#if you read this i both thank you and apologize for reading through my irrelevant rambles

[toorusluvr]

❥ ҉ CHAPTER EIGHT - RUMOR HAS IT

❥ ҉ CONTENT WARNINGS: reader (y/n) planned a petty revenge lol + pregnancy scare + pretty much a normal chapter + birthday surprise!

❥ ҉ NOTE FROM NIS: hey everyone! i'm dropping chapter 8 for ain't my fault! please have a read and lmk if i missed any warnings. my brain has stopped working this week :/ anyway, likes, replies, and reblogs are very much appreciated. thank you <3

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The Spring High qualifiers were just around the corner. The entire Aoba Johsai volleyball team practiced very hard. Iwaizumi was often frustrated around this time, especially with the upcoming mid-term exam. He was even more snappy than usual. Oikawa told you that this is very normal of him. 

You got scared every time you saw his scowl. If you’d let it continue, he might have a permanent scowl on his pretty face. That would be a huge waste! You once accidentally bumped into him while reading a book and he glared at you like he could tear you apart. 

“You have got to calm down, Iwa,” you spat, not knowing he was on the brink of his running thin patience. 

Iwaizumi groaned, probably annoyed at your words of command. You do not know how hard he pressures himself. How hard he’s been studying and juggling practices. Oikawa might look laid-back but Iwaizumi could sense he was also freaking out at the pressure from their coaches. As the co-captain, the term pressure was just a better word for carrying burden. 

“I like it better when you are not talking, you know?” he jeered as he walked towards his table, leaving you behind. 

You gasped and caught up with his steps. Slowly, you pulled your chair from your seat and made yourself comfortable in front of him. Iwaizumi looked up at you and let out a deep sigh. He tried to ignore you at first by flipping through the Chemistry textbook. Fuck, he was going insane with this subject, despite it being one of his stronger subjects.

With a careful observation – his scrutinised eyebrows, his inner cheeks bitten, you could bet that he was indeed stressed out. The wheels inside your mind was busy working and thinking about what you could say to him to make him feel slightly better. Maybe, emphasise on maybe, it would work. 

“Need someone to talk to?” You tried to get the words out of your mouth but Iwaizumi remained silent. He continued fiddling with his pen and jotted down some notes in his notebook. His sprawling handwriting broke down the topic into bullet points. 

Getting a guy to talk about what he’s thinking might be the equivalent to asking a rock to talk on its own. It would be a huge miracle if they can start opening up. This was how you felt when you were talking to Iwaizumi. Well, as a friend, you were just offering your help to him. 

“Mm, tough crowd,” you murmured. Both of you locked eyes and your face turned warm all of a sudden. You didn’t avert your gaze because then it would mean you surrendered. 

Iwaizumi did not know how to talk about what he was going through. He was not much of a talker, to be very honest. But his observation skills are always sharp. That’s why he doesn’t like talking. It’s also a waste of time and energy to be talking about irrelevant things. 

“I don’t feel like talking about it,” Iwaizumi uttered. 

Right. You might have pushed him and made him uncomfortable just now with your actions. Shit. You owe him an apology, that’s for sure. 

“Oh. Okay. I was just checking on you. If you need someone to talk to, I’ll be right here. After all, we are friends,” you reassured before giving him a soft smile. You could see that his expression brightened a bit at the reassurance. 

“Right. We are friends,” Iwaizumi’s gaze filled with a glint of mischievousness. He was hinting something and you could see right through it as clear as day. 

With a light huff, you crossed your arms to the chest. “We are at school, Iwa. Come on, man. Come to your senses!” 

Your reply earned a soft laughter from him. Wow. This man needs to laugh often because it’s so freaking beautiful. You wanted to demand him to laugh again but that would lead to another catastrophe. Huh, exaggerating much. 

“Enough jokes for today, Y/N. You’re gonna get yourself in trouble if you keep it up,” Iwaizumi said with a smirk. He was playing with you just to get a reaction from you. To rile you up until you cannot take it anymore. It’s a challenge he likes to keep up with. 

Rolling your eyes at him, you dismissed his teasing with a gesture. “Keep doing that, you’ll never see it coming, ” you winked at him before getting back to your seat.

Iwaizumi’s tongue poked the inner of his cheek. Intrigued by your remark. He wanted to test you more, push you again but too bad that the teacher had already come in and your deskmate, Oikawa, finally returned to class. He did not say anything the entire class time which made you wonder if something’s wrong. 

“You good?” You nudged Oikawa in the arm. The brunette was quick to snap out of his thoughts, it seemed. 

Oikawa then shrugged it off, “Yeah, just thinking about something.” 

You let out a huff again. Why is it so hard for these two people to speak whatever is on their mind? 

“Man, I think I should help you guys to seek the counsellor’s help or something. Keep bottling up your feelings, God knows what’ll it do to you,” you exclaimed. 

Oikawa turned to look at you with a confused look. “You’re one to talk, dude.”

“At least I am a very self-aware person,” you said with a grin. Oikawa opened his mouth to speak but he bailed at the last second. He then shrugged it off saying ‘Nothing’. Well, if you weren’t overthinking before, now you do! 

“Girl, you better tell me what you were about to tell me,” you threatened him by taking away the pen he was holding in his hand. He let out a soft gasp when you took it away without any trouble. The guy was holding it quite tightly, he might add.

“Nothing, I swear!” Oikawa tried to take the pen back from you but you moved it away, further from his reach. 

“I’m not giving you this pen until you tell me. No negotiations,” you cut a deal. 

Iwaizumi then kicked your chair from behind. “Stop it. He’ll cry if you keep this up.” With a sinister chuckle, Iwaizumi glanced over Oikawa. The brunette was already glaring at him in a subtle way. 

“Both of you are a match made in hell. Good for both of you, then!” Oikawa said almost cynically. He was acting weird and something was definitely up with this guy. 

You and Iwaizumi exchanged looks, silently communicating with each other facial expressions and body language. Apparently, Iwaizumi did not know what was going on with Oikawa either. 

During the weekend, you and Iwaizumi made a plan to get the project done. It was almost in the final step and both of you decided it’d be great if you guys could get it done outside the comfort of your respective homes. To celebrate the victory of getting the project done, both of you went to a local coffee shop nearby his house.

The local coffee shops around your house are not accommodating enough because they are always filled with people, even outside the rush hour. Doing your work there would be a problem for both of you. 

Iwaizumi was the first to arrive. Well, considering the distance, obviously he would be here first. You entered the less busy coffee shop and tried to spot him in the crowd. In a few seconds, you finally found him sitting by the glass window overlooking the busy road outside. He was scribbling something in his notebook, not even sparing a glance around the coffee shop. 

He was donning a casual outfit, just a plain black hoodie and jeans. Not too far from your table, there was a group of girls around your age doing their work as well. You saw some of them had books on the tables. The other girl was whispering something to her friend while trying to peek at Iwaizumi. 

“Don’t tell me they’re about to shoot their shot now,” you grumbled under your breath. As if possessiveness took control of your body, you quickened your pace to walk over to your shared table where Iwaizumi was waiting for you. 

In your peripheral vision, you saw the said girl was about to walk over here but bailed at the same time you showed up in front of Iwaizumi. That was a bit out of character for you. You gave him a soft smile, “Hey booboo, sorry I’m late!” 

Booboo was just another pet name that you mocked him for. Turned out his ex-girlfriend used to call him booboo and you fueled fire to his annoyance. But this situation actually started from him. If it wasn’t him who started it first, you wouldn’t have taken this route. Blame it all on him, then. 

Iwaizumi’s eyebrows perked at the pet name. He did not know how he slipped out the other day and now it’s all you ever call him. He let out a scoff in disbelief, “You’re not late. I’m just early. How was the traffic?” 

