#felt like i was experiencing all of the fourteen fears all at once

[honeysucklethornsandalligtrhorns]

good news!! instead of the distended, entire night-lasting, low, looming sense of fear I’ve had since I started listening to TMA, last night I instead experienced about a minute and thirty second period of pure, espresso-shot terror!! I was incredibly certain that at any moment I would be stabbed or suffocated and completely certain that there was someone in my room!!

the rest of the night was an easy comfy feeling. pretty good trade off tbh cause I could actually sleep with my night light off!!

[literaryfandomangel]

The Promise - Chapter Twenty-Three

Once our relationship status was established, or rather, confirmed that the five of us were in a romantic entanglement, I found myself drawn to the four men. In the following weeks, I split my time between the familial house, where my brother and grandfather resided, and the nights filled with laughter and love with my boyfriends.

Being in a committed relationship with the four men was unlike anything I had experienced. I almost felt like I was back to being fourteen – the very last visit to Santa Carla. They felt familiar, safe, and, most importantly, like home. I’m not sure why I picked fourteen, but I can’t remember much of that last visit to Santa Carla. I can only remember that Dad was furious with Mom, screaming at her for hours when we returned home. Shortly afterward, I met Justin and started to refuse food.

During daylight hours, I spent lounging around the house. I’d either be in the paddock with the horses, helping Grandpa with grooming, or keeping the house in working order. Sam hated the horses and thought they were dirty. He wouldn’t even step foot into the stables, but I loved working with the horses.

Occasionally, Sam would whisk me away to the Boardwalk during the day, but it was a rare occurrence. He seemed to prefer the Boardwalk at dusk, when the sky was painted in hues of orange and pink, and the air was filled with the scent of sea salt. We would stay, browsing through the comics, until it was time for Mom to finish her shift. However, I couldn't help but feel a sense of unease whenever we encountered the Frog brothers, the sole guardians of their parent’s comic bookstore.

I could understand their obsession with hunting vampires. From the looks of it, their parents weren’t the type to mediate their drug usage, almost always in a half-coma from whatever illicit substance they ingested. I imagined their life was uncertain, but they did not need to force their patrons into their delusional fantasies.

Every time Sam visited the comic bookstore, the next day, a new vampire comic was stashed somewhere in the house. They tried convincing my brother that Santa Carla was teeming with vampires. Once, I heard them mention that I was dating a vampire.

“Why’re you so quiet, baby?” Marko finally asked after I had barely spoken twenty words to them all night long. They feared that I was withdrawing from them, regressing in my recovery. I blinked, Marko’s voice pulling me from my inner thoughts. I bit my lip momentarily before deciding to confide in the four.

“What do you know about the Frog brothers?” I asked, fiddling with my fingers. I looked up to see Paul, David, Marko, and Dwayne exchange glances between themselves at my question.

“Why do you ask, kitten?” David finally broke the silence, turning his pale blue gaze onto me. If he hadn’t been my boyfriend and always gentle with me, that icy blue gaze would have me shrinking back in my seat.

“They’re trying to convince Sam that there are vampires here,” I sighed, spilling the beans to the four men. “I’m getting worried about him. I don’t want them to convince Sam to stake some poor, innocent person. I heard one of the brothers tell Sam I was dating a vampire.”

“You believe they would go that far, princess?” Dwayne’s deep voice rumbled from within his chest. I shrugged, uncertain about how far they would go. But the two brothers seemed fanatics, invested in the tale they told others. Sammy was halfway convinced.

“They seem pretty intense,” I finally stated after ensuring I was confident in the possible risks. “Who knows what crazy plans they are cooking up. I know that Sammy is convinced and keeps telling me to eat garlic.”

“We’ll look into it,” David promised me. I heaved a sigh of relief, feeling the heavy, oppressive air finally lift. I smiled at the four men, grateful that my boyfriend’s took my concerns seriously.

“Thank you!” I cried out, wrapping David in my arms. He stiffened initially but then became more comfortable with our embrace. The metal wheelchair David was perched on creaked under the added weight.

“We’re picking you up this Friday,” Paul finally announced, changing the subject. I raised an eyebrow as I returned to my seat on their comfortable sofa.

“How do you know that I’m available? What if I had made plans with my other boyfriends?” I teased. Paul’s blue eyes darkened as the other guys audibly growled at my statement.

“Oh yeah?” Marko’s voice was a seductive, sultry purr. Marko stood from his seat around the fountain, prowling closer like the feline he embodied. I gulped, knowing by now that Marko had some trick up his sleeve.

“Are you certain, babe?” Paul caught onto Marko’s plans. I looked over at David and Dwayne, playfully terrified.

“Uh – well,” I stammered a bit, trying to figure out how to get away from Marko and Paul. They were boxing me in on either side. Before I had a moment to figure it out, they had pounced. I shrieked in forced laughter as their skillful hands started to tickle my vulnerable spots. “Help me!”

David just leaned back in his wheelchair, lighting a cigarette. Dwayne shook his head, smiling as he returned his attention to the book in hand. Paul and Marko let out mock evil laughs, throwing their heads back as I begged for mercy.

“Alright,” Paul finally said, taking pity on my state. “Admit Marko and I are the handsomest of the bunch.”

“Mar-mar-mark- ko and P-p-pa-ul are the h-h-an-han-handsome-est!” I gasped between my laughter and hiccups. Their hands retreated, and I took a deep breath before finishing the statement. “Along with David and Dwayne!”

I rushed to hide behind Dwayne’s large frame as Marko and Paul whirled around, surprised at being tricked. Dwayne chuckled in amusement but shielded me from the mischievous blonde’s evil hands. David finished his cigarette before he finally declared the tickling session to be over.

“Let’s get you home, kitten,” David said, standing to his full height, stomping the cigarette out beneath his biker boots. We left their Cave and went up the steep ladder. Finally, we reached their motorcycles, and I decided to ride with Paul tonight.

Once we reached my house, the guys cut their engines. The door opened as we said our goodbyes, a mixture of kisses and whispered words. Grandpa came out onto the porch, pointedly looking at the four figures. With one last kiss each, they told me I could wear casual clothing for our date tomorrow.

“Night!” They called out, waving to Grandpa who begrudgingly told them night as well.

“Admit it,” I said to Grandpa Emerson, who ushered me into the warm house. “You like them.”

“If I didn’t, I’d have shot them,” Grandpa growled before bidding me a good night.

Chapter Twenty-Four

[outstandingblue]

Promises to Keep

Eighteen - Three Little Words

recom!miles quaritch x fem!na'vi oc

| Masterlist | Chapter One | Chapter Two | Chapter Three | Chapter Four | Chapter Five | Chapter Six | Chapter Seven | Chapter Eight | Chapter Nine | Chapter Ten | Chapter Eleven | Chapter Twelve | Chapter Thirteen | Chapter Fourteen | Chapter Fifteen | Chapter Sixteen | Chapter Seventeen | Chapter Nineteen |

What's that thing Wainfleet says all the time? Get some?

cross-posted on ao3 here + wattpad @/beanswolo content warning: explicit language, smut, p in v, fingering, slight cum play (?), alluded breeding kink, miles being rough, teasing, biting, marking, miles almost cums in his pants, blood, mild angst, fluff, cringe word count: 6.3k

Miles was trying to be gentle as he kissed along Jiniraa’s skin, exploring each inch he came in contact with. Her hands explored the expanse of his back, pressing a scratching when he reached sensitive areas of her own body. He was trying to take it slow, but the overwhelming sensations of the bond were making it next to impossible. 

The moment Jiniraa released the smallest whimper imaginable, Miles’ self control snapped in two. He wasn’t able to hold back anymore, no matter how much he wanted to savor this moment. 

Within an instant, Jiniraa was out of Miles’ lap as he pressed her against the floor of the cave. Her hair splayed out beneath her - she looked like the sun. Bright and warm. An essential part of life - she was essential to his life now, but he didn’t have time to dwell on the emotional sentiments as Jiniraa’s lust seeped through their bond. 

Miles’ plank position faltered as her desire mixed with his own. Miles smirked as he slowly traveled down her torso, pressing a sloppy wet kiss at the base of her sternum, “got me losing my strength, babydoll.”

Jiniraa could barely form the words, her rebuttal coming out as breathy pleas for his touch, “please, Miles, I need more.”

Miles nipped at her freshly exposed hip bone, “don’t you worry - I’m just gettin’ started.”

Jiniraa tried to help as Miles slipped the rest of the fabric down her legs, but her excitement and nerves were doing more harm than good, making the task more difficult than it needed to be. Once rid of her flowing pants, Miles traveled back up her legs, beginning at her ankles. Light touches and soft kisses were a juxtaposition to the harsh squeezing and bites as he passed over her knees. As he grew closer to the apex of her thighs, he could smell her arousal. She shifted against the ground in attempts to entice him into doing what she wanted, but there was no need for that. Miles felt like he was already drunk off her pussy without experiencing it yet. 

Although she was comfortable with Miles and trusted him wholeheartedly, there was a sense of anxiety growing in the pits of her stomach as he seemed to delay his actions. Her knees began to close as her arms stretched across her chest, attempting to find a sense of modesty under his intense gaze. Settled between her legs, Miles despised her efforts to hide away. He wasn’t pausing because he was repulsed - which was the nagging fear in Jiniraa’s mind - he was pausing to take in the sight of her.

The way her hair was spread beneath her. The way she had already moved to remove her top of her on volition at some point. The way her entire body twitched in excitement as he trailed his index finger along the inside of her thigh. The way her head would roll back and her back arched slightly off the ground, making the dark bruises around the base of her throat more apparent. The connection of their queues that rested across her stomach, outlined by her arm of glowing dots. He loved it all.

The only thing he didn’t like was the way she tried to shy away. Being connected meant he felt all of her emotions - both the good and bad. He felt her shame and anxiety. Since the day they met, Miles was aware of how she struggled with her self worth, but he thought those negative emotions were far behind them. It seems they prevailed. He hoped she would’ve come to learn over time that there was no need to feel apprehensive around him. He loved her for who she was, even if he hadn’t said those three little words yet - hell, he didn’t even know if the Na’vi said shit like that.

With newfound determination, Miles gave himself a new goal: worship Jiniraa for all she was worth. Tonight wouldn’t be about him - it was about them coming together as one. He was used to being selfish with past partners. Now, that didn’t mean they wouldn’t finish, but it certainly wasn’t a priority as he chased his own high.

Miles grabbed Jiniraa by the hips, pulling her closer against him. Her weeping cunt pressed against his own hardened member, trapped under layers of clothing. He teased, “why you shyin’ away?”

Balancing his weight on one arm, Miles bent over Jiniraa’s torso to move closer to her head. Jiniraa’s eyes were entranced by his every move - his single arm wasn’t straining in the slightest, even though he was balancing hundreds of pounds of muscle on the single limb. 

Once close enough, Miles hummed again, nudging his nose against Jiniraa’s cheek to move her head as he wished. She completed instantly, but ignored his lingering question. Miles wasn’t going to move - he would hover above her pulse until he got his answer. 

Miles almost jumped as Jiniraa’s hand wrapped around the wrist that rested on her hip. He carefully watched her face as she moved the hand where she wanted it to go - where she needed it to go. Painstakingly slow, Jiniraa allowed her knees to fall open to expose her glistening heat to the cool, damp air of the cave. In unison, the pair sucked in a breath as Miles’ fingers made contact with the slick exterior. Miles ran two fingers up the entire length of her slit, trying to familiarize himself with her anatomy.

He cursed as he felt her body clench around nothing, “Jesus Christ, woman.”

Having given up enough control for one evening, Miles took back the reins on the situation as Jiniraa has given his answer. With a glance down, Miles could see how her much smaller hand remained wrapped around his thick wrist as he lazily traced along her slit to tease her a little further. He chuckled, realizing he would have to fight Jiniraa’s iron grip if he tried to retract his hand before she was satisfied. 

Jiniraa whimpered, slightly grinding into Miles' hand, “need you.”

“Gotta stretch you out first, baby, can’t go hurtin’ you,” Miles kissed her clavicle, feeling her heart racing in her chest. His voice trailed off, “wouldn’t forgive myself.”

Holding eye contact, Miles ran a single finger up the length of her slit before slowly pressing inside, meeting little resistance as her slick eased the entry. He remained slow, especially as her face twinged in mild discomfort as one of his fingers was the thickness of two of her own. Miles took her pleasurable whimper to continue, beginning to pump the single finger before adding another once her face relaxed. 

In order to get a better view of her body, Miles shifted to lean on his one side, forearm stretched around the ground. Reaching three fingers, Jiniraa’s hand left his wrist as she began to arch off the ground, trying to grind down on his fingers in time with his thrust. He wasn’t going to withdraw anytime soon, at least not until he came around his fingers. In a flash, Jiniraa’s newly free hand stretched above her head, blindly tapping around to find Miles.

She could feel that familiar build deep with her stomach. In the few times she experimented and touched herself before, it had never felt like this - never this good or building this quickly. 

Miles snickered as Jiniraa’s fingers finally found his own, quickly weaving them together - she was trying to ground herself. Through their bond, Miles could feel her own build affecting his own body. He had yet to take off the makeshift shorts and he deeply regretted it - he was painfully pressed against the rough cloth and unrelenting zipper. Jiniraa seemed to sense his discomfort as he shifted around to find some relief. With her other free hand, Jiniraa tentatively brushed her fingers against the tent in his pants. Now, Miles was never a two-pump chump, but just the feeling of her fingers ghosting over the outline of his cock almost had him cumming in his pants.

“You wanna feel me? Feel my cock?” Miles teased as he shifted his hips out of her reach. Jiniraa pouted, liking the effect such a simple touch had over him, but her thoughts were interrupted as his thumb swiped over her clit while continuing the pumping motion. His fingers began to curl at the apex without slowing down once.

“I can feel you squeezin’ me, baby. Once you cum on my fingers, I’ll fill you up just how you need. How does that sound?”

Jiniraa’s eyes rolled back at his dirty talk - she felt so full as it was with just three of his fingers, she couldn’t imagine being stretched out more, but it was enough to push her over the edge. Her eyes squeezed shut as the orgasm raced throughout her entire body. It was almost too pleasurable and she could barely comprehend what was happening as Miles continued to thrust his fingers into her pulsating body, grinning as she writhed under him. He was so busy trying to catch a glimpse of how her slick managed to saturate his entire wrist that he didn’t see her jaw open before clamping down on the meat of his shoulder. She was trying to ground herself in the moment - the overstimulation became too much and almost rendered her temporarily unable to use her brain. Her fangs penetrated the skin but not too deep. She was able to refrain herself that much, but the blood slowly pooled around the fresh wound. 

Jiniraa licked it clean, while muttering an apology, “m’sorry.”

Miles shook his head as he slowly withdrew his fingers, lightly tapping at her spazing cunt, “you cum like that around my cock and there’s gonna be no reason to apologize. Squeezin’ the life outta my fingers, baby.”

Jiniraa nodded as the aftershocks continued to rack through her body. MIles groaned as he licked his fingers clean - her taste was divine. He wanted to bury his face into her, but if he did that he certainly wouldn’t last long enough to actually cum inside her. As Jiniraa continued to twitch along the ground, Miles took the opportunity to finally remove the rest of his clothing, haphazardly throwing it elsewhere. He didn’t care, but it would be a problem later when he tried to find his belt that was tossed into one of the nearby pools.

“Miles..” Jiniraa whispered.

Miles rolled back, carefully moving to rest over Jiniraa’s body. Jiniraa shook as the tip of his cock lightly brushed against the tender and bruised skin of her inner thigh.

Miles mocked her breathlessness, even though he was light headed as well, “what’s that?”

Jiniraa reached down, dancing her fingers along his narrow waist. She couldn’t reach the object of her true desire, but the message got across, “your turn.”

“I appreciate the gesture, but tonight ain’t about me, sweetheart.”

He wouldn’t say it, but if Jiniraa’s hand or mouth came anywhere near his engorged cock, he would be done for. He wasn’t sure if he would blow his load instantly or not, but he wasn’t about to find out - another time. 

Jiniraa began to protest, but Miles silenced her with his lips. Harsh and aggressive as spit slowly pooled at the sides of their mouths. 

Miles pulled back to sit on his haunches, grabbing one of Jiniraa’s legs to hook it around his hip as her entire body was on display for him. In the dim purplish glow of the cave, her slick glimmered as it dripped down her slit and began to form a small puddle on the ground. 

Jiniraa looked down the expanse of her stomach to find MIles on his knees, gently rubbing at her thigh. He looked bigger than usual from this angle. Each curve of his muscled torso and arms were accentuated by the shadows of the cave. His lids were lidded over and pupils blown out. 

Traveling down his body, Jiniraa found his cock standing tall and proud. Her mouth instantly watered at the sight of it: the tip was a deep purple, seemingly painfully engorged by this point. It twitched as blood continued to rush to the appendage. 

Curved ever so slightly to the left, he was long and thick, even though she didn’t have anyone to compare it to. She’d only heard about her friend’s mates, never having seen a hardened member. She almost laughed - even when her friends would talk about their partner’s equipment - which they surely exaggerated for dramatic effect - came nowhere close to what was waiting for her. 

Miles could tell Jiniraa’s mind was beginning to float away as flashes of her memories passed through their bond. He softly slapped the outside of her thigh “you with me?”

“Yes, Miles, I am with you.”

“You ready?”

Jiniraa gulped and nodded, realizing they finally were there. Even though Miles clearly had the capabilities to hurt her in this time of vulnerability, Jiniraa trusted him. He had the strength to kill her with his bare hands, but he would never create any bruise that wasn’t from her pleasure. 

Miles tried to steady himself. His hands were shaking as he almost felt like a sixteen year old who was nervous to even palm at his high school sweethearts chest through her shirt. Jiniraa was nervous as well, but it was difficult to differentiate between her own anxieties and Miles. To ease them both, Jinraa tentatively took one hand away from her hip, intertwining their fingers while giving a slight squeeze, enough to encourage him to continue. 

Miles snapped back to his usual domineering self, pinning their intertwined fingers to the side of Jiniraa’s head. His other hand continued to squeeze at her flesh, holding her still as he shifted his hips to line himself up. He couldn’t tell what he wanted to watch more - her eyes fluttering closed as she embraced him or how she would suck him in inch by inch. 

He settled on her face as a feather light kiss was pressed to the inside of his wrist.

His first thrust was an utter failure, only clipping the rim of her cunt before sliding through her slit. While it wasn’t on purpose, they both revealed in pleasure. Miles groaned when Jiniraa moaned as the head of his cock rubbed along her clit, still sensitive from her previous orgasm. 

Miles growled in annoyance. He was tired of delaying this. He couldn’t wait any longer. The frustration took over more than he’d realized as he pressed the entire head in at once. Jiniraa’s eyes rolled back as she whimpered, spine curling off the floor as their torsos touched together. 

Miles’ strength faltered as the warmth of her cunt seemed to take over, making his mind go blank. His mouth dropped open in a heavy breath, jaw twitching. Miles wanted nothing more than to press further until their hips met, but he knew it would be too much too quickly. 

Through gritted teeth and razor thin restraint, Miles gritted out, “you - you alright?”

Jiniraa nodded, squeezing at their intertwined fingers. Her head lulled around as she tried to process the new sensation. 

“Words - I need words, baby.”

Jiniraa matched his semi-annoyed tone as she just wanted to be filled, “yes,” she hissed, “just fuck me.”

Miles slipped forward another inch at her vulgar language. He’d never heard her use English profanity, even when she was pissed off beyond recognition. She was desperate for more. 

Mockingly, Miles nodded, “yes ma’am.”

His girth was the hardest to overcome, stretching Jiniraa further than she’d ever been able to achieve on her own. There was a dull ache in her pelvis as he finally settled in. Unknowingly, her vaginal muscles tensed as he pressed forward to the hilt. This time, Miles did collapse on top of her as he tried to suppress the quickly growing orgasm. He needed to move or else he was going to bust, “goddamn.”

He was finally close enough that she could kiss him, trying to distract herself from the ebbing pain as she grew accustomed to his length. He was more than happy to comply, but paused to suck in a breath each time her walls squeezed around him. 

“I know you’re still adjustin’ and all, but baby, I gotta move.”

Jiniraa nodded, but quickly corrected herself knowing he would want a verbal response, “please move.”

Miles kissed the corner of her mouth, “since you asked so nicely.”

His thrust started off slow as he carefully studied her face. The movement caused her eyes to clench shut, but he continued as her muscles became more relaxed. Once those sweet little sounds started to spill from her mouth, Miles took it as a sign that he could dial it up a notch. Just because did not mean he lost any depth - he continued to hit that sweet spot deep inside her with every stroke. 

Jiniraa gargled between thrusts, her entire body shifting along the ground as the momentum pushed her upwards, “Miles… you - it feels - so good.”

Miles lowly moaned, “cunt is so, so sweet, babydoll. I’m one lucky man. It’s mine, right?”

Jiniraa whined at his possessiveness, “yours.”

Without missing a beat, Miles continued, “sucking me in so good. Doesn’t want me to leave. You want it? You want my cum?” Jiniraa nodded, walls squeezing at the thought of him painting her insides. Miles smirked, “oh ho ho, I felt that. You want me to fill you up? Have you drippin’ when we get back? So much that I need to push it back inside. Gotta keep it where it belongs, yeah?”

Jiniraa released a high-pitched moan, scratching at his back as the familiar pressure began mounting in her lower abdomen. Miles felt it as well, but he was trying his damndest to hold off until she came around him. He needed to feel her cum clenched around his cock.

The dirty talk was working, but not quickly enough. A skilled hand navigated to the juncture of her legs, expertly finding that little bundle of nerves. One swipe and she was already convulsing on the floor. It wouldn’t be long.

