#i am so tired. i am not trying to attack you. stop getting so defensive i am just pointing out that your priority should be your child not

[chappellrroan]

people can give as much flak as they want to eldest siblings but they'll never understand how it feels to be your parent parents

[bubblebbg]

can i ask for a jealous mizu from blue eye samurai feeling a little overprotective and jealous when taigen spars with reader bc they are a swordmaster as well? Mizu doesn’t like it how taigen always gets you to laugh or how he injures you when sparring

why yes, anon. you may. Only warning is violence, but like, not really? Not proofread. Also, Mizu's pronouns change per perspective. I may as well shamelessly plug my other Mizu fic right here ;))

❝𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐥𝐚𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐢𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐬𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝❞

Mizu has no one to blame but herself when she's forced to bite back her envy and watch you with Taigen. If you two spar one more time, she might throw up in her mouth. It's about time she takes matters into her own hands.

The clinking of metal on metal, the air sliced through with a swish; all sounds Mizu has become accustomed to. Nonetheless, her eyebrow twitches in irritation, eyes following the movements in front of her. She thinks to herself that she never wanted to be this accustomed to those sounds, especially not when accompanied with Taigen's stupid remarks.

She watches you double back after having knocked him down yet again in the midst of your spars. She hates the way the both of you giggle.

"Please," Mizu rolls her eyes, "It can't be that funny the eighth time."

Taigen collects his sword and stands, sheathing it before dusting himself off. "Like you could do any better. Sure, you're good, but you're no master." He looks to you as he says this, smiling as if the praise was at all inconspicuous. She scoffs a bit when you smile back, crossing her arms and looking to the side.

The irony of her jealousy is that it's of her own making. You've asked Mizu to train with you before, and every time it's been a no. Because she cares about you, she at least does you the decency of making up excuses. "I'm tired, maybe tomorrow" or "I'm busy" - poor excuses, she knows, but she's trying here - and you've learned to stop asking. The truth is, she doesn't trust herself to not give away what she tries to keep hidden. Her heart already beats hard enough around you. The consequence? Watching you spar with a man who's clearly inferior to you, all while he makes pathetic advances and jokes. She's not sure if she hates him or herself more right now.

"But that's right," Taigen remarks, a snarky look on his face, "You're too scared, aren't you?"

The look in your eyes is cautionary as you nudge him. "Stop it," you mutter. And Mizu knows she shouldn't be so childish as to take the bait, but this isn't about you; it's a direct challenge from Taigen on her (sort of) manlihood.

"I am not scared."

"Then prove it. Duel. Right now."

"That's enough, Taigen," you reply, always the mediator, "If Mizu doesn't want to spar, then he -"

"I'll do it," she stands, approaching you both and stopping in front of Taigen with a searing look, "And you'll see that you're not even half the swordsman I am."

𓆩… . … . … . … . … . … . … . … . … . … . … . … . …𓆪

Inhale. Exhale. You stand face to face, a few meters apart, each a hand on their sword. The cold bites, snow falling between the two of you. When you look into her eyes, you see blazing fire, a spirit like tempered steel. When she looks into yours, there's something more unnerving; calm, like the surface of water undisturbed. Her heart pounds.

Inhale, she wills herself. Exhale. She draws and lunges, and you're quick to block it. Another swing, and another, and another, all quick and strong. Sharp eyes, she thinks. Each attack of hers is stopped as soon as it begins. Your eyes, watching as if not only to prevent, but to predict.

Inhale. She steps back, assessing. You're like a fortress - impenetrable defense. Your lips curl in the slightest smile and there goes her damn heart's pounding again.

Exhale. She drops to a crouch and swipes snow at you in an attempt to blind you, to throw off your analysis. She lunges through the spray with a decisive blow, a duel-ending strike.

Nothing. Her blade hits nothing.

Instead there's a blade at her throat, with you behind her. "How the hell did you -"

She reddens at the feeling of your warm chuckle at her ear. "You're breathing gives you away," you whisper, "Every time, without fail." You sheath your blade and Mizu whips around to look at you. She can't help but share the smile you give her. "Dirty bastard," she replies, and your laughter fills the air, the only sound she'll never tire of.

"Hah! I knew it, you're no match either, Mizu!"

Mizu's about to reply when you beat her to it.

"Whatever Taigen, he lasted longer than you ever will."

And it's Mizu's turn to laugh.

[hughiecampbelle]

The Boys Preference: Being Their Younger Sibling And Part Of The Boys

Requested: Hi! Cliche preference I am sorry, but how would each of The Boys act if R their younger sibling who helps out with the boys is like this really sweet and genuinely nice person to all? Would they be protective, or annoyed, just an idea! Love your work! - anon

A/N: Not cliche at all my love! I absolutely adore this idea! I will 10000% be writing more about being Homelanders sibling!! Thank youuuu I hope you like it!!! Feedback is always appreciated 💜

Butcher wants nothing to do with you. When you're old enough, years after Lenny's death, you escape home and track down Billy. You had nothing. Billy took you in under the guise that it would be temporary and it wouldn't meddle with his work. Bit by bit you learned from M.M. and Frenchie about Becca and Ryan and Vought. You make it known you want to help. Billy forbids you and threatens The Boys: if they even so much as look at you, he'll kill them. Stubbornness runs in the family, though. You worm your way in whether he likes it or not. It's not that didn't miss you or think about you, he just can't bear the thought of you getting hurt. Or killed. Especially at the hands of Vought. It's become a habit for everyone to call him Butcher and you Little Butcher so as not to get confused. Now that there's two of you to keep track of, everyone's a little more annoyed and a lot less forgiving for poor behavior.

Hughie worries about you so much. This life has taken everything from him, he can't imagine why you'd want to join. Still, he knows he can't stop you. You were always coming to his defense as kids, sticking up for him against bullies. You were his backbone for a lot of your childhood. When you want something you go for it. He can't help but lecture you, even over the smallest stuff. After your father passes and your mother finds her way into your lives, he's extra protective. Especially after Tek Knights party, he doesn't let you out of his sight. He's not glad it happened, but he sure is grateful it was him and not you. You've been stabbed and hurt and nearly killed. He jokes that it's taken years off hid life, but there's some truth to it. You're all he's got. He can't lose you. He can't let this life kill you.

Annie stopped talking to your mother a long time ago, but she never stopped calling you. Like your sister, you got a dose of V and trained hard, wanting to be the first pair of siblings in The Seven. After Annie publicly leaves and turns her back on them, you're not sure what to think. Tired of her avoiding the questions, you confront her. You track her down and barge into where The Boys are. You guys get into a pretty serious fight, one everyone can hear through the thin walls. Annie abandoned you. She left Vought and became this fantastical symbol. She had a life and you weren't a part of it. You wanted her to stop lying and avoiding you and tell you exactly what was going on. It takes most of the night, but she tells you everything. In the end, she wants to send you back home with your mother, but you refuse. The Boys need every advantage they can get, that includes you and your abilities. She's not thrilled, but she understands you're an adult, she can't stop you.

M.M. forbids you. Janine is getting into trouble and he's having panic attacks and he just can't have you trying this now. He can't babysit you on top of everything else. You remind him you're an adult, that you're perfectly capable of taking care of yourself. He can yell and scream all he wants, you both know you're not going to stop wanting this. It was your grandfather and father too who were killed by Supes and the stress. You didn't walk away from that unscathed. You had a right to be upset and a right to want to stop Vought. You kept your distance, but Marvin was blowing you off any chance he could get. You got his address from Monique and made a surprise appearance. Butcher tells you everything. You're furious your brother didn't tell you sooner. You could have been a part of this from the beginning. Butcher reminds you it's never too late, but Marvin tells you to go home and leave it to the professionals. You don't. You can't. This is too important. He doesn't like it, but he can't stop you. He never could.

Frenchie couldn't have been happier to have you in his life. Your upbringing was harsh, your father a monster. When he left for New York, he had to make a choice: leave you behind or take you along with him. In the end, he left you behind. The guilt killed him, but you never blamed him. Not then, not now. You learned a lot from him, you're as equally as skilled. As soon as he becomes a part of The Boys, he asks Mallory to look for you. You vanished though. He'd assumed your father had killed you. It isn't until years later that you reappear looking for him, for Serge. You might not have an entire team of powers and knowledge, buy you're smart and skilled and you track him down. He doesn't recognize you at first. You're so much more grown up. But he knows your voice. You're the only one who calls him Serge and most of your conversations are entirely in French. Neither of you are particularly proud of your pasts, choosing instead to live in the moment. When you ask if you can join him he's over the moon. His baby, his best friend, reunited again.

Kimiko can't believe it's you. Like your sister, you and Kenji were captured by the SLLA. Then you and Kimiko were later taken and given Compound V. After that you two were split up. She never thought you made it. It's years later that you escape, killing everyone in your path. Police plaster your face all over the News where Kimiko recognizes you immediately. You're older of course, but you'd always be her baby. She can't let it happen all over again like how it went with Kenji, she can't lose you. Kimiko hunts you down, alongside The Boys, who are wary of you. She assured them you couldn't hurt a fly. The carnage you leave in your wake tells a different story. When you do reconnect, she makes sure they don't draw any of their weapons. You two sign for what feels like forever before she takes you back to The Boys hideout. It hurts her, but she wants to know what happened in all the years between. You and your sister are unstoppable. Literally. You were never meant to have normal lives. This was how it was supposed to be. Trying to be normal just got you hurt.

Bonus! Homelander absolutely fucking hates you. You were created long after him, but you had the same upbringing, the same childhood. The only anomaly was that you turned out far more humane. Because of this, Vought needed extra time to break you in. You never did, though. Not as severely as your brother. Vought was going to turn your debut into this grand political scheme, a massive fuck you to anyone who thought they could stop them, but before they could, you broke out of the labs. Eventually you found your way to The Boys. You and Homelander have identical abilities, though you're not layering through people's skulls or letting entire planes worth of people die. None of them believed you at first, but after you told them about your upbringing and your powers, they had no choice but to believe you. You were exactly what they needed. You and your brother were equals. John wanted you dead just like he wanted the rest of The Boys dead. Keeping you alive was necessary for now. So, he let you live.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Wicked Games 4

Warnings: non/dubcon, cheating, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: Steve Rogers

Summary: you had a one night stand. Or did you?

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

You wait. And wait. And wait. 

Each day, each week, your hope dwindles. Barrett doesn’t change. He’s not going to change. You know for sure as you watch him storm out. 

That’s why you didn’t talk to him sooner. It always ends like this. He gets defensive, you get emotional, and it all erupts. If he would just listen! 

You sigh and hold your chin in your hand. You look around at your small apartment. Even when you’ve just cleaned, it feels cluttered. You hate this place. You feel trapped. Or maybe that’s your relationship. Probably, both. 

You don’t think it was that bad to ask for a bit of understanding. All you want is for him to communicate. Instead, he sits on all his gripes until the bubble over in another rant about the squeaky bathroom faucet or the way you fold his shirts. It’s always on you. You’re the one who has to make him happy. Never the other way around. 

This time, it wasn’t the dishes or the mopping or the recycling. Nope. You’re not attentive enough. You’re depriving him. You’re punishing him by not having sex with him after working overtime four nights out of five. It can’t be that you’re tired or hurt. No, it’s an attack on him. 

That’s where it all fell apart.

You tried. Once you got past the frustration and tried to just let the waters calm. When you started talking to him again and fell back into your routine. You were both too busy to keep the fight going. And a few nights, you let him initiate but something would keep you from going all the way. 

Something... 

You saw Wendy last week. She didn’t mention anything about the night you went out. Didn’t mention a guy. She said she had fun and you should do it again. You told her you can’t afford it. Besides, you’re too tired. She called you boring. She’s not wrong. 

You get up and distract yourself. Well, it’s not really for you, is it? You’ll clean everything from corner to corner so he has nothing to complain about. You don’t need him to nitpick another reason to hound you. 

So much for time off. Once more you’re spending it in misery. You finish vacuuming then spray the couch with some freshener. Feeling accomplished but not less addled, you go to the bedroom and pull out some clothes for tomorrow. You’ll go to bed early and get a head start. If you’re lucky, you’ll be asleep before he drags his sorry ass home. 

You yawn as you stare at the time. It’s barely five o’clock and you could keel over. These days, you’re beat to the bone. You can’t remember the last time when you didn’t feel like a sack of dirt. You put your work clothes on the dresser then grab a fresh towel for the shower. 

You wash up, soothed by the warm water, and emerge in a hazy cloud. You go through the motions of applying the discount bin toner and moisturizer. You feel a little fresher. 

You tuck into bed and scroll on your phone for a while. Six-thirty. You black the screen and close your eyes. It takes as much to put you to sleep. 

You dream about flashing lights and the clink of glass. You’re swaying to a drone of music, spinning and swirling. The place is painted in streaks of colours as you keep moving. And when you manage to stop, the room turns on an axis, keeping you dizzy. 

Arms wrap around you from behind and pull you back into a thick body. You can’t escape. You look down and know those aren’t your husband’s hands. Where are you? Who is holding onto you? 

You try to turn around but it’s impossible. You’re stuck in the strange embrace as the neon lights melt and the air pulses with shadows. You push on the arms around you and wriggle desperately.

“Let me go,” you beg, “let me go.” 

Your words rise to a shriek and you wake up with a start. There’s a figure in the room watching you, as if waiting for you to wake up. You almost scream for real as Barrett stares at you. He doesn’t ask if you’re okay before he turns away. 

“I’ll sleep on the couch,” he grumbles. 

You don’t argue as you catch your breath and lower yourself back to the pillows. You can smell the tinge of beer left behind. He’s been drinking. You can’t begrudge him that, not really. Last time it got bad, you did the same thing. At least he came home. 

You cringe. No. Stop. Nothing happened. No one can prove it happened. Not even you. So, it didn’t. 

Your stomach mulches and you turn onto your side. The nausea roils in your stomach. You must be hungry. You didn’t eat. Yet the thought of doing so makes you even sicker. You burp and swallow down the mouthful of acid that sears your throat. 

Stress. It’s stress. And it’s not going to get any better. Not with everything you’re running away from. 

[prettypinkporkchop]

Can you do Jared X reader where Jared thought that Kim was his imprint/soulmate but he is absolutely masken because when he mets the new girl he imprints. You can decide on the other details

LITERALLY NOBODY FREAKING ASKS FOR JARED CAMERON! PLEASE SHOW THIS BOY SOME LOVE JTS NO FAIR! HES A SILLY GOOFY!

I love her. I love her so much. Here I am, sitting in Emily's for lunch with my pack before we go train. "Jared, we know what it's like. You can stay with her if you want to, but stop saying you imprinted when you haven't." Paul chuckles, throwing a fry at my face. "I truly believe I did." I reply defensively. "You'd know for sure if you did. It wouldn't be, 'I believe'." Paul replies. "Guys, just let the man feel how he feels." Jacob groans, trying to enjoy his meal. "Yes, it would be nice if we could talk about something else." Sam rolls his eyes before taking a bite of his chicken strip.

My heart hurts. I know I imprinted. I love Kim so much. Maybe my bond is too strong for them to handle. I'll just say that. I know what I feel.

Your pov:

"Watch your feet." You hear your friend beside you. You move your arm up to grab another rock. "I'm trying!" You hyperfocus on your hands and refuse to look down at your feet.

You met your friend a few years ago. She's an adventurer and often brings you along with her. This is your first time mountain climbing. This is also your first time being in Washington state. "Dude! You're going to - !" You slip but quickly catch yourself. "Shit." You gasp.

You decide to move your eyes along the beauty of greenery behind you. You can see some of Forks. You two are closer to La Push bit where you guys are, you can't see the beach.

"Y/f/n, I'm getting tired. We need to take a break." You breathe out. Your heart is tired of thumping. You're starting to get a headache. "Here." She says. She moves closer towards you, attaching the clip of the descenders to both of you.

An hour or so later, you are sitting on a stump in the woods, drinking water. "Ready to go back to camp?" She asks. You guys rented a cabin near the reservation. "Yeah, we can. It's starting to get a bit dark." You check the time on your phone. "Want to grab some dinner?" She smiles while picking up all of the gear. "I'll look up places to eat." You reply.

Jared's pov:

"Baby, what's wrong?" Kim asks, kissing all over my cheeks. "Nothing, sweet girl." I smile.

Oh, I feel awful. What if they are right? I didn't imprint. The fact that I'm questioning it scares the hell out of me. I've done everything for Kim, and she has pushed away all she knows about the world to accommodate for a shifter. She knows too much to not be an imprint. This isn't good. I'm not so sure what to do. What do I do?!

Kim finishes her cup of coffee before placing it down and smiling up at me. "Thank you for the food and coffee. Ready to head back?" She checks her smart watch, texting back who I assume to be Emily. "Yes ma'am." I stand up and pull her chair out for her.

"Oh, no. We aren't from here!" I hear giggling. I turn to see two girls. They are standing at the desk talking to two waitresses. "It's crazy to see new faces here in Forks! Out of all of Washington, you travel here. Welcome! I hope it's everything you hoped for."

"Baby?" Kim jumps me out of my nosey eavesdropping. "Sorry, love. I was listening to them. They traveled here. I'm not so sure what's so special about here." I chuckle. Kim giggles, and we begin to walk to the door.

"Y/n, watch it." One girl says, grabbing the other girl's arm, but she still backs up into my side. "Oh, crap! I'm so sorry!" She turns and looks at me.

...................love, future, baby, adventures, butterflies.................

"Jared." Kim pulls on my arm. I look away at the floor. The guilt is eating me alive. I actually imprinted. I'm about to panic. I'm about to actually have a panic attack. "Once again, I'm so sorry! I hope you two have a good day!" She calls out. Kim waves at her with a smile before we reach outside.

"God, what is wrong with you, Jare?" Kim faces me in the parking lot near the truck. "I... I'm fine. Look, I'll take you home. I have some business to take care of with the pack." I huff and slam the driver door shut. I'm so angry with myself. I can't even think straight.

Your pov:

You can't stop thinking of that guy. He has a girlfriend, a fiance, or a wife. You refuse to be a homewrecker. She was so sweet and pretty. You feel like you're just blegh. "He sure was a cutie!" Your friend giggles while taking a bite of her burger. "Yeah, he was." You smile.

Why do you feel so weird??? You have never... your stomach is flipping. You can't eat right now.

You can't feel this way. You are leaving in two days anyway.

Jared's pov:

"Breathe, Cameron." Embry grabs my shoulder. Sam is trying to think about what to do. I can't think I can't breathe. I'm leaning over the counter, gripping.

Your pov:

8:00 pm

"You've got to be kidding me!" Your friend yells in frustration. The car you guys rented just broke down in the reservation. You can't see any houses where you guys are. The last one you saw was miles down.

"Do you know anything about cars?" She turns to you. "Bitch, do I look?-", you guys jump at the sound of knocking on the window. Y/f/n barely rolls down the window. "You need help?" A man's voice asks. "No, sir." You say out of fear. Your friend pushes your knee. "Yes, yes we do, please." She says. Ugh! You don't want to get killed in Washington. "I'm Sam. Not to sound creepy," he chuckles, "I usually walk down the rez with my friends to make sure everything is okay." He says. You see, four other guys come up. You notice they are all shirtless with a tattoo on their arm. You can't see the details because it's getting dark.

You see the guy from the restaurant. Oh, god. You feel better... "y/f/n." You whisper. She turns to you. "The guy at the restaurant." You whisper. She looks up and then unbuckles. You unbuckle as well. "We'll step out." She says. They back up. You grab your bag and feel for the pepper spray, the rape whistle, and the big ass knife. Okay, great. You open the door and step out. You look across the car to see the guy staring right at you. You look away quickly.

You and your friend get comfy on the grass on the side of the road. The guys are waiting on one of them to come back with tools. "You know, it's the people's we rented from job to take care of this." She giggles. "Eh, well, it's best not to pay for towing. I'd let them know tomorrow, though." One of them says. He's leaning on the side of the car with his arms crossed. "What's your name?" You ask. "Paul. Over there is Quil, Jared, and the guy who left to get tools is Embry." He says. For some reason, he keeps glancing at you.