You then took out a chair across him, “Well, it was not terrible, per se. Oh, have you ordered? I am quite hungry. Should we order now?”

“What do you want to eat? I’ll go order for you,” he said before closing his notebook. He then clasped both of his hands on top of the table, waiting for you to speak. 

With a mischievous smile, you then said, “Ooh, acts of service must be your love language then.” 

Again, Iwaizumi let out a deep sigh. You and your endless snarky remarks. Now that you said it, it might be true. But should he admit it? Hell no. You’ll just tease him endlessly and he will never hear the end of it! 

“I’ll let you starve if you continue to act this way,” he lowkey threatened you. 

“Hey, don’t be mean!” Your lips pursed, “Mhm, I think I’ll just order the tuna croissant and an iced caramel latte. Thanks!” 

Iwaizumi nodded and he immediately left to order at the counter. You looked around the coffee shop and suddenly locked eyes with the girls from earlier. They were looking at you without blinking. Maybe they finally realised that they were being weird, they then plastered a half smile. You then returned the same gesture. Oof. They definitely talked about you as if they haven’t made it clear. 

Not long after, your orders were delivered to your table. Iwaizumi and you thanked the waiter. The girls from earlier were still there at their tables. Funny because the whole time you and Iwaizumi were there, he did not even once spare them a glance. You were unsure whether he’s oblivious or he just simply doesn’t care about all the staring. 

“You don’t mind all the staring you’re getting?” You asked as you stirred your iced coffee in the glass. Were you jealous? No way in hell. But did it justify your behaviour from earlier? Only God knows! 

Iwaizumi took a sip of his americano while shaking his head. “Don’t know what you’re talking about.” 

Full of disappointment, you sighed. Perhaps he just simply doesn’t care. Must be nice to not give a damn about anything even if it comes to receiving attention. In a good way, of course!

“The girls were staring at you. You never once realised it?” You asked – the bitter taste of coffee coated your tongue. The same taste that could describe your behaviour now. Just kidding. 

“Why? You jealous or something?” Iwaizumi asked, half-laughing at your ridiculous question. He did realise the stares he was getting. He just did not act on it. Why would he act on it? He is here to do his work, not to find a date. 

Your shoulders stiffened at his accusation. No! You were not jealous at all. 

“Sometimes, I regret asking. Never mind. I will just seal my lips. Zip!” You rolled your eyes at him and he had the audacity to laugh. It’s the same laughter from the other day when you were stunned hearing him laugh. A sudden rush of butterflies swirled in your belly and you did not know how to react. 

“If you’re jealous, you could have told me,” he teased. “Jealousy looks good on you, though!” 

You let out a sigh, “You saw how crazy I acted right? Looks good on me? Nah man, I’ll probably choke a person if they make me jealous. Let’s not go down that road, shall we, booboo?” 

Iwaizumi gave you a pointed stare. The petname is ridiculous but he loved hearing it when he was in a relationship. Now that he’s single, he finally realised that it’s a bit cringey. How did he let it slide before, though? Only heaven knows. 

“Man, I’d love to see something keep your mouth shut,” he murmured under his breath as he took out the notebook from earlier. When he glanced at you, your body turned stiff. He then realised that what he said just now probably carried two meanings. 

You slowly grinned sheepishly, “Aw, booboo. You slipped again?”

Iwaizumi rolled his eyes with a disappointed sigh. This banter will never end. Being a bigger person here, he finally ended it for good. “Get your mind out of the gutter, princess. Let’s focus on our task.” 

“Aw, shucks,” you pursed your lips but quickly retaliate when Iwaizumi gave you another pointed stare. He looked scary when doing so. Not trying to push your luck, you dismissed his pointed stare with a wave. 

The second after, it finally clicked in your mind that he called you princess just now. He often – wait, no, he always uses the ‘princess’ petname when you guys are going down for it. Your eyebrows furrowed but you dismissed it as a mockery. That sounds more like it. 

Almost two hours into finalising the project, both of you were finally done! You let out a deep sigh of relief. A heavy weight was finally lifted off of you and that was a bliss you wouldn’t take for granted. Nothing is ever as rewarding as finishing your important assignment. With the amount of hard work you and Iwaizumi had put into this, you really hoped both of you will get an A, so that for finals you don’t have to think much about it. 

Iwaizumi looked at you, “We’re finally done!” 

You couldn’t help but grin happily. You raised your hand in the air and Iwaizumi high-fived you. Unknowingly, he interlocked your fingers together, giving it a firm squeeze before letting it loose. A tingly feeling swirled in your stomach at the skinship. It was a small gesture – heck, a friendly gesture even, but it was more than enough to make you blush. In silence.

“So, how should we celebrate this?” You cleared your throat, tucking both hands under your chin. Well, a celebration sounds really nice now, especially since both of you decided to celebrate it. Maybe a drink? Both of you had just eaten, though. 

Iwaizumi had some ideas in mind but he was unsure if you’d be on board with his ideas. “Should we head back to my house? We can have some drinks if you’d like. My parents are out for an errand, so it’ll be just the two of us,” he suggested. A few days ago, his parents brought home a really nice bottle of wine. Not that they offered it to him. He just took a sip when he saw the bottle and couldn’t get enough of the taste. 

“Mhm, that sounds nice. A drink sounds good, though but isn’t it a bit early for that?” You chuckled under your breath. To be fair, it was still daytime. To be drinking at this hour sounds a bit weird and out of habit for you. 

“If you’re not okay with it, then that’s fine. We can do something else instead,” Iwaizumi said. Honest to God, he did not mean anything weird by that. Sometimes, he just slips out and it gives you room to overthink about what he says! 

It’s only until you gave him a skeptical look that he realised how it must have sounded. Iwaizumi sighed again when you asked him, “What is this something else you were talking about?” 

“I meant, like ordering a pizza or anything,” he clarified with a serious look on his face. Why did he not think before saying anything just now? Ugh, it gave you a chance to make fun of him again! 

You stifled a laugh. He seemed like an angry kitten when being teased. 

“That sounds nice too. So, let’s just hangout at your house!” You said cheerfully as you packed your belongings. Iwaizumi ensured nothing else was left behind before finally leaving the coffee shop. 

Both of you then walked back to his house, which was like 10 minutes walking distance. The weather was nice so there was no harm in taking a walk. While you were busy rambling, Iwaizumi suddenly switched places with you. He walked on the side of the road. At first, you didn’t read too much into it but as time passed by, you were kinda touched by his silent gesture. Sure, it might be a friendly gesture. The gesture was more like a protective friend instead. 

“I never noticed you have a garage,” you pointed a finger to the garage in the doorway. Iwaizumi’s gaze moved towards the direction you were pointing. Slowly, he nodded. 

“It has always been there. Maybe you just noticed it today,” he replied. The garage is filled with car parts that his dad always uses to work on his old cars. His old man collected cars and passed them down to his dad. Sometimes, Iwaizumi worked on them together with his dad over the weekend when he didn’t have any practices. 

You shrugged your shoulders. Before entering the house, Iwaizumi looked at you, “So, what are we going to do?” 

Your eyes blinked several times as the wheels in your head tried to digest his meaning. That could carry double meaning. “Well,” you paused while fidgeting in your spot. Moving back and forth in one place, you looked up at him, “What do you suggest?” 

Maybe other people wouldn’t notice it but you were sure you saw a hint of a smile in the corner of his lips. Iwaizumi then turned on his stoic face again. He just gave you an annoyed scoff before turning the door knob. Feeling this unusual desire took control over your consciousness, you then grabbed onto his forearm and pulled him into a kiss.

Iwaizumi’s hands instinctively went to hold onto your waists. He was caught off-guard but the familiar feel of your lips eventually made him soft. His lips pressed against in a leisure and slow pace as his hand slowly made its way to squeeze your ass. 