Jiniraa felt light headed as everything suddenly was so overwhelming. She was deprived of air as Miles continued to smother and kiss her. Her clit, already swollen from earlier, was being relentlessly circled with a heavy thumb. Her entire body continued to rock in time with his deep thrusts, each time pressing impossibly further into her. 

“Miles - I -” 

She was unable to finish the sentence before the wave crashed. Tears leaked from the corners of her eyes. Her limbs wrapped around his body, clinging on as he continued to fuck her through the orgasm. In her moment of overwhelming pleasure, Miles sped up his hips in attempts to trail her as closely as possible. Within seconds, he was unloading into her. Half a dozen pumps of sticky cum lined her walls. His balls continued to tighten as they forced every last drop out, milking him for all he was worth. 

With one final thrust, Miles pressed as deep as he could, feeling his cock twitch at the overstimulation as her walls continued to squeeze erratically. Even so, he wasn’t going to pull out anytime soon. No, he would stay deeply settled in the silky warmth. Pulling out now may be too jarring for Jiniraa. 

Once her full body twitching finally slowed to a stop, Miles slowly rolled their conjoined bodies over so she laid against his chest. Nether knew it was possible, but Jiniraa slipped further onto his cock before falling limp against his chest. The first bit of cum slipped out, forming a semi-translucent ring around the base of his cock. 

“That was -” Jiniraa was too breathless to finish the sentence, burying her face into his neck. 

Miles was the same, “yeah.”

After catching their breaths for a minute, Jiniraa traced circles along his bare chest, “the bond is complete now. You are mine and I am yours. Until death.”

Jiniraa licked a beat of sweat off his throat before pressing a soft kiss to his jaw. Miles tensed under her, feeling a rush of blood back to his cock, “you better knock that off before I start fuckin’ you again. This time, I won’t be gentle.”

Jiniraa ignored him as they fell into a peaceful silence. Neither knew how long they stayed there as their breaths fell into tandem. After a while, Jiniraa began to wince in pain as her hips tensed from the position. Miles didn’t want to lift her off, but it was going to happen at some point or another. He slowly sat up, making sure not to jostle Jiniraa as she fought the urge to sleep.

Neither enjoyed the sensation as Miles’ strong arms wrapped around her torso to lift her off his soft cock. While the pressure was gone, Jiniraa suddenly felt empty without him. Her walls constricted, forcing a glob of his cum to slip out of her stretched slit, landing right on his balls. Miles groaned at the sight, forcing himself to look away so he wouldn’t grow hard again.

Jiniraa fell limp against his chest as more of his cum began to slowly seep out, tucking her head into the crook of his neck as she tried to find a comfortable position to rest her exhausted body. 

Like before, Miles softly slapped the outer side of her thigh, “c’mon, stay up for just a few more minutes, sweetheart, then you can sleep.”

Jiniraa bashfully whined, “want you to sleep with me.”

Miles' ego soared, “Correct me if I’m wrong, but I believe I just did that.”

Jiniraa half-heartedly swatted his chest, whining as he lifted her off his lap to lay her against the ground. He gently disconnected their queues and suddenly his mind was too quiet without her there. Her hands reached out as he moved away to wet some extra cloth in a nearby pool. His heart tightened in guilt as he seemed to pull away too quickly. 

He pressed a kiss to her sweaty hairline, trying to smooth it down, “I’m right here. Just gonna clean you up.”

Jiniraa was unable to pay attention as Miles cleaned the inside of her thighs, rough fingers lightly tracing the outlines of bruises. He muttered small apologies when her face tightened, but it was only semi-sincere. He managed to remain relatively tame with his marking this time. It seemed Jiniraa enjoyed it as well - the bite mark on his shoulder and thin scratches along his back were proof enough. 

Miles hesitated for a second as he collected their clothing. He knew they should get dressed, especially in case they were to encounter someone or something, but he just wanted to feel her skin against him. Jiniraa was beginning to grow impatient as he took too long, so he quickly shuffled back, but not before grabbing his revolver to keep it close. It was stupid to throw it so far away in the first place. What would’ve happened if they encountered something as he was balls deep in her? Well for one, Miles would’ve ripped someone to shreds if they saw Jiniraa exposed like that - no one would ever have the opportunity to hear her howls of pleasure or see the way her mouth dropped open in a silent scream.

With lidded eyes, Jiniraa reached out for Miles to settle down next to her, “Ma Miles.”

Miles hummed, “what’s that?”

Her exhaustion was undeniable as her words slowed down, “term of endearment. Fondness.” 

Miles hummed again, smoothing down Jiniraa’s hair as she curled into his side. Given the low temperature of the cave, it would’ve been a smarter idea to get redressed, but he was trapped now. There was no way Jiniraa was letting him get up again. 

Miles rubbed at her bare skin, hating the way she was slightly shivering, “get some sleep.”

Jiniraa nodded in agreement. She wasn’t going to fight on that one, “you should too. Sleep.”

“Don’t worry ‘bout me. Rest.”

Her breath evened out in under five minutes.

●●●

For the fourth time in twenty minutes, Spider began thinking out loud, “where are they? It’s been hours. She promised to be back before dark. Well, it’s almost dark.”

Lyle and Zdinarsk shared a pointed look. They both made their own observations about what the Colonel and Jiniraa were up to, but they wouldn’t say anything. Afterall, Spider was still a child and they were the closest thing he had to parents. He didn’t ever need to have that mental image in his head.

Lyle widened his arms, roughly slapping Spider on the back, “cheer up kid, I’m sure they’re on their way back. Why don’t you go help Mansk?”

Across the clearing, Mansk scowled at the Corporal. He had finally found solace in the preparation of food and there was nothing he despised more than when someone indeed - not even his darling Renia was immune to his neurotic habits when it came to food preparation. He knew better than to snap at Wainfleet as Spider had been fiddling with his knife for the past hour, periodically sneaking away to see if he could locate the Colonel and Jiniraa. Mansk was the sacrificial lamb to keep the boy entertained.

Begrudgingly, Mansk scooted over to make room for the human. Spider instantly began critiquing the way Mansk was fileting the yerik Spider shot earlier - the first attempt to distract the human was Lopez taking him on hunting expedition. Mansk’s eye twitched under his sunglasses each time Spider reiterated how it wasn’t the Na’vi way, but he managed to keep his cool. 

Lopez was leaning against a tree trunk, repairing a hole in his vest. To no one in particular, he called out. “So you think they finally fuckin’?”

Zdinarsk shot the tattooed Recom a pointed glare, pointing at the human sitting just a few feet away. She was glad Prager and Ja were out on patrol because without a doubt, Prager and Lopez would’ve begun an explicit discussion about the possible sex life of Jiniraa and their Colonel. Spider’s cheeks flushed hot in embarrassment as he tried to hide away. Lopez shrugged his shoulders as no one responded, muttering something about how Miles was one lucky bastard.

A few miles away, Miles and Jiniraa were slowly waking up. Once Miles realized he accidentally fell asleep in the first place, he instantly snapped up to survey their location. He must’ve failed trying to remain awake and keep watch, but it was too hard as Jiniraa continued to curl further into him. His sudden jolting had Jiniraa stirring awake, but at a much slower pace. She was instantly annoyed, ears pinned slightly back as he pulled her from the wonderful sleep.

Miles apologized, “sorry, sweetheart, didn’t mean to wake ya.”

Jiniraa mumbled something incoherent as she tried to settle back down. Her body was begging to go back to sleep as the soreness began to settle in. She groaned in protest as Miles began to shift away, reaching for his pile of clothes a few feet away. He hastily pulled on the clothing, cursing when he couldn’t find the belt. A thin waist and narrow hips did not agree with standard issued Project Phoenix military pants - his hip bones were on display as the pants instantly sagged at his first step

Jiniraa continued to lay on the ground, having reached over to use his tank top as a makeshift pillow in his absence. She was wide away now as she continued to admire the view of his broad back and shoulders as he navigated the dimly lit cave in search for his belt. Miles cursed, reaching into a shallow pool of water as he finally found his belt, “oh, fuck this.”

Jiniraa grabbed the canteen, taking a few deep gulps of the lukewarm water. While she didn’t want to leave their little bubble, she knew Miles would want to reconvene with the group sooner rather than later, so she may as well start getting herself ready. 

She bit her lip as the thoughts of Spider suddenly crashed down upon her conscience - what would he think? Would he approve? Spider had his father’s ability to hold a grudge, so if he was upset with her, she would have to grovel endlessly until he accepted it. There was nothing they could do to change their mating bond, not that either wanted to. 

Miles’ soft spot for Jiniraa had increased tenfold over the previous night. As a human, Quaritch had never felt this way for a woman. Not even Paz Soccoro, Spider’s mother, who got pregnant during their stint as fuck buddies. His love for Paz was different, mostly because she was something constant in a time of uncertainty. 

But his love for Jiniraa? A whole other level. The softness of her skin, the way her eyes shone in the darkness, the trail of glowing freckles, her little laughs at Spider’s interactions with the other Recoms. All of it. He loved her because she was good. Better than he ever would have deserved, but she still chose him. She chose him because she saw the good Miles had buried deep inside. The chance to do better. She’d given him a reason to be better - for her, for Spider, for his team. 

Miles couldn’t help it as he hastily dropped to his knees, pulling Jiniraa flush against his chest. She was slightly startled as she was in the middle of dressing, but reciprocated nonetheless. She melted against him, but her clinging wasn’t nearly as desperate as Miles’ was. He was scared. Scared of how she made him feel - scared because he felt safe enough to just fall asleep next to her. Scared that now he had something to lose. 

“Ma Miles, what is wrong? What is it?”

Miles shook his head, not wanting to say anything. There was a tightening in his throat - if he tried to say anything, it would come out choked. Jiniraa didn’t push it any further, not needing their entangled bond to decipher the intense emotion he was feeling as his hands began to shake around her. She remained as calm as possible, slowly stroking at his bare back as she murmured reassurances against his ear. 

Miles’ voice was muffled against the skin of her collar bone. Jiniraa tried to pull away so she could hear him better, but Miles grip tightened on her as a sudden shot of fear coursed through his veins. Once again, he mumbled something that was muffled by her skin.

Jiniraa didn’t try to pull back this time as she softly whispered, “what did you say?”

Miles lifted his head from his hiding place to stare into her eyes. 

“I said I love you,” Miles declared. Jiniraa recognized the utter devotion and sincerity he held in them as they were glossed over with a thin layer of moisture.

Jiniraa pressed her forehead against Miles. The words didn’t quite make sense to her as it wasn’t a usual part of Na’vi relationships, but she knew they must’ve held weight as Miles struggled to say time until the third try. 

“Oel Ngati Kameie, Ma Miles,” Jiniraa whispered back. 

Miles laughed, remembering how flustered Spider got a few weeks ago when he asked the kid for a translation, “that your way of sayin’ I love you, huh?”

Jiniraa shook her head, “it means ‘I see you’.”

Miles hummed, not having enough emotional capacity to try and maneuver through the cryptic and riddling complexity of the Na’vi language. He would just imagine that’s what she said. 

There was little rush to leave the cave as they slowly gathered the rest of their items. Jiniraa pouted as Miles strapped his tactical vest back on. It probably was a good thing his back wasn’t exposed, but Jiniraa had no way to cover the bruises that painted her skin. At least the bite mark around the roundness of his shoulder was impossible to hide. 

“Quit your pouttin’, we gotta head back. Can’t delay any longer,” Miles caressed the side of her face. With a huff, Jiniraa took one last look at her special hiding place before beginning the ascent upwards towards the mouth of the cave. Miles followed closely behind, ready to grab at her waist in case the ground shifted under her and she slipped. 

Even though it was beginning to get dark, the light was still blinding as they exited the cave. Jiniraa hissed as she covered her eyes, turning around the shield herself from the sun. Miles rolled his eyes at her dramatics, even though he wanted to do the same thing. 

“Call your ikran. It is almost eclipse and we do not have time to climb up again.”

Miles complied, placing two fingers between his lips and whistling as loud as he could. Jiniraa’s ears flattened slightly, not liking how Miles had cheated and used a human-style call for Cupcake. They waited in silence for a few seconds before the powerful flaps of wings could be heard. Cupcake soared down from above, chittering as he was finally reconnected with Miles. Miles grimaced at the dried blood around Cupcake’s jaw, but said nothing of it. He must’ve just gone hunting and it obviously was successful. 

Even though their exit of the cave was unrushed, Miles’ anxieties were beginning to build once they were out in the open. He wanted to return to the safety of the group as quickly as possible, only pausing for a moment before shuffling Jiniraa towards the jittery ikran. The flight was rather smooth as the winds were working in their favor for once. Jiniraa would wince every once and a while at the soreness between her legs, but it was nothing a few of Miles' caresses couldn’t fix.

As Miles slid off his ikran, maybe twenty or so yards away from the group’s clearing, he paused Jiniraa in her tracks. “You gotta hold back Spider when we get back - that kid is going to try and slice my balls off.”

Jiniraa rolled her eyes at his graphic description, but there was a real sense of fear behind Miles’ joke. She returned his smirk as she turned away, “you are a big baby.”

Spider was pacing around the fire as Jiniraa and Miles finally broke through the treeline. In an instant, he was all up on her like a crazed mother hen with a rapid fire of questions asking where she was, why it took so long, and if she knew how worried he was.

Miles took a half step in front of Jiniraa, trying to save Jiniraa from the rapid fire questioning, “kid, slow it down.”

Miles' protective step was enough to tell him everything. Spider’s eye twitched as he quickly glanced between the two. In his crazed questioning, he hadn’t seen the bruising that littered Jiniraa’s chest and abdomen. Once he saw the bite mark on Miles’ shoulder, Spider lost it.

“You son of a bitch! You fucking -” Spider cursed, waving a pointed finger at the Colonel. Miles stood there with an amused and cocky expression - it just added fuel to the fire. 

Jiniraa was the only one thinking rationally as she tried to diffuse the situation, “Spider, calm down.”

Spider whipped to her, “calm down?! You mated with this piece of fucking-”

Jiniraa’s demand had everyone stop what they were doing. “That’s enough!”

A few of the Recoms snickered at her outburst, but her glare was enough to make their tails go between their legs. Spider huffed through a few breaths, as he continued to glare up at the Colonel. Miles’ lip twitched and everyone knew he was about to make matters a whole lot worse.

To Jiniraa, but loud enough for Spider to hear, Miles murmured, “I told you so.”

Spider unsheathed his blade, swinging it at the Colonel, “you - you fucker.”

Miles had been expecting it, so he jumped back in defense. He didn’t even scrape his pant leg. In a very un-Jiniraa-like fashion, she stepped in front of Miles to stop Spider, but she wasn’t quick enough as Spider accidentally slashed her forearm. Spider was too blinded by his rage to even notice that Jiniraa had moved to protect her mate, but his blade clattered to the ground as he realized what he had done

“I-I’m so sorry, ‘Niraa, really - I didn’t mean-” Spider choked out.

Jiniraa cut him off, trying to suppress her winces, “it’s okay, Spider, really. I’m okay. I know you didn’t mean to.”

Miles was next to Jiniraa instantly to survey her wound, pressing down against it. It wasn’t deep by any means and wouldn’t even need stitches, but in that moment he was back all those weeks ago when she was attacked by viperwolves. All that fear he was so scared about came rushing back. Spider seemed to realize the care the Colonel actually held for Jiniraa as he quickly searched her over. 

Miles fought to suppress the urge to scream at Spider for what he had done, but it would’ve made Jiniraa more upset. With his ears pinned flat to his head as he glared at the human, but softened as he saw the way his hands were shaking. 

The rest of the Recoms were awkwardly watching from their respective seats. Zdinarsk was prepared to tackle Spider to the ground if needed. Lyle had the same thoughts about the Colonel. 

Mansk was the first to speak in the aftermath of the confrontation. 

“Dinner is ready,” Mansk called out, hoping it would diffuse the situation. It didn’t, but everyone was about to have the most awkward dinner of their lives. 

Next: Nineteen - What's Real?

●●●

so this has so many errors throughout it, but i wanted to post before i started driving back to school in a few hours.

i hope you enjoyed and it wasn't too cringe. ain't been bedded in six months (tmi i'm sorry)

Taglist - let me know if you'd like to be added

@drinking-tea-and-be-obsessed

@oceandeepthirst2

@bolggerist

@mxddymay

@ttreader

@luciddasher

@sofiebstar

@azilove

@fairycaitlin

@graysonmalik2550

@quaritchxx

@dakotali

@lillybbyy

@biggestsimpever191919

@cr1mz0n-wh0r3

@waterborn-phoenix

@violet-19999

[senseicowpoke]

October 18, 2023

TW: Suicide

As I sit here in front of my computer, I can't help but feel the weight of the anniversary that looms over me. It's been fourteen years since my best friend took her own life and the ache in my heart is still as raw as it was on that day. Being from a small town like ours, mental health was often swept under the rug, and anyone struggling with it was immediately labeled as "crazy." But I'm here to tell you that mental health is just as important as physical health and should be treated as such.

Our town may be small, but the effects of mental health issues are still prevalent. It isn't uncommon to hear whispers and rumors about someone that is struggling, and it's even harder for them to seek out help without fear of judgment or ostracization. As such, my best friend kept her struggles hidden, and we never knew the depth of her pain until it was too late. Mental health is not something that should be taken lightly. Just like how we go to a doctor for a physical ailment, we need to seek out professional help for our mental health as well. It's important to know that having a mental health issue does not make you weak or less of a person. It's a medical issue, and it needs to be treated with the same care and attention as any physical ailment.

It's been years since that fateful day, yet it still feels like yesterday. I remember finding her and feeling like everything around me was a blur. The image of her lifeless body is etched into my mind, and I can't seem to shake it off. Her death sent me spiraling down a road of pain and grief that I wish no one ever had to go through.

But life has a funny way of throwing curveballs at you. It seems like every time I think I'm starting to heal, something else happens. The Grim Reaper has come knocking at my door one too many times, and it's starting to feel like I'm cursed. I've lost friends and relatives, and the pain never truly goes away.

It's hard to explain to people who haven't been through it, but being the one who finds a loved one's body is a trauma that never goes away. It's a memory that replays in my mind every time I close my eyes. And yet, it's something that I've had to deal with more than once. Since my friend's passing, I've lost other friends and family members, each one a tragedy in its own right. But it's my nana's death that hit me the hardest. She was one of my biggest supporters in the world and losing her felt like losing a part of myself.

My Nana was my rock through it all - the one person who never judged me or made me feel like I had to be strong all the time. There's something that she told me, "You can't expect a broken clock to still tell time. It's okay to not be okay." And she was right. Time doesn't always heal all wounds. Sometimes, we just have to learn to live with the pain. It's been a few years since she passed, and I'd like to say that time heals all wounds, but that's just not true. The pain doesn't go away, it just becomes more bearable. There are still days when I pick up the phone to call her, forgetting for a moment that she's gone. And it hurts all over again when I remember.

One of the hardest parts of dealing with all of this is trying to talk about it. People always mean well when they ask about my friend's suicide or the other deaths I've experienced, but I dread those conversations. I don't want to relive the pain, and I definitely don't want to be known as that person who's been through so much loss.

But through all of this loss, one thing has become abundantly clear to me: kindness is key. We never know what someone else is going through, and a little bit of kindness can go a long way. One of my old coworkers used to say, "You never know what day you'll need someone, so be nice to everyone." It's a sentiment that I try to live by, because it's true. We're all fighting battles that no one else can see, and a little bit of kindness goes a long way in making those battles a little easier to bear.

So, if you're still here, then thank you for reading. And if there's one thing that I hope that you take away from my ramblings today, it's this: be kind to everyone you meet. You never know what struggles they're facing or what demons they're fighting. And if you're one of the people who has lost someone, know that you're not alone. You'll may never fully heal from the pain, but you'll learn how to live with it. I wish I had the answers, but in the meantime, remember to be kind to yourself as well. You deserve it.

[orphicrose]

The Only One

Rick x Reader Fanfiction

Summary : life is strange in the rick and morty universe, as we all know. But things get just that little bit weirder when Rick meets you. Something seems oddly familiar with you, but for once In his life he has no idea why. So he searches from reality to reality to try and see if he had met another version of you, only to realise there where none. You where the only one. That’s when it finally hit him…

This is inspired by a song from Rick and morty that I think is beautiful https://youtu.be/epiOcz3HXNo

I accidentally got carried away and wrote too much, so I will probably just do a part 2 so it’s not to much to read if anyone is interested <3

_________________꧁♥︎꧂_________________

Humans are such fragile creatures, always have been and always will be. You knew that, but you refused to surrender down to it. Not wanting to be included In whatever earth had to offer, so you ran away. And not like how a silly fourteen years old runs away from home, Hah… no.

You left the fucking planet, not leaving behind a single trail or speck of dust for someone to follow you with. Your intelligence and ambition was all you needed to carry yourself through life. Travelling the infinite void of space, soon making a name for yourself. For good and for bad. An ordinary person couldnt even dream nor comprehend the things you’ve experienced or seen. And that’s just how you liked it. Being different. It was truly a gift to be intelligent.

And then there was rick, high IQ and normally not happy about it. Seeing his intelligence as a curse. Rick hadn’t seen it all, it was impossible, but he thought he had seen enough to make a valid opinion on life.

It’s pointless.

Such a bitter man with a bitter view on everything, including himself. You see, when you have an overwhelming amount of knowledge weighing down on your mind, you can go two ways. The first being ricks way, not caring about anything since he has seen how big the universe is and doesn’t see a point.

Then there’s your way, feeling blessed to be able to see things that no one else can, and finding a new reason to live every single day.

You two where polar opposites, but also the same. You where both alone in a universe you felt didn’t need you anymore.