You decided to do something. You stand up and walk over to Jared. "Hey." You awkwardly say. He looks up. You see the tail light of the car illuminate his face just enough to see his smile. "Hey." You take your hand out. "Y/n." He puts his hand in yours. You felt a shock. So much heat expanded through your body. You felt the connection, and it attacked your body, nearly losing balance. "Jared Cameron." He shakes your hand. You can see Quil standing there smirking at him.

Jared's pov:

Standing this close to my actual imprint feels like I'm floating in soothing waters. Is it bad I don't feel the pain of telling Kim earlier? I just feel peaceful, whole, happy.

"Where are you from?" I ask her. "Uhm, I'm from (your home). I leave in two days." Her words shatter my heart. I can't lose her. She can't go.

Embry pulls up in his truck. He stops behind us and steps out. "Got the tools. You girls need anything?" Embry asks. Her friend stands up, dusting herself off. "Honestly, we have a long ass day ahead of us. We are exhausted. Been up since six a.m." She sighs. "We can take you to wherever you guys are staying." I offer. Y/n looks at her friend. Her friend shrugs. "Yeah! That'd be great! Thank you!" She pipes up, but then she thinks. "I will ride with you guys and come back with you, Jared. I'll bring the car back to our camp." She says.

Your pov:

You are squashed in between Jared and your friend. You can feel his bare arm against yours. His muscles, goddamn. He's focused on the roads. "So, Mora Campground?" He asks to be sure. "Yes!" You answer.

Once you get there, your friend hops out. "Thank you, Jared!" She waves and leaves.

Jared backs up and goes back on the road. "So, who was that pretty girl at the restaurant?" You smile. He takes a deep breath in and exhales. "Uh, she is Kim. Was my girlfriend. I broke up with her today. She's a sweet girl. She didn't do anything wrong, I just, uh, didn't want to lead her on." He says uncomfortably. Now you feel bad for asking. "Well, I love the weather here!" You change the subject terribly. He smiles and glances your way.

A week later:

"Oooohhh, Jared texted you again!" She hands you your phone across the couch. You and her share an apartment. You and her work customer service at home. Her mom owns the company.

Hearing his name makes your heart jump. You open it up.

Jared: Are you able to take off for a week?

You: I can two weeks ahead of scheduling. Why so?

Jared: I may or may not want to buy you a ticket for you to come back.

You drop your phone on the couch face down. You turn to your friend. "Bitch..." You breathe out. She jumps up. "What? What?" You pick up your phone again. "Jared wants to fly me back out there and stay for a week." You gulp. She freaks out, jumping up and down and clapping. "YES YES YES!"

You: I don't want you to spend all of that money on me. I am more than willing to, though! Let me buy a ticket.

Jared: no. Let me. Where do you want to stay? Cabin? Hotel? You are more than welcome to stay with Sam and Emily! They'd love to have you and it'd be free. Lol.

You: let me see, love.

Jared: also, can you bring y/f/n? Ateara won't stop talking about her.

Another time skip 2 weeks:

Jared places your bag down on the bed. "I'm so happy Quil finally has a girl. Poor boy doesn't have luck with that." He chuckles. You look up at Jared, who stands above you. His dark brown eyes are calling you. "She really likes him. Also, thank you for everything." You smile and then wrap your arms around his neck. He's taken aback but then wraps his strong around around you. "I'm happy you're here." He whispers. Something really is between you two, and you don't know what it is.

Soft knocks on the door make you two pull away. There's Quil and your friend. "Hey, Sam said there's a bonfire tonight." Quil says. "Okay, bet."

"Bonfire? Fun!" You say and sit on the bed, unpacking your bag. "We sit around the fire, eat good food, play around, and the biggest part is we have the elders talk about our tribes legend." He says. You stop and look up at him. "But that's... I'm not.. I'm an outsider." You stumble your words feeling like you're intruding. Quil and Jared laugh and look at each other. "Don't worry. It's okay with everyone." Jared crosses his arms.

Bonfire:

"Seth Clearwater!" The young man in front of you shakes your hand. Jared stands next to you, never leaving your side. You have been meeting everyone else you don't know. "You hungry?" Jared asks. You look up at him and grab his arm. "I could eat!" You look over and see your girl and Quil making out. Quil seems nervous and not moving his hands much. You can't help but laugh. Jared sees it too and chuckles. "Damn. That was fast." You giggle.

You sit on the lawn chair in between Jared and Sue Clearwater. "It's crazy you came from (your home)! It's amazing to have you here." She smiles.

Billy Black starts speaking. He sounds very intimidating and smart.

Jared's pov:

I can see her listening. Her eyes never leaving Billy. I can't tell if she's taking any of this in. She seems to be in a trance.

She faces me after the stories, and everyone else stands up and talks. Her eyes are a tad bit wide, and she smiles. I melt. My god, her lips. "That was so cool, Jared!" She gasps. "Wanna know something cooler?" Oh god. Time to tell her. She cocks her head slightly and smiles. "Follow me." I stand and grab her hand.

We walk in silence toward the woods. I stop once I get a little far out. "What are we doing?" She giggles. I let her hand go and face her. "Well, the legends.. are true. I am a shifter. Me and all the guys. Sam is alpha." I lay it out. I'm nervous. "Show me." She says blankly. I back away. I take off my shorts. "I have to take off my underwear too..." I awkwardly say. Her eyes look up at the dark sky. I do that, and I shift.

I growl very lightly and step closer to her. She looks at me, and her face is in shock. She doesn't look scared. "So mesmerizing.." she whispers. She lifts her hand and runs it through my fur. "I have questions." She whispers again. I back up, phase back, and get on my legs. I get dressed and jog back to her. "Why are you telling me this? I'm confused." She says.

How do I say this? "Uh, remember imprinting?" I ask her. She slowly nods and then perks up. "Me????? I'm your soulmate?!" She squeels. I chuckles, nodding my head. "But wait, what about Kim?" She frowns. I sigh and rub the back of my neck. "I didn't know what imprinting felt like. I did love her, and so I thought I imprinted. Everyone who did kept telling me that wasn't the case. When I met you at the restaurant, I did. I had to tell her the truth." I look at her face slowly dropping. "I didn't mean to... do that to her.." she holds her stomach. "I feel so guilty. It's my fault." She whispers. "No, it's not like that at all!" I reach for her hand. She jerks back and runs to Emily's. "Shit." I run after her.

Your pov:

You say to yourself that you 'wrecked a relationship. I can't believe I did that.' You hear him behind you calling your name. You hit Emily's and bust through the door. You hope nobody saw because that'd be awkward. You go into the room and sit on the bed. You're out of breath. You can't believe this.

After a few moments, you hear knocks. "I'm sorry, Jared. I have to think for just a moment." You call out. "Y/n, it's Emily." You breathe out a long breath. "Hey Emily." You say, and she opens the door, sitting next to me. "Jared asked me to speak with you." She smiles.

She told you all about her and Sam and the Leah lore. It made you feel a lot better. Now, you want to give Jared a hug. She steps out, and you stand up going out to find him. He's already standing there in the hall. "Jared, I'm so sorry." You say and wrap your arms around him. "It's okay, my love." He holds you. You lean up and kiss him. He kisses you back instantly. You kiss him harder, pulling his body into yours.

He guides you into the room. You shut the door behind him, you guys not letting go or pulling away. You use as much strength as you can to push him against the door. He grunts but pulls away. "Not here. Not like this." He whispers, pushing hair behind your ears. You blush at how that came over you. Like damn girl. You chuckle and sit on the bed.

"I have a whole week before I leave." You sigh. "I don't want to. I want to stay here." You look up at him, fully trusting the bond. This is serious, and there's no other end but with him. Might as well not wait. Plus, being away from him even before you knew did not feel good.

His eyes widen, and he laughs a bit, "Really?!" He asks in disbelief. "Yes!" You smile. He tackles you on the bed, holding you. "I have my forever." He mumbles in your neck. You feel his warm breath.

"Want to go on a date tomorrow?" He looks up at you.

almost a month later:

"Babes, how'd we get here?" Your friend laughs while touching your knee. "Us knowing each other really did well. It worked in favor." You smile at her. She turns to look out in the yard. You turn too and see Jared and Quil roughhousing. "Babe!" You call out. Jared instantly responds to your call, making his way to you. "Yes, babylove?" He leans down on you, his hands holding the arms of the chair to hold him up. You lean in and kiss his lips quickly. "Ready to go home? I still have to unpack a lot of shit." You groan. "Shit, me too." Your friend says, walking inside Quil's house.

He smiles down at you and plants kisses all over your face. "I love you." He says. You grab his face and kiss him roughly. "I love you, too."

[i4bellingham]

hi! if you are taking requests:

could i ask for an angst of jude and the reader getting into a fight which results in the reader leaving the house? but jude gets worried about them?

thank you!!!

i also love your fics so much

I LOVE YOU, I’M SORRY : jude bellingham x reader

cw: cussing, misunderstandings, jude being an asshole in the first half but don’t worry because he redeems himself :P

i need to recover from my writer's block some more, i am not a fan of how this piece turned out 😭

You're not sure if Jude fully understands your argument, or if he does, there is a possibility that he deems it unnecessary to recognize the weight of your worries because he just do not give a single fuck about it.

Instead of trying to see from where you're coming from, he does the opposite and tries to divert the entire conversation happening in a different direction. Point-blank counters, shifting blames and the refusal to look into the bigger picture of what's happening around him becomes his defense mechanism.

Worst of it all? This has been going on for two weeks now, and he's never once acknowledged your worries let alone ease them down. And quite frankly, you're just tired of it all.

You love Jude, that's an irrefutable fact but just because you love him doesn't mean you'll continue staying with him unless something changes. Especially how he treats your current concern in the relationship.

“You’re being ridiculous. She’s part of the team, she treats everybody like that.” Here goes his usual counter attack, rapidly shrugging off your uneasiness just as fast as you've voiced them out.

An exasperated sigh leaves your lips, you know this conversation with him will end in the same way it had just like yesterday; unresolved and thrown out of the window.

“‘She treats everybody like that’? So she goes to wipe every player’s sweat off their bodies too Jude? Is that it?” You sarcastically ask. “Funny how I’ve never seen her do it once or did she do it in time when she knew I’d arrive?”

Jude looks like he's trying to hold himself from screaming at you to understand his point; a pointless argument one both of you can't win unfortunately, as he too grits his teeth and the inevitable shutting of the television off is drawn as he stands up from the couch.

“I’m done here. I don’t want to talk about this anymore.” He says before making his way towards the stairs.

“You never want to talk about anything if it comes to her. I don’t know why but you're awfully protective of her Jude.” Your own words bring a sting to your chest. You know you're just pushing him to his limit at this point but recalling all those times since last week that he's evaded any talk about her or your worries that she's crossing a professional line with him, you yourself is barely hanging on a thread from snapping.

Jude stops and whips his entire body to face you. There is a tight frown on his face, brows pulling in a scrunch before a scoff leaves him. He walks back on the first level of the stairs, crossed arms and frowning face.

“Are ya hearin’ yourself right now?” He incredulously asks you. “You’re soundin’ ridiculous with thisㅡ this accusations that you have-”

You stand up from sitting on the couch. “They’re not accusations Jude. Merely something that I noticed since you've refused to talk to her about setting boundaries especially in a professional setting like that.”

“It’s weird to talk about it with her considerin’ she’s not doing anything wrong-”

“Oh so invading my boyfriend’s personal space, being a complete bitch when I’m there and being awfully comfortable with touching you is not wrong!?” You cut him off, the rise and fall of your chest apparent as you spoke from your voice raising. “I’m not even asking you for something big Jude, all I want is for you to settle a boundary with her because as your girlfriend I feel disrespected by her and her actionsㅡ and you're not making me feel any better by taking her fucking side every time we talk. I’m so tired of having this conversation all the time just for my worries to remain unresolved, I’m just so fucking tired of you Jude...”

Swiping off your phone and car keys from the table, you left a stunned Jude at the bottom of the stairs as you drove off and away from your so called home. If he can't get a grip and start acting like how a boyfriend should, then you don't have anything to stay for in this relationship. Not even the love he proclaims he have for you.

ㅡ

You don’t know how long you've been sitting here. With your phone completely shut off and the silence inside the car being your only company, there was nothing else for you to do but wallow in self-pity and self-hatred.

You don't understand why it was so difficult for Jude to have the talk that you've asked him for since last week. Why he was so bothered by the idea of setting a professional boundary with one of the team’s new athletic trainers was beyond you.

He had always hit you with the same lines that she wasn't doing anything wrong, that she's part of the team and that it was awkward to have that kind of talk with her yada yada. Honest to God if you didn't have this much trust on Jude, you're near to thinking and convincing yourself that he's probably cheating, and that thought alone makes you wanna hurl the content of your stomach from tonight's dinner.

You've had countless of talks about him and setting boundaries, you've had multiple fights because of her but never once were your worries ever acknowledged by your own boyfriend. And it pains you more than anything to go through such a situation where you feel like your feelings are being invalidated in the relationship that you try so hard to understand and have patience for.

It wasn't a huge request. You didn't ask him to move the moon for you, fix the climate change or explore the entire ocean floor but to merely establish a limit and an extent to where she can act out in her comfort. But unfortunately things just doesn't work in the way you wanted them too so now you're here, sat inside your car with the heater blasting on in the outskirts of the city alone.

And you stay there for a few more hours just until the sliver of sun peek through in between the mountain ranges. You think you may have dozed off in your seat at some point during the entire night you were there but you don't dwell on the thought for too long, not when you have to drive all the way back in the city to face another dreaded day with the possibility of yet another fight happening.

You purse your lips, recalling the last time that either you or Jude went home and there was no worries for things like this. It seems almost so long ago when the both of you were reveling in each other's presence, finding comfort in one another as you do the most mundane task in existence.

It just feels so nostalgic, almost like you have completely lost whatever comfort you found in your relationship once when it's being challenged right now by factors that shouldn't even be treated as a major threat to your relationship right now. Only if Jude knows how to listen and acknowledge and you to be more patient and level-headed.

You stop by a local cafè where you and Jude used to stop by during the early mornings before, only halting the visits when he gifted you a coffeemaker for Christmas last year. You got yourself yours and Jude’s usual drinks before purchasing a few pastries and treats before you're driving back to your shared home.

You were in the process of locking your car door when the door to your house opened, and came rushing out was Jude still in his pajamas, phone in hand before he's wrapping you in his embrace.

“Where have you been? Do you know how worried I am? I’ve called your phone a million times and you weren't answering. I called your friends thinking you were there with them but they told me that you haven't gone by to visit for an entire week. I drove in the city looking for you for hours and I couldn't find youㅡ Do you know how worried sick I am? Where have you been the entire night Y/N?” He continues, reprimanding you as he guided you back inside the house with a grip over your shoulders. “Have you got your phone with you? You've got it with you haven't you? Why didn't you answer any of my calls-?”

“It was turned off the entire night Jude.”

Jude scoffs at your passive tone of voice, watching as you drop the bag of pastries over the kitchen counter along with his coffee before your walking up the stairs with an obvious sag on your shoulders.

“You could have called me and told me you were safe no? I was worried sick about you.” Jude follows you to your bedroom as you went inside the en suite bathroom to wash up. “Seriously Y/N you should've at least texted me.”

“Right. Apologies, won’t happen next time.” He hears you reply just before the door to the bathroom shut close.

Alone in your shared room, Jude becomes heavily aware of your nonchalance, the thick wall of ice separating you both. He noticed that you never once look him in the eye upon arriving home, opting to fix your gaze on the monochrome walls of the house than to look at his face entirely.

You never pushed him away from touching you, but by the slight adjustments you made while being in his hold, Jude knew he fucked up big time. He knew that he did even last night, the moment you told him that you were tired of him.

Jude isn't sure if you realized the words to leave your lips last night but nonetheless, Jude knows he deserves them. Heck he doesn't even deserve to be in the same house as you right now let alone be in the presence of your tempering patience especially with how badly he had acted for the last two weeks.

He doesn't know where you get the patience for him from but he knows he needs to change and make some adjustments. In order to keep you from walking away from his life, Jude knows he needs to change some things in himself in order to not make the same mistakes again. God knows what will happen to him if he loses you, he doesn't even want to know.

Jude waits patiently as you wash up, picking up some undergarments from your wardrobe before lining it over the bed with one of his oversized jumpers and shorts. He sits by the bed, resting his back against the wooden headboard as he waits for you to finish, fiddling with his phone as he sends a last text to someone before chucking the device on the pillows.

You leave the bathroom with a steamy smoke from your shower, pausing on the doorway to stare at the clothes all laid out for you on the bed and the (most likely) perpetrator of it who sat awkwardly on your side of the bed, mouth slightly open as he softly snored with his arms crossed over his chest.

You took the clothes he prepped for you, turning to change in the bathroom before throwing away your dirtied clothes in the hamper.

You give one last glance at Jude before gently closing the bedroom door behind you as you walk downstairs and into the kitchen. You'd rather be here just in case Jude wakes up on the bed, it would be awkward and a little difficult for you to be in the same room as him right now with no clarity or any sort of proper conversation happening in between the two of you.

You’re not by any means raising your pride up in the ceiling but you certainly are a bit hesitant at the thought of letting Jude talk to you just easy as that after the way he treated you. You'll talk to him yes but he'll have to earn the rights again after being a complete ass for more than two days.

Fetching your pastries and the remaining of your drink, you began munching on your food as you scrolled through your phone. You know you should be taking some rest and sleeping after an entire night out but you couldn't bring yourself to sleep. You think it's not exactly the time for you to sleep when you have your head filled with a magnitude of thoughts about where you'll be picking up your relationship with Jude. You yourself know you'll get zero to none wink of sleep even if you lay down on the soft cushioned couch you have in your living room, you know even that won't suffice and you normally are able to sleep there after a few minutes of laying down. That alone says something.

Speaking of Jude, your boyfriend walks down the stairs with a small frown on his face. He silently takes the stool next to you, letting you have some peace and silent that lasted shortly after you've gotten it.

“Y/N... Love, can we talk?”

You continue scrolling through your phone, not once passing him a glance.

“Oh? I thought you don’t want to talk? You told me that just last night if I recall correctly-”

“I’m sorry, I didn't mean it.”

“Didn’t you?” You scoff.

Jude heaves a deep breath in, trying to calm his nerves from the nonchalance and passiveness that's coming from you. “Can we talk? Please?”

You didn't respond. Not immediately, at least.

You let him sit there beside you with nothing but the sounds coming from your phone serve as the only source of noise from your sudden silence. You let the silence drag on until Jude himself couldn't take it anymore.

“Okay... you don't have to say anything but please listen to me okay?” Still no response. Jude sighs yet again before bracing himself for his explanation. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry that I acted like a complete arse to you and disregarded your worries in our relationship. As your boyfriend I shouldn't have done what I did, I should've been better. I should've listened to you and done exactly what you asked of me because I don’t want you to worry about anything in this relationship. And I failed to do that. I’ve been a shitty boyfriend to you and you don't deserve that. You don't deserve to be treated in the way that I treated you and I know I can't take back what fuck-ups I did but all I can do now is to make up for it. If you can give me another chance to be a better boyfriend to you, I’ll be better. I will try to be better, for you.”

Jude takes one of your hand, noticing you staring blankly at the screen of your phone and fingers paused midway from scrolling through another tiktok.

“I’m so sorry love, I promise to better. Please forgive me...”

You close your phone off, gaze landing on the apologetic gaze Jude had as he held your hand against his cheek.

“I’m not entirely forgiving you. You hurt me too much-”

“I know love I know, and I'll take what you can give me... If I have to work for your forgiveness I will.”

You slowly nod your head with a soft exhale, watching how Jude’s lips pull up into a smile as he thanks you underneath his breath for countless of times.

Jude takes his phone from his pockets before he slides the device to you, and in the screen is a conversation he's had with the girl whom you're not really fond of. He’s just basically asked her to fuck off of text from the chain of messages she's sent him, and by his rather rude way of wording in his texts which you were about to point out, Jude chimes in.

“I’m planning on talking to her during training too.” He tells you sheepishly as you scroll through the one-sided conversation of his messages with her. “And I want you to be there... as much of an arse move that is, I want you to witness the conversation with her.”