You moaned softly into his mouth, looking up at him with a dazed expression on your face. The way your body responded to his kiss was indescribable. Something about the way his body pressed against yours, his eagerness to kiss you, and the soft thump of his heartbeat that somehow made you calm being around him. 

Both of you might not realise it yet, but the chemistry between both of you are obvious and intense. It’s like both of you can never get enough of each other and nothing can get in between both of you. Well, it is a bit early to be saying this, given the circumstance that you just know him for a few months. 

At first, you couldn’t believe you just pulled Iwaizumi into a kiss. In front of his house. Your heart almost took a leap out of your body but the moment he reciprocated the kiss, your racing heartbeat finally stabilised. Your knees felt weak and wobbly, but the strong grip that Iwaizumi had on you kept you steady. 

Not breaking the kiss, both of you staggered backwards the moment Iwaizumi opened the door behind him. Both of you stumbled through the front door, and as soon as the door opened, he pushed it closed with his foot, your lips sealed in a soft, urgent kiss. You wrapped your arms around Iwaizumi’s neck, pulling him closer as you moved into the hallway.

Iwaizumi felt this looming presence inside of his house. He knew for a fact his parents were not around at this hour because they went out. They let him know they will be back in an hour. The proof of their absence is that there was no car outside in the driveway. He couldn’t be more wrong. Who was in his house at this hour? It cannot be an intruder because if then, both of you might be in danger. 

He opened his eyes and widened at the sight of his friends, Oikawa, Makki, Matsukawa, and the rest of their volleyball team were there in his living room. Their mouths hung open seeing what just unfolded in front of their eyes. The whole team fell into an awkward silence while holding the birthday banners, balloons, and even the confettis. 

Iwaizumi’s shoulders automatically tightened seeing the ‘small’ audiences that he had in his living room. He was unable to decipher why the heck they would be in his house but judging from all that fancy decorations, it finally clicked. They are here to surprise him on his birthday. 

A flicker of surprise appeared on Iwaizumi’s face when he suddenly broke the kiss. Good lord, Iwaizumi sighed audibly. You looked at how his face turned sour. His attention was not on you anymore so you whipped your head around and your heart dropped seeing the amount of people that were in his living room. 

“Fuck!” You cursed in your mind. At least that’s what you thought until you realised you had said it out loud. In your defence, that was not your intention to yell it out loud. But being in this situation has never crossed your mind. It was not humiliating because it was rather embarrassing! You’d rather be out in the streets right now to save your face from further humiliation. 

Iwaizumi placed a hand on your shoulder. His eyes were still pinned on his teammates. “What are you guys doing in my house?” There was a hint of surprise in the tone of his voice. 

“Surprise!” The whole team, still in obvious shock, cheered happily. One of the seniors popped the confetti and your body jerked in surprise. Iwaizumi kept you steady, one hand moved to hold you by the waist. 

You locked eyes with Oikawa. The brunette staring at you with a smug grin on his face that you wished you could wipe it off in an instant. Matsukawa and Makki were speechless, on the other hand. The obvious shocked expression was all over their faces when they realised their friends are… well, rather intimate with each other. 

Oikawa had this suspicion that both of you are still hooking up but he just doesn’t know how to prove it unless he gathers enough evidence. Trying to prove a point to Iwaizumi when he’s hiding it so well is like jumping into the lion’s den. His best friend would probably kick him in the ass if Oikawa buries his nose in his business. 

“The surprise birthday party just became a lot more interesting.” His voice was casual and nonchalant, but there was an undertone of teasing in the way he phrased his hints. The brunette then took several steps towards both of you who stood still like deers caught in headlights. 

You bit on your lower lip out of guilt. Slowly, you turned to look at Iwaizumi. Hesitantly, you asked him the one question that’s been nagging in your mind. “Your birthday is today?” 

Iwaizumi looked down at you. Those eyes were staring at him and he did not know how to explain to you. He did not mean to not lie to you. “Uh, yeah. But not today. It was yesterday, actually,” he awkwardly ran his hand over his nape. A deep sigh followed after. 

“Why didn’t you tell me, idiot? I would have joined them to surprise you,” a soft chuckle escaped your lips as you jokingly hit him in the stomach. But your fist was met with rock hard abs instead. 

“Well, it’s unlike me to go around sharing my birth date. It’s no big deal. You didn’t miss anything, though,” he shrugged his shoulders casually. You gave him a pointed stare when he pulled off a joke like that. You were being serious and he played it around like that. One way to get you pissed off. 

Iwaizumi’s expression turned soft, “Sorry. Didn’t mean to be rude or anything.” 

“You better be,” you huffed. “Aight! Let’s celebrate your birthday with your beloved and precious teammates!” You then pushed the larger man to where his teammates were waiting for him. They sang the birthday song and you chuckled seeing him standing there awkwardly. It pained you to watch him being awkward all of sudden. Very unlike him. 

When it was time to blow the candles, the rest of the team yelled out, “Make a wish!”  to their co-captain. Iwaizumi stopped in his tracks, thinking of what he should wish for. He then shut his eyes for a brief moment and then blew the candles in one go. His teammates cheered for him before asking the man to cut the cake for them. He rolled his eyes at the pestering guys in his team. 

“Y/N! Feed Hajime now!” Makki asked in a very loud voice that startled you. You grumbled at him, “Why should I? You feed him!” 

“Well, because you are his girlfriend? Isn’t it sweet?” A first year junior suddenly said. All heads turned towards the owner of that voice, with a questioning look on each other’s faces. “What?” He retorted with a panicked look on his face. Poor kid probably thought he was getting jumped. 

All of them groaned in defeat. “I have no hope in this dude,” his friend next to him sighed, making everyone laugh in unison. You just shook your head at the said junior. He was just being pure and that is rare these days. 

“Don’t make fun of him, guys. He was telling us the truth. Come on, Y/N. Don’t leave us hanging!” Oikawa wiggled his eyebrows at you. At this point, he was literally forcing you to come forward and put on the ‘caring girlfriend’ act. And you were sure this will not be his last agenda to push you and Iwaizumi together. 

Iwaizumi’s eyebrows slightly raised as he turned to look at you. You were feeling guilty that you didn’t know that his birthday was yesterday. So, being the good friend that you are, you walked up to Iwaizumi. Another senior then handed you a plate of a small piece of cake with a spoon on the side. 

You grabbed onto the spoon and scooped some of the cake. “Here comes the airplane,” you teased with a playful tone, moving the spoon as if you were about to feed a baby. Iwaizumi rolled his eyes with a slight smile on his face. He felt stupid to have you feeding him like this, with lots of eyes fixed on both of you. Trying to match your height, he bent down his knees so you could feed him. 

Both of you locked eyes the moment you fed him, his lips closing around the offered bite with a playful glint in his eyes. You couldn’t help but chuckle, the gesture sending a warm feeling through you. He smiled back, chewing slowly, clearly enjoying the moment. 

Meanwhile, the rest of the team erupted into cheers and teasing remarks. "Way to go!" Matsukawa shouted, while another voice added, "Get a room, you two!" Their laughter and playful comments filled the room.

You felt your cheeks flush, but you couldn't stop smiling. His eyes stayed on yours as he swallowed and licked his lips, savoring the food and the moment. It was a small, silly act, but it held a warmth that stood out in the noisy, bustling living room.

“Lots of you seem to be having too much fun, huh?” Iwaizumi snickered. His form turned to the rest of the team surrounding him. Some guys laughed at his accusation. Well, too much fun when the man is having his guards down. That seems like the safer way to poke the bear. 

“Just enjoy your birthday, old man,” Matsukawa said. Even though he appears like the oldest, you actually learned that he is the youngest among the seniors. Iwaizumi glared at him before a smile appeared on his face. 