The day both of your worlds collided should have been written down in the history books. It was the day both of your beliefs where almost questioned. Wondering whether fate really does exist.

————————————————

Out of the many things you have done, you’ve never visited the same place twice. Making everyday an adventure, as much of a cliche as that sounds it’s true. Not only that, but you seem to have people after you almost everywhere. For your intelligence, or for revenge. But there is one particular spot you cannot get enough of. Finding yourself there when you lose yourself.

It’s an isolated planet in the middle of the andromeda galaxy. It’s a newly ‘emerging moon’ as you like to call it. In fact, you pretty much founded this planet, since its a recent creation. This also means there is no intelligent life yet evolved, so it is safe for you to do what you please.

You go there often, to watch the two suns set over its small horizon and the thousands of stars come into view. Giving you time to reflect on your life. To appreciate it, but not to regret anything. The stars are far to beautiful to bring your mind to anything negative. The planet itself seems to project the meaning of peace and tranquillity even without life. Maybe that’s why it’s so comforting.

Your thoughts where leaving your mind, as you held your eyes closed. Feeling the breeze brush through your hair gently. That beautiful, genuine smile found its way to your face without you noticing. You where to lost in the feeling of relaxation.

But that soon came to an end. That euphoric state was snapped out of you when you noticed a bright light coming towards you. Getting bigger and bigger in just seconds. Until it became more clear, it was a spacecraft of some sort. A poorly built one to say the least. You sat and watched, mesmerised, as the flames from the object slowly engulfed it. Burning in the atmosphere. Finally hitting the ground, you shook your head and sighed. Being brought back into reality.

The flames took a second to fade after the ship had crashed. And it was clearer to see, it was the stereotypical UFO. The type you’d see in cheesy ski-fi films. But it had encryptions written in English. Which was very unusual, especially for it to be in this part of the galaxy.

What was even stranger was that it didn’t have even the slightest burn mark to it’s metal. Your vision of it became clearer and clearer the closer you got, slowly creeping past the incredibly green trees towards it. But just before you got too close, a figure fell out of the vehicle. Swearing like a drunken sailor.

This is what really messed with you, it was a human. You gasped quietly, not being able to remember the last time you saw one. A mix of feelings rushed over you; confusion, fear, excitement? You couldn’t help but stare, his unique blue hair bounced as he picked himself up, not even bothering to dust off the dirt on his lab coat.

“Fuck! You fucking piece of shit spacecraft. You’ve really done it this time Rick you fucking…” he didn’t finish his sentence, as he kicked the lump of metal. Screaming at the top of his voice.

“Fuck!”

You caught a small glimpse of his face, and recognised him. But you weren’t sure where from. You had met millions of people over the years so he could really be anyone. But there was something so compelling about his character. Something that felt like you where being pushed towards him. Or pulled, by a red string perhaps. Something that was just telling you to interact with him.

You stayed hidden behind a rather tall tree, still collecting your thoughts and questioning whether you should help him. Rick had slumped himself against the ship, putting his hands to his face and grunting. Pausing his breakdown for a second to take a sip from his flask, then proceeding to carry on.

He stayed like this for a good few minutes, before you had decided to approach him. Your curiosity and questions where burning at the edge of your mind. You just had to investigate. Keeping a hand on your weapon tucked neatly in a pocket behind your back. You slowly walked towards him, not even being able to speak before he noticed you.

A gun had been pulled to you, aiming directly between your eyes

“What do you want? I’m not in the mood so just tell me in advance if I should shoot you or not..” his eyebrows furrowed, looking at the hand tucked behind your back.

You rolled your eyes, putting your hands up in surrender. Just how you remembered humans to be. Aggressive and impulsive.

“Calm down, I saw your ship crash. Thought you where in need of some assistance. And put that gun down, god…” to your surprise, he did. With a loud grunt he put his gun back into his pocket and turned away. Usually, he probably would’ve shot on site. And who’s to say he still won’t, but right in this moment he is too preoccupied to care.

“God doesn’t fucking exist…” he mumbled “and I definitely don’t need any assistance!”

You raised an eyebrow at him, watching him as he attempted to fix his broken ship. Opening the lid to the engine and being greeted by a storm of smoke. Now Seconds away from another breakdown.

“Are you… okay?” You hesitantly asked, daring to inch closer to him. Probably was the stupidest thing you’ve ever done. He threw the wrench down at the engine as he exploded.

“No, I’m not fucking okay. I lost my grandson, the entire galactic government is after me, I broke my portal gun and I just crashed my ship into a planet with no helpful resources to fix it.!” His speech sped up, and he went dead silent when he stopped talking. Clearly regretting telling you anything. He is usually good at keeping his mind together and keeping his problems to himself. But he had so much adrenaline pumping through his blood, he could barely concentrate.

“I’m, i’m sorry for your loss” is all you managed to get out

“What? Oh no, my grandsons not dead. I just left him somewhere and forgot exactly where…” he spoke slightly softer, still grunting as he tried to analyse his engine.

There was a small silence while you processed everything he had just said. Moving closer to get a look at his engine, you shook your head.

“You’ve burnt it out…”

“Yeah, no shit smart ass” he bit at you

You rolled your eyes and snatched the spanner from the place he had dropped it. Not using it to fix his engine, but you pulled out a small metal box from your pocket instead. Fixing a few pieces together. Rick stood there and watched with a puzzled look on his face. Moving his eyes from the gadget, then up to get a look at you.

His eyebrows softened as he took in your features, the creases in his forehead disappeared. A rush of a strange feeling replaced the adrenaline, not being able to pinpoint what it was but he didn’t like it. He could only describe it as his heart softening, and getting lost in a place that was familiar to him. Thats what he felt when he looked at your eyes, reflecting off of his.

“Hav-have we met before?” He said in a much calmer tone

You placed the gadget on the engine and pressed a small red button on the top, looking up at him.

“I don’t think so?” The box moved around the engine, like a shield. Fixing it effortlessly, Ricks eyes darted from you, to the engine, then back to you. Now with amazement written all over his face.

Deja vu was the only state good enough to describe what he was experiencing. You broke the silence by holding a hand out to introduce yourself.

“I’m y/n”

It took a quick second for him to respond, still trying to process your face and remember how he knows you.

“I’m… Rick” he finally shook your hand.

“Rick Sanchez..”

That name was oddly familiar to you. Like you’d heard it in a dream. Or it was a loved ones name in a past life. You felt like you had heard it before, in a very distant memory. But no recollection of the connection.

“That seems…familiar” you tilted your head, squinting your eyes at the old man who gave you the same look.

“Well, I wouldn’t be surprised if you knew me. I am the smartest man In the universe”

[aconstantstateofbladerunner]

The Glitch

I get the Broken Reality au is a haha funny joke but there’s been some legit great art for it and since Butterfly is over and I haven’t gotten into the groove of my other projects yet, I decided to try some flash fiction of my interpretations. Note that this is very small and informal; I used whatever idea came into my head over the course of an hour or so instead of the weeks of planning that go into my usual fics. This was an experiment for fun. But if people enjoy the concept, I may be tempted to expand on it.

Credit to @lollitree @moonpaw @gentrychild​ @owlf45​ and @cyber-phobia​ (I’m sorry if I missed someone I lost track of how many people were involved in this mess).

Content working for reference to infant death.

Please enjoy!

The city shut down for a typhoon warning.  Thunder rumbled in the distance.  Dark clouds blocked the sun so much that by mid-morning it still looked like it never bothered coming up.  And yet the humidity made it too hot for coffee.  Inko didn’t know how to feel.  Work would have been a good distraction.  But she didn’t want any coworkers or clients to see if today got to be too much.  And it was already shaping up to be.  She caught herself making two plates of food for breakfast.  

Inko sat alone in the kitchen.  She couldn’t bring herself to finish her own plate.  Sickness set in fast.  The food had been cold for a long time before she summoned the strength to get up and throw it away.  Then she stood over the open trash can a while, debating whether to try and hold it together, or just throw up and get it over with.  She eventually managed to keep her stomach steady enough to go back to her bedroom.  There was another trashcan in there anyway.

A sound stopped her.  From her office.  The distinct sound of something heavy falling onto the carpet.  Right as she walked past the door.

Please not this again…

She opened the door with her eyes closed.  Her mind conjured a familiar image.  A bedroom full of books and hero posters.  Bright colors and personal touches.  A child’s room.  Inko opened her eyes to her drab home office.  Some of the older case file binders slipped off the pile again.  She really needed to sort those into storage. Not today though.  She didn’t bother to pick it up.

Inko walked faster than normal the rest of the way to her room.  She doesn’t want to face the temptation to search for old toys she remembers storing in the empty closet.  Or search the walls for scuff marks from action figures tossed into them she could always see even after the walls were painted. She hid her planner on a tall shelf and put the ladder away to make it that much harder to go through it over and over looking for doctors’ appointments and school events she knew were coming up.  Finally reaching her bed brought no comfort.

Of course she knew today’s date by heart.  She hadn’t put it on a calendar in the fourteen years since she used to look at it every day.  Inko stuck her head under her pillows, as if they could block out the silent noise of her memories.  Memories of before, the time even when she was by herself, she was never alone.

Fifteen years now, today.  With a shuddering gasp, the tears finally came.  Thunder crashed outside.  It’s not fair!  Why is it still this hard after this long?  Phantom kicks in her belly joined the growing ice there.

The hardest part was she still felt like that sometimes.  Like she wasn’t really alone.  Inko didn’t believe in ghosts, but the lost of what could have been was more than haunting enough.  She felt it watching her.  Judging her. Waiting just long enough for her to settle down into a peaceful, content existence before it reared up to plague her heart all over again.  Cliché hauntings like spooky faces in the mirror or blood coming out of the drains would have been preferable.  Those would be generic enough not to remind her directly.

Rain started outside.  Her phone lit up with a notification she ignored in time with a thunderclap.  The storm was getting closer.

Maybe I should call Hisashi, the thought crossed her mind.  Maybe he’s going through this too.  She bit her lip bloody.  Her frustrated memories weren’t in question like the others.  Probably not though.  I don’t want to talk to him anyway.

Hisashi had been stuck in the denial stage of grief, which often came off as him acting like he didn’t take hers seriously.  Not a year, not even half a year looking back, after they came home from the hospital, he wanted to try again.  

“We can’t let mourning hold us up forever,” he said.  “And it’s not like we lost a once in a lifetime opportunity!  We’ve got at least another twenty years to keep trying!”

But we did lose him! she had wanted to scream.  Still did, years later.  Why didn’t he understand?  He was your loss too!  Inko wanted for the next roll of thunder, then shouted.  

“I don’t just want any baby!  I want Izuku!”

The lights went out.  The temperature rose five degrees instantly when the ceiling fan stopped going.  The rain stopped.

Power outage.  Inko sat up with a sniffle.  Turns out the notification was a warning about roving blackouts.  Of course.  Oh well. I wasn’t really in the mood to cook tonight any-

Thunder boomed even louder than before, making her jump.  Then another.  Lightning flashed outside at the same time.  It was right on top of her.

What?  I thought the typhoon wasn’t supposed to make landfall until later toni-

Another crash.  It vibrated through her bones.  Then another. The lightning lit up her whole room. Except for a shadow on the wall. Inko jolted to look, holding her breath, and found only her own shadow in the next flash.

“I’m such an idiot…”  She went for her phone again.  For peace of mind, she decided to use her data to check if an evacuation order went out. Or any updates at all really, since the weather came so much faster than the news said.  “Nothing,” she sighed annoyed.  “I hate being alone for weather like this…”

A new notification pinged.

[Mom]

Inko blinked rapidly.  The message remained.  All of her insides turned inside out in an instant, and she started crying again. Was this someone’s idea of a sick joke? No one ever got a chance to call her that.  She touched the note to open it, but nothing happened.  No app or source was displayed.  Nor did it go away after a few seconds like normal.  

“Wha- What’s going on?” she wept.  In a mix of sorrow and rage, she wound up to chunk the device across the room.  But she froze.

Outside her window, floating against the pitch-black sky, were two small orbs.  Perfectly circular and glowing.  Watching her. She didn’t dare move.  

Another ping.  She looked without moving.

[I’m sorry]

“…  What?”

For a moment, all the sounds in the world dropped out.  They all came back at ounce.

Lights flickered.  Both the ones inside and the lightning going outside.  Multiple strikes laid on top of one another.  No relief.  Thunder pounded over and over like a drum solo.  It shook the whole building.  Inko ran into the closet away from the window.  She slammed her hands over her eyes but it didn’t help.  Her terrified cried were whispers to the screams of the storm.

A child’s scream.  She heard it. Each flash of light came with a cry. The distinct sound of a little boy calling out in pain blended with unyielding nature.  It came from every direction.  Every hair on Inko’s arms stood up in fear.  She felt the charge in the air.  But she had to go out.  Her baby was crying for help.

She burst from the closet into the living room.  All the lights and appliances turned themselves on and off.  The TV showed only static between its flashes. Something drew her too it.  The storm was deafening.  It pounded through her head like a heartbeat.  The beats got faster.  The static flashes started to look like a face.  Her usual caution was abandoned as she fell to her knees and touched the screen.  The snow cleared for a single instant.  Just long enough to look like the blank eyes from the window.  She felt the heartbeat there too.

Then it stopped.  All of it. The noise and lights all went quiet and dark.  The TV went completely cold in an instant.  Inko, stunned, palmed over it looking for something.  Anything.  The pulse. Warmth.  A burnt fuse or faulty wire.  But nothing.  The rain started again.

She pulled her hands back to her lap.  Her heart was still racing and tears kept flowing down under her chin. She looked around.  Everything in the living room and kitchen looked the same. No sign of the earthquake-like convolutions the whole appartement experienced only minutes ago.  Inko combed the entire space for evidence.  An object knocked off the shelf.  A picture frame fallen from the wall.  The notifications.  Toys in the closet or scuffs in the wall.  Still not a sign.  She even stepped outside her door to check the sky.  Only light rain and shattered thunder, just like the news said the day before.

There was only one thing out of place.  Back in her bedroom, the bottom drawer of her nightstand hung open.  Inko had to steal herself before approaching it. There were only two things in there: a little green blanket, and a picture of the ultrasound.  The most recent one from her last appointment. The doctor said he was doing fine.

“Izuku…” she whispered to it in her hand.

She remembered the squealing little bundling being put in her arms for the first time.  The first time he smiled at her.  Teaching him to walk, then immediately launching into play.  Him coming home with bruises and scrapes after the kids at school were mean to him, and crying in her arms.  Then, him coming home with his first real friends in a long time. She made them all dinner. Katsudon.  That was Izuku’s favorite.

Only she didn’t remember.  The same way she didn’t really remember the toys and scuffs.  Those were fantasies.  Daydreams of what could have been.  She just thought about them so often they felt like memories. Especially today.  It was his birthday after all.  They’d fade back into vague dreams by tomorrow.  They always did.  

And she would be left with reality.  The silence.  The cold, still little hand between her fingers.  Soft cheeks without blush.  Eyes that never opened.  Clutching him too tight to her chest, knowing the second she let go he would be gone for real and it would all be over.  

But it was never over.  Inko went through this same torturous song and dance every year for fifteen now.  All the guilt and dread would subside slowly over the next one, until it all came back at once.  Just like this.

At least it’s done for now, she tried to reassure herself, climbing back into bed. It still wasn’t even noon yet.  Plenty of time for another breakdown.  Hopefully the next one won’t be, feel, as loud.  She sighed heavily into her sheets.  This sort of thing can’t be normal.  I should really try therapy again.

Against her better judgement, she kept the blanket out, and clutched it to her chest.  Static electricity pricked her fingers.  With her other hand, she reached across the bed, and tried to imagine someone else there. Not Hisashi, never him anymore.  Izuku.  He was fifteen and happy, but the storm was making him nervous so he came to lay beside her.  She remembered it like it was now.  If she closed her eyes, she could feel his warm, soft skin, with a healthy, if a little anxious heartbeat just underneath.  The mattress warped as he sighed.

“We’ll be okay.  It’s just a little rough weather,” she promised.

“Okay, Mom,” Izuku answered quietly.  “…  I’m sorry.”

“You have nothing to be sorry for.”  I’ll start trying to get myself together tomorrow.  For now, let me have this.

Izuku didn’t respond for a while.  “I love you.”

“I love you too, baby.  Happy birthday.”

[hellomynameisbisexual]

I grew up surrounded by religion, from Christian schools and summer camps to weekly church and youth groups. Most of these institutions taught me that it was sinful to be gay. Even if they taught that an “attraction” to the same sex was okay, it was coupled with the lesson that acting on it was a sin.

I never really vibed with that part of Christianity, even at my most devout moments. I firmly called myself an ally, tried to find holes in scripture to debunk anti-LGBT creed, and argued with friends and family about the morality of homosexuality. I don’t know if it was because I grew up in the San Francisco Bay Area or the fact that I was just a closeted bisexual.

Unfortunately, even though I disagreed with what I was taught, those homophobic lessons still firmly rooted themselves into my head. The result has been years of internalized biphobia that I’m still working through today. Don’t worry, it’s not all doom and gloom. I’ve found ways to actively fight against those evil thoughts in my head. Before I get to that, let’s look back at the beginning of how I came out to myself, and then everyone else.

Becoming Bisexual

As a host on the podcast Sex Ed Shouldn’t Suck, I talk to a lot of people about their sexual orientation, particularly about their journey of self-discovery. Some people knew they weren’t straight from the minute they felt a twinge of sexual attraction. Others describe it as more of a flicker that they tried to ignore until they couldn’t. My experience is more of the latter.

I was always attracted to the opposite sex. My first memory of a crush was in preschool. I loved chasing boys around the play yard and there was a little boy at school that I liked. My first memory of attraction to a woman came much later.

I was around ten and watching Return of the Jedi with my family. Believe it or not, it wasn’t sexy bikini Leia that got me going. It was Oola, the blue green alien lady that was fed to the rancor. Something about that scene turned me on in a really confusing way. That being said, I didn’t identify this scenario as bisexuality, but more as an indicator of my interest in bondage.

A few years later, my first real face-to-face experience with bisexuality came when I had feelings for my best friend (let’s call her Melissa). Melissa and I hung out almost daily in the summer when I was fourteen. Granted, we were often talking about boys we liked, but my feelings reached their pinnacle when we were having a sleepover one night. She was in my bed next to me, and I remember a voice in my head saying “What if you just kissed her? What would it feel like?” And more than just that voice prompting me to think about kissing Melissa, I found that I really wanted to.

That one innocent thought sent me into a spiral. I was in 8th grade at the time and hadn’t even kissed a boy yet (though I had imagined kissing dozens of them). Was I a lesbian? I desperately didn’t want to be. I vividly imagined scenarios where my friends and family disowned me and I was ousted from the church. Or worse, I would be an outcast and have to end up alone for the rest of my life because it would be sinful to marry a woman.

I never talked to anyone about it. I don’t think I even wrote about it in my diary for fear that someone would find out. The crush felt dirty to me, so I kept it secret. I stuffed it deep down and hoped it would go away. It eventually did, especially once I changed schools and started receiving lots of attention from the boys at my new school.

My new public high school was a welcome change from my private Christian school. I mostly dove head first into making out with as many boys as I could my freshman year, but the tingle of attraction to women never really faded.

Even as a “straight” teenager in a liberal area at a non-religious school I still experienced biphobic behaviors. The first experience I remember was when I was sixteen, my boyfriend told me that if I ever waned to make out with another woman, he wouldn’t mind because it would essentially be “the same as making out with a wall” for me. So I took him up on it. I went to a birthday party where a group of girls played spin the bottle and I made out with almost all o f them. I then enthusiastically went to tell my boyfriend about it and he got angry. I guess he failed to mention that it was only okay if he was present to enjoy watching. Huh.

The second experience was when a girl at my high school came out as bisexual. All of my guy friends went bonkers over her and it drove me up the wall. I was jealous as hell and assumed she was just doing it for the attention.

By the end of high school, I had these two different biphobic messages in my head. One told me that being gay was sinful and wrong in any context. Bisexuals were really just lesbians trying to ignore their reality. The other told me that straight girls liked to pretend to be lesbian in order to get more sexual attention from men. This caused me to doubt my own sexuality.

After I experienced a painful breakup in 2014, I decided to try and date again. I downloaded Tinder and even turned on my preferences to be for men or women. But I kept hitting a problem: I could easily find an excuse to turn down a woman I matched with. Sometimes her grammar was bad, sometimes one of her pictures was weird, sometimes she was too forward, and sometimes she was too shy. Honestly, I was just scared. I didn’t think I could exist as a valued person and exclusively date a woman.

So I continued to date men and experimented with women in a strictly casual way. I continued to make out with friends when drinking “as a joke” and quietly check out women in life, sometimes even harboring crushes on friends. In other words, the only way that interacting with a woman felt safe — or even valid — was in front of men.

Eventually, my partner in 2016 and I decided to have a threesome with another woman so I could explore my sexuality. Looking back on it now, I know I’m really lucky to have had a drop dead gorgeous, incredibly kind, and sexually insatiable friend who was interested in group sex with us (hear more about that story here). I was beyond nervous. I was finally going to take a step beyond making out with a friend and have sex with a woman. It felt safe because my boyfriend was there, which was the only way I had even known my bisexuality to be valid. The best part for me was that I felt like once I finally went down on a girl, I would know if I was “actually” bisexual, or if I just liked the idea of it.

The idea that bisexuality must be physically expressed in order to be defensible is extremely biphobic…but I won’t lie, I felt validated as hell when I ate her out and loved it. I could finally claim my B in the LGBTQ+ and not feel like a poser with a boyfriend trying to infiltrate an exclusive club.