“Jude I just want you to set boundaries with her-”

“And I will.” Jude interrupts you. “I will love, but I just don't want you to overthink things so I want you to be there when I do. This is just one step of me asking for your forgiveness. I still have a long way to go and I’m gonna do them in my own pace to not mess things up but I will work on them, and I will show you that forgiving me won’t be for nothing.”

You wrap both your arms around his neck, burying your face on the crook of his neck as Jude pulls you close to him.

“I’m so sorry again love, for everything.”

“You’re not entirely forgiven but at least you're a step in being forgiven.”

Jude chuckles against your hair, planting a kiss on your temple.

“I know... I know, just wanted you to know how sorry I am. I love you, and I’m really sorry.”

[animalsalvationassociation]

[ PLEASE READ TO THE END ]

Honestly . . . yeah I’m pretty tired. There’s a lot of things going on and at this point I think it’s time to call it. I’ve been really debating about making a post like this for the last few weeks. I think I’m gonna take a break from the Octonauts stuff. As much as I’m enjoying it, it’s also really stressing me out.

NOW BEFORE YOU LEAVE—HEAR ME OUT!!!

I’m not leaving forever, it’ll probably just be a few weeks AT THE MOST. I just need a hard reset. Unfortunately I can’t go much detail as of why, mostly some personal matters. And some of it is literally just the fact that my brain isn’t inspired and the hype I’m trying to give myself to make the content is only stressing me out more.

If you follow me on my other platforms you might see some posts coming out on there. To be specific the art block is just for Octonauts, so far I haven’t had any problems making content for other fandoms and I think that just means I need to work on some personal matters.

Please understand I love all of you and your support means the world to me. We’re already almost to 170 followers which is beyond what I was ever expecting. I cannot say, and I definitely won’t stop saying, how happy I am to have all of you here with me.

I’ve got some vacations coming up so I’m gonna take that time to really reflect on where I want the A.S.A. story to go. Honestly with the amount of attention it has gotten in such a small amount of time I kinda pressured myself to just throw things together as they come up, especially in the asks.

So all and all, I’m gonna take a break, I’ll be back in a few weeks fresh and ready to make content again. But I will still do my best to continue to be apart of the community. Unfortunately a guilty pleasure of mine is hopping on my fav Tumblr tags and just seeing what everyone is up to everyday. And I mean everyday. So if I comment on your posts or you see me popping in every now and then I promise I’m not ditching ya’ll, I’m just trying to stay updated and enjoy all of your creations.

Anyways my lovelies, if you made it this far you definitely get a cookie. 🍪 Have a wonderful day, and please take care of yourselves.

(Also if you’re on Art Fight this year, look me up by my main user and come attack me, I would love to see what ya’ll have up your sleeves! Friendly Fire and Defense are more than welcome, I’ll attack just about anyone!)

[heyiwrotesomethings]

HELLO HOPE UR HAVING A NICE DAY! i would like to request a shinobu x fem!reader(she/her) :) ok so, this is when shinobu is in her past personality and kanae is still alive, reader has a crush on the grumpy shinobu and tries to court her but, shinobu denies all of the reader’s confessions because shes scared to be in a relationship considering the world theyre in. (obv reader doesnt give up but i wouldnt either) fast travel to kanaes death and reader tries to cheer shinobu up but suddenly shinobu just snaps at the reader (due to stress and overwhelmness) and tells reader to leave her alone for good and reader does just that. reader stops with trying to court shinobu and shinobu will lowkey miss the readers shenanigans and shinobu deeply regrets yelling at reader, so shinobu goes to reader and apologizes and they live happily ever after! I HOPE THAT WASNT TOO COMPLICATED! I TRIED TO MAKE IT SIMPLE BUT MY BRAIN IS IMAGINING SO MUCH AND I HAD RO GET THIS ONE OUT 😍 I LOVE ALL OF YOUR FICS AND YOUVE BEEN MY FAV SHINOBU WRITER IN TUMBLR! HAVE A NICE DAY/NIGHT -⭐️

A Trade of Equal Value

Shinobu Kochou x She/Her Reader

A/N: I had a pretty good time writing this one (even if I was still working on it at 2am last night lol)! The timeline is also kinda scuffed because I didn’t want to write in the four years between Kanae’s death and where Shinobu is mentally by the time Tanjirou and Co come around, but I still imagine her at the same age she is when the boys are introduced. I also got pretty angsty with Kanae’s death and Shinobu lashing out, but as usual, it turns out alright in the end.I feel like I should also note that Shinobu has a panic attack which I have bracketed with ‘~~~’. Shinobu even gets a little Gomez Addams-y at the end which I think is pretty nice if I do say so myself. Thanks for the request, I hope you like the result! Word Count: 4,906

“Shinobu, wait up!”

Shinobu exhaled audibly and Kanae giggled beside her, hooking her arm with Shinobu’s so that she couldn’t escape the other demon slayer quickly catching up to them.

“Be nice,” Kanae advised her.

“I’m plenty nice.” Shinobu whispered defensively. She enjoyed (Y/n)’s company more than most of the other people she had to deal with on a daily basis, but she was just getting back from a mission that lasted all night and she was too tired to cater to whatever scheme (Y/n) was cooking up this time.

“Shinobu!” (Y/n) caught up to the sisters and hugged Shinobu from behind, “And hello to you too, Kanae-san!”

“Hello, (Y/n)-chan, how was your night?” Kanae asked, nearly smirking as her rosy-cheeked sister attempted to free herself from (Y/n)’s embrace. (Y/n) showed Shinobu mercy by letting her go and walking at her side instead.

“Pretty quiet. Everything went alright on your end?”

“Just fine.” Kanae confirmed.

“Good! So, um, Shinobu,”

Oh gods, here she goes again… Shinobu braced herself.

“There is a street festival going on in downtown Tokyo tomorrow. Want to go check it out with me? As a date? Or not… whatever you are more comfortable with.”

“What a fun idea!” Kanae spoke on Shinobu’s behalf, “She’ll be happy to go with you!”

“Neesan!” Shinobu objected.

“Am I wrong?” Kanae pouted, “would you not like to spend time with (Y/n)? Should I maybe go with her instead? I wouldn’t mind getting out for the day.”

Shinobu turned her head so (Y/n) couldn’t see her face and scowled at Kanae. Never let it be said that Kanae couldn’t be as conniving as she was kind.

Shinobu had met (Y/n) during Final Selection. They had spent most of that hellish week together, quickly forming a rapport that continued even after they made it out of the wisteria forest. They went on missions together often and spent a lot of off time together too.

They grew very close, close enough that Shinobu’s mood would sour when (Y/n) wasn’t around. Close enough that Kanae felt the need to tease her about how close they walked together in the halls. Close enough that (Y/n) had confessed to Shinobu a few weeks ago and was now trying yet another courting attempt.

Shinobu enjoyed spending time with (Y/n), but if they became any closer than they already were and (Y/n) went out for a mission and never came back, Shinobu was afraid of where that would leave her. It was hard enough to lose people she had met in passing, friends, family… she didn’t want to know what it was like to lose a romantic partner too. She had already witnessed such a thing a few months back.

There was a fiancée of one slayer Shinobu had known in passing since she was a Kakushi. She had been sent to clean up a location before another demon was discovered in the area. Woefully ill-equipped to deal with the situation, she had lost her life.

When the slayer who was her betrothed had received the news, he deteriorated over the next three weeks before finally passing away in his bed at the Butterfly Estate. Shinobu had fumed over the loss.

“There was nothing wrong with him!” She had exclaimed heatedly, angry at the situation. She had been unable to find anything physically wrong with the young man in all the tests she had done.

Kanae smiled sympathetically and put her hands on Shinobu’s shoulders as they watched the Kakushi remove the covered body from the infirmary.

“Sometimes there is just no curing a broken heart,” She had replied.

“I’ll go.” Shinobu gave Kanae a warning glare when her lips split into a larger smile, then she turned back to (Y/n), making the girl jump at the intensity of her stare, “But it is not a date.”

(Y/n) closed her eyes briefly and exhaled softly through her nose before giving Shinobu a small shrug and a relaxed smile, “Understood.”

That’s how it always went. (Y/n) sweetly telling Shinobu she loved her with little gifts and proposed outings with intentions clear. It became as normal a part of their relationship as anything else they did together.

Time and time again, Shinobu would deny her, but always kept her close. She would never admit it, never give herself a moment to reflect on it, but every time (Y/n) expressed her interest in courting her, although Shinobu denied her at every turn, she always felt a sense of relief that (Y/n) was still interested in her.

There had been a few occasions where (Y/n) had gotten friendly with other people and put Shinobu on edge. These instances made her feel jealous and more irritable than what was common for the younger of the Kochou sisters, but (Y/n) always came back to her in the end, even if Shinobu had to do a little prodding behind the scenes.

Kanae had noticed one such occasion and gently scolded Shinobu for it.

“If you are not intending to pursue a courtship with (Y/n), you really mustn’t sabotage the potential for her to find someone who wants to do what you will not. That wouldn’t be fair. Don’t keep her heart if you are not going to share yours in return. Regardless of what you decide, you must treat (Y/n) well. Friend or lover. Do you understand, Shinobu?”

To be lectured by Kanae was truly humbling and even embarrassing to an extent. If Kanae actually scolded someone, one would assume they must have really deserved it. Which is why Shinobu grunted a quick, “yes”, with her eyes cast shamefully to the floor before all but stomping away.

So maybe she had gone a bit overboard interfering with (Y/n)’s sparring partner’s recovery training schedule, but in her defense, (Y/n) was her partner first. Even if she had been okay with back to back sessions, Shinobu didn’t want anything less than (Y/n)’s best when they sparred so that meant nameless-sparkly-eyed-touchy-slayer had to find something else to occupy their time.

Turning the corner after exiting Kanae’s room, she found (Y/n) waiting for her. Leaning against the wall with a couple of wooden swords in her hands, she offered one to Shinobu with a inquisitive look.

“Want to let off some steam?” She asked.

“Yeah,” Shinobu managed a small grin at the offer, taking the sword and ignoring the tingles that traveled through her body when their hands touched.

This was what she wanted, the same steadfast compatibility they had when they met in the forest. Nothing scary, just them in their most pure and uncomplicated form. Was that so wrong? Kanae shouldn’t judge Shinobu for wanting this… the only opinions that mattered in this instance were her own and (Y/n)’s, and perhaps that was true to an extent, but Kanae’s wisdom about treating (Y/n)’s heart with care should not have been so easily pushed to the back of Shinobu’s mind… because it would be the last time such advice left Kanae’s lips.

The preparations for Kanae’s funeral had simultaneously happened agonizingly slow and all too fast. The most time Shinobu had to process her sister’s death was probably in those moments holding her beaten and bloodied body waiting for the Kakushi to collect her from the battlefield. She had held her long enough to notice how her skin had gone cold as the sunrise broke over the hills much too late to save the Hashira from her unforgiving fate. The emptiness she felt when the Kakushi finally arrived and gently took Kanae’s weight off of her almost felt worse than the initial death.

But there was no time to dwell on that. There was work to do. Cremation, service, paperwork, becoming the head of the mansion and taking on all of the duties that entailed. Meetings with Oyakata-sama himself and his condolences and hopes for her moving forward. She had already been close to becoming eligible for a Hashira position herself, but she hadn’t thought she would soon be replacing her sister instead of sitting beside her.

~~~

When she could finally be alone, Shinobu collapsed onto the tatami floor of her bedroom and wept, Kanae’s haori tightly wound within her grasp. What would she do? What would she do without her? Her sister, who loved and understood her more than any other, gone with one last, rattling breath that even now echoed within Shinobu’s ears. Her own breathing now was too shallow, her eyes stung and she couldn’t see. Her stomach felt cold and heart twisted so viscously in her chest that she felt physically ill.

Hands suddenly wrapped around her biceps and she tried to pull away, still struggling to breathe. The hands left for but a moment before they returned, fingers touching more cautiously than before. Slowly running up and down her arms to her hands and then back up to shoulders and the back of her neck, continuing the motion repeatedly.

Over time, the static in her ears dissipated and she was able to hear a soft voice, urging her to breath. She suddenly felt so exhausted that she couldn’t keep herself upright and fell forward, but instead of the floor, forehead fell against something more solid, but not hard. The arms wrapped around her and the voice continued to coax her to breathe, now gently swaying her from side to side.

~~~

Shinobu had no idea how much time had passed when she finally had the strength to pull away, seeing (Y/n) looking over her with worry. It made her feel so small and powerless and… and angry.

“Why,” Shinobu rasped sharply, “are you here?”

(Y/n) flinched backward at Shinobu’s tone, swallowing a lump in the back of her throat before answering.

“With everything that happened, I was worried about you. I could hear you from the hall, you scared me.”

“So?” Shinobu spat, trying to get up, but her legs weren’t cooperating. (Y/n) reached forward to help her, “Don’t.” Shinobu quickly rebuffed.

(Y/n)’s hands returned to her lap, tightly clasped. “I’m sorry. I’ve never seen you like this before. Please, tell me how I can help.”

“I don’t want your help.” Shinobu growled. “Why, why can’t you just leave me alone? You just can’t take no for an answer, can you?” Shinobu wasn’t yelling, but the harshness of her tone was just as sharp in (Y/n)’s ears. “Help me,” She scoffed, though it sounded more like a whimper in her ears, making her more angry, “unless you can bring the dead back to life, stay the hell away from me.”

“Shinobu, please—“

Shinobu was so full of rage and anguish, her misdirected anger only became more pointed. The lack of control was eating at her, she felt like she was lost on treacherous seas, trying to stay afloat by dragging (Y/n) under the churning black water so that she could maybe get just one full breath without swallowing the salty brine. It would be so easy. The one thing that she could control.

“This isn’t something you can fix! This isn’t a fairy tale where you get the girl by saying a few sappy half-baked sentiments. How many times do I have to tell you that I don’t want you?”

The words struck (Y/n) deeply, but she tried to power through, “That’s not why I’m here, Shinobu. I swear I’m not expecting anything to change. You’re hurting, and as your friend I—“

“You aren’t my friend!” Shinobu shouted. “Time and time again you ask to court me. Time and time again I refuse you. Your narcissism knows no bounds... The kindness you are attempting to show me is a forgery! A means to the end you keep badgering me for! You are reprehensible, a thorn wedged in my side, I can’t stand you, can’t you see that?! Leave!”

Shinobu’s heavy breathing was deafening in the quiet left behind by her words. Glaring down at (Y/n), she felt no lighter. No weight had been lifted off of her shoulders. In fact, as the sound of silence grew, the air around them only seemed to become thicker.

After stewing in the silence, (Y/n) attempted to speak. Her voice cracked on the first word and with it, Shinobu’s heart. She slowly got to her feet as if she had been physically beaten, avoiding Shinobu’s eyes as she turned away to wipe at her own.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered through a hitched sob that made Shinobu’s blood chill, “I’m sorry, I didn’t know you felt like that.”

Tell her you don’t. Take it all back, hurry. Try to make it better. Don’t let her slip away too. A hurried whisper within Shinobu’s mind pleaded, but she found herself mute, still and rigid as a statue. Her mind was fuzzy, yet somehow working in overdrive, but she appeared to not have the means to do anything about it.

“I never wanted you to feel uncomfortable. It was hard enough asking the first time, I wouldn’t have asked again if Kanae-san,” another choked sob, “if she hadn’t encourage me to keep trying, if she hadn’t sounded so sure that you felt the same, I wouldn’t have bothered you after that...

Even so, I should have noticed how you really felt. I didn’t pay close enough attention, yet I still claimed to love you. I really am the worst, huh?”

Shinobu could see the terrible false smile (Y/n) wore as she slowly slid the door open and shuffled into the hall. The voice in Shinobu’s head screamed at her to move, to speak, to stop (Y/n) from slipping out of the room completely, but she still stood stubbornly frozen.

“I’m sorry, I’ll leave you alone. I promise.”

The door closed, furthering the chasm between them and casting Shinobu’s room in darkness once more. She could hear (Y/n)’s footsteps fading, but instead of following, she slid back down to the floor in a strange state between wakefulness and unconsciousness. Not quite grasping the gravity of this event until much later when the other girls finally had her eating and sleeping properly again and she had some time to reflect.

(Y/n) had made good on her promise to leave Shinobu alone. When Shinobu had worked up the courage to find her and apologize for all the awful things she said nearly a month ago, the room that was all but officially (Y/n)’s was uniform with the other empty rooms spread across the mansion.

Kiyo had found her standing in the doorway and timidly approached.

“(Y/n)-san told us that she was going to ask the Stone Hashira if he was willing to take on another Tsuguko. Her crow sent us a letter a couple days later. She was accepted. The Kakushi helped relocate her belongings.”

“Oh.” Shinobu softly exclaimed, because what else could she say? It was either that or sink to the floor like a slug and Shinobu wasn’t quite ready to go that route yet.

“But now that you know, you could go talk to her. If you wanted to.” Kiyo cautiously added. She and the other girls may or may not have caught wind of what had happened, but were too nervous to try to interfere before now.

“Thank you, Kiyo. I think I will do just that.”

***

“Himejima-san, please.”

Shinobu couldn’t believe that Gyomei of all people was getting in her way of speaking to (Y/n). The man who had saved her and introduced her to a cultivator had been a father figure to her for years now and to have him standing in her way like he was now stung.

“It is not my decision to make,” Gyomei shook his head, still standing firm, “She does not wish to see you. Why that is, I do not know, but it is the decision she has made and one that I must honor.”

“I need to see her, it’s urgent.” She insisted.

“Is her health failing?”

“No.”

“Does she have a mission?”

“…No.”

“Then I see no reason to yield, young Kochou.” Gyomei shook his head woefully, “But I can tell this is important to you, if you have a message for her, I shall relay it for you if you are comfortable.”

Shinobu stared past Gyomei, looking longingly at the towering fence that enclosed his estate. She honed in on the sound of slayers training beyond the walls, hoping to hear (Y/n)’s voice among the shouts and grunts and clacking practice swords, but heard no such sound in the commotion.

“Can I write it out myself?” She asked Gyomei. He nodded.

“I will allow it… Again, I don’t know what this is about, but take time and care in writing what you want to say. You can send En by when you’ve completed your letter or hand it off to myself.”

“Very well. I shall do that.” With one last look at the tall fence, Shinobu turned to leave and Gyomei spoke up once more.

“Do not get disheartened if you do not get the results you hope for right away. Find a happy medium between patience and persistence and perhaps she will come around.”

“I’ll keep it in mind. Thank you.”

As soon as Shinobu got home, she locked herself in her office for hours and every attempted draft of apology could not even begin to touch on all she regretted. Her waste bin was overflowing by the time she had something that didn’t immediately make her want to rip the offending paper in two. Before she could change her mind, she sent En off with the letter and waited anxiously for a reply. Hoping beyond hope they could go back to where they were before. Shinobu needed that familiarity and stability. She craved it. Fortunately, she didn’t have to wait terribly long for a reply, but unfortunately it read,

I’m relieved to hear you are in a better place, but just as you have had time to reflect on that night, I have as well.

Your words that night hurt me in a way that I’ve never been hurt before, made worse by the fact that it was you who had said them to me.

Part of me wanted to be furious with you, I thought that I should be, but I wasn’t. I was empathetic to your loss and the new responsibilities that were thrust upon you. But even though I tried to convince myself that you lashed out because of the pressure, I believe there was some truth in what you had said.

If I could go back in time, I would have just kept my feelings to myself to spare us all the trouble. Despite this, I am happy that you hope to patch things up between us.

However, in my reflection, I came to the conclusion that even after all of this, I am still hopelessly in love with you despite everything. In the interest of preserving my heart, and saving you from the discomfort of my affections, I do not think it wise for us to reconnect. At least, not until I manage to get over you. I don’t know how long that will take, but given that not a waking hour passes that I don’t think about you, it probably won’t be any time soon.

I’m sorry if it makes you uncomfortable to read this, I’m just trying to be honest. Tell the girls I said hi, and please take care of yourself.

Wishing you the best,

(Y/n)

“Wishing you the best?” Shinobu hissed under her breath, the paper crinkling between the harsh pinching of her fingertips. “There is no best of me without you, idiot.”