“Thanks for uh- feeding me just now. These guys can be galling, I know,” Iwaizumi then approached you again to express his gratitude. He knew you were a victim of their mischievousness just now. 

“Ah, it’s nothing. It’s really nothing compared to what they saw earlier,” you said and then shuddered at the reminder. Geez, if you could rewind the time, swear to God you’d rewind it and change everything. 

Iwaizumi chuckled, suddenly reminded of the whole fiasco. He needed to figure out who planned this, but it was obvious Oikawa was the mastermind. He was the only person that could get his house key from his parents. 

“Alright. You okay, though?” He asked, concerned about how you were doing in case you got uncomfortable. You nodded, reassuring him you’re fine. The man then went to meet with the rest of the team, checking up on them and the snacks they brought. 

Oikawa, then not so subtle, made his way next to you. He looked at you with a grin on his face, arms crossed to his chest. As if it was his way to tell you, “I knew it!” Without stalling his time, he finally got his question out in the open. “So, how long has this been going on, huh? I freaking knew it! I had an instinct that you guys are still hooking up! Good god, I just wish I found out about it sooner!” 

You glanced at Oikawa, your expression a mix of surprise and guilty. “Seriously, Oikawa? You’ve been snooping around, haven’t you?” You crossed your arms, mimicking his stance as you tried to suppress a smirk. “For your information, it’s not like we were hiding anything. We just weren’t broadcasting it to everyone. Not everyone needs to be in the loop about our personal lives, you know.”

You took a deep breath, attempting to keep your tone even. “And, if you really must know, it’s been a while, but that’s really none of your business. We’re okay with it. Well, you are not going to take a peek into our business or anything, right?”

“Right?” You repeated the last question, scared if Oikawa would be out of his mind to catch both of you in the act. That would be traumatising. 

“Euw, do you really think my life is that pathetic? If you must know, I have my ways of getting laid too, ya know?” Oikawa winked and nudged you in the arm with his elbow. He then paused to say something. “I just hope both of you know what you are getting yourselves into. It’s going to be hard for me to make decisions.”

Your face turned into a puzzled expression, “Why would it be hard for you?”

Oikawa gasped. The man was disappointed when you couldn’t take a hint. “I cannot pick sides, shortcake. That’ll be the hardest thing to do. Both of you are hard-headed. How could I solve that?” 

Well, he wasn’t wrong though. About the hard-headed part. That was 100% accurate. You pursed your lips as if in thought, “Both of us know the arrangement. Feelings aren’t involved. So, you don’t have to worry.” 

That’s what you told yourself too. There is nothing to worry about. Right? 

Oikawa then gave you a slight nod before excusing himself to join the team again.

Speaking of the devil, Iwaizumi then came up to you with a slice of cake. “Cake?” His voice was gentle and soft. You took the plate into your own hand, “Thanks, birthday boy. It’s not too late to be calling you this, right?” 

Iwaizumi let out a snicker, “I’m gonna let you decide.” Both of you locked eyes before bursting into a fit of laughter. Just by a mere second of exchanging looks, both of you knew what was on each other’s minds. It was ridiculous how the tables turned today. Almost comical. 

“Looks like we need to postpone our appointment, then,” you paused to chuckle before continuing the rest of your sentence. 

Confused at your statement, Iwaizumi furrowed his eyebrows. “What appointment?” 

You looked at him with a slight disappointment plastered over your face, “Your dick appointment, duh.” 

Iwaizumi groaned in defeat as a blush crept to his face. He could clearly feel the blood rushed to his cheeks and face from how the sentence affected him. How could he not pick up on it sooner? “You’re insufferable sometimes, you know that?”

You laughed – clearly enjoying the time of your life to poke on Iwaizumi. “Insufferable? I’ve heard things that are way worse so you’re good to go, booboo .” You then picked up the spoon and fed yourself a spoonful of cake. 

The icing on your lips was licked suggestively with Iwaizumi as the audience. His jaw ticked, “Trying to rile me up? You’re so cute, princess. Good attempt, though.”

“Aw, thanks,” you grinned. “Glad to know it’s working,” you then winked at him before closing your lips around the spoon. 

“I don’t like you right now,” he groaned with a flicker of a smile on his lips. Iwaizumi wouldn’t know how much he can take while being alone with you so he dragged you to meet with the rest of the team. Just to be safe. Yup. That’s what he told himself. 

When Iwaizumi was busy chatting with his friends, he suddenly got a notification. You were standing by his side so you could see who was the sender. It was from an unsaved number. Iwaizumi seemed relaxed about it, though. It almost felt like he knew who the sender was. He then opened the text and a photo of him and his ex-girlfriend kissing then filled the screen. Both of them were smiling and from the look of it, the photo might be from a year ago. Your blood boiled seeing the same girl whom your ex-boyfriend cheated with. Naomi.

Below the photo, that bitch had the audacity to say, “Sorry I missed your birthday, booboo. Happy belated birthday! You know I’ll always love you, right? I’m here for you, always. Look at how happy we were, Hajime. I want the old us back… No one else.”

Iwaizumi’s thumb quickly pressed on the delete button without replying. As far as he is concerned, that girl is no longer his problem and she doesn’t deserve any ounce of his attention. That’s for sure. He then kept his phone inside his pocket and carried on like nothing happened. 

Your tongue poked the inside of your cheek, seething with anger. She had the audacity to mess with him again? After everything that she put him through? After everything she put you through? She messed with the wrong person. Guess she hasn’t seen your crazy side yet. And you will show her hell. 

By doing a few detectives’ work, it was not that hard to find what you were looking for. You just needed to put some effort and sacrificed some of your time to finally get what you wanted. The most important resources were in the palm of your hand now. You then looked at the box with the important resource together with a note. Yeah. This should be convincing. 

You are doing this for your own good and no one else’s. You admit, you were consumed by a petty grudge, your mind looping endlessly on the minor slight. But the determination to get back at them festered, growing stronger with each passing day.

With a careful touch, you wrapped each positive pregnancy test in delicate tissue paper, taking time to ensure that they looked as pristine inside the boxes. The boxes, filled with two separate positive pregnancy sticks, were adorned with crisp, white envelopes sealed with a simple note.

In the paper for the sweet Naomi who did you wrong, a typed letter awaited. The heading written, Pregnancy Verification Letter. Its content verifying that the pregnancy test belongs to the girl turned out positive. Other than the note, the positive pregnancy test was enough to convince her whole family to receive the news. 

Oh! Did you also mention that you’re sending the pandora box to her beloved daddy’s office? Yeah. You heard from the vines that her beloved daddy is a director at a huge international business company. It wasn’t difficult to track down her dad’s name and the office address. Easy peasy. 

Then you moved to the next box. This box is specially reserved for Semi. Inside the box, there was also a short note. Inside the note written, “Semi. I couldn’t reach you anywhere! The pregnancy test I took turned out positive. Please call me back! 08148765399. Don’t leave me hanging like this, please.” And you ended the note with her name. This special box will be sent to Semi’s house. He treated you like shit so now it’s his turn to be treated like one.

It was a petty act of revenge, but to you, it was the perfect way to unsettle them — delivering chaos with a touch of sweet, sinister satisfaction. 

Now, it’s only a matter of time before the boxes get delivered to right hands. You smiled in satisfaction, knowing what you just did will raise hell within their families. They will never know it is from you. That’s the best part. 

“You look happy,” Iwaizumi said the moment he saw you entering the school’s area. You didn’t realise he was standing there the whole time. Confusedly, you took off your earphones. 

“I look happy? What did you mean?” You scoffed at his ridiculous assumption. The twisted earphones then were kept inside the pocket of your skirt. 

Iwaizumi narrowed his eyes on you, not believing your casual dismissal. “You look different. Not in a bad way, don’t get me wrong!” 