Bring on the Biphobia

I’m now polyamorous, which has been instrumental in a lot of unlearning I’ve had to do over the years. It also opens up my romantic and sexual life to dating people who don’t identify as male. I’ve been trying to for the last two years, but now I’m starting to hit the walls of stuffed internalized biphobia from all the negative messaging I learned as I grew up.

It comes up in a few different ways. I almost always doubt my ability to tell if a woman is into me. With men, it’s like reading a book I’ve read hundreds of times. I know what to look for, I know what to expect, and I know what to do to get what I want. With women, I have no idea if they’re flirting with me or if they’re just being nice. On dates, I’ll freeze up when it comes to making a move. I can’t kiss her, even if I really want to.

Often, I’m struck with a paralyzing fear that I’m being creepy or sending unwanted attention on a woman. I think part of that fear is knowing how horrible it feels to be hit when it’s not wanted. Especially if the person is…unsavory. That thought likes to work in tandem with the Christianity messaging that same-sex relations are disgusting and wrong. So if I hit on a woman and she isn’t into it, I’m afraid I’ve presented her with something horrible and sinful and she will resent me for it. Then I resent myself.

It also impacts my female friendships. I’m not very touchy with my friends that are women. Ever since I came out as bisexual and began talking about it openly with my friends, I’ve noticed that I recoil when my friends touch me. My best friend will try to snuggle me on the couch platonically or dance with me when we’re out — a totally normal way that people behave — but I’m so deeply terrified of making my friends feel uncomfortable that I think I need to remove myself from the situation.

The mean biphobic voice in my head tells me whatever it can to make me doubt myself. It will even flip flop between contradicting arguments, trying to worm its way in. At times it will tell me that I’m only publicly out and bi so that I can seem sexier to cis straight men. I’m just a needy attention whore that craves the male gaze. Then immediately after, it will say that I better be careful going out with a woman because I might actually just be a giant lesbian and then I’ll have to break up with my fiancé and boyfriend.

My internalized biphobia prevents me from being able to really enjoy dates with women. It stops me from fully embracing my sexuality. It gets in the way of relaxing and being my snuggly self with my female friends. Overall, it keeps me from just being able to do what feels authentic to me.

So what is there to do?

Overcoming and Unlearning Biphobia

I don’t have all the answers yet because I’m still working on this myself. I also want to add that I’m not a medical professional, these are just things I’ve tried that have worked for me.

An important part of accepting my own sexuality has been the process of overcoming my internalized biphobia and unlearning harmful lessons. For all of these, remember that it’s a process and not something that will change overnight.

Affirmations and Validations

The biggest help for me so far has just been to find validation in my own sexuality from within. Any time I have a doubt, I listen to what that doubt is saying, acknowledge it, and then give myself a positive affirmation that I think is true.

For example, if I was hanging out with a friend and she puts her head on my shoulder, my brain might go into a panic and say “You’re being creepy! Abort! Get up and leave the situation!” I listen to that thought, acknowledge it, and then I send it into a little boat to sail away. Then I tell myself “This is your friend and she loves you. She feels safe around you and her expression of that physically has nothing to do with your sexuality.”

Other validations can just be regularly telling yourself:

“I’m bisexual because I like men and women.”

“I’m bisexual for myself.”

“Being bisexual is great!”

“My sexuality is beautiful and valid.”

These may sound simple, but I’ve found that my brain can act like a toddler that needs simple concepts repeated over and again in order to push out bad messaging.

Push Your Comfort Zone

Another way that I’ve worked through my feelings is by continuing to do what I want to do, even if it makes me uncomfortable. I recently went on a date with a woman that went really well. At the end of it, we both wanted to kiss, but were both too awkward to do it. Afterwards, she texted me saying that she wished she had kissed me.

When we went out again, I went into the date knowing there might be a kiss at the end. It made me incredibly nervous and I wanted to bail a number of times because I was so afraid of having to make a move. But guess what? I didn’t have to. She made the move, we kissed, and it was wonderful. I’m glad I pushed through my feelings because now I’m feeling even more confident than I did before.

Be Open About Your Sexuality

I know that this isn’t going to be possible for everyone because of the world we live in, but for me, being open about my bisexuality to everyone has helped cement it as a part of my identity. For a long time I displayed as a very straight monogamous person to the world because I was too afraid to come out. Recently, I’ve begun to speak openly about being bisexual and polyamorous and you know what? It feels great. Every time I tell someone I’m bi, I feel a little closer to my truth.

Affirm Others in Their Sexuality

I’ve found that talking to people from a variety of sexual orientations has also helped make me more accepting of my own. Affirming others in their choices makes my own choices seem worthy of acceptance as well. It also has opened up a whole world of learning about what makes people tick, and I love it.

Working through internalized biphobia is hard. Studies have shown that bisexuals experience high levels of mental health issues due to confusion and lack of acceptance from both the straight and LGBTQ+ communities.

If you’re not bisexual but you’re reading this, really try to look at ways that you may have invalidated someone’s bisexuality in the past. Think about how you can show love and support to the bisexual people in your life. Your acceptance could mean a world of difference to someone.

If you’re bisexual and reading this, just keep loving yourself and know that your sexuality is super fucking valid.

[holylulusworld]

Disobedient

Request: A/B/O dynamic, where omega! reader just agrees to everything her Alpha (Bucky) says, no matter how embarrassing or humiliating it is. Arranged marriage set up. Please.... Huge fan of your angsts. (He's embarrassing her on perpose, because he just doesn't like her at all. But omega! reader is just so docile and just won't talk back cuz she's raised like that. I think AU would be better, but I'll let you decide that. Happy ending. You are great. Thank you so much.)

Pairing: Alpha!Mobster!Bucky x Omega!(fem) Reader; Alpha!Sam Wilson x Omega!(fem) Reader

Characters: Alpha!Steve x Omega!Peggy, Bruce Banner, George Barnes

Warnings: angst, past abusive relationship, arranged marriage, shitty parents, mentions of divorce and breaking a bond, Sam, and Steve being good alphas, comforting, fluff, language, abusive childhood (mentioned)

A/N: This one took me ages as it was out of my comfort zone to write Bucky as an abusive alpha. Even though the requester wanted a happy ending with Bucky, I just couldn't write the story that way. Sorry.

Divider by @writeyourmindaway​

Part 1 - Obedient

Around five months later...

“Omega,” Bucky whines, looking at you. He can still see the scars he created with his hands, teeth, and anything he could find all over your body. “I’m so sorry, doll.”

The silence in Steve and Peggy’s guest room is the worst thing Bucky ever experienced; except for the way his friends look at him now. “I promise to do anything to make you feel safe with me. I love you, Y/N.”

“You don’t love me, Mr. Barnes,” your voice cold, gaze unwavering you look up at Bucky. “What you feel is guilt – not as you believe what you did to me was wrong but as your wrongdoings almost killed me.” you shudder when Bucky tries to touch your cheek.

“Why did you never fight me? Why did you simply accept the way I treated you, doll? I asked myself these questions again and again over the last weeks,” Bucky sighs deeply when you slowly get up to look out of the window, ignoring your husband and mate once again.

“My father, he’s a cruel man. Omegas mean nothing but business to him. My mother, my sister, my niece. We are nothing but meat to get sold to the right customer,” you huff. “I got trained to obey. Disobedience meant punishment,” tears spill out of your eyes at the memory of your father’s punishments.

“I’m sorry…”

“Do you know how it felt to present at a rather young age and to realize that your father never loved you? That the world you once knew was nothing but a lie,” sniffling you watch Steve’s dog run after a bird.

You fall silent for a moment, barely realizing Bucky stepped closer. Sorting your thoughts you close your eyes.

“What happened back then, Y/N?” you don’t believe Bucky wants to know what happened but to move on, to leave the life with your father and a husband who never wanted you behind, you need to face your past one last time.

“Why do you want to know about my past? You weren’t interested in me in the present. I bore your behavior thanks to my father’s training. He made me that way,” voice bitter you look over your shoulder. “Any other omega would’ve despaired hearing you moan that woman’s name whilst you used her body.”

“I never saw it from your side, Y/N,” not caring about the sadness in Bucky’s eyes you turn back around. You cross your arms over your chest, looking out of the window again.

“There are ways to end this marriage and our bond,” Bucky panics when you turn around, looking him straight into the eyes. “I kept my promise ‘till death do us apart’, Mr. Barnes. As my heart stopped beating for a few seconds, our marriage can easily be broken, just like our biological bond. Bruce, I mean Dr. Banner told me there are ways to break our bond.”

“You will try to break our bond?” stammering Bucky steps backward. His eyes widen as the realization hits him. “Y/N, you want to leave me?”

“No, I will not try to break our bond – I will break our bond at all cost,” your voice raises and for the first time, Bucky can see the fire in your eyes. “I will rather die than let anyone walk all over me again. Look at Steve and Peggy, they have a bond I always dreamed off. Steve respects his omega.”

“I can give you this too, omega,” Bucky tries to touch your arm, but you slap his hand away. Dr. Maximoff helped you to find the ‘real’ you hidden behind a wall of fear and obedience. She made you see that you are not as broken as you believed you are. “I will do anything.”

“Stop lying,” you scream at the top of your lungs. “You don’t want me, and you don’t love me. All you want is Dot and to bond with her. Let me break our bond or help me breaking it and we both can have a good life.”

“Dot, I’m not sure she still wants me,” grumbling Bucky tries to win you over but there is something in your eyes telling him you’ll never come back to him. “We can try to get happy. Maybe we can find a way?”

“No.” your answer is final. There is no way you’ll ever forgive your father or Bucky for what they did to you. “You wanted to know about my father’s punishment? I’ll tell you a few things. I was fourteen when I presented. I was so young and didn’t know what happened to me. I was confused and asked my father for advice. He slapped my face as I forgot to address him correctly.”

“You didn’t call him alpha,” nodding you give Bucky a sad smile. “Before you presented this didn’t mean anything but the moment you became omega, the hierarchy changed for you.”

“See, that’s what I meant, James. Alphas only see their side. I was a fourteen years old child, James. I didn’t think much of it when I called my father ‘dad’ like I did all my life. His solution was to hurt me instead of telling me all the things I should know about being omega.”

“What do you want me to do? I got raised to become the next leader of my father’s empire. No one asked me what I want to become. I dreamed of a simple life, not being a tool for my father. He forced me into this marriage and a bond I never wanted. I know it’s no excuse, but I never had a chance either,” Bucky plays with his wedding band, glancing at the golden ring around his finger. 

“Says the abusive man,” there is no way you’ll let Bucky get away with all the things he did to you. “Hurting me was never part of your father’s plan. We could’ve tried to make the best out of a bad situation. It was you, all of it. Don’t blame your shitty father for your mistakes.” you poke your finger into Bucky’s chest. There is a smirk on your lips when you see the shock on his features.

“She’s right, and you know it,” Sam steps inside the room, not missing Bucky’s angry expression. “Steve said I shall give you an hour, the hour is over, Bucky. You will not find a solution today. I must ask you to go now.”

“She’s still my wife, Wilson,” the alpha grits out. Sam takes a step toward you, ignoring his friend’s angry eyes or the fact Bucky’s hands ball into fists. “I will stay as long as I want to.”

“No, you won’t, my friend. This is still my house and Y/N is done talking to you. She wants Dr. Banner to help her with the papers to break your bond. Peggy will help to file for divorce. This is your final warning, Bucky,” Steve leans in the doorframe, eyes trained on his friend. “It’s over, Buck.”

“I can’t, Stevie. Do you have the slightest idea what Y/N’s and my father will do? They forced us into this marriage for a reason. Even if we file for divorce, they will not give in,” Bucky looks at you, sighing deeply. 

“Y/N Barnes was dead for ten seconds and a half,” Bruce steps into the room to stop the alphas from attacking each other. “Law is on our side, Bucky.”

“You don’t get it, Banner!” Bucky spats. “My father gives a shit on law or feelings. He doesn’t care I love Dot and that Y/N deserves better than me. As long as she has my mark on her neck, he’ll not give in.”

“Good thing she will not have it much longer,” Sam interjects. He flanks your side, itching to sling his arm around your shoulders to make you feel safe as so often over the last months. “There are many other alphas out there who will appreciate Y/N and protect her at all cost.”

One week later…

“I prepared the papers, Y/N,” Peggy points toward a manila folder, smiling coyly. “I know this must be though but, Bruce said it’s necessary to file for divorce before you break the bond.”

Glancing at the daisies Sam gave you this morning you smile. He’s the first alpha you feel comfortable around. Steve is a great person too but with Sam, it’s different. 

“Sam brought me new daisies this morning,” you giggle, something you haven’t done since you were a teen. “I like him. Do you think it’s too soon to go for a dinner date with him?”

“Y/N,” Peggy jumps up to hug you tightly. She has tears in her eyes when you tell her Steve’s friend asked you out. “I’m so happy for you. Sam is a good man, a good alpha. He’ll treat you right.”

“I know but,” glancing at the daisies again you sigh deeply, “Bucky needs to sign the papers and agree to break our bond before Bruce can help me. I don’t know if it’s a good idea to drag Sam into all of this. Sam deserves better.”

“Sam deserves someone who loves him, just like you, Y/N. No one knows Sam Wilson better than me and Steve. I can tell you that he’s enchanted by you,” Peggy squeezes your hand, giving you a soft smile. “He’s a soft teddy bear if you are afraid he could hurt you.”

“No,” shaking your head violently you grasp for Peggy’s hand. “I know Sam is a good man and that he’ll never hurt me, Peggy. I just don’t want Sam to get hurt or worse. Bucky’s father and mine are dangerous men.”

“Bucky agreed to break the bond,” dropping the folder you look at Peggy, bewildered by her words. “Steve, he talked to him over the last days. James regrets all the awful things he did to you and tries to make things up to you.”

Meanwhile at George Barnes’ office…

“I don’t care, father,” Bucky yells. “You don’t know all the things I did to Y/N as you forced me into this marriage. No.” running his hand down his face Bucky grunts. “What I did to Y/N was my fault. This ends today. We will file for divorce, break the bond, and try to find a way to forget about all the shit our fathers did to us.”

“Buck,” Steve tries to calm his angry friend, “you need to calm down. Your father can’t do anything. I am the most powerful man in town now,” smirking Steve steps closer to his friend. 

“You will not break your bond with that omega,” George Barnes slams his fist onto the desk. “This is my last word, Steven Grant Rogers!”

“My father didn’t raise a coward, Mr. Barnes. I gave in when I talked to Y/N’s father out of respect and due to the law but,” Steve gets a gun out to place it onto George’s desk, “I will not back down this time. Set Bucky and Y/N free and tell her father to do the same or you’ll feel my wrath!”

Three months later…

Watching the news, you grasp for Sam’s hand. The reporters run after your father and the cops arresting him.

“How did they get to know he sells drugs? I didn’t think he would do such a thing.”

“Steve and Bucky faked the evidence,” Sam brings you into his arms to let you scent him. His warmth surrounds you and for the first time since you presented, you lean into an alpha's touch. “I know you cannot forgive your former mate, but he does everything to protect you.”

“I’m grateful Bucky tries to change his way, but I can’t forget how he treated me to feel better. Maybe one day, I can forgive him, just not now,” smiling Sam watches you snuggle into his chest. “I wish we meet before all of this happened.”

“I wish so too, my daisy,” you giggle at the pet name Sam gave you. “No matter what, I’ll try to be the best alpha for you. I love you, Y/N.”

“I love you too, Sam,” he carefully brushes his lips over yours. “I want you to be my alpha. There is nothing I want more.”

“I promise to make you my omega when you are ready. I want to wear your mark too,” Sam pecks your lips, smiling as you return the kiss eagerly. 

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[dreaminginthedeepsouth]

Pierre Teillard de Chardin

* * * *

I'll never forget this story told by Jean Houston at a conference I attended as an MIU student. Very beautiful and moving, worth a read, especially if you're familiar with Teilhard de Chardin and his writings that got him in trouble with the church because he was way too cosmic for them.

"Mr. Tayer," by Jean Houston

When I was about fourteen I was seized by enormous waves of grief over my parents’ breakup. I had read somewhere that running would help dispel anguish, so I began to run to school every day down Park Avenue in New York City. I was a great big overgrown girl (5 feet eleven by the age of eleven) and one day I ran into a rather frail old gentleman in his seventies and knocked the wind out of him. He laughed as I helped him to his feet and asked me in French- accented speech, “Are you planning to run like that for the rest of your life?”

“Yes, sir" I replied. “It looks that way."

“Well, Bon Voyage!” he said.

“Bon Voyage!” I answered and sped on my way.

About a week later I was walking down Park Avenue with my fox terrier, Champ, and again I met the old gentleman.

“Ah." he greeted me, “my friend the runner, and with a fox terrier. I knew one like that years ago in France. Where are you going?"

“Well, sir." I replied, “I’m taking Champ to Central Park."

“I will go with you." he informed me. “I will take my constitutional."

And thereafter, for about a year or so, the old gentleman and I would meet and walk together often several times a week in Central Park. He had a long French name but asked me to call him by the first part of it, which was “Mr. Tayer" as far as I could make out.

The walks were magical and full of delight. Not only did Mr. Tayer seem to have absolutely no self-consciousness, but he was always being seized by wonder and astonishment over the simplest things. He was constantly and literally falling into love. I remember one time when he suddenly fell on his knees, his long Gallic nose raking the ground, and exclaimed to me, “Jeanne, look at the caterpillar. Ahhhh!” I joined him on the ground to see what had evoked so profound a response that he was seized by the essence of caterpillar. “How beautiful it is", he remarked, “this little green being with its wonderful funny little feet. Exquisite! Little furry body, little green feet on the road to metamorphosis." He then regarded me with equal delight. “Jeanne, can you feel yourself to be a caterpillar?”

“Oh yes." I replied with the baleful knowing of a gangly, pimply faced teenager.

“Then think of your own metamorphosis." he suggested. “What will you be when you become a butterfly, une papillon, eh? What is the butterfly of Jeanne?” (What a great question for a fourteen-year-old girl!) His long, gothic, comic-tragic face would nod with wonder. “Eh, Jeanne, look at the clouds! God’s calligraphy in the sky! All that transforming. moving, changing, dissolving, becoming. Jeanne, become a cloud and become all the forms that ever were."

Or there was the time that Mr. Tayer and I leaned into the strong wind that suddenly whipped through Central Park, and he told me, “Jeanne, sniff the wind." I joined him in taking great snorts of wind. “The same wind may once have been sniffed by Jesus Christ (sniff). by Alexander the Great (sniff), by Napoleon (sniff), by Voltaire (sniff), by Marie Antoinette (sniff)!” (There seemed to be a lot of French people in that wind.) “Now sniff this next gust of wind in very deeply for it contains.. . Jeanne d’Arc! Sniff the wind once sniffed by Jeanne dArc. Be filled with the winds of history."

It was wonderful. People of all ages followed us around, laughing—not at us but with us. Old Mr. Tayer was truly diaphanous to every moment and being with him was like being in attendance at God’s own party, a continuous celebration of life and its mysteries. But mostly Mr. Tayer was so full of vital sap and juice that he seemed to flow with everything. Always he saw the interconnections between things—the way that everything in the universe, from fox terriers to tree bark to somebody’s red hat to the mind of God, was related to everything else and was very, very good.

He wasn’t merely a great appreciator, engaged by all his senses. He was truly penetrated by the reality that was yearning for him as much as he was yearning for it. He talked to the trees, to the wind, to the rocks as dear friends, as beloved even. ‘Ah, my friend, the mica schist layer, do you remember when...?” And I would swear that the mica schist would begin to glitter back. I mean, mica schist will do that, but on a cloudy day?! Everything was treated as personal, as sentient, as “thou." And everything that was thou was ensouled with being. and it thou-ed back to him. So when I walked with him, I felt as though a spotlight was following us, bringing radiance and light everywhere. And I was constantly seized by astonishment in the presence of this infinitely beautiful man, who radiated such sweetness, such kindness.

I remember one occasion when he was quietly watching a very old woman watching a young boy play a game. “Madame", he suddenly addressed her. She looked up, surprised that a stranger in Central Park would speak to her. “Madame,” he repeated, “why are you so fascinated by what that little boy is doing?” The old woman was startled by the question, but the kindly face of Mr. Tayer seemed to allay her fears and evoke her memories. “Well, sir,” she replied in an ancient but pensive voice, “the game that boy is playing is like one I played in this park around 1880, only it’s a mite different." We noticed that the boy was listening, so Mr. Tayer promptly included him in the conversation. “Young fellow, would you like to learn the game as it was played so many years ago?”

“Well. . .yeah. sure, why not?” the boy replied. And soon the young boy and the old woman were making friends and sharing old and new variations on the game—as unlikely an incident to occur in Central Park as could be imagined.

But perhaps the most extraordinary thing about Mr. Tayer was the way that he would suddenly look at you. He looked at you with wonder and astonishment joined to unconditional love joined to a whimsical regarding of you as the cluttered house that hides the holy one. I felt myself primed to the depths by such seeing. I felt evolutionary forces wake up in me by such seeing, every cell and thought and potential palpably changed. I was yeasted, greened, awakened by such seeing, and the defeats and denigrations of adolescence redeemed. I would go home and tell my mother, who was a little skeptical about my walking with an old man in the park so often, “Mother, I was with my old man again, and when I am with him, I leave my littleness behind." That deeply moved her. You could not be stuck in littleness and be in the radiant field of Mr. Tayer.

The last time that I ever saw him was the Thursday before Easter Sunday, 1955. I brought him the shell of a snail. “Ah. Escargot." he exclaimed and then proceeded to wax ecstatic for the better part of an hour. Snail shells, and galaxies, and the convolutions in the brain, the whorl of flowers and the meanderings of rivers were taken up into a great hymn to the spiralling evolution of spirit and matter. When he had finished, his voice dropped, and he whispered almost in prayer, “Omega ...omega. . .omega.." Finally he looked up and said to me quietly, "Au revoir, Jeanne”.