Shinobu allowed herself time to cry, but not a lot. Gyomei’s words were still on her mind. If she wanted (Y/n) back, she wasn’t going to get her by crying, but now she needed to make a very important choice.

Continue to push for friendship, or confront the romantic feelings that she had fought like hell to keep hidden. Was accepting those feelings and the vulnerability the would bring worse than not having (Y/n) in her life at all?

“Better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all.” Shinobu softly pondered the old proverb. Kanae had been a fan of the saying and Shinobu had never really understood the sentiment until now.

Though she was going to fight like hell to be worthy of the love she had lost and reclaim it once more.

***

“Another letter? En, that’s three just today. You don’t have to bend to her every whim.” (Y/n) fussed over the bird, setting her up with fresh water and seed.

“It is important to Shinobu, so it is important to me.” The loyal crow proudly stated, though she was very grateful for (Y/n)’s continued hospitality.

“Just try not to over do it.” (Y/n) sighed and unfurled the letter, quickly catching the pressed flowers within and quietly cursing as bits of the brittle plants flaked off and fell to the floor. She carefully paced the dried flowers on her desk and scanned over the letter, finding it to be another poem. “What is she trying to achieve here? Why is she doing this?”

“To win back your trust, your heart,” En cocked her head left and then right, “Is it not obvious? Should I suggest being more direct?”

“Why does she want my heart so badly all of the sudden?” A bit of irritation slipping into her tone, “Is it something she wants to seal up in a jar? Bet she’d enjoying having it up on a shelf in the lab. Maybe a paper weight on her desk.”

“You humans vex me,” En’s feathers ruffled, “just give each other something shiny and make up.”

“If only it were that simple.” (Y/n) murmured, finishing her curt response to Shinobu’s poem, denying her a visit once again. She then placed the letter beside En. “You can take your time heading back, and if she tries to insist on a fourth delivery today, turn her down for the good of your health.”

En released a low caw that could only be interpreted as a scoff. Promptly scooping up the letter and taking her leave, passing Gyomei in the hallway.

“(Y/n), is all well? You are late for training.”

(Y/n) winced, “I’m so sorry Master. I got distracted.”

“Kochou-san again?”

“Yes…”

“And you still will not see her?” (Y/n)’s silence was answer enough. “Why?”

“I guess when it comes right down to it, I’m scared. Whether it’s me putting my own heart out there, or her actively trying to obtain it, I feel like it will inevitably end the same and I don’t think I could go through that again.”

Gyomei hummed thoughtfully, “I think I understand your concerns. Matters of the heart are certainly not easy. Especially when it has already been hurt before. I’m sure you will make your peace with her soon, but I pray that peace and satisfaction will find you sooner.”

“Thank you, Master.”

“Can I expect you to join the rest of your peers for training now?”

“Of course!”

“Wonderful. I expect you to have two boulders beaten down to gravel by nightfall.”

(Y/n)’s shoulders slumped and she suppressed a groan.

“Yes, sir.”

This would be a long day…

***

Shinobu halfheartedly paged through the new medicinal tome that had arrived the day prior. She had been eagerly anticipating its arrival for months, but now with En’s latest return proving she had failed to entice (Y/n) once again, she hardly had the motivation.

She was surprised when Gyomei’s crow, Zekka, came to perch at her window some hours later. She took the letter from his beak and he quickly flew off. He was not expecting a reply, she supposed. She unfurled the textured paper and scanned the punched message which simply read,

The best way to receive what it is you are looking for, is to give something of equal value in return.

Himejima Gyomei

“Really, Himejima-san, is this supposed to be a riddle?” Shinobu shook her head, but a determined spark lit up her eyes and she got to work.

***

(Y/n) slumped to the ground, uncaring that she was resting in a pile of rubble. She had destroyed the boulders just as the sun had sank behind the mountains, but at what cost? Himejima seemed nice, but his training was beyond brutal. If the secret of Stone Breathing was to make one’s arms as heavy and stiff as stone, (Y/n) was surely going to be a Master in no time. Her eyes drooped shut. It wouldn’t be the first time she took a dirt nap after training, but an insistent voice was preventing that.

“Hello, hello, please don’t fall asleep out here, (Y/n). I could probably name ten different reasons why it would be a horrible decision.”

Cold hands prodded at her face and sore arms, making her groan in protest and try to shimmy away.

“If you don’t massage and stretch now, you are going to be completely immobile tomorrow. Which may be helpful actually, at least then you won’t be able to run away from me.”

(Y/n) heard her arm crack and pop, which would have have alarming except it felt like a relief. She cracked opened her eyes, soon blown wide open when she realized who was busy cracking and rotating her aching wrist. If her heart had ever raced when she saw Shinobu (which it did) it was sprinting now. Damn traitorous organ never learned.

“What are you doing here? How are you here?” She whispered, not even because she was pretty sure she was dehydrated, but because it just felt appropriate to whisper.

“Jumped over the fence.” Shinobu answered casually, taking her time cracking (Y/n)’s knuckles and massaging her palm now, “Though I’m sure Himejima-san is well aware of my presence and wouldn’t have minded me using the front gate this time around. And for your first question, I’m here for you.”

“Shinobu, I told you that I—“

“—I have something I want to give you formally. What you decide to do from there is completely your choice. I know I have always asked a lot of you, but please allow me this once more.”

“…Okay.” Even after nearly four months of separation, (Y/n) found herself still unable to deny her. In her mind, this did not bode well for what little progress she thought she had made.

“Thank you.”

Shinobu stoked her thumbs over the palm of (Y/n)’s hand before bringing it to her chest, placing it over her heart and holding it there with both hands.

“Wh-what are you doing?” (Y/n) squeaked, trying to inch her palm higher, somehere above Shinobu’s clavicle and not quite so close to the swell of her chest, but Shinobu held firm.

“Do you feel that?” She asked.

“What am I supposed to be feeling?!”

“My heartbeat, of course. Can’t you feel it? It’s beating rather hard right now.”

It was hard to pay attention to anything other than her own racing heart if she was honest. Besides, a hand to someone’s chest wasn’t the best way to find a pulse. Shinobu of all people should know that.

“Maybe this will help.”

(Y/n) let Shinobu shift their positions around, mostly because she was still stiff and her body was refusing to cooperate with her own wishes. After a bit of maneuvering, she found her cheek resting on Shinobu’s chest instead, a speedy and strong drumbeat pressed against her ear.

“Is that better?” Shinobu asked.

“Why are you doing this?”

“To show you that you are not alone, that this is the power you have over me. My heart is yours, it always has been, but I’m giving it to you formally now.”

“Shinobu, I can’t—“

“I don’t expect you to give yours in return, I know I don’t deserve it yet, but I hope to one day. Will you allow me the honor of courting you. You owe me nothing, but I beg of you to allow me the chance to love you the way you deserve to be loved.”

“Why the change of heart?”

“Because losing out on the moments we could have while living together is more frightening to me than death itself. I don’t know how much time either of us has, but I want to spend it all with you.”

(Y/n)’s breath caught in her throat and her eyes began to water. A quiet sob shook her shoulders and she felt Shinobu’s arms tighten around her. She was so doomed. Try as she might, her heart was very clear. It belonged to Shinobu, no matter what she decided to do. That didn’t mean she couldn’t make her really work for it though.

“Alright, I accept,” (Y/n) sniffed, “you may court me.”

Shinobu gasped softly then took (Y/n)’s hand from her lap, kissing the back of it while locking eyes with her. The intensity of her stare sent a shiver down (Y/n)’s spine.

“I cannot thank you enough for this opportunity. The same one I had denied you of several times in the past. The goddess my heart is devoted to is a merciful one. How unworthy I am of your blessing.”

“I think you have been reading too much poetry.” (Y/n) spoke in a strained whisper, flustered by Shinobu’s intensity. She had never imagined she could be like this.

“Oh this is only the beginning,” Shinobu declared, a purple flame burning in her eyes more vibrantly than any chemical reaction could produce, “You best prepare yourself.”

[holewithinahole]

Tiptoeing the leyline | Otto Octavius x reader

Summary: Back to your universe, Otto captures you while you're distracted. He notices the marks a certain Dr. Olivia Octavius left on you.

Ao3 Link

Warnings: shameless smut, no genitalia specified (reader), no pronouns specified (reader), orgasm denial, overstimulation, unsafe sex, rough sex, creampie, non-native writer

And yes, I wrote a somewhat sequel to my Olivia fic, after several months. The fixation on Octaviuses is never over, my guy. Again, not beta, I'm not native so very sorry for any weird sentences or mistakes. I'm not 100% happy with it but I'll never be so, enjoy! (I just have to embrace the fact that I'm a slut for them.)

You should have seen it coming. From a mile away, honestly.

It’s easier to convince yourself that you’ve simply been tired. Even someone with super strength and freaky spider powers had to draw the line at multi-dimensional travel and two days of non-stop fighting. Especially when it involved someone as ruthless as Dr. Olivia Octavius. Your imaginary audience could laugh all they want, but you dared anyone to try putting their entire focus on swinging webs and punches to a woman who had, mere hours ago, rocked your world so hard you saw stars. And see stars you certainly did when that bus hit you square in the chest during the battle inside the collider.

Ergo, you blame Olivia.

Your body is sore as fuck, and you're littered with bruises and a nasty bite mark on the nape of your neck. What’s the point of having rapid recovery if you don’t even have time for it? You also blame your inner sense of justice (you were aware of the irony of fucking a supervillain and then talking about justice). Disappearing from your universe for a few days didn’t stop the villains of the week from robbing the poor corner-of-the-street shopkeepers, and the super ones from plotting their evil schemes. No rest for the wicked? What about the brave, the awesome, the work-devoted?

“Am I boring you or something?”

You glance back at Otto. He looks appalled behind his small sunglasses. It’s almost funny.

“Oh no, please keep talking,” you say evenly, “‘gives me more time to come up with an attack plan.”

What’s more difficult to admit to yourself is how totally out of it you are when it comes to anything Octavius-related. You’ve been happy living in your little world of delusion before the mind-altering and deliciously traumatizing altercation with Olivia. But now? Every taunt, every tilt of the head looks like an invitation. Knowing there were alternate universes was pretty mind-altering as well, come to think of it. 

“I’m curious to see how you plan to attack me in your current situation.”

Right. You push against the vibranium shackles holding you hostage in a chair. It was more for show if you were being honest; you doubted you could break free even with hundred-percent strength. Instead, you stare at the dirty walls of Otto’s new lair, trying not to focus too much on the flow of images his shiny actuators brought to the surface.

“Do not bother.” He lets out a bark of a laugh. “You’re completely at my mercy.”

You’ll give it to him though, he has been swift and efficient when he cornered you in a back alley and knocked you unconscious. In your defense, you did fight back against the actuator pinning you against the wall, but he said something and the next second, everything had faded to black. It was something insubstantial, something stupid and stereotypically evil like he’s famous for. Totally not something that made your heart skip a beat.

“I have to say,” he says conversationally, “I’m disappointed by how easy it was to catch you.” With two mechanical arms digging into the ground, he looms over you, the pans of his coat flapping against his naked skin. “You’re usually not that compliant.”

Don’t you fucking dare blush.

You tear your eyes away from his chest. “I was just bored out of my mind. Your tricks are getting old, Otto.”

He chuckles. “It worked in the end, didn’t it? Even if it wasn’t the desired effect.”

“If it wasn’t, why pull the same shit over and over again?”

“For fun.”

It leaves your mouth open dumbly. You scoff. “Failing is not what I’d call fun.”

Otto stares before lowering himself to the ground, soles tapping against the wooden floorboard. You’re trying your damn best not to meet his gaze, even protected behind your mask.

“What’s gotten into you?” He asks. “You’re never this… serious.”

It gives you a whiplash. “Uh?”

“Did I break something?” He muses to himself.

You certainly didn’t expect him to notice you were out of it, or care about it for that matter. Perhaps you’ve underestimated the man’s perception.

“All fine and dandy. Thanks for asking, Doc’.” Your tone is way too even to your liking.

You’ve always been a terrible actor and he sees right through your bluff. Which is saying something since he can’t even see your face. You make another attempt at breaking free but it only makes your suit rub against all of your bruises and cuts. Your wince makes the good Doctor raise a questioning eyebrow.

“So, I did hurt you,” he says, disbelieving.

“You kidding, right? You punch like a little girl.” That’s a big lie and also misogynistic.

Fuck, maybe Olivia was right.

You’re suddenly assaulted by a strong smell of damp leather as two fat digits slip underneath the edge of your mask and pull. “Hey! The fuck you think you doing—“

Does anyone grasp the concept of anonymity ‘round here? “Fuck, Doc’, I thought you were a bit more chivalrous than that.”

Otto doesn’t answer, inspecting your face. It’s making you uncomfortable how much he’s staring. Did he expect a model or something?

“I wasn’t expecting this kind of hurting,” he says. You frown, confused, but when he uses one finger on your chin to slowly turn your face away, you realize with horror he’s looking at the beautiful purple claim Olivia left on your neck.

“What—“ you sputter, withdrawing as much as you can. “That’s not what you’re thinking.”

“And what am I thinking, exactly?” Otto asks, evenly.

What is he thinking exactly? He barely reacted to your naked face, not even to gloat at exposing your biggest secret. And what do you want him to be thinking? That you have no game at all? What would be the point? If anything, you should be proud to show him you get any action.

He interrupts your inner monologue: “I wasn’t expecting the reason for your scattered brain to be sex.” You blush bright red. “I thought you had more self-control than that.”

His lips stretches, deliberately slow, displaying rows of straight incisors and sharp canines. “Unless you’ve been fighting an oversized bat.”

It would have been preferable at the moment. “Yes. You guessed it. How smart.”

Otto chuckles. “It probably wasn’t any good if you look this tense.”

“I have a good reason to be tense at the moment,” you hiss.

“I make you feel that way? My, I’m flattered.”

“You wish, Doc’.”

His hand glides on your neck, wrapping his fingers around your throat. A large digit presses down on the mark. “Perhaps, I do.”

Your bruised skin burns at the pressure but your mind burns even brighter processing what Otto just admitted; what he could be imagining as he traces the uneven blood crusts left by the sharp teeth of his counterpart. And your silence is even more telling; somehow even more than the quickening of your breathing, your pulse confessing everything to his touch.

“What do you want?” you struggle to say, mouth heavy.

He smiles, almost gently, but his eyes are predatory. You’re not unfamiliar with the look on his face and isn’t that a thrill. With Olivia, you could have used her actuators as an excuse for your actions; not that you had any intention to though. With Otto, however, the shackles are quickly removed and the raised eyebrow he offers looks like an opportunity for flight.

You don’t take it.

There he stands, the reason for sleepless nights, the unhealthy obsession you can’t wrap your mind around. He looks down and it feels intimate, almost natural if you could ignore your surroundings, the sensation of your suit, and the four red eyes watching you closely.

His fingers are back on the bruise, ignoring your question. “Who gave you this?”

You’re about to lie through your teeth when he adds: “No one important, I’m sure?”

Your spit is thick when you swallow. “Self-centered much?”

He laughs. “You don’t have to answer. You’ll forget them soon enough.”

Doubtful, you think. At the very least, you’ll be haunted forever by the juxtaposition of two universes. “Keep telling yourself that.”

You’re still frozen in the chair, free but still bound by the desire running rampant under your skin and his long fingers around your neck. He’s not even bothered by your comment; Otto has always been radiating confidence, and you know that if one person could erase Olivia from your mind, even for a moment, it’d be him. Fittingly. Her alternate self with whom you share a deeper bond, a long-term rivalry, a never-ending attraction…

He straightens up, hand leaving your neck and you feel a lot colder. In a smooth movement, he takes off his glasses, and you’re assaulted by the gentleness of his brown eyes. The same eyes you kept seeing alongside Olivia’s green ones.

“I want to erase all of this tension.” You realize he finally answered you when he says: “Now tell me, little spider, what do you want?”

There’s no way around it, is it? You can’t just admit you’ve been chilling in an alternate dimension with his alternate self and that you’ve been thinking about him every single minute spent running away and fighting. You can’t just admit you had the best sex of your life with a women-him who confronted you to the extent of the absurd and frankly unethical feelings you distil for your archenemy. You can’t tell him you’ve been fantasizing about the weight of his body, the strength of his hands, the thrill hidden behind each actuator… The thoughts are too much to bear or explain.

“You.”

The grin he gives you is enough of an acknowledgement.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Broad palms stretch across your back, feeling the dryness of your skin, dipping fingers in the tender joints of your muscles as you sigh. His silence almost feels reverent; a stark contrast with Olivia’s rough handling. She spent her time hovering over you, close but never touching, wallowing in the superiority induced by the distance between you. Otto however seems intent on pressing as much skin as possible to yours, enveloping you completely.

“Your back is surprisingly devoid of scars,” he comments.

Your haughty chuckle dies in your throat, distracted by the warmth of his hand snaking to your abdomen to pull you closer. “I always face my enemies,” you answer after a second or two.

His petting stops. “How brave.” The press of clammy skin and well-worn leather melt away the chill raised by his exploring hands. Not entirely because his breath bounces off the crook of your neck, and it’s so easy to get lost in the clash between warmth and cool. “What does that say about me?”

You understand belatedly the insinuation of your previous statement. “Is it trust?” He taunts, and you can hear the smirk in his voice.

“Hell no,” you fire back, “you’re the last person I could trust.”

It’s a lie; you’ve met far shadier and far more morally reprehensible enemies than Dr. Otto Octavius. “I’m offended.” His fingers are running higher on your torso, leaving chills behind like a powder trail ready to combust. You’re not certain you’ll be able to survive this wildfire. “Killing you would be a waste,” he adds as an afterthought.  

“Yeah, your life would be so boring without me.” You smile, stretching your numb arms.

“Indubitably.” The actuator holding your arms up loosens and your heart tightens at the admission. “Although—“

One fat finger from a hand you’ve, regrettably, forgotten press forcefully on your sex; its outline peaking scandalously through your suit. Your gasp is silent but your whole body tenses up against his chest. “—the same could be said about you.”

You swallow a snarky remark. Anything you say could incriminate you further, and your body already does an amazing job on its own. Thankfully, the Doctor is happy to keep the conversation alive: “Could we call this a truce then?”

You wouldn’t call a quick dirty fuck a truce. It’s a distraction, a wonderfully effective one. “As if!” You scoff. “You’re going to prison after this.”

Another finger joins its lonely mate, rubbing in tandem with the spandex against your pelvis. The suit is designed for comfort and to avoid chaffing despite being skin-tight (which you’ve never been more thankful for at the moment), but it’s not an efficient protection against the softness of his caress. You’ll soon want to rip the offending fabric off to press more forcefully on teasing fingers, but for now, you’ll hang on to the last thread of reason the suit provides you. Who knows if you’re not actually dreaming?

“You’re in no position to promise such things, I’m afraid.” He’s right and there’s nowhere else you’d like to be at the moment.

Otto retrieves his hand. “Hey! Don’t—” Your mouth snaps shut but it’s already too late.

You feel him straightening up, leaving your sweaty back to the cold air of the room. You can’t see him but you hear his chuckle and his actuators rattling.

“I see,” he says, “you’re just desperate.”

“Desperate for what? You?” Better dedicating yourself completely to the monkey business. “I’ve had the best fuck of my life two days ago, I’m not desperate.”

The claw holding your arms up retracts and despite the physical retrieve it offers you, you can’t help but wonder if you’ve played a role a bit too well. The shining eye of the actuator stares directly at your face, and you watch it stretch with dubious eyes— “Such a clever mouth.” – until it pushes you against naked skin, squeezing you back tight against Otto’s body…

“I’ve always thought a good fuck could humble you greatly.”

…and his unmistakable excitement. The remaining slivers of coherence leave you at the vulgarity of his sentence and the tantalizing, unique snap of his hips.

“Always?” Your voice is lost in a whisper.

His breath hitches, you’re almost certain of it. His nose brushes against your shoulder, and a hand snakes back over your abdomen as the actuator retracts, holding you even closer. It’s funny how you already are near losing your mind. Your eyes are open but you barely see, only the dark blur of the metallic beam on which you hold on. You’re completely helpless, bent almost in half by the weight of his body, trembling legs and shaking from anticipation; heady from his admission.

