left marks on him, she never felt a desire to.

The Omaticayan breathed hard, when he felt her fangs push past her perfect lips and onto his skin. It wasn’t deep, barely a bruise, but Tala finally figured out why he enjoyed doing it to her so much. The way his scent covered her face and somehow she could taste it in his skin was intoxicating.

She licked the small wound while Neteyam fought internally how horny he instantly became again despite his exhaustion. Tala hummed, the two too tired to even look at each other from where they rested.

“Good boy…” She said softly before fading into slumber. Only Neteyam could feel how hard his cock twitched when he heard her whisper. They were fucked out and warm and his miserable dreams were nothing but fuzzy images.

His own consciousness was fading fast and any shiver his body felt was definitely from no bite of cold, regardless of the sweat. Now it was more like pinpricks of pleasure and pain, definitely distracting. Neteyam closed his eyes.

He embraced Tala tenderly, he breathed in her hair, and his mind was completely soothed. He slept wholly to Tala, to the smell of her sweetness, the beat of her heart, the sound of her breath, choosing to forget about those damned dreams and his damned existence.

He breathed out once again, vague recollections of fire licking at his skin.

Neteyam forced the thoughts away by lightly running his fingers on the mark Tala just left on him, barely aching, he could only find it by carefully sensing the barest indentation. He then felt for the one he left on Tala all that time ago, the texture of the scar made it much easier.

Both comforted him, grounded him, he didn’t notice the way his tail wagged a bit too contently. All of his muscles relaxed and gratefully his sleep was dreamless.

His last thought was how much he enjoyed calling her Li’Tala than ma’fil.

tag list: @xylianasblog @itchaboi-itchyboy @hotdsworld @pandoraslxna @luvv4j4ybe11 @neteyamsyawntu @akoyaxs @whatevenisagrapefruit @teyamsatan @justcaptiannoodles @theblueflower05 @neteluvr @neteyamssyulang @plooto @hao-ming-8 @teyamsilly @vivid-ink @vampirefilmlover

notes: hi! finally getting into the plot portion of the fic lol, hopefully this will be all finished v soon! maybe 2 or 3 more chapters? hope yall enjoy~

[hayleysayshay]

Okay here’s how some ideas to adapt bard’s lament in TLOVM S3 if we had to keep this same story structure generally and end on a hopeful note but also allows the season to have actual interesting inter party conflict.

— At one moment in ep 1/2 where Scanlan talks to Kaylie he mentions his mother. Kaylie wants to know more, but Scanlan is too drunk and a mess to continue the conversation. Maybe he even says that he never talks about her — no-one ever asks, but again he’s too drunk to continue the conversation with Kaylie who is annoyed by this

— then episode 6 happens. Pike says he can go, so Scanlan tries to say that he wants to leave to find his daughter. The rest of the group are angry, there’s more pressing things right now, they’re a team, can’t this wait? Scanlan feels dismissed especially since he let them spend a night in his chateau.

— They return to Whitestone. The city is being attacked by dragons. Scanlan tries to help, but is severely hurt by dragon fire. Like head to toe burns. He’s hanging by a thread, Pike works for hours to keep him alive. It’s painful. (This way it’s a really traumatic moment for Scanlan like his death without being a death.)

— Scanlan finally wakes, maybe early ep 7, and then the Bards Lament breakdown happens. He and Percy especially snap at each other. He says they don’t care bout him, what is his mother’s name, he just wanted to see Kaylie.

— he asks Allura or Gilmore to transport him away to Kaylie. VM allow him to leave, Pike is hurt by him leaving, rest of VM more angry.

— we see in ep 8 Kaylie and Scanlan meeting. She’s happy that he came to find her. He plays her his song and he apologises for being a bad dad, but he wants to be there for her.

— Then Percy dies, and Thordak fight happens without Scanlan (just rework his contributions to another character (maybe Vex and Grog?))

— during ep 10 we see Scanlan and Kaylie in a bar together, chatting, where they hear that Thordak has been defeated, but the Lord of Whitestone is dead. Scanlan voices his regrets that now Percy died thinking he didn’t care, that he wasn’t there for the funeral, that the group now thinks he doesn’t care. He can’t fix it.

— Kaylie: ‘your loyalty to those weirdos is one of the endearing things about you. Go to them, don’t leave it like this. You fixed things with me.’

— I think if Scanlan isn’t in a coma it makes VM falling apart in ep 10 more realistic. Instead of only Grog and Pike caring to stay with Scanlan, the team splinters as Percy is dead, Scanlan willingly left, are they even Vox Machina anymore?. (I think you could rework the whole Ripley end fight to have more of VM but I’m just doing Bards Lament, so sure Vex and Vax go fight her alone.)

— Scanlan and Kaylie make the journey back to Whitestone (maybe via a cart, or a joke aboutdrunk wizard who only gets them half way). Either way they don’t get to Whitestone immediately.

— now he can either be back for the Raishan fight, and help out there, or Scanlan can come back just in time for Percy’s resurrection. Maybe it’s really hard — Gilmore and Allura are also helping out Pike and Keyleth, but they need a little more magic, Orthax is sooooo powerful — and then another pair of hands slams onto the resurrection circle — Scanlan has come back in time! Percy is res’d, Scanlan apologises for how he left, they all apologise for taking him for granted, but they soothe those hurt emotions.

— they then all part on good terms like how s3 actually ends.

I don’t think Scanlan is super needed for Thordak or Raishan since he killed Vorugal in s2. If he left midway through s3, his absence would be felt through the second half, so it’s nice to actually see him back in the last episode.