“Au revoir, Mr. Tayer,” I replied, “I’ll meet you at the same time next Tuesday."

For some reason. Champ, my fox terrier didn’t want to budge, and when I pulled him along, he whimpered, looking back at Mr.Tayer, his tail between his legs. The following Tuesday I was there waiting where we always met at the corner of Park Avenue and 83rd Street. He didn’t come. The following Thursday I waited again. Still he didn’t come. The dog looked up at me sadly. For the next eight weeks I continued to wait, but he never came again. It turned out that he had suddenly died that Easter Sunday but I didn’t find that out for years.

Some years later, someone handed me a book without a cover which was titled The Phenomenon of Man. As I read the book I found it strangely familiar in its concepts. Occasional words and expressions loomed up as echoes from my past. When, later in the book, I came across the concept of the “Omega point." I was certain. I asked to see the jacket of the book, looked at the author’s picture, and, of course, recognized him immediately. There was no forgetting or mistaking that face. Mr. Tayer was Teilhard de Chardin, the great priest-scientist, poet and mystic, and during that lovely and luminous year I had been meeting him out side the Jesuit rectory of St. Ignatius where he was living most of the time.

I have often wondered if it was my simplicity and innocence that allowed the fullness of Teilhard’s being to be revealed. To me he was never the great priest-paleontologist Pere Teilhard. He was old Mr. Tayer. Why did he always come and walk with me every Tuesday and Thursday, even though I’m sure he had better things to do? Was it that in seeing me so completely, he himself could be completely seen at a time when his writings, his work, were proscribed by the Church, when he was not permitted to teach, or even to talk about his ideas? As I later found out, he was undergoing at that time the most excruciating agony that there is—the agony of utter disempowerment and psychological crucifixion. And yet to me he was always so present—whimsical, engaging, empowering. How could that be?

I think it was because Teilhard had what few Church officials did—the power and grace of the Love that passes all understanding. He could write about love being the evolutionary force, the Omega point, that lures the world and ourselves into becoming, because he experienced that love in a piece of rock, in the wag of a dog’s tail, in the eyes of a child. He was so in love with everything that he talked in great particularity, even to me as an adolescent, about the desire atoms have for each other, the yearning of molecules, of organisms, of bodies, of planets, of galaxies, all of creation longing for that radiant bonding, for joining, for the deepening of their condition, for becoming more by virtue of yearning for and finding the other. He knew about the search for the Beloved. His model was Christ. For Teilhard de Chardin, Christ was the Beloved of the soul.

Years later, while addressing some Jesuits, a very old Jesuit came up to me. He was a friend of Teilhard’s—and he told me how Teilhard used to talk of his encounters in the Park with a girl called Jeanne.

Jean Houston

Pomona, New York

March, 1988

[cafedanslanuit]

pairing: jumin x mc

tags/warnings: canon divergence from episode three of the jumin bad ending dlc, mentions of parental abuse, fix-it fic, happy ending, fluff.

summary: your late night conversation with jumin takes another turn into a much better scenario.

words: 1.9k

"When I was young, I had no idea such sweetness could exist. That love could be so heart-warming and good.”

Jumin’s eyes are tired and I feel a pang of guilt for waking him up. There’s a raw vulnerability in his eyes I haven’t seen since we lived at the penthouse and I’m scared the tiniest move or word from my part could shatter him in pieces. His hand is resting on my waist and I feel his muscles tighten in yearning as he speaks, almost as if he’s scared I’ll disappear.

“You said you had bad memories around your basement. Can you tell me about them?”

“I don’t know how that would help,” Jumin answers, his mouth forming a thin line. I push his dark hair away from his forehead softly and give him a small smile.

“How about we try?” I offer.

Jumin shifts on the bed a little closer to me. He rubs his eyes and then sets his hand back on my waist, his thumb sliding under the fabric of my pajamas and drawing idle circles on my skin.

"My mother would lock me up in the basement when I was a child,” he starts, his gaze unfocused. “Once I was locked up for seventeen hours and fourteen minutes. I managed to find a way out eventually.

My expression falls at his words, my chest clenching at his remembrance. I immediately flush my body against his, his arms holding him tightly. I feel his muscles tensing for a couple of seconds before melting under my touch. Jumin buries his head on the crook of my neck and lets out a long sigh, so long it makes me feel he had been holding it for longer than I could imagine.

It all starts falling into place. The subtle jokes about keeping me inside a cage to protect me from harm and the way he had done the same to Elizabeth the 3rd before she escaped. I had always thought Jumin’s desire for control was rooted deep inside his need to be on hold of things. I knew he had been handled several responsibilities from a young age and I always guessed that where my need to control his surroundings started but now I knew I was wrong. 

I was so wrong.

I had spent months feeding into his control fantasy, thinking it would ground him enough to find peace within himself and now I feel like a moron for letting it get this far. For thinking he would eventually start letting me go little by little when he felt better about himself. But I had definitely underestimated how much the man in front of me had gone through and how my intentions of helping him were practically useless.

I hold him in silence for a few more moments, my right hand caressing his dark locks while my arm is still around his body protectively. A million questions swim around my mind and I don’t know where to start. So, I decide to follow the line of Jumin’s story.

"Jumin, do you think your mother loved you?"

He lifts his head to meet my eyes. His eyebrows scrunch for a couple of seconds while his holds tightens on me.

"... I have never experienced my mother's love.”

A lump forms in my throat and I carefully cup his cheek with my hand, my thumb stroking his skin softly.

"I know,” I whisper. “But when you were a kid, did you think she did the things she did out of love?"

"I guess? Parents are mandated to take care of their children. So I assume a part of me thought she did it out of maternal love, yes," he reasons, his grey eyes surveying the room as he spoke.

"So, do you think maybe you're keeping me in this mansion because a part of you thinks that it's okay to lock up someone you love?"

Jumin furrows his eyebrows and shifts on the bed uncomfortably. I watch him in silence, almost listening to the gears inside his head turn, hoping my questions would help him ease the mess of threads he had talked me about back in the penthouse.

"Maybe,” he mutters, his fingers drumming against my skin.

“You don’t need to do that. I’m not leaving you, darling. My heart only knows one name and it’s yours. There’s no need to keep me restrained when you already own every part of my soul.”

“You said this was okay,” Jumin counters. “You even chose the heels where I put the tracking device.”

“I did. I…” I sigh. “You were hurting so much, my love. I thought if I complied with your demands you would find peace. I thought if I let you control me you would feel better. But I was wrong and I’m sorry. I see you losing yourself more and more as the days go by and it breaks my heart,” I confess, my thumb grazing the space between his chin and his lower lip. “I fell in love with a noble man who would do anything to protect the people he loves. A honest man, who may come off as blunt, but you know he would never lie to you. A man who is kind and loving.”

Jumin listens to me, his eyes widened. In his pajamas he looks young, a glint of fear in his expression as he tries to sink in my words.

“I don’t know if I can give that love,” he whispers.

“You can,” I assure him.

“How can you know?”

“There’s so much love inside of you, Jumin Han,” I smile, letting my hand settle on his chest, right above his heart. “I saw it the night you read me to sleep. I saw it all the times you helped the other members of the RFA expecting nothing in return. I see it when your eyes light up when you’ve had a good dinner with your dad. I don’t know why you believe you are unable to give warm love, because you’ve been filling up all my senses with exactly that from the moment I decided to stay over at your penthouse. I am in love with you, Jumin Han.”

“Say it again,” he mutters, bringing my body closer to him. The remains of his perfume still linger on him and I love how relaxing I find it. How much it feels like home.

“I love you.”

“Again,” he demands, his lips lingering against mine. I smile.

“I love you, Jumin Han. I am in love with you. Truthfully, madly, without any sort of question or doubt,” I say, holding his face tenderly. “I am in love with your heart and soul.”

He finally breaks the distance between us both and his lips collide against mine. His kiss is soft, yet firm, his hands holding me into place. I let my body mold itself against his and wonder if it’s alright to love someone as intensely as I love this man. His tongue grazes against my lips for a moment before softly pushing its way inside. His grip on my body tightens as he keeps deepening the kiss and I have to remind myself we’re not done talking to have the strength to pull away as softly as I can. I lay a couple of more kisses against his warm lips before smiling at him.

“Tomorrow, we’ll go to C&R,” I say and Jumin’s shocked expression doesn’t take long to show up. “Just a quick visit so you can take care of the paperwork Jaehee mentioned yesterday,” I explain, my fingers stroking his arm in a soothing motion. “I’ll be waiting for you downstairs at C&R’s cafeteria.”

Jumin shakes his head. “No.”

“Jumin,” I say, holding his face and forcing him to look at me. “Just for a couple of hours and just so we can try something new. After that, we’ll return here. I promise.”

He lets out a long and tired sigh. When he looks at me again, my eyes are set on him, the smallest pout on my lips. To my surprise, he laughs.

“My mind keeps telling me there’s a chance you won’t be there,” Jumin admits, stroking my sides with his hand.

“You are my home, Jumin,” I remind him. “There’s nowhere else I’d rather be but your arms.”

Jumin stays in silence, his eyes lost somewhere in the bedroom and I can almost listen to the loud and contradicting thoughts inside his head.

“If you’re still not done after two hours, you can leave the rest for another day,” I offer. “Two hours tops, my love. Could we try?”

He sighs, the corner of his mouth twitching upwards. He looks defeated, yet there’s love in the way he sets his eyes back to mine.

“There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you, my love,” he breathes out and a big smile makes its way to my face. I press two soft kisses against his lips and then a couple more on his right cheek and forehead. “I’m sorry for my troubling thoughts.”

I shake my head. “I love you, Jumin. Troubling thoughts and all. I adore your mind,” I smile, pushing some of his hair away from his forehead. “I understand you’ve gone through rough times during your childhood and I know there’s nothing I can do to erase those memories. I want you to revisit them, understand them and finally heal. And no matter how long that takes you, I will always be there by your side”.

Jumin smiles and holds my waist as he turns on the bed, leaving me to rest on top of his chest. I see the warm smile back on his face and I realize how much I had missed it.

“Always?” he asks. I press a kiss on his lips.

“I promise. You are the love I always dreamt about since I was a little girl.”

Jumin arches an eyebrow.

“You dreamt about living in a mansion?”

“No,” I shake my head. “I dreamt about someone loving me exactly as I am, no matter how low I thought about myself some days I dreamt about someone caring for my well being and protecting me if necessary. Most of all, I dreamt about someone that would make me feel like there’s no one else in the universe but us both.”

“And do I make you feel that way?” he asks, a playful smile on his face that makes me wonder if it’s possible I love him more than I did an hour ago. I nod at him, an equally cheeky grin on my face strengthened by the knowledge that my words made him decide to do better.

I had never loved anyone as much as I loved Jumin. So any hardships that would come between us, would face to face us both. There’s a soft red hue on his cheeks again and for a moment it’s hard to recognize the cold man I first met in a chat room.

But Jumin Han is more than that. He’s more than his job, more than his money, more than the darkness and tangled thread inside his mind. He’s kind, he’s loyal and the rock his friends turn to when they find themselves in dire situations. He’s had everyone’s back before, in one way or another, and I love that he’s now giving me the chance to have his. To show him that he also deserves warm, pure love. That even if he can deal with everything by himself he doesn’t have to. Not anymore.

“You do, my love. You do.”

[bumblebear30]

Oops

Rita Calhoun x Casey Novak, Established Calvak

A wee comfort fic for these two as I totally love them.

Warnings: mentions of Casey's office attack, migraine / mild medical concern. Side effects of getting older. No smut but alluded to. Happy ending.

Please let me know if you have any other prompts or requests for these two. Happy to try write more for them.

Oops

"You did it again."

The accusing tone made Casey's head snap up from where she was nestled on the couch. She could feel the light crust of dried drool on her cheek where she'd pretty much passed out into the pillow and rubbed at it with the cuff the sweater she was wearing in the hopes that her always immaculately dressed girlfriend wouldn't notice,

"Did what again?" she finally mumbled in response, a heavy pout in place as she scrunched her eyes against the bright light streaming in the apartment windows.

Rita sighed huffily as she perched on the back of the couch and busied herself with finishing taking off her earrings for the day. From there she finally caught sight of the sleep befuddled Casey - the creases of the pillow evidently pressed into her cheek, hair all mussed and cocooned in softest of old sweaters that Rita owned as the redhead obviously tried to drag her lagging brain through what it was she had done wrong this time.

Her expression immediately switched from frustration to concern as she reached out to card her fingers through Casey's hair, the younger woman automatically leaning into it and shifting closer to where Rita was sat,

"You left files that I shouldn't see on the breakfast bar again. We got a place with room for two separate offices for a reason darling."

Casey winced and opened one eye to finally look up at Rita as she apologised,

"Oops, m'sorry babe, I genuinely didn't mean to. I just needed different light. "

Rita tilted her head and gave a small sympathic noise as Casey burrowed her head against the back of the couch,

"Migraine again sweetheart?" Casey nodded groggily where she lay, loathe to commit to any movements that required further effort. Seeing her so forlorn pulled at Rita's heartstrings and she quickly got up and shed her shoes and jacket onto a nearby chair as she came round to the front of the couch to join Casey, "That's the third bad one this month..."

Hearing the familiar sound of Rita settling next to her Casey shifted to lay her head in her girlfriend's lap, wordlessly requesting for the attorney's always slightly cool hand to run across her forehead and circle at her temple as she'd done before by simply tipping her chin just so.

Of course Rita automatically took up the action, also using her free hand to run her nails in soothing circles across Casey's lower back.

The redhead let herself just bask in the attention and comfort. She'd felt instantly a bit better as soon as the scent of Rita's expensive perfume had reached her - always accompanied by the faint smell of coffee, ink and paper, a lawyerly smell if ever there was such a thing. That and the almost pavlovian way her body responded to Rita's touch, practically commanding her to relax with the lightest of pressures, also helped ease the residual pulsating ache at the front of her brain.

Afterwards she'd been sulky for days, which had drawn further unimpressed looks and rolled eyes from Rita. Eventually she'd pulled her head out of her ass and apologised with a gorgeous bouquet and an evening of pampering - cooking Rita's favourites for dinner, making the effort to use the good china and having candles on the table followed by a super indulgent bubble bath for the brunette (the rose petals may have been overboard but she knew Rita secretly adored them.)

She knew where Rita's comment was leading though. They'd had this argument discussion the last time too and she was not wanting a repeat of that general fiasco and to ultimately wallow in her own grumpiness yet again. It was worse because she knew Rita was right, and was only concerned and fussing simply because she loved her. But she had still been in residual pain and exhaustion from the migraine in question as well as licking her wounds from losing the most recent case to her lover too.

All that had only been a week ago, meaning it was less than fourteen days since she'd last had to abandon her work to lie in a darkened room with a cold compress across her eyes and an ice pack wrapped up at the base of her neck. It wasn't sustainable, and she hated being sick all the more because she knew Rita was always more worried than she let on.

She sighed lightly and wriggled her head back so she was pressed more closely into Rita's ridiculously soft silk blouse. The brunette had lifted her hands away as Casey moved but seeing her settle let them resume the gentle caresses. Noting that Casey hadn't immediately started arguing with her Rita decided to press her case once more,

"I just think given that you have such a bad head injury in your past, " Casey couldn't suppress the fearful shiver that ran down her spine at the memories - and lack of them - of her office attack, "that it would be sensible to get a doctor to run some tests and check what is going on."

At still receiving no response from Casey Rita tried to push just that little bit more. She gently ran a finger down the elegant slope of Casey's nose, booping the tip of it which made Casey start and turn onto her back to smile softly up at Rita. Holding her gaze Rita matched her with an indulgent look as she tucked some hair back behind Casey's ear,

"It's just that I'm rather fond of that brain of yours sweetheart, I'd hate to think anything might be wrong." She finished her plea by cupping Casey's chin and running the pad of her thumb over her lips as their positioning meant she couldn't reach to kiss them.

Once again Casey closed her eyes and leaned into the touch,

"And here I thought you were with me for my 'cracking bod', " she grinned as she felt Rita's entire body move as she laughed, "But I know. You're right. As usual." Her admission made Rita smile in victory, Casey's quip pulling another knowing chuckle that rumbled through her,

"Good, I have the number of an excellent neurologist, I'm sure he'll be able to see you by the end of the week."

Casey shot her a look that screamed incredulity,

"He wasn't a client was he? I'm not sure how comfortable I would be with that."

The experienced attorney did laugh at that,

"No, no," she continued to play with Casey's hair, "although he has maybe been an expert witness on several occasions but he's only ever been the utmost professional." she paused for a moment as Casey considered her options. "So what do you say darling, let me call and set up an appointment for you?"

With one last resigned sigh Casey nodded,

"Okay," honestly she was prepared to go through nearly anything if she could stop feeling so accutely crappy whenever these migraines came along, or stop them from happening in the first place.

"But," the smallness of her voice and demeanour, so unlike the usual strong confident persona of the prosecutor, brought out Rita's overprotective side even more, "But what if there is something wrong? Like-"

Deciding to quickly end any spiralling Rita pressed her finger over Casey's lip to hush her,

"Shh, then its better to know and we'll deal with whatever it may be together as best we can."

Suitably mollified, Casey rolled once more so her nose was buried against Rita's stomach, so much so her voice was muffled when she finally spoke,

"I'm sorry, I'm just worried."

"I know darling, but it may just be that you need glasses or something like that now, you know?"

The scandalised and affronted noise that escaped Casey made Rita laugh once again,

"I've always thought you'd look very sexy in glasses you know..."

The low purr of her voice drew an instant reaction from Casey, it always did. Like a siren's call she opened her eyes, feeling better enough to shoot a flirtatious look up at her love as she arched her eyebrow as seductively as she could manage in her prone position,

"Is that so?"

"Hmm hmm," Rita's affirmative humm came as she matched Casey's expression with one of her own, "You could totally pull off the sexy librarian look darling."

"Librarian!?!"

In her offense Casey finally sat up to lightly glare at Rita on a more equal footing. She lightly trailed her hand up Rita's thigh, so overly unsubtle Rita knew she was just winding her up. Still she enjoyed the attention nonetheless. "What if I wanted to go for the sexy lawyer in glasses look? Could I pull that one off too?"

Rita tipped her head to the side as she squinted at Casey, umming and awwing for extra effect,

"I'm sorry love but I think Cabot has got that niche locked down tight."

Casey couldn't help but gasp at the teasing and swat at Rita's thigh in retribution,

"Rude!"

Rita kept cackling with laughter, simply relieved to see Casey's usual firey playfulness was returning,

"Well if you get glasses you can work extra hard to prove me wrong, no?"

With a knowing smile Casey leant forward to press an adoring but chaste kiss to Rita's lips,

"Sounds good to me, thank you for helping me feel better."

Reaching up Rita cupped Casey's chin and drew her face back to her for another kiss. Or two. Maybe three. She just loved how they felt against her own.

"I'm glad I could help. Now do you want to go lock those files away whilst I give the doctor a call? We can then get an order from Chengs if you'd like?"

Casey was already making the effort to stand, holding herself still for several moments to ensure her balance was set after feeling so woozy earlier. Finding herself steady she smiled at Rita once more as she started heading for the kitchen,

"As long as there is lo mein I don't mind!"

A couple of days later Rita answered her ringing cell automatically, not even looking away from her inbox as she barked her usual response,

"Calhoun, who's speaking."

"Hey sweet thing," instantly Rita's entire posture melted, Casey's voice and determination to use ridiculous pet names totally always got her,

"Darling, how'd the appointment go." she'd swung her chair away from the computer screen, her entire focus now on Casey,

"Well you were right."

"I usually am, remind me what I was right about this time?"

"Scans and everything came back clear but I've got glasses to wear now... " Casey paused long enough for Rita to both sigh in relief and laugh,

"Oh is that all?"

"Well, he advised I change to a different type fo light bulb where possible, and definitely to wear glasses when looking at screens as they'll filter that blue light thing? But that and some proper rest and it should all help."

"That's great news sweetheart, I'm so relieved." Truly Rita felt like a knot she hadn't known was there had been released in her chest,

"Yeah, so in the spirit of medical necessity, I think we should schedule a trip up to the house in the Hampton's." Sometimes Casey still would catch herself after saying such a thing. A house in the Hampton's. Their house in the Hamptons. Quite ridiculous.

Rita chuckled but instantly swept round to open their shared calendar to look for potential timings,

"An excellent idea darling, I could even ask Danielle to get the boat ready for us? I know you love to play at being Captain."

"Please, you just want to lounge about in your bikini in front of me don't you."

"Well with your new glasses we'll have to test how much better you can see me. I do love putting on a show for you."

The flirtation made Casey gulp, images of Rita enjoying herself nearly overwhelming her,

"You always do have the best ideas, I propose we do lots of testing."

"For medical necessity?" Rita's smirk was clear even though Casey couldn't see her face,

"Exactly, you always know how to take the best care of me baby..."

[potassium-pilot]

Prompt 27: Benthos

Why am I back here again, Dia thought.

There was no reason, really. It felt right to her. Whatever the others might say of this place, whatever horrors she experienced here, Amaurot fascinated her. She traversed the city and listened to them, to her people…or to the people that she once knew, at least.

Why would Emet-Selch allow them their opinions still? Why would he not want them all to simply agree with the course of action taken by the Convocation? Would it have not made him feel more justified to rewrite history? These were questions that plagued her when she thought of Amaurot.

“This place creeps me out, you know”, Ardbert commented.

“Noted. Now where do you think we should go next?”

“Ishgard, if you would.”

“Before that.”