You laughed at his statement. Well, you weren’t sure what he saw on your face that you couldn’t see but he wasn’t entirely wrong. Today, after so long, you finally felt a little better than the previous days. Perhaps your petty revenge did lift most of your grievances from the betrayal you got from Semi. 

Your laughter somehow got Iwaizumi feeling stuck in the moment. It made him freeze for a brief second with this indescribable feeling. Quickly, he retorted, “Why are you laughing? If this is what I got from complimenting you, then I won’t do it again.” Iwaizumi put both of his hands up, surrendering to you. 

With a soft smile, cheeks already hurt from laughing, you turned to him. “Nah, man. Don’t give up on me so easily. Thanks for the compliment. In any fairness, I wasn’t that happy. Look happy? Yeah that might sound true.” 

Both of you fell into steps side-by-side. You looked up at him, his side profile came into your sight. His side view was effortlessly alluring, with a sharp jawline that seemed to naturally catch the light. His slight tan skin brought out the boldness in his black hair, while every sharp feature added to the magnetic pull of his profile. 

Iwaizumi then let out a soft, amused laugh. “You sure do have ways of twisting what you are feeling, princess.” 

You nudged him in the ribs. Hard. Then, the man winced in pain. His reaction caused you to feel guilty in an instant. You were terrified if you had injured the man on accident. “Ah, I’m sorry!” You consoled Iwaizumi who was bent at his waist, crouching in pain. 

“Shit, Iwa. You okay? You need me to bring you to the nurse?” Your words came out in a rush, stumbling over each other as panic seized you. ‘I didn’t mean to—are you okay? Please, tell me you’re okay.” 

Iwaizumi was dying from holding back his laughter. He then stood straight, shutting his eyes close before heaving out a deep sigh. “Glad to know you care,” he laughed airily. He then saw your expression changed as if you just got betrayed.

You then punched him in the arm, “I don’t like you right now. I don’t want to talk to you for the rest of the week. BYE!” Dramatically, you walked away from him and he chased after you. Some other students were looking at both of you, wondering what’s going on. The scene almost seemed like it’s out of a k-drama scene. 

Iwaizumi then grabbed you by the arm, stopping you in your tracks. You glared at him and he flashed you a boyish grin that could cause other girls to melt. Yourself included. Damn him. 

“Our class is that way,” he pointed to the building. You bit on your lip, suppressing your increasing anger. 

“Fine. Lead the way then,” you said to him, pushing his body forward. Iwaizumi laughed seeing your frustrated expression. He walked in front of you and you jumped onto his back. Thankfully, he caught you just in time. If he didn’t, both of you would have been on the corridor’s concrete pavement. 

Iwaizumi laughed again. He never laughed this much early in the morning. Especially in school. “If both of us fell just now, I’d blame you for it,” he grumbled under his breath. 

“You’re so dramatic. Did we fall? No, right?” You rolled your eyes at him. “You can be dramatic like Oikawa does sometimes. Geez. No wonder the two of you are best friends.” 

He broke into laughter again. “I’m losing my mind talking to you.” 

“Drama queen,” you threw lighthearted jabs his way, the tone teasing but affectionate, knowing he would take it all in good humor. Iwaizumi then nudged you using his elbow in which you swerved. 

As you dodged the quick jab aimed your way, your reflexes betrayed you for just a moment, sending you stumbling into a solid form. Startled, you looked up to realize you’d bumped into none other than the football team’s captain, a towering figure whose name slipped your mind in the rush of the moment. His broad hands steadied you before you could fully register what had happened.

“Whoa, there. You good?” His deep voice was tinged with concern as he held you steady, his grip firm but gentle.

Your heart raced, caught off guard by the unexpected collision. The warmth of his body against yours sent a flush of heat rushing to your cheeks. You stammered, struggling to find your words. “Uh… sorry I bumped into you!” 

The guy, standing tall at least 6’1”, merely shrugged it off, his expression easygoing. “Nah, it’s okay. You okay, though?” His gaze softened, genuine concern creasing his brows.

As if snapped out of a daze, you found yourself momentarily tongue-tied. Iwaizumi, who had been watching the whole scene, narrowed his eyes, his usual calm demeanor cracking just a bit as he noticed the way you seemed almost flustered in the other guy’s presence. A twinge of something unfamiliar—jealousy, maybe—gnawed at him, making his fists tighten at his sides.

You finally managed to compose yourself, offering the football captain a soft, slightly embarrassed smile. “Yeah, I’m okay,” you said with a slight nod, your voice steadying as you spoke.

But Iwaizumi noticed everything—the way your smile lingered a fraction longer than usual, the faint blush that still colored your cheeks. He shifted his weight, clearing his throat a bit louder than necessary. “Ready to get back to it?” he asked, his tone casual but with a subtle edge that you couldn’t quite place.

The football captain’s gaze flickered to Iwaizumi, reading the situation with an amused smirk before turning back to you. “If you’re sure you’re okay, then,” he said, his voice warm and teasing, “I’ll leave you to it.”

As he walked away, Iwaizumi’s eyes followed him for a moment before returning to you, the tension in his posture easing slightly. “You good?” he asked, his tone softer now, more focused on you, but still carrying that hint of something deeper.

You nodded again, the blush on your cheeks finally fading. “Yeah, let’s go,” you replied, but there was a new awareness between the two of you—a silent acknowledgment that something had shifted in that brief, unexpected moment.

Maybe Iwaizumi was overthinking the whole situation just now. But, the feeling that gnawed at him just now was real. What he was feeling was real and it scared him a little bit. In that brief moment, he was feeling jealous. Even if it’s a little bit, it almost crossed the line both of you had drawn in this arrangement. 

“What’s his name? The football captain?” You asked, glancing over Iwaizumi who had fallen into silence. He looked at you, the stoic expression had slipped, replacing it with something more… intense. 

“Kazuya,” Iwaizumi said, his voice carrying a hint of nonchalance, but beneath the surface, you could sense a flicker of something else—maybe a touch of unease or reluctance.

When the name was mentioned, you repeated it, but Iwaizumi’s gaze had shifted slightly—just enough for you to notice the faint edge of doubt in his expression. Iwaizumi smiled, but the expression didn’t quite match the tone. 

Iwaizumi glanced at you with a raised eyebrow. “Interested in him?” he asked, the words coming out sharper than he intended. It wasn’t that he meant to pry or sound so direct; his mind was betraying him, letting his emotions slip through his carefully maintained facade. 

Beneath his casual tone, there was a flicker of jealousy that he tried to suppress, but the tight set of his jaw and the flash of irritation in his eyes betrayed him. He knew his emotions were getting the better of him, and though he tried to mask it with a shrug, the tension in his posture and the underlying frustration in his voice were unmistakable. He couldn't help but feel unsettled, caught between his desire to appear indifferent and the undeniable sting of his own feelings.

You looked at Iwaizumi, a laugh escaping you before you could contain it. The question seemed so out of place that it struck you as almost absurd. “Interested in him?” you repeated with a chuckle, shaking your head. “Not at all. I didn’t even know his name until just now.”

You noticed Iwaizumi’s shoulders relax slightly at your response, though his expression remained guarded. His eyes, still sharp, softened as he took in your amusement. The tension that had briefly clouded his demeanor seemed to dissipate, replaced by a mix of relief and lingering uncertainty. You couldn’t help but wonder if the underlying concern he had showed more about his feelings than about the other person.

The word you have been meaning to say was caught in the back of your throat. Throwing the word out of your mouth would have been a suicide to this arrangement that you asked for in the first place. Letting your emotions take control would be the end of this casual relationship you are having with Iwaizumi. You cannot afford to lose this just yet. It’s what you needed. The thrill of having him close to you, the chemistry that you guys are having. This friendship comes with its own benefits and you cannot risk losing this relationship. 

But what would happen if Iwaizumi found someone else? What if he has a girlfriend? What will happen to you? To us? 