Otto hums and the sound vibrates through you. “Fuck, look at you.”

Desperate for the touch of a madman, two seconds away from panting like a dog from how fast your heart is beating, shameful…

“How could I not desire this?” His digits wander in the ridges of your muscles, the dips of your skin. His breath is hot and moist against your shoulder. “You entice me. I can’t wait to make you beg.”

The actuator fixated on your face moves closer, rotating his head in agreement.

“You’ll never hear me be—“

You startle. Another mechanical arm has taken hold of your suit, tugging before tearing it apart like a sheet of paper. A still coherent voice at the back of your mind fustigates you for ruining two perfectly good suits in less than seventy-two hours; the remaining ninety percent short-circuits. You realize, with no amount of dignity left, that your skin is dripping wet. “Shit.”

“Would you look at that?” You can’t look. You don’t want to look. “How flattering.”

The glide of his hand is disgustingly arousing, and you moan unabashedly when he finally – finally – relents and touches your neglected sex. It’s too good to be normal. Lost in your breathy whines, you think about Olivia and her sweet torture session. Even she hasn’t been able to tease such a strong reaction out of you this quickly. How fucked up are you?

Twice you left your body in the hands of an Octavius for experimentation, and you’re afraid this time will be the one that’ll leave you crawling back for more.

“So close so soon?” Otto tuts. “Disappointing.”

His touch stops altogether. You groan. “As lovely as it sounds to make you come more than once, I do intend on experimenting a little more with you.”

Damned Octavius-es! Loving to hear themselves talk, loving to drag things torturously slow…

“Nothing I haven’t seen before,” you pant, closing your eyes to gather your thoughts.

“You’re a degenerate, aren’t you?”

He steps away, and you hear the squeaking of leather falling to the ground. You yearn to turn around and watch him in all his half-naked glory. Instead, a metallic arm wraps around your ankle, pushing your legs apart. You feel exposed, the cold air of the warehouse striking your wet skin in an overwhelming contrast. It gets worse when Otto puts a wide palm on the curve of your ass, spreading you and observing the way you part in an embarrassing, squelching noise.

You have no time for a witty comeback: he presses one thick finger into you. You gasp. The intrusion is more surprising than hurting, it distracts you enough from your upending orgasm. His fingers curl inside you, so warm, spreading you open with ease.

He hums pensively. “You feel tight. You’re certain you’re not lying when bragging about your last date?”

A date. You manage not to scoff. “There are other ways to have sex. You’re just old-school.”

Otto chuckles. “More fun for me.”

His mouth is back to your ear, and his affected state is unmistakable. “Let’s see how long you can last before you beg me to fuck your pretty hole.”

The next minutes are excruciating. You lose your voice and all sense of coherency. He fucks you harshly, curling, twisting, scissoring his fingers as you pant hot, condensed air. You could have ignored it (you could have) if he hadn’t been alternating between making sure you were loose for him, and stroking you ‘til you’re leaking enough to use your precum for his mistreatment. And all this time, you were being watched closely by the red eye of his actuator, held tight by two others.

Two delayed orgasms later, and three fingers deep in you, you are near your breaking point. You’ve lost track of time, lost control over your vocal chords and you’re secretly glad you’re not in an apartment right now. The neighbors might have complained.

“Nothing to say?” Otto asks. You can hear his shit-eating grin.

“F-Fuck. No.”

“As you wish.”

He spits directly on your fluttering opening before stuffing four fingers in. You definitely scream this time.

“Otto!” You don’t even recognize the sound of your own voice.

He hums in fake interest. “What is it, love?”

Your heart beats even faster. You hate him for that. He thrusts against your walls. “Oh, fuck!”

“Not even close, darling.”

Your moan sounds devastated. His other hand snakes to your front, stroking you with clever fingers and you feel yourself overflowing. You know you could come from this alone, but your half-delirious brain somehow craves more. You want the press of his soft body on your back again, and his bruising mouth on your neck. Perhaps even his teeth right where Olivia marked you. You want his warm hands on your aching skin, on the map of scars he left on you.

“Now,” he sighs, “what do we—“

“Please.”

His stillness attests to his surprise. You share the sentiment but you’re this close to losing your goddamn mind; you don’t really care anymore except for the chance of feeling him inside you.

“What do you want?” he hisses, stroking you impossibly harder.

“You,” you cry out. Otto disengages with an irritated sound. “Wait!”

He grabs your chin, almost choking you in the process. You realize your cheeks are wet. “I’ll leave you like this, you hear me?” His voice is harsh, raspy. “Now, be very specific, pet.”

“Fuck me!” What a pathetic display you make. “I can’t take this anymore.”

You look directly into the actuator’s eye. It gives you a thrill. “Please, Doctor.”

You register distantly his labored breathing, the slight tremor in his fingers when he releases you to get rid of his trousers. Despite having been thoroughly prepared, the filthy glide of his cock stretches you wider, reaching deeper parts of yourself. Your legs tremble and the only reason you’re not collapsing on the ground is the tight hold his actuators have on you. His arms wrap around your torso, and the furnace of his skin turns you to embers.

“Come on, just give it to me!” Even in your tormenting need, you somehow find it in you to be bossy. “Otto—“

He grabs your face forcefully, turning it towards him. His strong nose is pressed in your right cheek, and the encompassing heat of his breath tickles the corner of your mouth. You want to kiss his plump lips so badly.

“From now on, it’s Doctor Octavius for you.”

The stretch burns from lack of lubrication, but he plunges into you without any concerns. The snap of his hips is so strong you topple forward in a pitiful cry. Otto fucks you harshly, frantically while holding your mouth close to his. He pants through his nose and you respond in kind by moaning loudly. If you had more time, you’d have wished for Olivia to wreck you like this, to have you feel her skin as she fucks you. Her fingers, her actuators, anything to make you feel this full.

“Doc’,” you choke, twisting your neck to partially meet his chapped lips, “harder.”

“You greedy little thing.”

The actuators at your legs disentangle themselves, planting in the ground in a loud crack. The combined strength of Otto’s hips and his mechanical allies pushes you completely against the metal beam. You’re glad, unable to hold yourself upright as you’re assaulted by this indescribable force.  Your screams speak volumes:

“Ah! Ah, shit!”

He’s now groaning against your cheek, sweat gathering on his forehead and running on your skin. The whole ordeal is disgusting and you want more. You need more.

Greedy. You’re so greedy.

In an unconscious movement, your numb hand releases the beam to bury itself in his damp bangs. It elicits a downright animalistic snarl from Otto, so you tug. Hard.

“Fuck,” he hisses. It sounds like pain but his hips shake, losing his rhythm.

The embers he created coil in your abdomen. Your limited movements don’t stop you from pushing against him, chasing the spark that’ll finally ignite you. You mutter disjointed sentences – ‘come on’s, ‘so good’s, and debauched iterations of his name – which he answers with more groans and moans of his own. You cling to him, breathing in the strong essence of leather and sweat, twisting your neck, even more, to meet his lips in an almost kiss, anchoring him closer and deeper until—

“Break down, sweetheart.”

He bites the scream you let out. It’s his words, this final act of stimulation, this echo of another universe, that lights you up. He catches your tears with his lips and you come, powerless against the intensity of the sensation. Otto follows you, pumping his spend inside you for what seems like forever. Your own clings to your trembling skin. You try to regulate your senses, still focused on the twitching of your muscles, on the throbbing length of his cock and his ragged breathing.

The actuators retract and you expect him to do the same but he stays anchored to you. The nuzzling of his nose against your cheek somehow manages to freak you out more than the aftermath of this whole conundrum. Your fingers in his hair relax, scratching his scalp in response to his caresses. Your neck hurts from the unusual position you force it into, but it’s the least of your worries when his mouth is right there.

Sadly, he steps away, slipping out from you in a deafeningly wet noise. Your legs fail you but you hold onto the metal beam, now warm under your touch. The contraction of your muscles has the unfortunate effect of letting his hot cum leek out of you, cascading along your thighs. Otto lets out a contemplative hum.

“You paint a pretty picture, I must say.”

His thumb dips into your flesh, spreading your sensitive entrance as more of him comes out of you.

You huff, straightening up. “Hands off.”

Your suit is in shambles on the ground; you look at it dejectedly. Olivia had the intelligence of divesting you of it, not ripping it to shreds. Men.

“Hard to take me to prison in this state, right?”

You turn to glare at him but you end up gaping at the two actuators throwing Otto’s leather coat on your shoulders.

“Thanks.” You try to summon your usual carefree attitude but you find yourself unable to. You’ve somehow been more easy-going with your life on the line and under the near-psychotic gaze of Olivia than you are now. You wonder what that says about you. “This doesn’t change anything. Next time, I’ll kick your ass so hard they’ll have to drag you to your cell.”

He laughs lowly. “’Sounds promising.”

He’s not insinuating—

You clear your throat, adjusting the coat around you to shield you from the cold seeping into your bones. You feel uneasy being watched so closely by three pairs of eyes. Otto hands you something: the ruffled mask he snatched off before. You take it.

“You know that the purpose of a mask is to hide your face?” you mutter, stuffing it inside one of his pockets.

He shrugs. “Nothing I haven’t seen before.”

“…Sorry, what?”

It’s how you wear the mask that matters? Perhaps it’s better off… sometimes.

[immeasurablesaladagere]

do u think u could right a fic about cg!house finding regressor!wilson small at work please??:00 thank u!!!

Here you go my friend!

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Word Count: 1138

Summery: House crashes Wilson's office during an overnight shift only to find that Wilson has been teetering on the edge of regressing. House gives him the nudge he needs and they make do with a bedtime routine in the hospital.

-----

House threw open the door to Wilson’s office. “Honey, I’m home!”

Wilson jumped in his chair and clutched at his chest. “Jesus, House! You scared the crap out of me! What are you doing in here?”

He dropped down into the other chair and kicked his feet up onto the desk. “Oh, stop being dramatic. You’re not allowed to have a heart-attack on me, I came here to get away from dying-patient-duty.”

“You’re ditching your night-shift?” Wilson asked, like a disapproving mother about to take away his video games for cutting class. 

House rolled his eyes and snagged a trinket bobble-head from the desk. “Don’t worry, there’s plenty of nurses. Unless, of course, you’re saying the nurses are incompetent.”

Wilson sputtered. “I— Wha—? No. Just— Whatever. I’ve got work to do.” 

“Yes, that was the point. I wouldn’t have come to see you if you weren’t here.” He said, “What, I can’t see my best friend, Wilson?”

Wilson didn’t engage him any further than a disinterested hum, and rubbed at his eyes with his fist before returning to his paperwork; most likely patient-related and why he was also taking a night shift at all. House cocked an eyebrow. Normally Wilson would banter with him for at least a little longer than that. It was only 1:30 AM, it wasn’t late enough for him to be as tired as he looked; all wound up and unfocused.

House gave the bobble-head an absent flick and watched Wilson intently as he flipped through the patient’s folder. Tight posture, shaky movements, eye-rubbing with his fists, speech avoidance. To any normal person, all mere symptoms of physical exhaustion and normal enough, but House knew better than that. 

“You’re doing that thing.” 

Wilson blinked, delayed, and looked up at him. “…What thing?” He asked. His tone was irritated, but voice was soft, almost a whisper.

“That thing. You’re regressing, aren’t you.” It wasn’t a question. Wilson was sluggish even for an unplanned overnight stay at the office, and even though he was pretending to work, House doubted he was actually processing any of it. His eyes were staring right through his desk instead of at the page.

“What? No, I—“ Wilson cleared his throat and his voice returned to normal, “I’m not.”

“Uh huh. And you tell me that I repress my feelings. That’s pretty hypocritical, y’know.”

“I’m not regressed, House. I’ve got a job to do.” He insisted, and stubbornly returned to the file.

House flicked the bobble-head again. “I didn’t say you were regressed, I said you were regressing. There is a difference, but I don’t think toddlers learn that for at least a few more years so I’ll give you a pass.” 

He could feel Wilson glaring into the side of his head, but he elected to ignore it. After all, indulging children in tantrums only encouraged their behaviour, and he wouldn’t want that. He would just have to wait for Wilson to crack, because he always did. Given his defensiveness, he was probably trying to ignore the feeling before and House pestering him about it was only pushing him towards an inevitable drop. 

And just like he expected, it only took fifteen minutes for Wilson to give in, dropping his head to his desk with a disgruntled whine. House grabbed the phone and dialled the nurses station.

“Hello? This is Doctor Greg House. Doctor Wilson will be unable to oversee his patient tonight, he seems to have come down with the flu.” Wilson looked up at him with a pathetic attempt at a glare that turned out to be more of a pout. “Real nasty stuff, don’t ask. Have his patient reassigned to an on-call oncologist, thanks.” He hung up.

“Houssse…” Wilson whined.

“Wilsoonnn…” House whined back. “There. You’re officially cleared for the night, so how about we get ready to sleep now, hm? No offence kiddo, but you look pretty tired.”

“But… I wan’ed to get stuff done…” He mumbled, then shrunk down in his chair a bit more. “…an’ we can’t do bedtime here…” Wilson was almost inaudible, and House knew it would only be a matter of time before all he would be getting was head shakes and sounds from him. Wilson was right, to an extent. Even though House was skipping watching over the patient directly he couldn’t leave the hospital entirely, and Wilson couldn’t get home on his own, so they would just have to improvise something.

“Oh sure we can. We don’t have your jammies, but you can change out of your dress shirt and just wear your sweater. That’s pretty soft still, right?” 

Wilson shrugged. “Mm.”

“And while you do that, ol’ House will go down to the cafeteria and find you a night snack and you can sleep on the couch.”

“…Cookie?” Wilson asked softly, sleepy eyes hopeful and round like a baby deer, disgustingly sweet. How did he do that?

House chuckled. “I’ll see what I can do. Get settled while I’m gone and see if you can find a book for me to read to you. I’ll be right back.”

He got up and hobbled down to the cafeteria. They stayed open to staff until three in the morning, which meant that he was easily able to place an order with the tired and disgruntled-looking cook for a coffee cup of warm milk and a package of digestive cookies. For his troubles he got a confused look from the employee, like he’d never heard of the concept of milk and cookies before bed, but it was delivered quickly nonetheless.

With his order in hand House made his way upstairs, stopping by a linen closet on the way back to grab a pillow and blanket. The balancing act was precarious, but he managed to get back to Wilson’s office without any spillage.

When he opened the door Wilson was sitting curled up on the couch, dress-shirt discarded from underneath his swearer, head lolled lazily on his knees, and a book sitting next to him. He looked ready to fall asleep at any second, but he perked up slightly when House walked in.

“Your cookies, and a cup of milk.” He set them down on the side table and dropped the blanket and pillow down on the free space on the couch, and sat down on the coffee table.

Wilson fumbled with the package of cookies for a moment before managing to tear them open, but once he did he ate them quickly, holding each one with two hands like a squirrel. Once he was finished his snack he pulled up the blanket around himself and wordlessly handed House the book he had chosen.

He took it and examined the cover. Charlotte’s Web. A very Wilson book.

“Good choice. I like this one too.” He said, and Wilson smiled sleepily, shuffling deeper into the cushions. “Chapter One: Before Breakfast…”

[bucketsofmonsters]

Where the Light Enters - Part 3

cw: unreliable narrator, hurt/comfort, slow burn, eventual sex, enemies to lovers, past childhood sexual assault, past sex trafficking, referenced noncon, non-explicit dubcon, panic attacks, happy ending, the tags look scary but this is mainly a story about recovery

Cole/Female Inquisitor

word count: 6k

ao3 link

Masterlist

The Hinterlands wasn’t the worst place in the world. It was warmer than the snow covered mountain she was relegated to most of the time, so she certainly enjoyed that. She didn’t have to wear layers and layers of fur and thus could actually move properly which was a novelty to her at this point. 

It was quite pretty too. She loved the lakes and rivers when things were calm. 

The bears in the Hinterlands were not her favorite. She always brought someone sturdy to send off after them while she stayed far away from the creatures. 

The demons were certainly unpleasant, but that came with the territory when she was the only person that could close their entrance to this world.

It was the sheer quantity of violent humans running around that really got to her. Templars in all colors and mages and venatori and the carta, half of them fighting both each other and her. 

She’d take a hundred unthinking bears over them. 

Her worst fear was getting captured. 

Of course, she would give the Inquisition up in a second and convert fully to the side of whoever captured her, she knew that much. But that wasn’t something she could recover from in the eyes of her current allies and the last thing she wanted was to get on the bad side of a force as powerful as the Inquisition who wanted her as badly as they did. 

Hopefully it wouldn’t come to that. 

In the meantime, they wandered. Cassandra was ready to fight anything, practically begging someone to come up to her. 

That meant being loud and noticeable in a way that was clearly meant to draw attention. 

In the end, they watched Cassandra fight a bear. 

Varric helped, she supposed. He fired off arrows as quickly as his mechanical crossbow allowed him to. 

Rosemary did not help, but then again, what could she do? She wasn’t equipped to fight anything, let alone a bear. 

Cole was up in a tree. When Varric tried to figure out what he was doing, the only response he could pull from him was, “She needs to fight. She needs to know she’s a protector. She doesn’t need my help. I would make it worse, another thing to watch.”

“You’re not a thing, kid,” Varric said as he notched another arrow. 

“She thinks I am.”

“She’s just scared,” Varric tried to reassure him, even as distracted as he was. 

“Yes. Lots of people are scared. I don’t know how to make them stop.”

Despite Cassandra being the one fighting the bear face to face, Varric managed to deal the killing blow with a swift arrow between the ribs. “None of us do.”

They plodded off again after that. 

Her feet were already tired, still unaccustomed to the long treks that being a member of the Inquisition required of her. She wished she had a more sedentary power, or perhaps wished that they could bring the rifts back to her. 

And then, as they stomped along and imagined a world where she didn't have to wander around in bear infested woods, her least favorite thing happened. They found a rift. 

There was something genuinely incredible about them, if you didn’t know how truly dangerous they were. The way it hung in the open sky, a rip in the clear void of the air. The green glow curled at the edges, like it was trying to grab onto the empty air for purchase. 

As soon as they got close enough, its defenses sprung up and all hell broke loose.

Her power didn’t work if she was too far away, so instead, every time they found one, she found the best hiding spot she could and hunkered down, praying her companions would protect her. 

She felt even more exposed than usual. She realized that she’d foolishly forgotten a mage and thus, no one here could cast a protective barrier around her. Likewise, with only one warrior, and a relatively small one at that, she didn’t have a particularly good human shield. 

Varric tried his best, but he was a distance fighter. It wasn’t his fault. 

Cassandra was overwhelmed. One bear was fine, she could focus her attention and do what needed to be done. But here she was too split, with half a dozen demons swarming them. She couldn’t cover Rosemary properly and fight. So she made the choice anyone would. She focused all her attention on the fighting and Rosemary sunk back further behind the rock she’d found that was barely half her size. 

And then Cole looked down at her, making herself small on the floor; he looked at the other two, overwhelmed by demons; and he sprung into action. 

It was mesmerizing to watch. The way he flickered in and out of existence in some sort of cosmic dance, daggers shining in the sun. Each strike was perfectly placed, causing more damage than inelegant swords and spells ever could

He was right. The boy could fight. 

And fight he did. 

Rosemary’s arms rose to cover her head, praying to whatever god these idiots believed in that she’d make it out of this alive. She couldn’t remember what the god’s name was, but she figured she was more likely to respond in this new land so it was worth a shot. 

The chaos began to die down and she peeked out to see a disheveled but alive Varric. 

She rose shakily to her feet, leaning on the rock as she did. 

And then a bright green flickering silhouette appeared in front of her, shaped exactly like a wraith, and she fell back into soft soil.  

Cole drew back into focus out of the green as she breathed unsteady breaths. 

She could see his face like this, from below. It looked unnervingly blank, as it always did. It was like he didn’t know how to paint emotions across it, blank not in a carefully studied way as hers often was, but instead blank in an innocent, unknowing way. 

He just stared down at her, not so much as lifting a hand out to help her up. 