“Urgh, I don’t understand you sometimes. Why can’t it be as simple as, ‘This place is creepy and dark and made by an Ascian; perhaps we should avoid it.’”

She rolled her eyes. “It’s more than that, and you know it. This was…our home once.”

“No, it’s a recreation of Azem’s home. It’s dead, Dia. Dead and gone.”

“I’m aware of that, thank you. I also watched the Final Days and we’re apparently due for a repeat. That doesn’t mean that a recreation can’t be found intriguing.”

“It can if you let it.”

She kept walking past Macarenses Angle. Azem’s crystal seemed to pulse as she walked in the same rhythm. She seemed to want something, to add her own voice.

“Azem, no more kissy-face with Emet-Selch, I’m begging you”, Dia whispered softly as she gripped the stone in her inventory. She bound for a nearby bench, and took a seat. The familiar pull of the past taking her away embraced her.

*********

“On that note, I would like to draw this meeting to a close.”

Emet-Selch’s voice rang across the assembly hall. The fourteen stood in respect before he dismissed them.

Azem dreamed of the day they would finally intervene, recognize that their duty to the world has always been plain. The circumstances which led them to this point, however, devastated her. Her fellow convocation members, her friends, her family- all of them were in danger. She needed to protect them, and although the matter was grave indeed, it was strangely refreshing for her to see the Convocation finally acknowledge the threat at their doorstep.

The solution was anything but.

A dark primal concept?! Azem thought, They want to kill half of Amaurot to save Amaurot?! Unacceptable! That won’t save anyone! The dark primals only want more power, more aether! Their dark primal won’t rest until it’s consumed everything whole. I saw it happen with the other primal concepts, bless Lahabrea’s heart; I will not see this primal of theirs consume everything I hold dear.

To that end, she marched to the office of Elidibus, and knocked on his door.

“Enter”, he called.

She opened the door and greeted him with a typical wave and smile. “Can we talk? Just you and me?”

“I’m a bit busy at the moment, but I can certainly find the time for you. What do you need, Azem?”

Azem stepped forward and took her seat. “That was…a more emotionally charged debate than I was prepared for”, she tried to calm herself with humor, and Elidibus gave a light laugh in return. “Indeed. I suppose the Final Days do bring out a different side of all of us. You paid attention in a meeting for once.”

“I know. I never thought it would come to this”, she joked before asking in a more serious tone, “But…are you okay?”

“I’m better than okay. I have a chance here, Azem. We have a chance. We can save Amaurot.”

“But…can we though?”

“Azem, we debated this for hours. Half of Amaurot is better than complete engulfment.”

She argued the point as firmly as she ever could have, which meant little compared to the masters of debate she encountered regularly. Primals demand much and more, and drain power and aether. Dark primals demand sacrifice, in particular. Unfortunately, she exhausted all arguments in the assembly hall. She had no rational argument left within her to turn them away from such an irrational solution.

“And we’ll use what’s left to bring them back.”

She had also argued that what these primals can bring back will be nothing more than husks; the amaurotines would be long gone.

Especially Elidibus.

“But why you?”

“What do you mean, Azem?”

“Elidibus, if you become the heart of this primal, that’s it. There’s no going back. You’ll be consumed whole, left with nothing to show for it. The only thing that could even have a shred of you is…” she didn’t finish the sentence. She couldn’t bring herself to do it.

“If I use the power of the primal to recreate my form, as we discussed.”

Azem shook her head, her face growing hot. “Elidibus, that won’t be you. That’ll be a creature, an abomination with one sole purpose.”

“Better that than to leave Amaurot in the hands of calamity.”

Damn this mask, she thought as her tears stung her eyes. She stood up, and stepped to his side, making Elidbus turn to her and gawk at her clear breach of Convocation etiquette. She fell to one knee, and took his hands.

“Please, Elidibus”, she choked out through the lump in her throat, “I don’t want you to die. You’re so young. You have so much potential. You have a future ahead of you, my friend.” Her voiced shuddered before she begged him, “Reconsider, give me time to think of a better solution. Stand with me as I’ve stood with you before.” Her tears were contagious, as the young amaurotine felt his own well up too.

“I’m sorry, Azem. But time is so precious, so valuable. My future means nothing if all I hold dear is brought to ruin.”

Her tears dripped behind her mask and rolled down her cheeks.

“Damn it all”, she seethed, and ripped the mask of her face to wipe away her tears. The face she kept from her young friend for so many years laid bare in front of him.

“Elidibus, look at me.”

“I-I am…”

“No, I mean without the mask. Please. I may never have this chance again. I beg you.”

He hesitated.

He thought back through the years. He respected her, treated her like a sister as she treated him like a brother. They dined together, enjoyed their leisure time together, she knew his family as he knew hers. Yet through it all, he did not remove the mask in front of her. It felt akin to baring himself naked to her.

But when he stared into her eyes and witnessed the sorrow emanate from her soul, the choice became clear.

He removed his mask and revealed to her the hazel eyes and cherub cheeks he concealed. It only agitated her further to see the man- barely a man- that would become Zodiark’s heart.

“I will not sit by and align myself with this madness. I will not associate myself with the end of our very star. If the Convocation should move forward with the proposal to summon this dark primal…I will resign.”

His tears burned in his eyes, and he wiped them away with his hands. “Don’t do this, Azem!” he sobbed, “Don’t make me choose between my loved ones and my world!”

“I chose my world when I argued against the summoning. Your loved ones are in this world, Elidibus.”

“Don’t you see I have no choice?!”

“You have a choice, Elidibus, and I beg you to make the right one!”

“I will not forsake my duty, Azem!”

There, the line was drawn in fire. Azem and Elidibus stood on opposite sides of it, and watched the past burn.

She turned her back to him and replaced her mask on her face.

“Then it would appear our business is concluded”, she stated coldly.

The door opened and closed. The rustle of her robe as she stormed out was the last thing he heard before he sunk his head into his arms as they crossed on his desk and cried softly into them. The salt water stained his desk.

The memories flashed too quickly for Dia to keep up, but the last memory was clear; Azem clutched a white robe and red mask, and wept into the cloth.

********

The tug of the past released itself from Dia’s soul and she returned to Emet-Selch’s paradise.

“It would appear the burden of Azem has unveiled itself to you.”

Dia jerked her head to her right and met her gaze with Hythlodaeus.

“Hello, my new old friend.” She couldn’t help but smile. “Hello to you, Hythlodaeus. How are you?”

“I am well. Forgive me for startling you; I was merely curious as to how the stone fares with you, and if it grants you the wisdom I had hoped it would.”

She let out a light laugh. “Yes and no.”

The amaurotine hummed. “Helios was capable of balancing her impulsive nature with implacable wisdom. This made her a great fit for the seat of Azem along with her combat prowess. Perhaps this was why Hades loved her so; his impulsiveness rivaled hers, thus do I find myself at the bottom of the sea.”

“You know where we are?”

“It’s difficult not to draw conclusions when fish people occasionally wander in.” She shrugged her shoulders.

“Did you know Elidibus, Hythlodaeus?”

“Not as well as I knew dear Hades, but I knew him. Helios loved inviting him over for drinks, the occasional card game, and park outing. He followed Helios like a lost puppy, and it drove Hades crazy.” Dia laughed at his recollection. Hythlodaeus turned his head to face the ground in front of him.

“When Elidibus sacrificed himself, she lost more than just him. Hades was also corrupted to Zodiark’s influence to the point where he never appeared in the apartment again. She knew only sorrow, and I could only be of such comfort.” He moved his gaze to hers.

“Dia, I barely know you, yet I can see you’ve suffered great loss and sacrifice. I can only hope you can keep those you hold dear. I can only hope that you will live a happy life. Most of all, I can only hope that those who find you dear shall keep you close. Already do I find myself holding you dear…both of you.”

“What?”

“I speak of the other piece of you that resides within; a strange thing, it is. He’s not rejoined with your soul, yet he’s perfectly aligned with it”, Hythlodaeus explained.

“Oh good, it can see me. Just the thing to give me nightmares”, complained Ardbert.

“He need not fear. Much like Hades, I am gifted with the ability to see souls. I mean no harm.” Dia couldn’t help but find herself amused at his squeamishness with the amaurotines.

“I see. Thank you, Hythlodaeus.” She rose from the park bench. “As a matter of fact, I need to tend to the ones I hold dear now.”

“Of course. May we cross paths again soon, my new old friend.”

She nodded with a bright smile and prepared Teleport.

“Thank the gods we’re leaving”, praised Ardbert.

Cram it, she whispered.

***********

The night sky glazed over the Source. It was 10pm and Dia only just left the Syrcus Trench. She called upon her black chocobo to carry her to the Rising Stones. The doors flung open at her command and she walked past them with what confidence she could muster.

“Ah, Dia, I expected you to be in Ishgard. Is aught amiss?” greeted Alphinaud. He sat at a table near the bar alongside Alisaie and G’raha with a deck of Triple Triad cards.

“Oh, uh, well, I had hoped to speak with you in private, but if you’re busy…”

“Nonsense. I’m happy to make time for you. That said, must it be in private?”

She thought about it for a moment. “I mean…I guess it’s not anything particularly sensitive…”

“Anything you can say to Alphinaud, you can say to me”, Alisaie added.

“As well as I”, G’raha chimed in.

She didn’t expect an audience, but she was presented with little choice.

“Very well”, Dia took in a big breath through her nose and let it out through mouth. “I just want to say…I want you to be okay, Alphinaud.”

His eyebrows furled in confusion.

“Sixteen summers is far too young to be dealing with any of this. Hells, when I lost my fathers to the Calamity, I could barely keep myself together and I was twenty-five.”

“You lost your fathers to the Calamity?” G’raha asked.

This shocked the other two as well. For as long as they’ve known her, they knew surprisingly little of her past before she joined the Scions.

“It’s not the point. My point is, you have experienced so much loss, and pain, and betrayal. The people you’ve lost, the things you’ve seen; no one your age should be subjected to such things, and yet you are, and yet you grow stronger for it. I want you know that I see you, Alphinaud. I see you and I am so proud of you. But I don’t want you to bear it by yourself.”

Alphinaud wiped his building tears away with his sleeve. “I don’t bear it alone”, he explained, “I never have. I’ve had you. You’ve been my beacon when the light of the dawn grows dim. You’ve been an anchor to keep me aweigh where I would find myself adrift. We’ve shared these burdens together, and I promise, wherever we go, we will always share them.” She couldn’t help, but drop down and wrap the young one into her arms. The other two rose from their seats and piled themselves onto the pair. Dia and Alphinaud released the floodgates onto each others shoulders, quietly sniffling.

“We fight together. These burdens shall be lifted by all of us”, said G’raha, “Come what may, we need not fight alone.”

“Dia, in the past, you’ve fought these battles in solitude, but our future will be shaped by all of us fighting at your side.”

They enjoyed this rare moment of closeness together. Dia’s not one for sentimentality, but she couldn’t stop herself. She wanted him to know.

Elidibus, I’m sorry you were led to make such a decision and that Azem couldn’t be there. That you should bear the burden of the ancient world at such a young age is a tragedy no one should experience. But I will make it right with this one.

This one will not walk alone.

[themollyjay]

I’m Not An Imposter (But I Sure Feel Like One).

CW: Homophobia, Transphobia, Trans-misogyny

Two days ago, I started work on a new novel called ‘The Defective Paragons’.  It took me a little over a day to write the first chapter, because I wanted to get it right.  Actually, I wanted to get it perfect.  I wanted to capture a specific feeling, but I struggled with it a lot and I want to talk about why.

‘The Defective Paragons’ is not the novel I had planned to write after I finished Transistor.  I thought I would finish Transistor, do revisions on The Master of Puppets, circle back around and do revisions on Transistor, and then move on to my first Fantasy novel, The Long Way Home.

Instead, I finished Transistor, did revisions on The Master of Puppets, did revisions on Transistor, then I pulled out an old manuscript I had started back in 2015 called ‘The Caster of Shadows’.  I retitled it ‘The Inevitable Singularity’ because it was a better thematic fit for the story, then I went through, made a bunch of revisions, adjusted some character dynamics, cut a subplot that just didn’t need to be in the book, and banged out the last five chapters or so of the novel.

It’s a good novel, and I’m happy with the way it turned out.  In fact, I’m really proud of it.  I think there are a lot of deep, interesting things said about free will verses determinism, about the primacy of the individual verse the primacy of the state, about the ethics of child soldiers, religious indoctrination, the ways love can become a toxic force in your life and how hanging on to an unhealthy relationship can be a form of self-harm, as well as how religious doctrine can poison family relationships.  I also think the series that the novel will eventually be part of has a lot more to say on some very deep topics, and I am really looking forward to writing the rest of the books.

But there was something missing when I was writing it.  It was a work that was conceived, and mostly created at a very different time in my life, when the things I wanted to examine in my writing were different.  In the books I’ve been writing lately, Mail Order Bride, Scatter, The Master of Puppets, and Transistor, gender has been a theme.  Scatter is more subtle about it than the others, though it is there if you look closely enough.  Coming off of The Inevitable Singularity, I found myself very much wanting to step back into a universe where I could talk about gender and The Long Way Round just wasn’t that book.

Instead, I decided to jump into The Defective Paragons.  I’m not go through the full elevator pitch, but the basic idea is that aliens came in and recruited a bunch of teams of teenagers to be superheroes.  They ran around in costume, drove giant robots, and fought off invading alien pirates and bandits.  Then, when the time came, the aliens who recruited the teenagers used them as an army to annex Earth.  Except one team fought back.  They lost, but the novel picks up ten years later when they get a second chance to fight back.

Now, you’re probably asking how this relates to gender, and that’s a fair question.  The thing is, the team that fought back has been separated for a decade, and during that decade, the team leader transitioned from male to female, so when someone comes looking for the Team Leader, they spend the first chapter of the novel talking to said team leader without realizing who she is until the very end of the chapter.  Through the course of the novel, this woman is going to have to meet up with four other people she used to be incredibly close with before.

I’m not going to lie. I was nervous as a long-tailed cat in a room full of rocking chairs the whole way through the first chapter, and those nerves haven’t gone away.  But why am I nervous about writing this?  This is literally a part of my life.  This is something I’ve lived through, something I’ve experienced firsthand, more than once.  That experience of meeting someone you knew before, or having to introduce yourself after… That’s my reality, but I still hesitate to write it, because of something that affects a lot of queer people, and trans people I think most of all.

Imposter syndrome. Queer people have our identities invalidated all the time.  “Are you really gay?”, “Why don’t you pick a side already?”, “It’s just a phase.”, “The homosexual lifestyle.”, “Transgender Ideology.”, “Sex not gender”, “Adult human female.”, “Trans trender,”.  It’s hard to keep track of all the ways people question our identity, and when you can’t go a single day without having your identity questioned, you start to doubt yourself.

I doubt myself every day. I was fourteen years old when I figured out I was transgender.  All the signs were there before that, but I didn’t really have that ‘I want to be a girl’ moment until I was fourteen years old.  Why did it take me so long?  You hear about trans kids who seem to know from birth.  Trans girls who want to wear dresses and play with dolls and scream and make a fuss about it from the time they are old enough to talk.  If I’m really trans, why wasn’t I like that?  Is my body dysmorphia really part of my gender dysphoria, or is my gender dysphoria a result of body dysmorphia caused by my weight issues and my eating disorder?

It is so, so easy to get lost inside your head, to doubt who you are, when the whole world is telling you that you’re wrong, that you don’t know yourself, that you can’t be who you claim to be.  Some nights, I lay awake, lost in that place.  Some nights, I lay awake feeling like a fake, a fraud, an imposter.

I know the truth.  I do.  I know that cis gendered men don’t dream about waking up as a woman.  They don’t sit around daydreaming about how if they ever got three wishes, the first wish would be to be a woman.  They don’t have elaborate fantasies about the life they would live if they were a woman.  They don’t cry with joy and relief the first time they see themselves in a dress and makeup. I know I’m a trans woman.  But doubt is a hell of a thing, and so is cis-heteronormativity.

I wrote a chapter, and I felt afraid.  I felt like I was stealing someone else’s story, even though this was my own lived experience.

If you run into the same thing while you’re writing, I wish I could tell you that there’s a magic fix. That the imposter syndrome will eventually go away, and that you’ll get to the point where the voices don’t whisper fear and doubt into your ears, but I can’t.  If there’s a magic fix, I haven’t found it yet.  When I’m writing stuff that deals with being trans, I show it to other trans people, and I sit there, waiting for them to read it, afraid the whole time they’ll tell me I got it wrong.

Someday, I hope we live in a world where no one feels this way, but until then, all I can do is fight through the fear and the doubt, to tell myself that what I feel is real and valid, and to tell the stories I want to tell and hope that people will read them and know that they aren’t alone.

[masonscig]

go

pairing | mason x sofía

word count | 4.3k

warnings | angst, blood, body horror, gore. please let me know if i need to add any other tags!

tags | @raleighcarrera, @pixeljazzy, @masonsfangs, @queerbrujas, @nerdferatum, @peonylon, @yoru-no-nekousagi

author’s note | sorry in advance – i know this wouldn’t happen in canon like. at all, but i just love making mason do some introspection :-) 

read on ao3!

•─────────────────•

He was sure that he’d ground a line into the linoleum floor from how fast he was pacing. Nate’s voice was long gone from his subconscious – at this point he couldn’t be comforted.

For fourteen days he’d been outside that room, day in and day out.

He left for the basic necessities like… showering when absolutely necessary, but if anyone dared to try to relieve him, he was a gnashing, snarling mess. After the first couple days, they just left him alone.

They wouldn’t allow him in.

The most he’d heard from her was a mumbled greeting (said to someone else) through a cracked door.

He slumped into the chair he’d parked outside the door, fatigue curling around his muscles, winding its way up his nerves, the brute of it settling on his eyelids.

Fighting sleep wasn’t that hard – it’d never been this hard.

He’d been a tense ball of both rage and distress for so long that the first time he unclenched – there, hunched over in an uncomfortable folding chair – was due to pure exhaustion.

The metronome on the other side of the door was the only thing keeping him awake.

As long as he could hear her pulse through the walls, he wasn’t leaving.

He had to do something to stay awake. She could call him in any minute now –

So he started counting. One, two, three.

This is so fucking stupid, he thought, curling his hands into fists so tight that his skin screamed at him to stop before he broke through.

But he kept counting, kept counting until he was well into the thousands, not caring how much time had passed.

Thankfully, her heartbeat was steady, strong, so he knew she was still on the other side of the wall. That’s all he could ask for since he’d been kept in the dark for days.

Counting at least kept his mind off of the things that (rightfully) tormented him.

Mason could count on one hand the times he’d been truly terrified in his life. Most of them had happened the past few years.

Lots of times if he tried hard enough, he could feel the fragmented remnants of fear from a past life he knew nothing about, but those moments were rare and fleeting.

He usually pushed them down, deep down, until they bobbed to the surface like some deep sea anomaly that was trying to tug at his curiosity. It normally didn’t amount to much, but every once in a while he divulged in it, experiencing that bone deep ache of something he didn’t even think himself capable of feeling in the first place.

Since he met Sofía, though, fear was interwoven into his everyday life, like the ashes of his past were meticulously sprinkled across Wayhaven and he couldn’t do a single thing but feel it over and over and over.

Nonchalance and deflection couldn’t shield him from the shit he’d been through the past two weeks.

He’d taken the worst tongue lashing from Rebecca he’d ever gotten – it was the first time he wanted to curl into himself and hide.

“You knew how she felt about this,” Rebecca whispered furiously, her eyes well past brimming with tears.

She blinked them away, tearing into him as they streaked down her cheeks and onto the linoleum, not even pausing to wipe them.

“Our policy has always been to turn those who are one hundred percent consenting to the process, and you deliberately breached protocol when you knew this wasn’t what she wanted.”

Agent Olmos was sobbing through her anger, striding towards him while he backed farther and farther down the hallway towards the exit.

He let her continue, as did the rest of Unit Bravo, watching wide-eyed from behind her as she tore him to shreds in the same warehouse she aided in making their home.

“I hope you know that you cannot run from this. I plan on pursuing punishment to its full extent,” she said through stuttered breaths. “The worst the Agency can give.” The threat tacked on at the end of her tirade haunted him for days. And he’d never forget the look of absolute dejection tugging at every inch of her body.

Unit Bravo had stopped trying to console him days before.

Well, Nate and Felix stopped.

Adam was… vastly less understanding. He was furious, nearly as furious as Rebecca, but for different reasons.

He’d shut Mason out the second he’d chosen wrong, siding with Rebecca immediately.

Nate was still on the fence, opting to try to maintain the peace.

Felix was the only one who’d stood by Mason through it all.

“We’ve been kept in Wayhaven to protect her, right? Well, he did what he thought was protecting her at the time. And she’s alive, right?”

Mason overheard Felix defending him in hushed tones, trying to plead his case to Adam.

Well, he was right. He did exactly what he thought would save her at the time.

But he really didn’t think, he did.

Seeing her in a crumpled heap of nothing but limbs and blood triggered the worst of that feeling he tried suppressing.

If he had to put a name to the feeling, he’d probably say it was like being struck by a lightning bolt. Fear zapped him, violently so, each nerve ending in his body on edge, leaving behind a painful sting.

He’d sunk his fangs into her neck before they could stop him, releasing venom into the bite as Adam’s hand grabbed at his shoulder.

“Let me fucking go –” he yelled, thrashing in Adam’s ironclad grip.

“Is she breathing?” Nate asked in a raised voice, directing Felix while trying to keep Adam from crushing Mason.

Felix crouched next to Sofía's bloodied form, pressing fingers to the other side of her neck, shoulders visibly relaxing.

“Yeah, she’s breathing.”