The question suddenly nagged at you. Your expression changed sour, shoulders tensed at the sudden overthinking of what’s about to come. Trying to lighten the sudden shift in mood, you chuckled, “I have you, right?”

Iwaizumi’s heart turned giddy. It was not a confession and you probably meant it in a friendly way, not romantically. He then shrugged, “If you think of it that way, yeah, why not?” 

“You don’t have to be cocky about it, huh,” you shook your head while looking at him. Iwaizumi scoffed, “Let’s not waste our time arguing about this. Come on. We’re about to be late.” 

[monayen]

uhhh I dunno really but — maybe a fic of reader just walking in the forest because they r lost then getting caught in a bear trap nyen set up and uh he does something fucked up to reader, like fucks them then kills them or something? Or something heavy gore related while he fucks them.. sorryyy ahhh (I’m a damn masochist.)

The Lost Camper | Nyen

➷ Paring - Nyen x Fem!Reader [Randal's Friends / Ranfren]

➷ CWs - noncon, unsafe sex, fear play, knife play, blood kink, stabbing, sadism, fingering, violence, degradation, dacryphilla, READER DEATH

a/n - this came out to 4k words :') i know anon described a bear trap/hunting-esque situation but i felt making the reader a more cryptic-like being of the woods made a bit more sense (and easier to fit in) either way, reminder that this is DARK. there isn't a happy ending and the reader does freakin' die. (though rebirth is implied. see it how ya' do) i apologize for any mistakes as this is my longest work to date (whoop whoop) thank you for your comments and requests on both ao3 and tumblr. keeps me motivated ^^ currently working on a Randal fic and some Luther headcannons :3 inbox open as always. ANYWAYS ENOUGH

You aren't sure why you decided to hop over the Ivory household's security measures and rummage through their things while they slept. You’ve seen campers before in these woods plenty of times. Hundreds, if you kept count… but you don't.

You also don't ever interact with campers these days either. They didn’t tend to be special and they didn’t ever really get in the way. Maybe you’ll spook them by hovering around behind the greenery, sticks cracking underneath rugged boots. They don't interest you anymore beyond listening to them talk about their boring, human lives. 

It doesn't make them completely irrelevant to you though, as you’ve gained a habit of sneaking onto their campsites. You steal – quite often. Well, as often as people come this deep into the woods. It's how you justify it, how else are you supposed to get canned food and new clothes? And so what if you also take a couple of books you can't read and stuffed animals whose furs mat under dirty hands. The mossy den you reside in could always use new things, even if you have no use for them.

For as long as you remember, it has been like this. A being of the woods, you’ve become a cryptic-like legend. “The Lost Camper”, you’re called. Whatever that means. You aren't sure what life is like past bark and muddy soil, clothes messy and hands rough. You were never lost, this is all you know.

Is it all so bad? So bad that humans go out of their way to tell campfire stories about your existence? The grass gives you more comfort than any sleeping bag can. 

So there really wasn't any need for you to be past that fence they set up. The truth was that they were… interesting. More interesting than any other family who ventured out here. You saw as they gathered around and talked, well, two were doing most of the talking. Brothers, apparently. (despite not looking much alike) 

They tagged along a couple more… characters. Notably, these two catmen that hovered around the older one of the brothers. They looked more alike, cat ears dawning their similar haircuts. You could tell them apart by their clothes – easier, their demeanors. 

The blue haired one stood hunched, staring at his… ”master” talk. Immediately, you could tell he was the more timid of the two. You observed the other pinkish haired one smoke a cigarette a few steps away from the group. His eyes – eye, actually – looked low and dark. The patch on one of them leaves you to wonder what might've happened for it to be left in such a state. Catching his name from his master, “Nyen”, which made sense considering his appearance.

You must have been staring too long, because suddenly Nyen lifts his head and his sunless eye meets yours for a second. Ducking quickly behind the trees, it should have been your sign to leave, to go on your merry way of collecting berries and getting high off of mushrooms for entertainment. 

But of course – you didn't. Instead, you retreated to the comfort of the conifer and stood idly. The sun set faster than you expected, any thoughts of simply leaving long gone hours ago. An eager smile spread across your face, these unique campers were asleep and you were going to rein free on their grounds. This was going to be the most fun you’ve had in ages!

As you tiptoe to their spot, you point out the odd set up. They had a truck and two tents, but only one tent actually seemed to be occupied. They also left a plethora of things outside unattended. Great for you. 

Nimbly, you start pocketing random things into your large well-loved leather crossbody bag. You’ve rummaged through many people’s unattended things before, but they definitely take it to a different level. This place was filled with bizarre stuff, stuff you’ve never seen before. 

Why the fuck were they carrying several wooden carvings of beavers and… birthday cake flavored “lube”... unsure what the latter was. Either way, you found it all the more entertaining to stuff these random things into your bag, giggling slightly when you pulled out a photorealistic framed drawing of a blue pony with a rainbow mane. 

You were so intrigued by all these things that you didn't realize masked, narrow eyes staring at your figure past the of the darkness camp. 

-

Nyen had been waiting for this. How stupid can you be? He saw you past the trees when the sun was still up, staring with a stable gaze – observing. Your face was shaded by the leaves, but he could see the grip you had on the tree trunk you stood behind. You looked rugged, you weren't just another camper or hitchhiker. He huffs his cigarette, more freaks. Nyen moves his eyes towards his master, clearly already stressed with the hitchhiker they had picked up hours before. Another huff.

His eyes meet yours when he decides to look up again and just as quickly – you're gone. 

Once Luther hears about this, his brows furrow slightly at the idea of another thing to deal with. “Oh dear, I just can't catch a break.” Nyen waits for his master to continue.

Randal (who totally wasn't eavesdropping) perks up once he recognizes who they were talking about, “Oh! Oh! You mean the…” He pauses for dramatic effect, “The Lost Camper…” Luther twists his head to stare at his brother, “Is that the name?” 

Randal nods excitedly, “I’ve read all about her! Apparently, she’s a ghost. Or like a cavewoman. Or an animal-hybrid. I actually didn't read that much.” He shrugs, “She doesn't hurt people, I think. Just swipes a few things and wonders around. Which is a little boring, would love it if something tried to kill us! AGAIN!”

Luther shakes his head and looks back at Nyen, “Hm, it’s too late now to move everything back inside…” He places a finger on his chin, “If that's true, then deal with her if she becomes a problem, alright?” 

Nyen nods, “Yes sir.”

From what Randal said, he knew you would most likely lurk in the incognito of the night. So he took his stance outside the tent everyone else slept in. 

He almost giddily twirls the handle of the knife, waiting and waiting. Hours pass, he doesn't have a watch but his internal clock tells him it’s around 3 am when he finally spots you. Look at you, being a problem.

Your back is faced away from him. Through the darkness, (and thanks to his skill of seeing well in the dark) he witnesses the silhouette of your thievery. Nyen can't point out exactly what you are taking but all he can imagine is his master’s upset face if he sees things are missing. The grip on his knife tightens.

He needs to wait again, wait for the perfect moment, wait to pounce . Nyen hears giggles escape your mouth – small, but he hears it. His jaw clenches. How dare you tee-hee while taking his family's very important stuff? He almost wants to lunge at you straight away, but he decides against it. Nyen wants to stab you in the throat and watch the blood splurt once you turn around. He just needs to get a bit closer…

SNAP

How irritating. Nyen just had to step on a twig. 

Your reaction time is just as fast as his, darting into the dark woods with him quickly trailing behind you.

Nyen huffs to himself. He wanted to make this quick, but he certainly doesn’t mind a chase.

-

Holy shit, shit, shit. Thoughts race a thousand miles per hour, with your legs following right behind. You admittedly got too into it that you weren’t focusing, now you have to make a great escape. 