His brows furrowed. “Can you not stand on your own? I thought you just did.”

She stood once more with a sigh. “It’s just polite.”

She raised her hand to the now unprotected rift, focusing on the strange power the fade had implanted into her palm a year ago. 

As she did, the tear in the fade began to close, returning from a green tinged void back to endless clear. 

She flexed her hand as the rift finally sealed itself. It stung a little to close them, leaving a dull ache behind for a few hours after each use. It felt like it had been lasting longer and she worried, not for the first time, that this was doing real damage to her. 

But there was nothing to be done about it. She’d tried to wriggle her way out of this countless times, but it was the one thing they would not budge on. Those rifts needed to be closed, at the expense of her comfort or not. 

“Do they know it hurts?” Cole asked, and she wondered why he didn’t already know the answer to his own question. 

Cassandra scrunched up her nose. “What hurts?”

“Nothing,” she snapped, more ill-tempered than she ever let them see her. 

“The mark,” said Cole. “It burrows into her, aches and rots. The fade isn’t meant to go in a girl, it’s too big for her.”

Cassandra looked like she only mostly understood what he was talking about. “We all have sacrifices we must make to do our part.”

Rosemary did her best to nod amiably, a deep resentment settling in her chest. 

“C’mon Rosie,” Varric said, pulling her to the side. “I’ll see if I can help with that.”

He gave her a salve that didn’t help. She told him it did but made it very clear that she was putting on a false, brave face. 

He gave her a clap on the shoulder and told her she was good as new. 

She was glad Cole didn’t decide to speak up.

They continued plodding along, facing off against a few groups of hostile mages and warriors but no more demons. 

Cole seemed thrilled about the whole ordeal. After fighting a small squadron of mages, he rooted around in one of the corpses’ pockets, clearly looking for something. 

A moment later, he held up a note half covered in blood. “Brothers, tired of fighting. Their hands remember holding each other, their mouths remember smiling. Their cheeks draw up but it never feels the same anymore. He wondered if he was missed when he was struck down, knew he wasn’t. He knew incorrectly,” he announced. “We should give it to him, it wants to be given.”

“If you find who it’s for on the way, you can give it to him then,” she tried to reason with him. 

“He’s behind us. He wonders how his brother fared, terrified he’ll see him in the fight. We killed him. We have to give him the letter.”

“Listen,” she said, turning fully to face him. “If we don’t get moving, more people get hurt. We can deliver letters to grieving family members when people in the Hinterlands aren’t being attacked by demons and corrupted men anymore, alright?”

“Why do you try that on me? I can see inside. It’s for them, a performance. You would never deliver a letter. Their nobility wielded against me, because they want to help.”

It was a miracle Varric and Cassandra seemed as disinterested in these bizarre outbursts as they were. 

She dragged him along, trying to get him to stop saying incriminating things about her. She had to break the instinct to tell him white lies in an attempt to placate him. They were clearly doing more harm than good. 

As they continued along, Cole in a notably worse mood than before, they saw a farm in the distance and she smiled. Finally, some good news. They could acquisition some horses and then she’d be able to rest her feet and not have to walk for miles and miles. 

She walked into the farm house, explained who she was and who she was with, and asked incredibly nicely if they could spare some horses. 

And then they gave them a horse. One horse. For four people. 

Cassandra scoffed at the sight and she silently agreed. If it were just her, she would have stolen more, whether the farmers could spare them or not. But then again, if it had just been her, the one horse would have been fine. 

They took the horse anyway, figuring it was better than nothing. She silently told herself she could run off with it if things got truly dire, abandoning the rest of her party.

She could feel Cole’s eyes on the back of her head as she thought it, an involuntary shiver running through her.  

As they were leaving the farm, horse in tow, a panicked farmer approached the four of them. 

“Please,” he called out to them. “Our druffalo has gone missing. If you see her, could you return her to us? She's our prize animal, we need her.”

Cole’s head whipped around to face the farmer the second they started to speak. 

She’d already begun saying, “we’re incredibly busy,” as his head turned to her, eyes expectant and hopeful. 

The look did nothing to change her mind. 

And then they were off again. They were headed for real civilization this time. She didn’t even know this place had civilization.

Apparently the town was called Redcliffe and they were going to meet mages. It occurred to her for the second time that day that perhaps bringing a mage along would have been prudent. She thought she’d probably blocked that idea out because she could not stand Solas’s smug voice for another week. She’d almost strangled him last time. 

Surely there were other mages in Thedas that were willing to help. She would have taken anyone else. 

She supposed they were going to meet mages now. Maybe one of them loved trudging through the woods and casting protective spells around frightened, incompetent leaders. 

When they got to this town, however, the mages were nowhere to be found. Something about them being taken over. 

At least if the mages were taken over by the enemy, she had templars on her side. This is what they were trained to do, stop rebel mages. 

With no mages to confront, she turned to Varric for some guidance. 

He smiled and said, “Nothing else for it, I guess. Time to go to the tavern.”

She grinned at him, glad she’d brought him along. 

It wasn’t a very big tavern but then again, it wasn’t a very big town. It wasn’t truly small, those sorts of towns didn’t have taverns, just illegal, impossibly strong alcohol being manufactured in someone’s shed. 

Regardless of the size of the tavern, she was glad to be there. It was better than the woods. 

Varric ordered four drinks, handing one to her and Cassandra before turning to Cole. 

“How old are you anyways,” he asked, looking Cole up and down.

Cole looked at him vacantly. “Time passes differently in the fade, I don’t know. This body is twenty. Was twenty. He died.”

Varric nodded, giving Rosemary a pointed look. “Right. You can probably have a beer then. It’ll be good for you, put some hair on that chest.”

“A drink can give me hair?” he asked.

“Not literally. It’s a figure of speech.”

Cassandra eyed the exchange nervously. “I don’t think we should be giving a spirit anything to further lower its inhibitions. He’s already dangerous, the last thing we need is for him to be more unpredictable.”

Rosemary silently agreed, wanting nothing less than for Cole to develop loose lips about things he should be keeping secret.

Varric brushed the concern off. “It’ll be fine, relax a little.”

Cassandra seemed unconvinced. 

“How do I do it?” Cole asked as he looked down the drink.

“Just drink it,” Varric said, and she couldn't help but wonder if he’d ever drunk anything before. 

“But how?”

Varric laughed a big booming laugh and showed the spirit how drinking worked, chugging the whole thing in one fell swoop. 

Cole watched him carefully and then did his best to mimic it. As soon as the liquid entered his mouth he coughed, some of the beer spilling out of his nose.

“Why?” he sputtered out, and Cassandra groaned as Rosemary fought back a laugh.

His head jerked up at that, watching the smile get suppressed off her face in lieu of faux concern.

“You should let it through or your mouth might forget how to smile,” he said, and Varric seemed more concerned by that than he’d been by Cole choking.

“I smile plenty,” she said, the comment effectively souring her mood. 

“No. Real ones.”

She slammed back her drink, wishing Varric had gotten her something stronger.

But she never actually drank, not enough to get anywhere near drunk, it dulled her inhibitions too much. This spirit was really getting to her. 

Varric seemed unphased by the end of the interaction, though she could tell he was still very much interested in Cole. Meanwhile, Cassandra had wandered off. She’d never been one for taverns. 

Varric downed two more drinks before grabbing the pair of them from where they had been sitting, silently, at a table, neither of them doing much of anything. 

“Come on,” he said. “Let’s find somewhere to sleep.”

Varric found an inn, which she didn’t mind. At least it had real beds inside.

Small town that it was, there were only two rooms available. Rosemary wondered if anyone else was staying here or if they only had two rooms in total. She supposed she’d never find out. 

Varric grabbed Cole, pulling him towards one of the rooms and sending her and Cassandra up to the other with a smile. 

Cassandra insisted she sleep on the floor while Rosemary got the bed. She made sure to protest just enough that it looked like she was putting up a fight while still getting to sleep on the soft mattress.

It was a restful night. At least for her. She happily would have stayed another night but she knew it wasn’t in the cards. 

Even if she pushed for another night, eventually they had to leave Redcliffe and then Rosemary was faced with another thing she hated about the Hinterlands. 

She had to camp. 

It was especially hard to stomach after getting to sleep in a big bed in a temperate climate. 

But they couldn’t stay forever, and so off they went. 

It would have been easier on horseback, but all they had was their lone horse and she couldn’t figure out a way to spin her being the only one riding. 

So they walked, leading a horse behind them through the endless woods and mountains. 

Varric sidled up beside her as they walked. “Did you know he doesn’t sleep?” He nodded his head off in Cole’s direction as he spoke. 

She turned to look at Cole, who was off in his own world, carefully placing one foot exactly in front of the other, almost like he was walking a tightrope. 

“I didn’t,” she said, “but it doesn’t surprise me.”

“Me neither. Was hard to sleep with those owl eyes just staring at me though.”

She giggled. “I’m sure. Cassandra snores but at least I wasn’t being watched.”

“Small mercies.”

Cassandra huffed, coming back from the scouting mission she’d sent herself on. They all knew she just got antsy and needed to move, to feel like she was doing something. No one ever commented on it, allowing her the idiosyncrasy. 

Cole was not privy to this silent agreement. “You never find anything. Searching, scouring, seeking. You have to look, someone has to. Someone has to find nothing so they don’t find something.”

“Can someone shut him up?” Cassandra barked. 

Varric just laughed as Rosemary muttered, “Trust me, I’ve tried.”

“Nonsense,” Varric announced. “You can’t get mad at the kid for being right.”

“I can get mad at him for whatever I’d like,” she said, and Cole watched her stomp off. 

“She needs to be mad. Being mad is strong. Being wrong isn’t. It’s alright to be wrong sometimes.”

“It sure is, kid,” Varric replied. “I think someone should tell her that. 

“I can do it,” he said, already taking a step towards her.

Varric caught him by the scruff of his jacket. “Better not.”

They got lost on their way back. 

It was a miracle it hadn’t happened before considering how massive this place was. It was bound to happen eventually. 

But now she was pretty sure they were off the edge of what was recorded on the map. She didn’t make any move to stop them, not wanting to argue with Cassandra, who was still leading them confidently forwards. 

When they entered some sort of tunnel in the stone of a mountain, she knew for certain they were in the wrong place. They were meant to be going back home, how could Cassandra honestly think that this tunnel they’d never seen before was the right way?

But insisting they were going the wrong way would be too assertive and she’d rather someone else take the blame when they did realize, even if it took a few more days before they got back. 

“The mind is unsure but the feet keep moving. It can’t be wrong if they keep moving,” Cole said as he stepped out of the arched pathway. 

Cassandra turned to look at him before facing the front once more, barking back at him, “What does that mean?”

“You know, Seeker,” Varric said, “There’s no harm in backtracking a little. The terrain’s getting a little rough. I’m sure this way is fine for you, but some of us need a more familiar path.”

Before Cassandra could respond with anything, whether it would have been in agreement or something cruel directed at the dwarf, an ear piercing shriek sounded from overhead.

And then Rosemary looked up and saw a dragon flying over them. 

She staggered back instantly, taking cover back in the mountain path. Varric and Cassandra followed while Cole just stood there, out in the open, staring up at the dragon. 

“Kid,” Varric called, but he got no response. 

Varric ran out and dragged Cole back to safety. He peeked his head out anyways, his hat almost falling off with how far he needed to tilt his head back to see it. 

“She’s so big! Why can’t I look? She can’t hurt me. If she attacks, I won’t be there anymore.”

Varric chuckled. “Whatever you say, kid. You know, I killed a dragon once.”

Cassandra rolled her eyes. “My ancestors actually hunted dragons.”

Rosemary was more than content not being able to see the dragon, retreating further into the safety of the mountain. “I didn’t even think they existed. At least not anymore.”

That seemed to upset Cassandra, her brow furrowing. “You did not believe? So you thought the old stories were what? Lies?”

The last thing she wanted was to start an argument with Cassandra. “I don’t know that I thought about it much at all.”

Varric looked back, fingers moving slightly over his crossbow, almost caressing it. “Should I fire a shot as we leave?” he asked. “Say I fought another dragon?” 

Rosemary’s eyes widened but before she could tell him off, Cole said, “They’re all so hungry. That’s why she bites. Too many mouths to feed. No one wanders in anymore. She’s so high!”

His voice swapped effortlessly between the endless narration of others' thoughts to an almost breathy excitement at the dragon. 

If she didn’t hate him so much, it might have been endearing. 

After that, they sorted out how to get back on the right track, although Cassandra did insist upon regaling them with tales of her family's deeds. It seemed an instinct born largely of embarrassment, though she was unsure how being related to dragon killers absolved her of getting them lost. 

At least she hoped they were back on the right track. She supposed she didn’t know. It was less obviously wrong, that was for certain, but she supposed it was no real guarantee. To be honest, she just wanted to find something that would help them to orient themselves on one of the maps. She figured so long as they didn’t run into any more dragons, they should be fine, even if they did take a couple more wrong turns. 

They found no landmarks before the sun began to set and the four of them decided that they’d done enough walking for the day and settled down to camp. 

She preferred this, the smaller campsites without Inquisition troops there. They had more supplies in those bigger camps but she could never shake the sense of unease that came with them. 

Cassandra set up most of the camp, more than happy to do the heavy lifting all on her own. 

Varric was trying to show Cole how to start a fire using a rock and a dagger he’d taken off Cole from wherever he’d been hiding them. The spirit couldn’t quite seem to get the hang of it, although that didn’t stop him from trying. 

It was honestly a surprise that Cole didn’t have any magic, now that she thought about it. She was pretty sure mages got their magic through a connection with the fade, so surely someone who came from the fade should have at least a little magic, certainly enough to start a fire. 

And yet he sat there, smacking the knife into the dark rock. 

He managed to pull sparks a few times, but nothing ever seemed to come of it. 

Rosemary had little to do herself and found herself just watching. 

She also had no clue how to start a fire, but Varric hadn’t offered and so she was content to just watch. 

As Cassandra finished setting up camp, Varric gently took the knife and stone from Cole, sparking it into the little pile of brush he’d formed and almost instantly starting up a small fire. 

Cole drifted over to her as Varric stoked the flame into something more useful. 

“I’m not good at it,” he said, crouching beside where she was sitting on the floor of the forest. 

She shrugged. “Can’t be good at everything.”

“Who’s up for a round of Wicked Grace?” Varric asked as he stood up from the now roaring campfire. 

Cassandra groaned and announced that she would be going to sleep, as they all should, to keep up their strength. 

Rosemary shifted closer to Varric, asking, “How do you play? I’ve never heard of it before.”

“Never heard of Wicked Grace?” he cried in mock offense. “Well, that needs to be fixed immediately. What about you, kid, you want to learn?”

“They all lie face down, never seeing another. Sometimes when he wins he smiles and that they can see. The ace is his favorite, lives in his palm until everything is perfect.”

He laughed. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

She gave him a dirty look. “You better not be palming cards in this game, Tethras, or I’ll bring the wrath of the Inquisition on you.”

“You’re beginners, I’ll teach you to cheat later.”

Wicked Grace was not all that difficult. He insisted that the rules were simple because it was the cheating that made it fun. She practiced palming cards as Cole announced everyone's cards in his little riddles. 

Varric was clearly a practiced player, cheating or not. Cole seemed intent on gathering as many face cards from the deck as he could, repeatedly pulling cards from the middle despite Varric saying it was not allowed. Cole responded that this was his version of cheating and that Varric said they had to. 

Varric had just sighed and allowed Cole to grab the Jack he’d held up his sleeve to add to his hand. 

She ended up winning, not through any merit of her own but because she was better at understanding Cole’s card revealing riddles than Varric was. Cole was technically losing but he seemed to be playing his own game. 

She won nothing, with Varric insisting they’d just been playing for fun and that no one should bet anything real while teaching someone to play.

Somehow, she imagined he’d be singing a different tune if he’d won.

“He would,” Cole said. “Fair’s fair, have to pay a tutors fee. You taught us either way, but we only pay if you win?”

“It was just a joke kid,” he said, giving Cole a pat on the back. “Now, you should both get to sleep. Cassandra will kick my ass if you’re both dead on your feet tomorrow.”

“I don’t sleep,” Cole said. 

“Do me a favor? Give it a shot anyway.”

Cole nodded, content with the new task he’d been given.

They both went to their bedrolls, Cole just sitting atop his while she tucked into hers and went to bed, the sound of the crackling fire sending her to sleep. 

She woke up first. She usually did, always on alert. 

Varric and Cassandra were still fast asleep. Cassandra tended to wake with the sunrise, immediately setting off to work along with the light. Varric always needed to be dragged out of bed, saying that surely they could afford to relax for a few minutes out of their day. 

Rosemary woke before the sun did. Sneaking hours, she’d called them when she was younger. The term felt juvenile now, but at the very least they were aptly named.

Cole was nowhere near his bedroll at all. She spun around with a yawn, looking for him in the treeline, before seeing him crouched on the ground, a spark flying from his hands.

She blinked a few times, willing the world to come into focus as she forced the sleep out of her eyes. He was sitting there with what she could now recognize as that rock in his hand, the other striking the dagger against it. 

She ambled over to him, sitting beside him and his little pile of dry leaves. 

“Careful,” she said with a yawn. “You’ll set the forest on fire.”

His nose wrinkled up, his eyes fully focused on the task at hand. “I want to learn but it's hard, hard to remember when it's not what I was made to do.”

“Who cares?” she asked, leaning back on her arms to watch him. “Varric can already do it, you don’t need to learn.”

“Varric remembers,” he said. “Everything you say. Everything from me too. He files it away for stories and thoughts and because he cares. But I care and it’s still hard.”

“That’s fine. Unless you decide to take up writing, I think you’ll be fine without them.”

He huffed, dropping the rock and sheathing his knife under his jacket. She noted where it was being hidden, glad that it was stored somewhere and wasn’t some magical weapon he could summon. 

“You don’t understand. You remember too, but it’s because you're scared. It means something.”

She hated this sort of thing, the emotional talk about caring that he always cycled back to. Maybe she did want him to remember more. At least that way they’d have more to talk about. 

She was spared from having to respond by the sun waking from behind the horizon, Cassandra following close behind it. 

She kicked Varric gently as she rose and he groaned. “It’s not even light yet, surely we can sleep at least until we can see.”

Cassandra did not let him and before they knew it, they were off again.

It wasn’t long before they reached familiar land and Rosemary was properly assured that they were back on track. 

Her favorite part of traveling over familiar land was that she was guaranteed to not have to face a single rift. They walked for half a day of steady, uneventful travel before they had returned and no one else so much as tried to take their heads off. 

Bull was at the gates. His face lit up when he saw her and she felt her heart stutter in her chest. 

She couldn’t do this. 

It didn’t matter. She would do it because she had to.

She greeted him with a smile, following him happily into the tavern. 

His Chargers cheered as she walked in and she pushed her hair behind her ear, feigning self-consciousness.

A drink was thrust at her and she took it happily, sipping at it carefully so she wouldn’t be too comfortable, still ready to carefully prepare reactions as needed. 

The other Chargers kept talking to her. She understood that it was so she would feel welcome, but she really wished they would leave her alone.

And Bull was all over her. He almost felt pushy tonight. Or maybe she was tired from the trip, leaning into him a little too hard, not being careful enough about the signals she was sending. 

She kept spying Cole out of the corner of her eyes, watching carefully. No one else ever seemed to see him. She supposed it was probably a spirit thing because he was incredibly conspicuous in his looming. 

She wasn’t sure how long it was before Bull pulled her off to his room. She felt a little bit too far gone considering how little she’d drunk. 

She didn’t act it, her responses coming naturally as could be from years of training. 

She had mostly stopped listening to him, at least actively. He said something to her about how she could stop him. She didn’t listen, would just go along with it all. She knew how this worked. She’d been here before. 

She nodded along. It had long since stopped feeling real, this part of it. She had practiced it endlessly, knew instinctively exactly how she should respond, and did it without so much as having to process it. 

She was pretty sure he wanted to hit her. That was fine too, another thing she’d long since become accustomed to. Plenty of men got off on it, although Bull did not seem like one who wanted her to show how much she hated it. 

She played the wooed maiden, entranced by everything he did, completely overrun by pleasure. 