“We have to get out of here now, Adam,” Nate shook his head frantically. “We might not make it back in time –”

“We will.” Adam said matter-of-factly, jaw firmly set.

“Let him carry her.”

“Absolutely not, he deliberately compromised the mission –”

“There was nothing deliberate about it. Please, we need to go –”

“Guys?”

Felix’s timid voice tore them both out of their argument and Mason stopped thrashing for a moment to look where he was pointing: her neck.

The scar was shrinking before their eyes, the crescent moon disappearing, replaced with her smooth, warm skin.

A low groan of pain echoed through the room. They collectively winced at the sound.

“She’s healing.”

The first crack was the loudest, reverberating off of the walls like a gunshot, startling everyone.

But with each one an even scarier sound came from her lips, the garbled broken moans filling the space between them and sending chills up Mason’s spine.

“We have to go, now.”

Nate was demanding, not asking, at that point. Adam gave him a curt nod before releasing Mason, one hand still grasping his arm.

“Take her to the warehouse. We have to prepare for the worst case scenario. Be on guard.”

“She’s going to survive,” Mason growled, shaking out of Adam’s grip.

“We don’t have time for arguments, guys, she’s turning right now –” Felix was nearly shouting, frantic and unprepared to witness what was happening in front of him.

Mason’s arms were curling underneath her back and the bend of her knees before another word was uttered.

“Felix go with him –” Nate called after them.

“Got it,” he nodded, already rushing to keep up with Mason’s lightning fast gait.

Felix smashed the large glass door open with pointed feet, trying desperately to clear pathways before Mason could get there.

One of the shards split the skin of Mason’s cheekbone open, but he barely winced, determined to push himself to his absolute limit to make it back to the warehouse in time.

The way every muscle in his body screamed at him like they never had before was nothing if it meant she’d be safe.

He could ignore the pain, sure.

He couldn’t ignore what was happening in his arms, though.

Crack after agonizing crack, she was breaking apart in his arms, her body shattering and putting itself together.

All he could do was grit his teeth and push himself harder.

Felix was clearly more affected, his expression one of horror, trying not to react to her cries of pain.

By the time they made it to the warehouse doors, she was shrieking, her animalistic screams slicing through the dead of night.

“Where do we – what do we do –” Felix was panicking, looking to Mason for an inkling of guidance.

“My room,” Mason grunted, forcing himself to sprint the last hundred feet to his bedroom.

For the last few minutes of her transformation, he and Felix sat by her side, trying to hold her down while she thrashed through the pain.

Her body stretched and broke and grew underneath their palms, her entire frame changing before their eyes.

She was still bloodied, but not battered, all of her lacerations from their last fight zipping up until there wasn’t a trace that she’d taken any damage.

The room was tense, even more so when Adam stepped in, his gaze steely, his glare cutting.

By the time Nate joined the room (thankfully) the worst of it was over, and she stilled, transitioning from loud moans of pain to labored breaths.

“Is it over?” Felix whispered, his tear streaked face glistening in the light when he looked up at Adam.

Adam nodded, lips set in a firm line. “If she comes to, she’s survived. If she turns feral, we’ll have to finish her off before Agent Olmos arrives.”

 Mason’s voice was guttural, eyes wild, coming from a place of protectiveness that surprised even him.

“You’re not touching her –” he pushed off of the bed and stood at his full height, chin tilted slightly to eye the other man with a menacing glare. “– not if I have anything to say about it.”

“It is not up for debate. We will not risk keeping her alive for your ignorant, selfish reasons,” Adam nearly spat, voice unwavering.

When he said he’d kill for the Agency without hesitation, Mason didn’t think Adam would take it this far. 

She was a part of the team… she was one of them.

“You’re that comfortable killing one of your own?” He shouted, his own volume foreign to him.

He wasn’t that guy.

He was the laid back one. The one who didn’t give a shit about anything or anyone.

She’d done this to him. She’d snuck her way into his life a fucking song Felix played on loop until it was on repeat at the back of his mind for months and months and months.

“I’m comfortable following protocol, despite your apparent imperviousness to rules.”

“Adam, Mason, please,” Felix whispered from below. “She wouldn’t want this.”

Icy green and grey eyes were downcast, almost in shame at their outbursts.

Mason turned away from Adam, rolling his lips. “You’re right.”

“I apologize for arguing, but I will not change my mind.”

Mason nodded once, kneeling down next to Sofía's form as Adam slipped out of the door.

When she finally awoke, she was surrounded by the entire team – Unit Bravo and her mother.

She blinked slowly, adjusting to the dim lighting.

“Mason?” Her half lidded gaze stopped on him and her brows furrowed in confusion. “What are you doing here – what happened – last thing I remember is getting knocked out –”

Struggling to sit up, she shifted her weight until she was upright. “Did we finish the mission? Did you guys make it out safe?”

“We have a lot to discuss, Sofía,” Nate said cautiously, stepping forward until he was looking over the bed.

“About the mission?”

“Not exactly.”

She stiffened at Nate’s tone, appearing a bit more alert, her eyes darting across each person’s somber expression.

“What’s going on?”

“You almost died, Sofía,” Felix murmured, struggling to keep his voice even.

She still looked puzzled, her eyes flitting between everyone in the room, gauging their reactions to what Felix said.

She landed on Mason, gaze pleading. 

Tell me. Be honest with me, they said.

“Dammit, I had to – I couldn’t just let you –” He couldn’t finish his sentence.

Mason knew he didn’t fuck up, but it sure felt like he did.

She crumbled before him, her expression one of a person who’d realized her humanity had been stolen from her.

Fisting the sheets, she looked down at her clenched hands, before ripping the cloth away, staring at her body in sheer disgust.

“This can’t be happening –” she whispered, her breathing becoming more and more frantic.

She rotated her hands in front of her face, scanning her long slender fingers (that weren’t before) with wide eyes.

A choked sob silenced her, her shoulders, hands, lips trembling.

“I know this isn’t what you wanted, but we can work with you. We can accommodate you –”

She cut Nate off with a half-laugh, half-sob.

Whatever retort she was going to spit in his direction wasn’t coming, instead replaced with hysterical cries.

And whatever Mason planned to say to her wasn’t coming either.

He wasn’t one to preplan speeches, especially ones that were… apologetic (to say the least). His mind was completely blank as he watched the woman he thought he’d saved shatter in front of him.

He’d never seen her cry like this – he’s not sure anyone had.

She didn’t cry, not really, unless she was angry. Passionate.

Hadn’t seen her cry in a while, though. Couldn’t remember the last time she did, it’d been so long. He was to blame for most reasons she spilled tears.

And this time it was because of him. Again.

“Please let us try to help you,” Nate said, finally, somehow the bravest in the group, crouching down until he was on a knee, nearly eye level with her hunched form.

“There’s nothing we can do to undo your turning, but we can make you comfortable. It’s a little bit of an adjustment, but we can coach you –”

“A little bit?” She shook her head, wiping the back of her hand across her cheeks.

Her head tilted up to survey the room again, her expression pained. “Why didn’t you just let me die?”

He stepped forward impulsively, jaw clenched. “Don’t say that.”

“You knew I didn’t want this – all of you knew I didn’t want this. Why did you let him change me?”

Change. But she was the same old Sofía.

“He’d already sunk his teeth in your neck by the time we noticed him move. We couldn’t stop him in time,” Adam said from the corner, brows furrowed, clearly uncomfortable.

Rebecca and Felix remained silent, clearly the most affected.

“I need all of you to get out.”

“We cannot do that, detective. There’s much we need to talk over –” Adam started, but she cut him off with a yell.

“If you don’t get the fuck out of this room right now, I’ll make you get out. Rebecca, that includes you. Get out. Now.”

The collective shock followed them out into the hallway as they straggled out of the room.

“Not you, Mason. Stay.”

The tone of her voice was enough to rattle him.

As soon as Felix closed the door behind him (after giving a worried glance back at Mason), she was pushing herself off of the bed. She struggled to stand upright like she was relearning how to walk again on new legs.

When she stood at her full height, she appeared to be tormented by the revelation.

She’d become taller than Felix and only an inch or two shorter than Mason. Her limbs were gangly, her body type completely different. 

More tears fell, more sobs came, and with each cry he couldn’t help but feel himself cracking too.

“I did what I thought was right.”

“Did you? Did you really?” 

“You were dying right in front of me. I couldn’t let you go, not like that –”

“Have you always intended on changing me? Do you care that little about me and what I want? Are you that selfish?”–

Fear – he was engulfed in it. The repressed storm – the one he’d always stood at the eye of –  shifted, and he was engulfed in the monstrous waves, colliding with his worst fears at the same time he realized what they were.

He was going to lose her. And it was his fault.

He gritted his teeth, trying to come up with some kind of justification that didn’t sound selfish.

She spoke before he could collect his thoughts.

“My body is… different. It doesn’t even feel like mine anymore,” she whispered, plopping back onto the edge of the bed, head hung low.

“You’re still a detective. You’re still you. Nothing else around you’s changed,” he said.

He hoped that restating facts would be some kind of replacement for whatever jumbled mess was going on inside of his mind.

“No. I was supposed to decide who I’m going to be and you made the decision for me.”

His whole body stiffened, glued in place at the vitriol dripping from her words.

“You made my choice for me. I didn’t want this,” she repeated, shaking her head, hugging her arms around herself.

“You don’t have to be a detective –”

“Can you not just say you’re sorry? Is that really not in your vocabulary?” She asked, making a sound that sounded almost like a laugh, but not quite. “Have you seriously gone a hundred years without apologizing to anyone?”

She wasn’t exactly wrong.

Admitting fault was a weak point of his. Truth be told it cut his pride deep to say “I was wrong,” because he always had some kind of justification.

He was painfully stubborn. That didn’t bother him too much – not until those rare moments (like that one) where no matter how much he knew the other person was in pain, it was exceedingly difficult to form those three words and push them past his teeth.

The one time his impulse doesn’t kick in, and it’s when he should be desperately apologizing and groveling and begging on his hands and knees for forgiveness.

He’d thought for the longest time that a hundred years of an immortal lifestyle had wiped away all traces of his humanity, but it lingered.

Maybe that’s why she was a breath of fresh air – she was drawing those irrefutable human emotions that he didn’t believe himself to have anymore and tugged them to the surface.

She wasn’t a breath of fresh air – she was air. He’d been drowning for so fucking long, unchallenged, unchanging, and she came along like an otherworldly presence that wholly stilled his water.

God, was she his moon?

Did she hold that much power over his waves?

This revelation couldn’t have come at a worse time, as she continued despite his silence.

“I wasn’t supposed to come back here… now I’m trapped. I can never get out.

“I was supposed to be a doctor. I was supposed to be someone.”

The arguments he thought he’d spit out dissolved, as whatever he said next had to mean something. It couldn’t undo the damage, but it might could quell a sliver of her pain.

“You’re someone to me.”

She sank her teeth into her wobbling lip, no doubtedly harder than she intended, blood dotting the pink skin.

“I don’t know if I can forgive you for this,” Sofía murmured, voice surprisingly steady with her usual resolve, despite not being able to meet his eye as she said it. “Please go.”

And just like that, he was engulfed again.

He’d been nearly disowned by his teammates and prosecuted by his former boss, his entire immortal life in shambles, but he didn’t fucking care.

The only thing that mattered to him was whether or not she was going to speak to him again.

He squeezed his hands into tight fists again, trying not to think about what she’d said to him after she’d turned – she was understanding. She was kind. She was forgiving.

She was Sofía.

He’d robbed her of her humanity, sure, but he could’ve never taken away what made her Sofía. No one could do that.

“Hey, Mason. We’re having a meeting in thirty minutes,” Nate had said, sympathy written on his features like Mason was a tragedy and he’d already read the ending.

He thought if he waited long enough he could catch her and say what they both needed to hear: I’m sorry.

When the door finally opened (a minute before the meeting started), she stepped out, bookbag slung over her shoulder, not sparing him a second glance.

He stumbled after her, exhausted still.

He found himself hesitating to speak first, worried he was going to say the wrong thing, and nervous that she wouldn’t hear him out.

She was vastly more intimidating after her turning than she was before – her body had rearranged itself to be more predator-like. Of course he was scared.

But he didn’t fear her.

Her long legged stride was less determined than usual. Her posture was worse, like she was trying to hide. Her presence didn’t hold the confidence she used to have.

It was getting harder and harder to find what made her her.

But he still didn’t fear her.

As soon as they were settled in for the meeting (him perched against the seat she used to sit, her standing on the opposite side of the room), Rebecca commanded the meeting, demanding silence with nothing but a look.

“This will be our last formal meeting in Wayhaven, as we’ve all received new assignments.”

Mason’s chest twinged, his grip on the arm of the chair tightening until the fabric tore. No one else appeared as surprised as he was.

“Agent Du Mortain, Agent Sewell, and Agent Hauville, we’ll be relocating for the time being on a minor assignment while the Agency finds us something longer term,” she continued, surveying the room, not sparing Mason a glance.

“Sofía will not be joining us.”

The statement hung in the air like a thick fog. 

“I’ve received special clearance for the time being. The Agency is giving me time to sort through my feelings before I decide whether or not I want to continue working for them,” she said, nodding towards her mother, both of them smiling ever so slightly.

When had they gotten so close?

“That’s awesome, Sofía,” Felix grinned, seemingly happy for the first time in weeks. “I can’t wait to visit you and have a sleepover for old times’ sake.”

She didn’t answer, her eyebrows furrowed instead like she was trying to break the news to him gently.

“I’m afraid this is the last time we’re going to see Sofía, Felix,” Nate murmured, reaching out to pat his bat cautiously.

“Ever?” His voice broke with the second syllable. 

She dropped her bag and strode across the room, wrapping Felix in a tight hug. When she pulled back, her eyes were watering, too.

“I can’t come back here. Even if I choose this existence and I work for the Agency, they’ll never let me set foot back in this town, and… I don’t think I’d want to, either.”

“She’s right. I’m sure she will have to wait until the townsfolk die off until she can come back,” Adam nodded sympathetically despite his bluntness.

They were talking about her future – she was, too – without including Mason in it. Like she’d already made up her mind and everyone in the room knew but him. 

No, he didn’t fear her. He feared life without her.

“Sofía,” he said, finally, voice low, ignoring the boring gazes of Adam and Rebecca.

She met his eyes, and for a split second he was relieved – her eyes were soft, forgiving, human, like the old Sofía.

It didn’t console him for long, though. She wasn’t looking at him the way she used to. She’d forgiven him, sure, but it was more than just that.

She looked at him like she’d moved on, her forgiveness magnanimous in nature, like she’d put it behind her – put him behind her.

Rebecca’s voice snapped him out of it, her tone biting. “Mason, you’ve been ordered to stay behind and stand trial. For the time being, you’ve been stripped of your title. If you’re granted amnesty, your Agent title will be restored, but for now, you’re to be taken into custody and prosecuted as a rogue. If you try to run, lethal force will be used without hesitation.”

Adam’s heavy hand on his shoulder made the situation much more realistic.

He really was losing everything. It wasn’t some horrific nightmare that he could shake himself out of.

The cuffs Nate clicked into place weren’t too tight (he made sure of it).

He couldn’t do a thing but watch Sofía say her tearful goodbyes to everyone.

She cried with both her mother and Felix, but pulled it together for Nate, snuggling her face into his chest. She even managed to get a hug out of Adam, despite his awkwardness.

When she made it to Mason, she tugged his shackled hands upward, slipping underneath his arms, tucking her nose under his chin.

He was stunned, the lump in his throat aching with regret.

He gripped her tighter, burying his nose into her hair. He knew exactly how she smelled, how she felt, how she tasted, but he was committing it to memory since it was the last time.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” he mumbled, arms trembling.

“I didn’t want the Agency to press charges. I tried stopping it. I’m sorry,” she whispered back, hands rubbing at his back in soothing circles.

“If I could take it all back, I would. I’m sorry,” he said again and again, trying to pour all of himself into her to show that he knew he was wrong.

“Maybe in another life.”

And then she was gone. And they were gone.

And he was still there. Still afraid.

[writerofthecourt]

memories of what could have been

pairing: miya atsumu x reader

summary: seeing you in the stands, atsumu couldn’t help but think back on how your relationship got to this point

warning: inarizaki vs. karasuno spoilers, time skip spoilers

a/n: this was supposed to be short and sweet…what happened?? i’m sorry for any missed editing mistakes. inspired by this song by ito kashitaro. please give it a listen to after you’re done reading, it is such a good song!

The audience watched in nervous silence, waiting with bated breath as Atsumu stepped up to the line and prepared for his serve. The game had dwindled down to its final set, leaving both teams exhausted and sore from the constant rallies and unforgiving plays. If Atsumu could land a service ace now, it would mean the end of the game and victory for his team.

Looking at his teammates, Hinata and Bokuto both smiled at him encouragingly, while Sakusa’s glare told him not to mess up. Looking up to the stands, Atsumu found you in the sea of people, your lips curved into a radiant smile as you shot him a reassuring thumbs up.

Finding strength in the people around him, Atsumu released a shaky breath before tossing the ball up into the air, jumping after it to launch it into the opponent’s side of the court.

“Can I play?” a tiny voice asked from behind him.

Catching the ball that Osamu had just received, Atsumu turned around and raised a condescending eyebrow at you, his eyes scanning you with disdain and disinterest as you stared back at him with anticipation.

“No way,” he scoffed. “This isn’t a game for scrubs like ya.”

“That’s not very nice,” you replied, a frown now present on your face. “My ma told me that ya should be kind and share with everyone.”

“Yeah? And my ma told me not to talk with strangers,” Atsumu made a shoo-ing motion with his hands, “now go and play in the sandbox with the rest of the scrubs.”

Scrunching your nose in frustration, you stomped off towards the swing set where you had been previously occupying your time. “Jerk…”

Smirking in victory, Atsumu returned to receiving the ball back and forth with Osamu, letting out a gasp of surprise when the ball bounced off of his arm and went flying towards your direction.

“Oi, watch out!” Atsumu shouted to warn you.

Turning around, you quickly surveyed the ball before taking off into a running start. Jumping up into the air, you perfectly spiked the ball back to Atsumu, hitting him in the face as you gracefully landed on your feet.

“Wow,” you drawled out sarcastically with a smirk. “Sorry, my hand slipped.”

Osamu, who had been quiet up until this point, let out an uncontrollable laugh as Atsumu continued to groan on the ground, his face now red from where the volleyball had smacked him.

That was how you met Miya Atsumu.

The classroom was filled with hushed excitement as everyone anxiously waited in their seats for the lunch bell to ring. Today was Valentine’s Day, and all the students were once again ready to celebrate and revel in the traditions of the romantic holiday.

As soon as the bell rang, various female students ran up to Atsumu’s desk, showering him in a variety of wrapped and decorated chocolate confections. Despite only being second years, the Miya twins were the talk of their junior high, as their superior looks and athleticism made them the envy and desire of the student population, whether they wanted to be or not.

Looking over his large pile of gifts, Atsumu glanced at his brother from across the classroom, finding some sort of comfort in how Osamu also seemed to be struggling with his own horde of adoring fans.

“Atsumu-kun, please accept my chocolates.”

“I worked really hard on these, so please accept my feelings, Atsumu-san!”

“Atsumu-kun, are ya going out with anybody right now?”

“Oh, shuddup!” Atsumu snapped as he stood up from his desk, causing everyone to stare at him with surprise and fear. “I just wanna go out and play volleyball, but none of ya will let me leave!”

The girls around Atsumu’s desk quickly shrank back, some shuffling their feet in awkwardness, while others hid behind their friends.

“Yer a real jerk, y’know that?” Osamu sighed, shaking his head at his brother’s lack of tact.

“What did’ja say, ‘Samu? Say it to my face!”

Noticing movement from the door, Atsumu saw the top of your head peeking out from behind the door frame, your body obstructed from view due to the large number of female students standing outside of the classroom.

“Oi, [Y/N],” Atsumu called out, causing you to jump in surprise. “Come play volleyball with me and ‘Samu.”

“Uhh, sure,” you agreed nervously as some of the other girls began to glare at you. “I have something I gotta do first. I’ll see ya out on the field.”

“Sounds good!”

Turning around, you scurried down the hallway and rushed back into your classroom, hiding your box of chocolates away in the depths of your school bag.

Your friend, who sat in the desk behind you, raised an eyebrow at your suspicious behaviour. “I thought ya were gonna go confess to Atsumu-san? Ya said that’cha worked all night on those chocolates.”

“Haha, yeah. I’m chickening out,” you shamefully admitted, rubbing the back of your neck. “He was a little busy…”

“Figures,” your friend scoffed, rolling her eyes at your cowardice.

“Yeah. Good thing I bought those extra store bought chocolates, right?” you chuckled, trying to ease the pain. “Now it won’t be awkward if I only give ‘Samu his chocolates.”

Your friend sighed before shaking her head in pity. “I don’t know why ya fell for that idiot in the first place.”

“Yeah, me too,” you whispered, remembering all of the effort you had put into your chocolates the night before.

At the simple age of fourteen, you experienced your first heartbreak.

It was a tough pill to swallow, but it was the truth. Nobody expected a powerhouse team like Inarizaki to lose in their first match of the Spring High National Tournament, but Karasuno was an incredible team, managing to secure the victory after a tremendous three set game.

Days following the tournament, a sombre atmosphere could still be felt lingering in the halls of Inarizaki High. The third year volleyball club members were now retired, turning to focus their attention on studying and entrance exams instead. They would still occasionally show up to practice and mentor their first and second years, but it was clear that their time in their beloved club was over. Everyone was heartbroken, but no one was more upset about the team’s loss than one blond setter.

“Hey,” you greeted Osamu as he opened the front door. “How are ya holdin’ up?”