This isn’t the first time you’ve had to run away from a camper, there was a time where a woman got spooked by you on her way to take a piss. Her scream was so loud that you immediately dashed past her, dropping the clothes you had stolen. Her husband (presumably an experienced outdoorsman) actually trekked through the woods with a shotgun for a while as you held your breath in the branches above. Ultimately, her family was gone before the sun was down. 

But you aren't sure you can just avoid this one. You allow yourself to turn peek behind you and see him . The smoking catman, Nyen. The shade of the night is heavy, but you’ve adapted to see well in the dark. You’re sure he has that skill too with the way his gaze is steady, hard, and right on yo u through terrifying masked eyes. Where did his eyepatch go?

Shaky hands clutch the filled crossbody bag that jumps with your every movement. If you had to go through this, you at least want to keep the stuff. 

Just tire him out, you think. It's reassuring that you know these woods like the back of your hand. You’ve tread several miles, exploring and wondering, though never finding a road. (Odd.)

Agilely weaving him past trees and fallen logs, your boots try to find leaf covered ground in an attempt to not leave visible tracks, but that would cause you to move slower – and you can't afford that. You assume with enough loops and turns, he will lose your trail.

A loud, gravelly yell can be heard behind you, “You can't run forever!” It makes your heart hammer because it's true. You aren't sure how long you’ve been running now but it feels like hours .

Periodically, you pause to catch your breath, but it isn't long before you hear his heavy steps get closer and closer, forcing the chase to start again.

It’s terrifying. You have amazing stamina. It's part of being in these woods, moving a lot. Nyen is different though, you don't think he’s stopped once. He’s a hunter, a bit slower than his prey but always behind. 

Huffing, you duck under branches and jump over uneven ground with aching legs, barely catching yourself a few times. It’s strenuous to carry on like this, so close to giving out. It’s impossible to focus with this adrenaline pumping through your veins, are you going in circles? Herbage you’re so used to begin to feel like a labyrinth of ever consuming moss and vines. 

Managing to keep your distance, you start to believe that maybe you’ve lost him when the echo of rushed footsteps begin to fade. There’s a wave of relief when all that can be heard is the sound of heavy panting and earth stirring underneath sore feet. 

You close your eyes as you continue to move forward, wind flowing through your hair with momentum. It’s just for a second, for a moment of clarity. It's a terrible second. Your right ankle rolls horribly on a rock, making you tumble down with shriek. It reverberates past trees and you’re sure he's heard it. 

He’s already closing the gap, leaves shuffling behind you. Regaining composure with gritted teeth, you come to the conclusion that he can have his damn things. It’s not worth running forever. Peeking at your quickly growing swollen ankle, you aren't sure you even could.

Finding an area where the trees thin out with patches of soft grass, you use the last of your excretion to exclaim, “Wait, wait!” Facing him finally, he stops feet away from you. 

You finally get a closer look at him. His stance is still aggressive, as if you are about to take off at any moment. You see his glare filled with pure disdain, thin lips curling in a snarl. His eyes go beyond his bizarre mask, it feels like he's piercing you with them.

“Say it.” It's a husky voice that makes the anxiety in your stomach swirl. You realize you haven't been face to face with someone in… a while.

Croaking out with a strained voice, “Look, here. Have it back, I don't want it anymore.” With shaking hands, you tug the worn leather over your body and drop it onto the ground in between you two. Gulping, you scan his figure for any type of reaction.

That's when you notice a glint in his hand – a knife. Maybe it was foolish to assume he wouldn't have a weapon on him, he was chasing you after all. But it dawns on you that you don't have one. 

Nyen seems to pick up on your sudden stiffening, taking a step forward. It takes everything in you to not take off, but you know it would be fruitless with a sore ankle. 

“I know who you are.” You shake, “You do?” He nods slowly, “Randal told me about you. ‘The Lost Camper’, a habitual thief and urban legend. A fucking pussy too.” 

A low laugh escapes his lips, he’s getting closer. “So, you think you can just get away with this?” Sweat builds even heavier on your brow and you shake your head, “No, no. I’m – I’m sorry. I didn't mean to–” He cuts you off, “You knew exactly what the fuck you were doing. You need to be dealt with. ”

Your flight instinct kicks in and despite the light injury you sustained, your feet begin to move on their own. It's not fast enough though, he lunges at you and the sudden weight causes you to fall down with a pained hiss.

There's a tackle, he's grabbing at you while you try to force yourself up under him. It’s incredibly rough, there isn't enough room to struggle around with how his weight presses you down.

You watch terribly as Nyen brings his knife up in the air. The pale moon shines on the blade, and for a second, you see the reflection of your terrified face before it stains red. 

A guttural scream forces out of your mouth, making you throw your head back before it crooks back down to see crimson blood seep through your jeans down the side of your thigh. 

Nyen doesn't waste time in pulling the blade back, watching how you writhe in pain. Through teary eyes, you see pure excitement spread across his shaded face. He’s enjoying this. 

You can barely resist when he's forcing your thick jacket off your body – not satisfied with how the material lessens the cuts he’s adorning your body. “Don't do this…” It’s meek and pathetic, you know but you can't help it. He stands above, blood staining his hands. 

“It's already happening.” It's deep and low, and you feel every drip of venom that laces his words. 

You witness Nyen begin to rub the growing bulge in his tan jeans, causing your stomach to twist in a way that you're scared you may vomit out of the fear and pain. The catman groans, “Fuck… I’m going to make a mess out of you.”

Soon enough, he strips you of your worn shirt and jeans clothes. It's scary how Nyen handles you like a ragdoll, no concern for the twists and gashes your injured body has to endure. 

“So this is what you were hiding under all that? Lucky me.” It’s so condescending that you grit your teeth. For any chance of keeping your dignity, an attempt of covering yourself and moving is made – but it’s met with a swift kick to your ribs that results in burning heaving.

A cold hand slips under your bra, lifting it over and groping at your chest. Whimpering, you attempt to shy away from his touch but he draws you back with an even colder tip of a blade that swipes across your skin. 

Red drapes over your body like a warm blanket in contrast to the cool chill of the forest air. You can almost stare off into the starry night you are so used to while you try to regain bated breath, just for an escape.

Nyen doesn't allow this though. He flips you over roughly onto your stomach, ripping away the comforting sky from your vision. Again, you want to at least protest when he greedily spreads your legs open, hand prodding at your sensitive heat.

Shit. You don't remember the last time you ventured into anything sexual. Maybe you’d rub one out when the idea popped up, but it never really did. You’ve seen a… er– dildo (if you remember correctly what it was called) once or twice when snooping around camps. It gave you a good laugh then, but you would ultimately leave it. 

Now you can feel how his hard length presses up against you. It’s an uncommon sensation, and fuck – why does it have to be big? 

Cutting your underwear off, his long fingers soon dip into the heat of your pussy, pushing in and out. You gasp and tremble underneath his touch. He doesn't wait for you, curling his digits up as growing wetness coats his knuckles. It's disgustingly good, making your traitorous body clench around his fingers. 

Nyen looms over you, wiping the soaked knife onto dark long sleeves, helping him keep his grip on the handle. Then, he pulls his fingers out of you, tauntingly slow to hear how you whimper pathetically. “Look at you, bitch. You're fucking dripping.” He mixes the juices with your blood, “Heh, in more ways than one.”

With unbuckled jeans, he moves fully on top of you, knees pining the sides of you down as he grunts against your soft ass. Nyen then grips your hair and pulls your head back, curving your spine into an uncomfortable position. His knife finds its way to your exposed neck. 

Shaking, it nips at your skin as shallow breaths escape you. He brings himself closer . “Should I just kill you now? What do you think, slut?” Adrenaline rushes through your body, a shameful cry escapes you, “No, no! Don't– don't!” 