It was humiliating. She preferred when they let her show she didn’t like it. It made her less embarrassed after, at least.

She barely even recognized when it was over, too far inside of herself. 

She felt herself smiling, her throat a little hoarse, although she couldn’t remember what had caused it. 

She grinned and gave him a kiss between his horns as she said something about wanting to go take a bath 

He let her leave with little protest. He at least allowed her that small dignity

She wandered off in a haze, not moving towards her own room. He might check on her if that was where she went. 

She ended up in a little shack, half exposed to the cold and not nearly dressed enough for it

She had no idea why it had hit her so hard this time. She’d been here a hundred times before, it was a well worn tool of hers. It was stupid for it to remind her of before, when she was small. It wasn’t a fight for survival here. She could reap real rewards from it now. She knew the repercussions of her actions, knew what she stood to gain and how it might fall through and not pan out the way she planned. She chose to do this. What right did she have to feel so cold?

And she was fine. She’d slept with men for protection before, would do it again when she left this place. Would do it more, probably, with less of a bargaining chip than her vital, glowing hand provided her. 

She refused to cry, would not allow it. It was a foolish instinct. Nothing productive would come from it. 

She always felt worse afterwards. Weaker. Not like the put on show of weakness she wore like armour. No, that was real weakness, a refusal to do what needed to be done and be able to be content with it. 

Warriors didn’t cry when they killed nor when they were injured. Mages did not cry when their magic stung, ripping into people as it tore themselves apart, just a little. What right did she have?

“They do cry,” said a voice beside her, and she looked up at Cole from the floor. 

She hadn’t even realized she’d sunk to the floor, too lost in her thoughts to take in anything around her. 

He dropped to the ground beside her, something heavy and woolen being wrapped around her shoulders as he did. 

She hadn’t realized she was shaking until the warmth began to set in. Even as the cold faded away, leaving her bones, the shaking didn’t stop. She didn’t know how to make it stop. 

“I can get you something,” he said. “A hot drink, warm you from the inside. That’s where the shaking comes from. I can’t take it away but maybe the warmth will make it less.”

He went to stand up and she grabbed his arm, keeping him on the ground with her. 

She rested her head on his shoulder as he settled back down, furious at herself for being comforted by him. 

Furious at herself for needing to be comforted at all. 

He shifted nervously beneath her for a while before settling down, his hand sliding over to give her arm a squeeze. 

She wondered whose head he’d pulled that idea of comfort from. 

But still, for some impossible to understand reason, she was content sitting there beside him, feeling numb no matter how long the blanket sat around her shoulders.

And then the sun was shining through a broken roof, the morning having come after she’d slipped unknowingly out of consciousness. 

When she woke up she was alone, surrounded by blankets with a pile of dried leaves and a familiar rock lying a few feet from her.

[imagines--galore]

||The Thread of Fate|| Part One

Summary: Soulmate AU. They say the Thread of Fate connects you to your one true love. It may tangle. It may stretch. But it will never break. Wrapped around your little finger it tightens when it feels your soulmate is close and loosens when they are far. And becomes visible with the colors of your soulmate’s Nation when you finally fall in love with them.

Pairing: Zuko x OroraOC (ATLA)

Rating || Genres || Warnings: T+ Romance. Adventure. A little mention of blood and fighting.

A/N: So I changed a few aspects of the Thread of Fate myth to better fit my narrative. I hope you like it! This is just an AU but I couldn’t help myself. I’m a sucker for soulmates au. :3 Originally I thought of keeping this a one-shot but it got away from me. Woops.

Also I am now taking requests so go ahead and send me stuff. You can find my rules here. Please send me stuff to write!

The first time she felt that tug was when her life was in danger.

The Northern Water Tribe was under attack and there was chaos everywhere. As one of the healers, Orora’s task had been to run through the battle field, find anyone hurt and heal them.

It was madness wherever she ran. The Fire Nation had managed to breach their defenses and many water tribe warriors were facing off against them one on one. She had managed to dodge as much of the fighting as she could, and just do her job, yet it didn’t seem to be enough. With every soldier she healed two more would take his place. Exhaustion was setting into her bones now, and she had stumbled on her feet more then once. But there was no time to stop. No time to rest. 

The water bender leaned against a wall of an abandoned building as she tried to catch her breath. She had been healing since the beginning of the siege, and was starting to grow tired. Lifting her water skin, she quickly emptied it onto the floor, before moving to bend fresh clean water from a nearby canal. The blood on her hands didn’t bother her at all. She had started off with wrapping bindings around her palm but they had gotten soaked rather quickly, prompting her to take them off. Her eyes flickered to the string tied around her little finger. Earlier Orora had felt it tighten, but only slightly. A rather strange sensation since it had never done so before. There was no time to think on it, as she spotted another water tribe warrior clutching his burnt arm and ran to help him.

Once done, she helped him get to his feet while giving him directions to the nearest safe point, Orora turned to move on when she was met with a horrifying sight.

Three Fire Nation soldiers had several healers and wounded water tribe warriors surrounded. One of the firebenders moved to grab a young healer, probably to take her captive. The young woman struggled and screamed, trying to get away.

The terrified look in her eyes, and the desperation with which she fought against her attacker. The cold cruel laughter that came from behind that horrible mask of the firebender. The sounds of fighting around her, screams of her people dying or fighting.

Orora snapped.

With a ferocious scream she threw her arms forward, her movements precise yet fluid. From a nearby canal, several sharp icicles rose and flew towards the Fire Nation soldier, pinning him to the nearest wall. The girl he had been holding, quickly scrambled away as the remaining soldiers turned their attention to her.

Her heart beat wildly in her chest as she turned her icy gaze towards her opponents. They moved to attack her simultaneously, but she quickly rolled out of the way. Still crouching, she pulled water from the canal once more, this time forming twin icicles in her hands. Jumping to her feet, she was quick to stab one of the soldiers in the shoulder, while throwing the other makeshift weapon at the third firebender, just as he threw a fireball at her.

Throwing her arm up, Orora managed to build a thin wall of ice to stop the fireball from hitting her, but she underestimated the strength of the man’s powerful blast and the wall erupted, throwing her back several feet.

Landing on the ground with a grunt, Orora groaned as she felt her entire body throb. The last firebender had managed to dodge her attack and was now making his way towards her. She tried her best to rise to her feet, and was about to retaliate when the world went red.

She stared around in horror as the very moon in the sky turned as red as the blood that coated her parka and hands from her previous healing. The firebender seemed to be surprised at the sudden turn of events as well. But just as soon as the world had turned red, it was back to normal. The colors returned and the moon shone down on them with all her beauty and grace.

Waking from her shock like state, she turned to face her attacker and threw a disk of ice at him. He seemed to break from his trance as well as he was quick to step out of the way of her attack and kick a flame in her direction. The two of them exchanged a few more blows before the world turned dark.

“Wh-?” Raising her gaze to the sky, her eyes widened in horror when she saw that the moon’s light had gone out. It felt as if something within her had been snuffed out. And when she threw her hand out to throw another icicle at the firebender nothing happened.

She barely had time to register the loss of her bending when the firebender, quick to overpower her, gripped her firmly by the front of her parka. Orora did her best to fight him off, kicking her legs as much as she could, but he threw her against a nearby wall, knocking the very wind out of her.

The young girl laid there, winded. The comb that had held her hair back in a bun had come loose, causing her hair to fall around her in messy dark brown waves. The last of her strength seemed to have left her as she watched the firebender approach menacingly, raising a hand with a bright flame burning in his palm. Her vision began to fade, and her head felt heavy as she allowed her body to go limp, fingers trembling and aching from the uncountable number of times she had used to heal others.

What happened next was a bit of a blur, but Orora swore that she saw fire blasting at the soldier about to attack her, knocking him aside and saving her life. Before the darkness claimed her, she managed to see something or rather someone.

A figure - dressed in white - with a shadow - on the side of their face.

And a color. A warm gold.

Then everything went dark.

Later, when she was recovering in one of the healing huts, Orora recalled what had happened. One thing she was sure she felt was the sharp tug on the little finger of her right hand. Where the string connecting her to her soulmate was tied.

The girl frowned to herself.

That couldn’t be right. Her soulmate couldn’t be someone from the Fire Nation.

Could it?

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

The minute he had seen Zhao run after killing the moon spirit, Zuko had wasted no time going after him. The world had gone dark around him, the moon losing its light once the spirit had died. But that didn’t matter to him. All that mattered was him escaping and getting revenge on Zhao for trying to kill him.

He lost sight of the older firebender as he turned a corner, but despite his injuries Zuko was determined to find him. As he jumped from one roof of a hut to another, he was met with a sight that had him stopping in his tracks.

A Fire Nation soldier stood over the prone figure of a young girl. It didn’t look like she was about to put up a fight, as the fireball burned hot and bright in the soldier’s hand.

Whatever had happened, and whatever would happen, did not register to Zuko as something inside him, from the very depths of his subconscious mind and the deepest part of his heart, caused him to react, prompting him to do what he did next.

His hand lifted, almost of it’s own accord, and threw a ball of fire in the direction of the soldier. The ammunition met its mark, as the other firebender barely had time to dodge the fire, before Zuko jumped down and kicked him in the face, knocking him out.

He stood there a moment, standing a foot or two away from the fallen water tribe girl. Zuko turned his face just in time to see the girl’s blue eyes disappear behind closed lids as she fainted. A tug and slight pinching sensation at his right hand had the young prince frowning, but before he could give it another thought, he spotted Zhao running along a rampart.

Zuko, with a backward glance at the girl, gave chase.

[the-unrelated-theorist]

Noble Vs. Ignoble Bosses

Please note that I am only referencing UTY to highlight my train of thought. I am NOT trying to suggest any connections between UTY and UTDR.

I try not to draw too heavily from AU's, but I noticed a pattern in UTY that made me realize something about UTDR. So, in UTY, almost all of the bosses become op simply to defend their own pride:

Decibat fights us to shut us up so he can go back to sleep. We don't even meet him in Genocide.

Dalv has some hidden power that we never see- he says at the end of a Pacifist that he "held back," which would make us think he would be difficult in Genocide, but he's not. He just assumes he's imagining us and the whole battle plays out exactly the same as in Pacifist.

El Bailador isn't even trying to fight, he just wants to dance, and we get hurt in the process. He doesn't appear in Genocide; presumably, he fled with the other monsters.

The Feisty Four only attack in Pacifist/Neutral because they're mad at Star and taking it out on you. We never even see them in Geno.

Starlo is difficult in Pacifist because he's defending his wounded ego, he's mad at himself but taking it out on you, but we don't even get a real battle in Genocide.

Axis is always following the instructions programmed into him by a monster with a deep-seated hatred of humans.

Ceroba is ridiculously hard in Pacifist because she loathes herself and is taking it out on you, but doesn't even get a proper second phase in Geno.

In all of these cases, the only one they are protecting in Pacifist is themselves (except Axis, who is strictly following programming). When it comes down to facing a Genocidal murderer, they just can't muster enough fighting spirit to do much of anything. Heck, Ceroba is only difficult in Geno because of revenge and pure rage. She says she's protecting monsters from us, but the only real reason she's fighting is because she's pissed at us for killing Starlo.

And... we actually see a similar pattern in UTDR:

Toriel fights us under the pretense of "protecting" us (which never made much sense to me, tbh), and she can muster almost no fighting spirit. It's very difficult to force her to kill you. And we one-hit her in Geno, she does no damage, she has no defense.

Maddie is semi-difficult in Pacifist/Neutral because they claim to be taking revenge for their cousin, but she can't even remember their name, and she flees as soon as Blookie starts crying on her. In Geno, Maddie stops caring about their cousin as soon as they merge with their dummy and become Gladdie. We don't even get a proper Maddie fight in Geno.

Muffet is semi-difficult even after a couple of playthrus, and what's her reasoning? Partly to save the spiders, but her motivation is mostly money- she was paid to kill us. She doesn't give a fig about other monsters at all, just spiders. We don't even encounter Muffet in Geno.

Mettaton. What's his reason for fighting us in Pacifist/Neutral? Purely selfish: he wants to be the star, not just in the Underground, but on the surface. Killing us and giving our SOUL to Asgore is just his way of accomplishing that. He doesn't give up until: a) we blow his arms and legs off so that he can't be much of a star at all anymore; and b) he gets a call from Blookie. Remembering what actually matters in life is what makes him end the fight. And in Geno, MTT becomes a literal one-hit wonder. When he has to fight to try to SAVE the world, he just isn't cut out for the job.

Asgore. Yeah, he puts up a fight in Neutral. He doesn't want to, tho. He's tired of fighting. He's tired of killing. He doesn't really want to go to war against humanity on the surface. So we can beat him. And in Geno? Where tf was he when his entire kingdom was being decimated??? We get to the throne room and he just offers us tea!

Flowey/Asriel, doesn't matter what name he goes by, every time we fight him, he's trying to defend his position as a wannabe god and keep playing with Chara forever. He fights because he has nothing left in the world to live for. He fights because that's the only thing he can still feel, the rage and the joy of killing. As soon as we remove that feeling from Asriel, he becomes a child's ghost, and then back to a flower, but a helpless and innocent one that can't fight at all anymore.

Lancer's first battle is the only time he poses any kind of a threat, because he's fighting for the right to become "son of the month." (And even I haven't ever died to him.) He's really not a threat in the fight against him and Susie, and he starts missing in the battle between him and Susie. He was never really out to hurt us at all.

Clover isn't too difficult because she's basically just fighting with herself and we got in the middle of it.

K. Round is never a threat, either, because they never wanted to fight, they were forced into it.

Susie (when we fight her alongside Lancer) is about as difficult as one would expect by the time the fight happens. She's fighting to maintain her persona as a bully and a bad person. In all actuality, tho... she's not as tough as we would expect from someone who keeps threatening to bite people's faces off.

Jevil is clinically insane, fighting and killing for the sheer fun of it, and is crazy hard.

Spade King is difficult, and his motivation is purely selfish. He doesn't care about his people- I mean, he wanted to throw his own son off a 5-story roof! He only cares about the Knight that put him into power, about maintaining that power status, and about revenge against the Lightners that sealed him away and never returned. His difficulty in battle is fueled by rage, revenge, and a lust for power.

Sweet Cap'n Cakes claim to be on a crusade, but they really only seem to be interested in having fun and making music without restrictions. Their battle is only difficult because all three of them attack at pretty much the same time and cannot be killed. Getting all of them to dance at the same time ends the battle. Their shop in the city disappears completely in a Snowgrave.

Rouxls is... um, can we even call that a battle? You know what, let's just not even try to analyze him right now....

Spamton. His only reason for fighting, in either Normal or Snowgrave, is to become a [[BIG SHOT]]. And we know how difficult Spammy is. In reality, he's no harder in Snowgrave than in a Normal Route. It just seems harder because there's only one hero character to fight him with.

There are only 3 characters between UTY and UTDR that are more difficult in a No Mercy route than in a Normal route:

Martlet is the last boss that is highly unlikely to kill you at all in Pacifist/Neutral. She turns into sans of UTY in a Geno- and that's her second battle. She's pretty OP when we encounter her in Snowdin, too.

Undyne is difficult enough in Pacifist/Neutral, but we have the option to flee. Her reasoning is that, since she is the Captain of the Royal Guard and Monsterkind's Hero, it is her duty to take our SOUL. But in Genocide, she changes completely. Her Determination, which causes her to melt in a Neutral, suddenly gives her the power to completely transform into a god-like character. And why? Because she is the only thing that stands between us and the world. Because she can see that we aren't just a human- we're some kind of demon that will destroy everything. She's not just fighting for monsters, but for humans, as well.

sans fights us for the same reason, albeit far too late to save the monsters. But he realizes that we will tear down the rest of the world if we keep going, and something inside him decides that he can't allow that. We actually don't know why he suddenly decides to care so much, but he does. He uses every ability he has, from karma, to Gaster blasters, to bone attacks, to teleportation, to even sleeping, just to make us quit. Because he knows we'll kill Asgore. And then there will be nothing to keep us from destroying the rest of the world. We NEVER fight sans in a Pacifist/Neutral, only in Geno. So this weird little guy with only 1 HP left to his name stands up to us, knowing full well that one day we will kill him, but he is literally the ONLY thing left to stop us from destroying the entire world. He may be too late, but when he finally steps up, it's for the right reason. There is no more selfishness in his battle than there is in Undyne's. Both sans and Undyne have no interest in personal gain or glory, but in saving the world.

And then there are 3 anomalies, all of them in UTDR:

Berdly is, to my knowledge, the only character to be no more and no less difficult in Snowgrave than in Normal. (Well, maybe a little easier in Snowgrave, but that's just because of Noelle's spells, not because Berdly himself changed.) He puts up the best fight that he possibly can, no matter whether he is protecting himself, or trying to save Noelle. This, to me, suggests 2 possibilities: a) he cares just as much about Noelle as he does about himself; or b) he really was fighting for Noelle in both routes. I don't think the second option is entirely true, since in a Normal fight, he does "hit [Noelle] in the face with a tornado," and talks more about himself and how superior he is to everyone else than he does about Noelle. But even so, I think she always was a big part of his reason for fighting.

Queen is the only character to have a difficult battle (with multiple phases, no less) in a Normal Route, and no battle at all in Genocide, who is not doing it for purely selfish reasons. Granted, it seems likely that she would want to preserve her comfortable, regal lifestyle, but not only does she never cite this as a reason for fighting, she doesn't even balk at having to leave her mansion and move into Ralsei's castle. The only reason she ever gives for fighting is trying to help the Lightners (the exact opposite of her ex-husband).

I say this all the time: Papyrus CANNOT kill you. Not without the player seriously breaking the game. And as I understand, at Undertale's initial release, he could kill you, accidentally, if certain conditions were met; but this happened very rarely and has since been entirely patched out. So. For all intents and purposes, he CANNOT kill you. So the fact that there is no real Papyrus battle in Genocide is kind of a moot point, since he was never going to kill you, anyway. And, as many people have pointed out, Papyrus should be able to kill you, probably even one-hit you no matter your LV, in a Pacifist/Neutral route. But he breaks the game to make sure that doesn't ever happen, whether by lowering his own stats, moving the final large bone in his "really cool regular attack," etc.

Anyway. I said all this just to make some points about the characters: that most of them pretty well parallel real life. Truth is, most people don't give their all for the right reasons. Most people do only fight to protect themselves and their egos, and not to protect others.

[dontknowmanijustworkhere]

When Happens In The Fencing Room Stays In The Fencing Room

Today was an unusual day in that classes were canceled because quite a few of the teachers came down with the flu. It was initially assumed that in a couple days they could recuperate enough to resume class as normal, but that didn’t happen. For right now, the students were highly encouraged to keep up with their studies and not slack off during this time. Wednesday rolled her eyes during this speech by Principal Weems. She doubted that many would take it to heart. These people would do anything to have more leisure time. 

Well, Wednesday wasn’t going to let herself fall behind in her skills. No one would likely be in the fencing room at this time, so she forced Enid into coming along with her. Enid had not wanted to, she had a date planned with Ajax and didn’t want to be tired afterwards, but Wednesday did not care. 

Bright and early Saturday morning, they went. Enid was yawning the whole way. It was her own fault for being tired. She should have gotten off her phone sooner and went to sleep. As soon as she pushed the door open, Wednesday saw the very person she could have gone without seeing. 

Barclay. 

“Seems we had the same idea,” Barclay was wiping down her sabre. 

“I didn’t tell her!” Enid said defensively when Wednesday shot her a look. “I didn’t even know she was going to be here, otherwise I wouldn’t have come.” 

Barclay stood up. “There’s enough room for all of this. Unless you can’t handle me staying here.” 

Wednesday sneered. “I couldn’t care less if you’re here or not. Just stay out of my way.” 

“Believe me, I’d rather do that,” Barclay scoffed. “But I need a partner. Divina bailed on me and I obviously can’t do this by myself.” 

“You and Wednesday can be partners,” Enid suggested. “We don’t need three people here...” 

“Stay,” Wednesday commanded, then addressed Barclay. “I suppose you can stay if you prove yourself useful. I’m not expecting Enid to be a formidable fencing partner.” 

“Hey!” Enid whined. 