“Fine,” Osamu replied with a shrug. “Definitely a lot better than ‘Tsumu.”

You nodded solemnly, entering the quiet house and exchanging your outdoor shoes for a pair of house slippers. “Are yer parents not home?”

“Visiting family,” Osamu answered plainly, tearing open a bag of chips to snack on them. “Want some?”

Shaking your head, you politely declined his offer. After a moment of silence, you shuffled your feet and glanced up the staircase. “I’m gonna go check up on him.”

As you began to climb the stairs, Osamu called out your name, making you turn back to look at him. “Thanks. For being there when I can’t.”

You smiled, nodding to Osamu before letting your feet carry you through the familiar hallways of the Miya household. Soon, you reached your destination, stopping right in front of the twins’ bedroom door.

Gently knocking on the door, you alerted Atsumu of your presence. “‘Tsumu? It’s me. I’m coming in, okay?”

Hearing a grunt of acknowledgement, you entered the room before softly closing the door behind you. Shaking your head, you sighed at all of the clothes and manga books messily strewn about the room. Typical teenage boys.

There, securely wrapped in his blanket from head to toe, Atsumu lay on his bed, his back facing towards you as he stared off at the wall in complete silence.

“Hey,” you greeted softly, taking a seat next to him on the bed. “‘Samu says that yer not holdin’ up too well. Are ya okay?”

“I don’t wanna talk about it,” Atsumu mumbled, his nose stuffy and voice grating as if he had been previously crying.

“It’s okay if ya don’t want to talk about it,” you conceded, bringing a hand up to brush through Atsumu’s messy blond locks.

After a few minutes of silence, sniffles could be heard echoing throughout the room as Atsumu tried his best to muffle his cries into his pillow. With a melancholic smile, you continued to rake your fingers through Atsumu’s hair, staring out at the window to bask in the glow of the setting sun.

“Everything will be okay, ‘Tsumu,” you gently whispered. “You’ll be okay…”

Outside of the room, Osamu smiled as he heard your comforting words to Atsumu. He felt content knowing that the blond would be just fine now that you were here.

“Ahhh, I can’t believe we’re done!” you shouted in excitement, your eyes gleaming as you admired the piece of paper you had sacrificed three years of your life to obtain.

“Yer so loud,” Osamu grimaced as he stood to your left. Though, he also broke out into a smile once he saw how the happy expression on your face never wavered.

Graduation was both a joyous and scary occasion, as students now set off on their own paths towards an undecided future. Although nothing was certain, you weren’t scared. You were ready to take on whatever life threw at you.

“Hey, Osamu, come take a picture with us!” a couple of guys from the baseball club requested, shaking their phones for emphasis.

Shrugging his shoulders, Osamu left your side as you waited for Atsumu to finish his conversation with a couple of his female fans.

After snapping a quick photo with them, Atsumu waved his fans goodbye and walked over to stand next to you underneath one of the school’s cherry blossom trees.

“God, they’re so annoying. ‘Miya-san, yer so cool. We’re gonna miss ya so much!’” Atsumu poorly imitated, his voice rising to an absurdly high pitch in an effort to mimic their voices.

“Yer awful!” you laughed, shoving his shoulder once he was within arm’s reach.

“Yeah, yeah. Tell me something I don’t know,” he smirked before glancing around. “Where’s ‘Samu?”

“Pictures,” you said, pointing to Osamu and a group of boys off in the distance.

“Ughhhh,” Astumu groaned, glaring at his brother with impatience.

As the two of you waited for Osamu to be done, a comfortable silence enveloped you and Atsumu. The hushed chatter of other students could be still heard as they all ran around, saying goodbye to one another and wishing each other good luck for the future. You looked up to the sky and smiled, admiring how the cherry blossoms danced with the gentle breeze of spring.

“I’ve been in love with ya since junior high, did’ja y’know that?” you asked, grinning once you saw the look of absolute shock painted on Atsumu’s handsome face.

“W-what-” Atsumu sputtered, not knowing what to say in response to your confession.

“Calm down, ya look like yer gonna choke or something,” you chuckled.

“Why are ya telling me this now?” Atsumu asked seriously, staring at you with a look that you couldn’t quite decipher.

Shrugging your shoulders, you answered Atsumu’s question. “Why not? It doesn’t change anything. Yer still gonna be moving to Osaka to try out for the MSBY Black Jackals, ‘Samu’s gonna be studying here, and I’m heading off to Tokyo. I just wanted to get this off my chest after all these years.”

“I-I’m sorry,” Atsumu reluctantly looked away, “I don’t feel the same way about you.”

“I know,” you said as you took a hold of his hand, ignoring how he seemed to flinch at your touch. “A part of me kinda hoped that you’d return my feelings and move with me to Tokyo, but that’s just a far-fetched dream. Besides, I’d never want to make you choose between me and volleyball.”

“[Y/N], I’m sorry-”

“Will you stop it!” you playfully snapped, rolling your eyes at the Miya Atsumu’s sudden shyness. “It’s fine. I’ve come to terms with my feelings a long time ago. No matter what, at the end of the day, I’ll still love both you and ‘Samu all the same.”

Hearing your parents call out your name, you turned to where they stood as they signalled for you to meet them at the car parked a couple of blocks down the street.

“Okay!” you confirmed as you waved to them. Turning back to Atsumu, you planted a soft kiss on the corner of his mouth, surprising him as you shot him one last smile. “Goodbye for now, ‘Tsumu. I’ll see ya when I see ya.”

Atsumu could do nothing but stare as you ran off towards Osamu, interrupting the photo-taking as you hugged the ex-wing spiker before kissing him on the cheek and bidding him your farewells. The other guys around Osamu all whistled and hollered, but he just rolled his eyes at their lighthearted teasing.

Returning your hug, Osamu kissed the top of your head, saying his goodbyes to you as well before whispering something only you could hear. Both of your eyes drifted to Atsumu before you nodded your head and separated from the grey haired Miya. Waving to Osamu and Atsumu one last time, you ran off to catch up with your parents.

As Atsumu watched you leave, the blond clenched his fist tightly around his shirt, right where his heart would be. An indescribable feeling began to settle in his chest, and he couldn’t help but feel as if he would regret it for the rest of his life if he didn’t chase after you.

Nevertheless, Atsumu’s feet remained firmly planted on the ground.

“Miya-san, you are one of the rising stars in the world of volleyball right now. Looking at your career up until this point, I can easily understand why so many new players see you as a figure of inspiration,” the interviewer complimented, a professional and polite smile on her face as she held up her microphone. “Tell me, is there anyone that inspires you to work hard and continue to do your best?”

“That’s a tough question,” Atsumu replied, sending the interviewer and camera a charismatic smile. “Well, if I had to choose…”

Looking back on his life, the first person that came to Atsumu’s mind was you. Like a lantern shining in the darkest of nights, your smiling face was the first one to appear in the setter’s head.

Suddenly, memories of you all came flooding back to him, especially that one fateful day underneath the cherry blossom tree where you had confessed your feelings to him.

“Uh, Miya-san?” the interviewer asked, snapping him out of his daze. “Are you all right?”

“Um, yeah, sorry. It’s been a long day,” he chuckled, earning a laugh from the interviewer as well. “Sorry, what was the question again?”

The interviewer only smiled as she repeated her question.

“Yer going on a date?!” Atsumu screeched, pulling at his hair as if he had just heard the worst news ever. He was currently on a Facetime call with you and Osamu, with your phone aimed towards your closet as you shifted through and appraised different outfits with the twins.

“Uh, yeah, that’s what I said,” you confirmed, rolling your eyes at blond’s overreaction. “Now, which shirt looks better, the yellow one or the white one.”

“I personally like the white one,” Osamu replied, quickly glancing up from his laptop before resuming his essay.

“Since when? With who?” Atsumu interrogated, glaring suspiciously at you through the phone screen.

“A guy from my Intro to Biology class. He seems really nice, so I accepted his offer,” you explained with exasperation. “It’s just coffee, ‘Tsumu.”

“Just coffee?!” the blond asked hysterically. “This is Tokyo we’re talking about! We all know how sketchy those city boys are!”

“‘Tsumu, it’s just one date,” you sighed, no longer having the energy to deal with him. “Listen, if it goes poorly, I’ll block his number and never interact with him ever again. Deal?”

“Fine,” Atsumu relented, grumbling something under his breath that you couldn’t quite pick up. “But call me or ‘Samu as soon as you get home! If I don’t hear from ya by the end of the night, I’m going to Tokyo myself!”

“I’ll be fine, ‘Tsumu,” you chuckled before glancing at the time. “Okay, I gotta go. We’re meeting up soon. See ya, guys!”

“Bye.” “Be safe!”

Hanging up the call, Atsumu let his head fall back onto the couch, his fists shaking with frustration. He didn’t like you, at least not in that way. So why did he feel jealousy and disappointment burning away at his chest when you had announced to him and Osamu that you were going on a date?

Thinking back to graduation day, Atsumu couldn’t help but wonder if he truly did feel nothing for you back then. In any case, he couldn’t deny that the thought of you now stirred up something within his heart.

He hated himself for it, but he hoped that your date was a total disaster. That he’d be there to comfort you and rekindle whatever feelings you had for him back in high school.

Unfortunately, Atsumu never got his chance.

As the ball flew through the air, the opponent’s libero made a desperate dive to reach it. Unfortunately, his efforts were not enough, as the ball landed just out of his arm’s reach, so close, yet so far away from being stopped.

The whistle sounded, declaring the end of the game as the crowd erupted into both cheers of happiness and groans of disappointment. Atsumu’s teammates all ran up to quickly hug him, with Hinata and Bokuto being the first ones to reach the tired setter. Sakusa looked at the three of them with disgust, but he still sent Atsumu a small smile, telling him that he did good.

Atsumu laughed as Bokuto kept slapping him on the back, while Hinata congratulated him for his amazing serve. Looking up to the stands one more time, Atsumu chuckled as you sent him a beautiful smile and an enthusiastic wave of both hands, the shine of your wedding band reflecting off of the stadium lights.

“Y-yer gettin’ married?”

“Yeah! Isn’t this great, ‘Tsumu?”

“Y-yeah! This is wonderful, [Y/N]. I wish ya nothing but all the happiness in the world…”

Turning to your husband beside you, you began to excitedly talk about all the amazing players and the various highlights of the game. Your husband must have said something funny because you started to laugh, kissing him on his cheek before leaning into his chest with a hug.

Atsumu turned away from the happy couple, half-listening to the praises of his teammates. He had never once regretted his decision in pursuing volleyball, but he couldn’t help but think back to that fateful spring day.

If he had accepted your feelings back then, would he be the one that you were hugging right now? The one that got to see your dazzling smile and hear the twinkle of your laughter every morning?

Atsumu loved volleyball, but he also loved you.

He was just too late in realizing this fact.

fun fact: osamu was originally going to end up with [y/n], but i liked the idea of them remaining as friends a lot better. [y/n]’s husband is a canon haikyuu character, so if anyone can guess who he is, i’ll write you a request

EDIT: an anon has correctly guessed that it was konoha

[oumaheroes]

Earthbound: Matthew’s Story

Context:

Hundreds of years after the fall of Earth, mankind is slowly starting to return. Some people have a stronger urge to return than others, confused by fragments of memories from a life already lived.

Full fic can be found here.

Arthur’s story can be found here.

-----

Matthew is four. His family have got their first dog and it’s a large, fluffy creature, all flank and tail and teeth. Matthew is horrified, at first, at this large thing that has suddenly appeared in his house, and he cries and tries to get away from it when it approaches him in the living room.

‘Just come say hello,’ Daddy says, hoisting him up to sit on his knees and taking his small hand in his larger one. His father’s body curls around him and, enveloped in arms, Matthew feels safe. His daddy reaches out his hand, thus, Matthew’s hand, giant thumb in the middle of his palm so that it is pinned there, and holds it aloft in front of the creature.

A large wet nose immediately descends and Matthew squeals because it is cold and strange and scary and Daddy shushes him, bouncing him on a knee. ‘He won’t bite’, Daddy says, ‘I won’t let him hurt you. He’s just trying to say hello; doggies say hello a little differently, is all.’

He kisses Matthew’s temple and rocks him, gently. ‘Want to try again?’

He is not but he nods and says yes because he wants to be brave and strong and he trusts Daddy, he does, or he really really wants to. At his reply, Daddy holds out their hands again, in front of the thing’s mouth, and whispers soothing nothings in Matthew’s ear- he’s not paying attention, too focused on the mouth with the teeth.

The creature snuffles their hands before giving them a lick, pink rough tongue and slobber; Matthew gasps, surprised, and then laughs. Daddy chuckles, and Matthew feels the vibrations rumble through him. ‘See? I told you; he only wants to be your friend. He’s called Kumajirou.’

The name doesn’t quite stick, too long and cumbersome for Matthew’s tentative tongue and he becomes Kuma, instead. It fits.

Matthew is eleven and wishes people could be more like dogs, open and friendly and honest about all that they are. He finds people too quick, children especially: too sly and fast and always with something hidden behind their smile. He’s figured out that he isn’t really a people person, anyway- it’s not that he doesn’t like people, exactly, but he doesn’t really know how to act around them; doesn’t know what to say or how to read them properly and now the whole process of opening his mouth to speak to someone feels daunting, like standing on the roof of his house and forcing himself to step off.

Matthew likes to sit on his thoughts, chew them about in his mouth a bit and be sure of the shape they will form before he lets them go. This means that he takes too long, is silent more often than not because kids his age don’t have the patience to stop and wait for him to get himself ready, lining up his words like soldiers about to march.

He’s known as the silent one at school, blending into the environment like a piece of furniture. Whether it’s in lessons, in sports, in games, or anything in between, his classmate’s eyes glaze past him and he knows that they’ve forgotten he’s there, forgotten that he’s an option to speak to. They’re not mean to him, they just don’t think about him, anymore. Even adults are not immune, more used to handling the demands of the louder kids, dazzled by the brightness of the smarter ones, fond of the affectionate children. Matthew is only half there, he supposes, sitting in the background with a mouthful of words that won’t come out when he wants them to.

Sometimes he wonders if he’s even really there at all, because that’s what life is all about, isn’t it? Memories of things and people and places and conversations- moments you share with other people that plant you in time, leaving a mark of your life like a footprint in their existence. He feels like a ghost of a person, a shade of parts that resemble someone else and it leaves him more tongue tied than ever.

But if Kuma is there, wherever he is, it’s instantly better because Matthew can be himself, can feel something loosen inside him and let him act like a person because Kuma loves him no matter what. Dogs act the same to everyone as long as you’re good to them- love them even a little. Kuma doesn’t care if Matthew doesn’t want to talk, or doesn’t know how he properly wants to say something. Kuma doesn’t care if Matthew struggles to find his words, tripping and stumbling over them as they clog his mind, clumping awkwardly on his tongue.

Kuma will sit there, patient and still, as Matthew whispers his day into his fur, words clear and strong and unsullied by fear in a way they never are with people. He will lick him on the nose and shove his head onto his lap when Matthew has curled himself into a ball in his room, replaying his day over and over so much that his mistakes blur together like paint, colouring everything with a smear of shame.

Matthew is fourteen and he feels as though he finally understands something. It starts as a small something, creeping and pattering through him and leaving tiny tracks in his mind, but now it’s growing larger and stronger, moving within him and sending his thoughts racing.

Kuma died a few months ago. This is what started it, Matthew knows, seeing Kuma slow and slow, more so each year, before, towards the end, it took all he had left to just lift his head. Matthew had felt terrible, of course- at a loss and helpless sitting there with him, stroking Kuma’s head and whispering final goodbyes. His father had joined him on the floor, both of them cocooned by a companionable silence in a way they couldn’t be at any other time, and Matthew felt truly heard, to the bottom of everything he was, in the depths of his grief. This was a moment that needed no words, was a thing that could not be named- only felt and experienced.

His father is a research scientist at some big lab in the heart of the colony and is more used to theory and hypothetical than practical application, but he had found some e-tab journals on dogs, about how their bodies worked and how to fix them, and used his skills to pour over them with Matthew on the floor, studying the miniscule entries as much as he could to provide some help.  Matthew watched, days lit by the flash of the e-tab as story after journal after analysis was checked and rechecked by his father beside him. There was no medicine that could save Kuma, no special cure for age, but there was some information about helping it, easing it- gentling death until it was as soft as sleep and Matthew’s father tried each and every one that he found. Kuma left them with a shift and a sigh and Matthew was surprised at death’s kindness, how easy it could be.

His father, haggard, tired, and sad, had given something of himself for Kuma, and Matthew felt so proud of him, thankful for the benefit it had given his oldest friend. Kuma is gone, but Matthew thinks of that shared peaceful end, of those journals filled with age old accounts from long dead men. He realises that there must be many of these e-tab entries about so many other animals, the few that are left and the thousands that there were before and he flicks onto one, in passing, just to see.

That’s all it takes. One leads to another, which leads to another and another and another and then Matthew can’t stop himself from drinking up as many as he can sync to, allowing himself to be pulled down through trees of evolution, skipping through the classifications of mammals to haunt reptiles and glide past the wingspan of birds. There used to be so many animals, more than he can ever name, more than he can ever conceive being possible- in the seas and the skies and the land and all at once. In, out, around- a planet teeming with things besides humans, living alongside the hulking toxic growth known as mankind and breathing life into the skies.

When earth fell they were lost, all apart from the few that the survivors managed to cling to, stolen away in their bags and clutched under an arm. Small animals and creatures that could be carried and fed easily with scraps that weren’t needed by another fleeing human life, or domesticated food that was herded and pushed, clueless, into a slaughterhouse of spaceships. It is redundant, of course- a pointless skill for him to nurture but Matthew is hungry for all of it; drawn in and hooked to something beyond his control he syncs file after file, strange creatures taking shape in his mind to migrate the past into his waking day.

Matthew’s colony is one of those ones where they like to push people, like to specialise their children early and drive them to great things. They’re good at what they do, structurally organised to churn out success and Matthew see the benefit of this, finally. He hadn’t really taken part before, hadn’t really shown an interest in pushing himself into a single category, but now, all of a sudden, he wants to do what his dad does.

Well, not exactly what his dad does, numbers and figures and study of physics, but the process of it. The breaking down of information, the mythological categorising of data; the calm soothing expectation of silent contemplation. So, he picks to try to become a research scientist too, selects classes that will give him access to greater libraries and archives and locked journals for deeper study, searching for fur and teeth and claws amongst them.

Matthew is eighteen. He managed to find a uni that taught a few classes in veterinary studies, the medical beginnings for those wanting to specialise as a vet. Matthew doesn’t want to do this, exactly -he’s more interested in how animals work and what they’re like, what colours they come in and how big they are- but if he becomes a vet it will allow him to work with animals all day and this, small as it is, could be enough. He isn’t sure, really; doesn’t really know exactly what he wants other than to learn but he hopes that if he takes enough classes, he’ll eventually figure something out.

The bell rings and he stands, gathering his things and heading out of class -anatomy of canines, his favourite- and turns a corner, slinging his bag over a shoulder and aiming for the canteen where he hopes they’re serving pancakes. He keeps missing them, never making the queue in time, but today he’s hoping that maybe he can manage to push his way through. Suddenly, as he turns a corner someone bumps into him, not seeing him at all, it seems, and everything crashes to the floor, e-tab skidding away out of sight.

There’s a mumbled ‘watch it!’ from someone whom Matthew doesn’t see, just a mouthless shout from a sea of strangers, and then he’s left scrabbling on the floor, parting students like a boulder in a river. Out of the corner of his eye, he catches a glint of metallic grey and a flash of Kuma’s tail across the hallway by a wall. He sighs in relief and scoots his way over, bending to snatch his tab up before it can get trodden on and straightening to come face to face with an e-board, notice shining bright and loud.

Matthew blinks at it, then shakes his head and blinks again when the advert doesn’t change, displaying something he never thought possible. It’s Earth, there and large and green and Matthew can’t read the words properly because, out of nowhere, his eyes are filled with tears and he’s crying- great shuddering breaths that turn heads and rip his voice from out of him.

Earth. Earth, there, open. Looking for people. He’s crying, crying so hard he can’t breathe, just gasp and choke and cry and people stop to stare at him because all of a sudden he’s the centre of attention, the loudest thing there is. He can’t control himself, can’t reign it in because at the top, under a heading for ‘Looking for skills in:’ he sees-

Animal care.

He doesn’t need to think, doesn’t need to read any further, doesn’t even stop to feel shame for his outburst; class forgotten, lunch forgotten, life forgotten he sprints home, avoiding the shuttles and cars he runs as fast as his legs can carry him, pounding on the electric walkways that shoot through town and feeling himself grow lighter and lighter with each step.

His mother and father don’t want him to go, mother clinging to him with arms wrapped tight around his neck. They feel, briefly, like a noose and Matthew chokes to think of listening to them- at the thought of staying here.

He loves them, he loves them- they’re his parents and he loves them so fucking much but this is something he needs to do, has to do and as he pulls away from his mother and meets his father’s eyes he can see that his father knows this too.

‘You may not get to work with animals,’ he says seriously, ‘at least not the ones you want.’ Matthew’s mother steps back to look at his father in horror, betrayal raw on her face as she realises that his father isn’t saying no Matthew can’t go, that he must stay. She reads the acceptance there, understands the truth of it and leaves the room to compose herself, Matthew staring after her sad but determined.

Matthew nods. ‘I know.’

His father steps forwards and puts a large land on his shoulder, rooting him in this moment. ‘If you’re not happy, will you come home?’

Matthew feels his eyes begin to burn, throat tighten, and thinks of the birds he’ll see even if he works in a lab, the insects he will find and small animals he can watch from a window; life spilling over the edges to bleed into buildings. ‘I’ll be happy.’