“And you’re saying I am, Addams?” Barclay smirked. 

“Hardly. However, you can keep up, which is more than I can for most.” 

“I’ll take the compliment,” Barclay said. “I’m sure we can all manage to get in a shot.” 

None of them were wearing their uniform or gear. Coach Vlad wasn’t here to enforce it so Wednesday didn’t care. She’d thrown on a t-shirt and a pair of leggings while Enid had dressed herself in a bright ensemble that should’ve come with a warning sign. 

“If you’re ready,” Wednesday held eye contact with her. “Let’s begin.” 

“Wait!” Enid bent down. “I need to tie my shoe.” 

Wednesday wasn't going to wait any longer. She took a step forward, holding out her sabre. Barclay did the same. They circled each other, never once looking away. Then, at once, they attacked. Their sabre’s clashed, clanging loudly. Wednesday ducked, avoiding what would have been a blow to her face. Barclay would never let her live it down if she lost this early. 

Enid was back on her feet. She watched them, clearly nervous that one of them would strike the other on purpose. “Guys, be careful!” She squeaked. “We’re not even in uniform! Coach Vlad will be super mad if he finds out.” 

Wednesday discarded the warning. She was confident in a matter of minutes, she could beat Barclay. 

Barclay jumped forward, looking frustrated when that did not achieve what she wanted. Wednesday was easily able to get away from her. 

Their sabre’s smashed together some more. 

“Hang on!” Barclay stopped suddenly. She panted, holding a hand up to signal to Wednesday to cease. 

Wednesday refrained from rolling her eyes. Did Barclay think she was stupid? 

As predicted, the siren was bent over for only a few seconds, leaping up to try to get her. Wednesday got her instead. 

“That was brand new!” Barclay shouted at the hole in her shirt. It wasn’t big enough that it would need to be replaced, but she was aggravated nonetheless. 

“And yet you wore it to fence in?” Wednesday drawled. “Your stupidity astounds me.” 

While Barclay fumed, Wednesday was pleased with herself. She didn’t notice Enid coming up behind her until she felt warm fingers on the back of her neck. 

“Sorry, your hair was coming out of your braid and it was bothering me,” Enid said, fixing it for her. 

Unfortunately, she didn’t account for Wednesday scrunching up her neck to rid herself of the sensations on her sensitive skin. 

Her sabre dropped to the floor with a clang. 

“Get away from me!” Wednesday said quickly, stepping away, putting on a fierce glare. 

Enid was confused, but only for a second. She looked delighted. “Are you ticklish?” 

“No!” Wednesday lied. 

“What’s this about?” Barclay’s ears had perked up. 

“Wednesday squirmed when I touched her neck,” Enid told her. 

“I did nothing of the sort,” Wednesday could feel her face going red. She’d never liked tickling. She didn’t like being out of control and at the mercy of someone else. She really didn’t like the idea of Barclay finding out about a weakness of hers. 

Barclay looked like Christmas had come early. “Addams here is ticklish? Oh, this is too good.” 

“I’m not!” She snapped. 

Barclay and Enid shared some kind of silent communication. It made Wednesday feel uncharacteristically nervous, knowing nothing good could possibly come out of this. With grins on both their faces, they advanced towards Wednesday. 

“Don’t,” she warned them. 

“If you’re not ticklish,” Barclay said with a wicked grin, “then just prove it, Addams. It’s not that hard. Unless you’re scared.” 

Wednesday knew what she was trying to do. She was goading her into it. If she refused, it would be a dead giveaway. Plus, Barclay would use this as a means to gloat. 

And if she ever spoke of it in front of others... 

“Fine,” Wednesday relented. 

Barclay softly tickled her stomach. It was over her t-shirt, which should have provided some protection. But it was no match for the siren’s nails. She didn't laugh, but she did suck in her stomach. This was noticed by both girls. 

“I knew it!” Enid said. “You're totally ticklish.” 

Barclay smirked. Wednesday couldn't fight the blush that erupted over her face. She pulled herself away, clearing her throat. 

“Let us get back to work. Enid, I will duel you next.” 

“What’s the matter, nervous?” Barclay mocked, getting a quick tickle under Wednesday’s chin. 

She slapped away the siren’s hand, dread piling up in her stomach. 

Enid snuck up on her, taking advantage of Wednesday being temporarily distracted by tracing a fingernail down the side of her neck. Wednesday yelped, body jerking out of instinct. She knew she was done for it when Enid and Barclay smirked at each other. 

She didn't even have the chance to get a word out; one of them, Wednesday didn't even know who because it happened so fast, gripped her by the shoulders,  yanking her closer to them to keep her still. From there, several fingers poked at her ribs and abdomen. The shirt she was wearing did nothing for her, and worse, she was boxed in between them. She couldn't escape, could hardly move much or do anything about the undignified giggles that got stuck in her throat. It made her panic; she wiggled her hips to dodge the pointed nails and all too soon, the pokes turned into grazes that nearly made Wednesday jump out of her skin. 

“Well, well, what do we have here?” Barclay said slyly. 

Wednesday cursed to herself. 

“What was that?” Enid walked her fingers up Wednesday's side. She didn't go underneath her shirt, but it didn't tickle any less. 

Wednesday squirmed involuntarily. 

Barclay copied Enid; Wednesday was trapped, her sides being attacked simultaneously.

 “Aww, look at her!” Enid grinned, taking great enjoyment in watching Wednesday try to avoid the tickling but to no avail. 

Her knees buckled on her, she fell into a heap on the floor. The girls followed her there, and now Wednesday was on her back on the floor. 

Barclay took it up a notch, rolling up Wednesday’s shirt. They had her pinned down here, adamant on ensuring she wouldn’t escape, not that Wednesday thought she could. 

Against her will, her arms were lifted up, giving them access to her underarms. Wednesday’s eyes were squeezed shut, a smile rapidly appearing that she couldn’t stop. They stroked their fingers down her forearm and into her underarms. It shocked her how ticklish she was there. She’d never been tickled in that spot before. Wednesday desperately tried to wiggle away but could not. She'd underestimated Enid and Barclay’s strength. 

“You're smiling!” Enid said.

They dug their fingers in, pushing her shirt sleeve down just enough to grant them access. Their fingernails scratched in the middle of her underarms. Wednesday’s wiggling became worse but she could not get away. 

“You better not laugh, Addams,” Barclay teased her. 

Against her will, she whimpered.  Everything- her resistance, her body, was weakening. Laughter was building in her chest to the point of no return. She couldn’t fight it much longer,  not even by clamping her mouth shut, lips pressed together as tight as she could make them. 

“I can’t believe how ticklish you are,” Enid said, giddily. Somewhere in the midst of this, Wednesday cringed, knowing Enid would use this to her advantage whenever the opportunity arose. With her werewolf strength, Wednesday didn’t stand a chance. 

“Where else are you ticklish at, Addams?” Barclay said slyly. It was the kind of tone that let Wednesday know she was in trouble. 

Their fingers slowed down. 

She was able to take in some air, still squirming a little. Wednesday kept her mouth firmly shut. She wasn’t about to spill any more embarrassing secrets. 

“Not talking?” Barclay grinned. “Hmm...” 

She let her fingers wander, gliding them down from her underarm to the bottom of her waist. It was like hell on her skin. Those same fingers trailed up and down the side of her body, the siren humming nonchalantly. 

“Bit sensitive there?” She said without any sympathy. 

Enid followed suit, but only for a couple of times. She decided to give Wednesday’s side a devastating squeeze. It made an embarrassing sound escape from the goth girl’s lips, one that had her face burning with shame afterwards. 

“Oh,” Barclay said devilishly. “Nice one, Sinclair.” 

The siren winked at Enid, silently conveying yet another plan. Wednesday was given a brief reprieve, the tickling stopping altogether, her body slumping down in relief. 

It didn’t last long.

She was attacked yet again. Both of her underarms were helpless against the fluttering Barclay’s hands were doing. “Aww,” the other girl said cruelly, smirking at the squeaks Wednesday was making. “Is this too much for you? Do you want me to stop?” 

Wednesday nodded her head frantically, hating herself for doing it. 

“Too bad,” Barclay smirked. 

Enid was expertly swiping at her bare stomach, alternating between that and her lower ribs. She teased her too, cooing out, “Aw, someone’s a bit ticklish, huh? What about there? Or there? Is this a bad spot?” 

Somehow, it made it worse. It drew out high-pitched laughter from Wednesday, who could do nothing but endure the torture. She writhed on the floor, but only somewhat, still immobilized for the most part from the added weight of both girls. 

Enid’s colorful claws scraped down her sides all the way down her hip bones. There, her leggings were pulled down only slightly, just enough to give Enid a chance to poke at that area.  

Then, came some relief. 

Barclay was holding down her arms but wasn’t tickling her anymore. 

“E...enough,” she panted. Her face was flushed pink, tears gathering in the corner of her eyes. 

“You’re in no position to demand anything, Addams,” Barclay tickled her under the chin. Wednesday giggled tiredly, moving her head and scrunching her neck to make it stop. “Wait ‘till everyone hears about this.” 

At once, panic rippled through her at other people knowing her secret. 

“We shouldn’t tell anyone,” Enid disagreed with this, frowning. Then, it was replaced with a grin. “But it can be our little secret. Right, Wednesday?” 

She tried to glare but was forced into soft laughter she couldn’t bite back; Enid drummed the tips of her fingernails on the top of her stomach. 

“Right?” Enid repeated. 

She would not lose any more dignity. She would not...

“Don’t make me bring the tickle monster out again.” 

Oh, how she despised being talked to like a child. Enid tisked when the only expression Wednesday made a scowl. 

“Uh, oh. Someone’s grumpy,” she singsonged. 

“We better cheer her up,” Barclay said. 

Wednesday braced for it, the swirl of fingers in her most sensitive spots, but she didn’t account for the new spot Enid sought out instead. 

She’d leaned back, reaching with her arms to the backs of Wednesday’s knees. Her body spasmed at the surprise attack. It didn’t tickle as much as her abdomen or underarms, but she still didn’t want Enid’s fingers there, scribbling away. 

“Rihihihight!” 

Enid stopped, beaming. Wednesday’s body sagged. 

“You know,” Barclay said, a smile of no good could be heard, “there’s one place you haven’t tried.” 

Wednesday felt her heart sink. 

Enid understood immediately. “That’s true! Are your feet ticklish, Wednesday?” 

“No,” she said quickly, her words coming out breathy. 

“I don’t know, Addams,” Barclay said nonchalantly, “you said you weren’t ticklish either and you lied. You’re probably lying about this too.” 

Enid pinned her legs down, sliding off her shoe in a matter of seconds. It did no good to move her foot around, it was grabbed and held still too. 

“Last chance to tell us the truth, Wens!” Enid called. She let fingernail trace on her big toe. Wednesday gasped involuntarily. 

“Looks like we know the answer to that,” Barclay hummed. 

How could this be happening to her? Never in a million years did Wednesday think she would be at the mercy of Enid and Barclay. And for them to be so ruthless, she didn't know whether to be impressed or horrified. 

“This is a pretty bad spot for me too,” Enid said, deciding to trace along underneath Wednesday's toes. She scrunched them, hoping to detour the blonde but that didn't work. Not when she could scratch the middle of her foot instead. Wednesday's body jerked. “Dang, Wens. That must be a bad spot.” 

“Take her sock off,” Barclay suggested. 

There was nothing Wednesday could do to stop her. Her black ankle sock was pulled off effortlessly, exposing her foot for Enid to torture some more. 

Before that could happen, Barclay must have been bored just keeping Wednesday still. She dragged her fingers up and down the goth girl’s underarms again, the tickling softer this time around but no less agonizing. 

Wednesday's laughter was unrecognizable to her own ears. It was frantic and helpless. 

“Plhehehease sthahahop!” 

“Hear you beg, Addams, is like music to my ears,” Barclay cackled. 

Wednesday was humiliated to be in this situation, and to have Barclay taunting her like that. Maybe it was a good thing she could hardly think at the moment, what with Enid’s torturous fingers stroking down her bare foot, driving her wild. 

“Is this why you’re never barefoot in our dorm?” Enid giggled. “You don’t want me to tickle you?” 

Wednesday’s laughter went up a notch. Barclay reached down to tickle her upper ribs, meanwhile there was little room to convulse with the way her arches were being explored. 

“Have you had enough, Wens?” Enid asked her cheerfully. She still hadn’t stopped. Her feet were still being tapped and grazed, her toes being the current victim of her misfortune.  

Through a peal of laughter, Wednesday squealed out, “Yhehehes!” 

“Hmm,” Barclay thought out loud, scratching the part of Wednesday’s stomach she could reach without straining herself. “I don’t know, Enid. maybe Addams wants to keep going.” 

The sound that came from Wednesday could not be described as anything but whining. She didn’t think she could take much more of this. 

“We don’t want to torture her,” Enid said. 

“Maybe you don’t,” Barclay said with a shrug. “I think Addams needs to be taught a lesson.” 

For the final time, the tickling came to a stop. Wednesday breathed in and out deeply to pull air back into her lungs. 

“I think she’s already learned it,” Enid noted with a mischievous grin. 

[p0orbaby]

you’re starting 11 is made of dreams and something that I would LOVE to see even with Sarina saying that we will see fresh/new faces I am not holding out much hope 😭 I pop adore Leah but she’s just not found her footing so far both at club and international she’s been v sloppy. There’s no reason she should be in our defense over alex but I think if she’s available as the captain Sarina is never going to leave her out of the starting lineup. Bronze is just inconsistent we may get the best defense ever from her or she may just be another body lol. Tooney over Park atm is a little crazy to me, yes tooney is always there in clutch moments but once again I just think that Jess park is in better form. People are saying Hampton out of goal but I feel like people placing all the blame on her when the defense overall was ASS against Germany is crazy, so I would keep her in goal or even try anna (I feel safest with Mary in goal always but friendlies should be about utilizing and trying out different things we know Mary is mostly reliable so we should definitely be building the other girls up 🤷🏽‍♀️). As for forwards, I agree with everything you said I will say that for someone with so much experience you would definitely expect alessia to score more but I can’t lie and say that she hasn’t been pressing but we have really good forwards available who need playing time and who have more creativity when attacking. I would like to see the Aggie, Naz, and Hempo link up at the front as well but I don’t see her making THAT many changes for the start. Even if she wants to go for more “seasoned” players I’m not really understanding why Chloe isn’t making it to the starting lineup! I think overall and this is something that we have been saying for a while, Sarina is definitely stuck in euros and coming 2nd in World Cup and these lineups just prove that bc if we are strictly going off of more recent performances the lineup would certainly look different. It’s good to have experience on the pitch ofc but you can’t just keep choosing experience over form in almost ALL cases and how tf do they get experience if you want to give some of the best players atm 10-20 mins on 😀 but we will see hopefully we get some good changes (sorry that this is so long)

responding under the cut cause it gets a little long

hampton should be kept in. a keeper is literally the last line of defence, if the ball has gotten that far, it’s the backline that has failed to do their job. and yes a keepers job is to stop goals going in, but they are only expected to save an average of 92% of shots on target. This stat is throughout a season but im using it here as an example.

compared to the above percentage, her stats against germany are not looking good. however if you pull someone (a keeper) out of a squad for one bad performance, which you can also argue was partly due to the defence being shoddy, her confidence would completely shatter, possibly causing more problems in the future

she’s doing well in her league compared to how earps is doing in hers, so hampton should stay

-

Arsenal have had a terrible start to their season, in turn so has leah. she’s only played 116 minutes over 2 games. i understand she’s been out on concussion protocol, but why would you start a player who has barely had a sniff of game time? and her performance against germay was probably the worst i’ve seen her play.

carrying on with arsenals sub par start, russo and even mead seem to have fallen victim to the slump. yes russo got a goal in the net and hit the post, but offside goals and hitting the woodwork don’t get numbers on the board. we need something fresh up front. a player who is hungry to make difference

mead had just looked tired imo. heavy touches, slow on the ball, bad decision making. i don’t want the game to be erratic but you need to play with abit of urgency. both naz and beever-jones, depending on their strongest positions, should do a good job of keeping things moving forward

-

tooney hasn’t been in form for a while. i see it every league game and it’s translating onto the international stage. the longer she goes without a goal, the more pressure she is putting herself under and i think it’s affecting her game.

clinton and park, well, i have no faults so far this season. both doing so well in terms of creating chances in games. they’ve got motivation to do well and they’ve got the relentlessness we need.

-

i could go on about this stuff forever so I’ll save you the agony of reading and leave it there for now 😂

[weirdly-specific-but-ok]

Hi Asmi

I literally could not think of anyone better to tell, so here goes: the story of my trauma

Today I was sitting with this guy I like and his friends and they were having a conversation about girlfriends or something but I wasn't really paying attention. Next thing the guy I like asks me to go out with him in a language that I'm learning and he's fluent in so I took a moment to understand and that was ok, but then I just.... sat there. The exchange went something like this

Him: *will you go out with me in another language*

Me (trying to translate it): Are you.. trying to go out with me?

Him: *repeats*

Me (excited that I translated it right): Oh, do you want to go out with me?

Him (looking at me nervously): Yep

Me (entirely not realising):

Him:

His friends:

Me:

In my defense he wasn't looking at me when he said it so I could have just not registered that he was asking me, but no my thought process was even worse than just being oblivious and verged into are you ok territory.

The problem was I was really tired so my brain wasn't working at full capacity already and in my mental model of the world people do not ask me out. I don't want people to ask me out. I wouldn't say yes if they did for no reason other than I don't feel like a boyfriend at this point in time. So this guy asked me out out of the blue and it was just too big of an issue for me to look at directly. My brain just simultaneously flagged it as Important and To Be Dealt With Later. I vaguely remember casually wondering whether I would decide yes or no when I had the mental capacity to think about it. Then I continued with my original thoughts and zoned out of the conversation.

So yeah there was just me sitting there thinking about a pretty shell and chillaxing and living my life and then there was this guy and his friends sitting next to me wondering when I was going to answer his question, a question of PRETTY DAMN BIG social importance. Eventually the conversation restarted and moved on, but don't ask me how because I was thinking about a pretty shell and chillaxing and living my life and additionally pointedly ignoring what I had just done; which I apparently did pretty well because I had somehow forgotten about this event until now. Am I ok? I don't think so

But no, don't leave yet, it gets WORSE. Yeah, you know how you thought that the chance of this situation getting worse is so close to zero it's practically impossible? But who needs impossible probabilities when they've got a sleep deprived me thrown into a difficult social situation, right?

I think that I accidentally said yes.

You read that right, I have a vague memory of nodding slowly at something that I was thinking about. And I've only just recalled that and remembered that nodding is a generally accepted social cue meaning YES. And the guy in question wasn't avoiding me later that day, in fact he was positively flirty.

So that could be a thing that I did. Unfortunately.

But I'm not SURE. I'm not CERTAIN. So now I have two options to consider:

Number one is that I continue as normal. But what if he expects me to do dating people things (whatever they are) now that we're accidentally dating. Or what if he thinks I'm a bit odd now that I stared off into space after he asked me to go out with him and stops wanting to talk to me. Both of these avenues lead to me revealing my absolute inability to be normal to him (which I manage to hide quite well, thanks for asking). So yeah, zero points for option one

Number two is that I ask him if I said yes or not. But, walking up to someone and going like 'heyyyyy, you know yesterday when you asked me out? Did I say yes?' uhmmm, no thanks

No need to offer your opinion on which of these equally bad options I should choose just illustrating how completely and utterly screwed I am

Actually please do offer your opinion on that I have no idea what to do I'm about to have a panic attack and I think I need to go make myself three cups of tea and go to sleep and never set foot outside again what do I do I have to see this guy tomorrow

Oh my dear, dear anon maggot.

You poor fucking thing.

I am sending my condolences. It'll pass. As for advice. Uh. You have three options:

Go tell him you don't want to date him. He clearly thinks you do.

Pretend you suddenly don't speak any language he speaks in. Commit to it. Change your entire life. Gaslight gatekeep girlboss. Elope with the president.

Murder.

Legally, I cannot advise as to which one is the best. Here's your order, Big Mac with extra cheese and two diet cokes, have a wonderful day~