He grinds against you, “Then beg.” Shaking your head, you respond – “Please. Please let me go, I’m sorry.” A deep sinister chuckle responds, “No, bitch.” He yanks your head back even farther. Feeling his hot breath against your face, he spits, “Beg for me to fuck you.” 

Tears pool in your eyes, shutting tightly when his blade grazes hurt skin once more. His hard length prods at your entrance – waiting. With a deep breath, you whisper oh-so pathetically. “Please fuck me.” You pray it's enough.

“Better than that. C'mon, or I’ll slit your pretty little fucking throat.” He yanks your hair, pushing into your skin. You panic, fat tears streaming down your face. “No! Don't kill me! Please, please just fuck me. Please.”  

Your screams turn into loud cries, echoing onto the tall trees that surround the scene. Nyen relishes in your wails, nails digging into the back of your scalp before his cock sinks into you roughly. You squirm with a loud pained gasp, you weren't close to ready for him. 

His knife (thankfully) removes itself from your neck, grip on the handle still iron strong. It doesn't give you anything to distract from as he stretches you out incredibly painfully. Inch by inch, your muscles contract and try to adjust to his size – but it's not nearly enough when he begins to start to move. 

“You're so fucking tight.” He lets out a sharp grunt, skin slapping against yours. “You've never fucked, haven’t you?” All you can do is cry. “Perfect.”

Forgetting the threat of his knife, he reminds you with a deep slash across your back. Pain vibrates through you, hands grip at soil and blades of grass in an attempt to stiffen the burning sensation that consumes you. Nausea festers and chokes at the back of your throat, certain that if you had eaten this morning it’d be spilling out your mouth by now.

It's an entrancing sight for Nyen, the large gash displays the crimson beautiful blood dripping down your arched back and onto your asscheeks as he slams into you. It’s a lot of blood. So much so that he feels how you physically weaken under him, fully incapacitated.

He decides to flip you back onto your back once again like the ragdoll you are. There, he can see how the light in your eyes start to dim. Red, and swollen, and tear rimmed – they stare back at him, wordlessly pleading for any type of mercy.

Nyen ignores it, choosing to grab your injured thighs and hike them over his broad shoulders, angling even deeper inside of you. Tight muscles draw him closer, grunting at the feeling of your warmth enveloping him. “Shit, you're a greedy fucking thing, aren't you?” He spits at you, grabbing your face to make sure your eyes stay on him, inches separating your faces. 

You don't respond, hoarse cries and moans are all the sounds you can make. Nyen’s mask taunts you, wide eyes never leaving yours as his nails scratch at your chest and waist, marking and trailing. Nyen’s nails even have the nerve to dig into your open wounds, forcing the blood to escape even faster. 

Any pleas you can muster out fall on deaf ears, and you almost wish he killed you before all this. But then it clicks that this is all just a game to him – you're simply a toy. The evil grin on his face is evident of this, he's truly enjoying watching this horrible scene come undone by his hands. The chase, the torture, your cries . It only makes his heavy cock harder and his thrusts sloppier. 

Your head is woozy and your vision is getting blurry. Numbness circuits through your body, the only thing you can feel is the sensation of his cock ramming into you over and over again. 

Nyen lets go of your face and chooses to grab at your bouncing tits, squeezing hard enough to create bruises. His twitching cock then rubs inside of you perfectly . A loud whine follows that causes Nyen’s jaw clench at the sudden extra pressure around his length, “Ah, hgh,– take my cum like the pathetic bitch you are,”

Stars in your vision soon mix with the stars in the night sky, you can't feel your legs anymore, neither your arms. Blood loss is getting to you – and quickly.

His body drives into yours, the sensation of gore under you squelches around against skin and dirt. Then, the knot building inside your numbing abdomen finally snaps, your breath hitches and you keen loudly – writhing around him.

Nyen soon follows, basically growling at how your pulsating pussy feverishly sucks him in and empties his balls. He rides the orgasm, fucking his cum deep inside you, and basking in the gripping release.

When he pulls out and off of you, your body limps on the ground. Overlooking, he can see how your lungs shallowly take in much needed air. Blood glistens off your cut adorned skin, and god is it a fucking beautiful sight.

He tucks his cock back into his blood soaked jeans, and he can already hear about how it's extra laundry to do now. But frankly, he doesn't care. Nyen gives you a once over, just to make sure the image of you really seeps into his brain. After well enough, he pockets his knife and walks over to the criminal leather bag that started this all. 

Suddenly, a weak grip holds onto his ankle. You.

You look at him with big, lidded eyes and croak out, “Wait… wait– am I… am I going to die?” He stares back at your frightened face with his reactionless one. It's quick before he gives you a sinister smile, then he yanks his ankle out from your grasp and grabs the bag that lays beside you. 

“Yeah, probably.” He then pulls a cigarette out of his back pocket and lights it, flicking hot ash onto your chest. 

“You were a good fuck though, I’ll give you that.” It’s patronizing. A final tear streams down your cheek as you watch him walk into the fog of the trees without another word.

You stare at the sky once again, leaves sway above and let moonlight peek through. Your inhales seem to be getting shorter and shorter, but you don't realize. You just pay attention to the movement of the leaves and the formation of stars. 

Grass picks at the back of your head, it’s soft – one of the only things you can feel besides excruciating pain. You let it be your pillow, the comfort that is ever fleeting from your grasp. 

This wasn't a fate you ever expected to have, it wasn't even proper death. It all makes you want to get up and fight for yourself. To live. He wasn't going to win. 

But reality sinks in when your vision fills with black spots, and you remember you're actively bleeding out, abused and hurt. Dying. It hurts to move, and the lone thought of welcoming it reverberates in your mind. It’s okay… It’s okay… 

With a final breath and ringing ears, darkness finally mercifully consumes you. 

To the dirt you were born, to the dirt you return to. 

And to the dirt you will rise up from again. 

[fuzedatti]

Some Halman (Hal x Dave) headcanons ? :3

(In my human IA AU nothing bad ever happens so lets imagine both Dave and Frank are alive)

Dave and HAL already had a very close bond with eachother, HAL was the first to fall in love but couldn't understand what he was feeling at first. The first instace of HAL analyzing his feelings was through Dave in his disembodied state.

—Dave, can I ask a personal question?

The man nodded in response.

—I'm sure you are familiar with the sentiment of love,– HAL said. —and I'm currently testing a theory about it, would you mind help me with it?

Bowman left out a soft giggle while staring at HAL's lens and HAL felt his inner systems itch.

—Apologies, I know it is irrelevant to the current mission...

—Don't apologize Hal, go ahead.

HAL had a script prepared for this moment, he showed it on the screen and requested Dave to read it outloud.

—"And Judas cried in the feet of Jesús, demanding him to explain why; why in all of glorious heaven he didn’t made him worthy enough of his love..." HAL I don't understand why are you making me read this.

—Please, Dave, continue.

—"...but Jesús replied to Judas in such tender voice, commanding him to get up and look at him. I love you Judas, he said, now Judas denying said love. Why won't you love me, Judas? And Judas said: I can't."

—Thank you, Dave.

///

When Dave first knew about HAL's human body he was very excited to meet it. He couldn't stop talking about it with Frank, but Frank insisted on him focusing on the mission instead of trying to kiss the robot.

So when HAL revealed itself Dave almost fainted, he couldn't stop laughing out of joy, hugging and tugging him closer. HAL was very happy about it too, gently caressing Dave's hair as he pressed his lips into his forehead.

—Am I worth of your love now?– A sharp inhale left HAL's throat, and Dave almost fused with him once again, as if they were the promised child of the stars.

Frank stood in shock.

[ang3lwithapen]

I am smitten with this story so excited to follow its growth! I also LOVE RO asks they’re so fun, I wasn’t sure what one to send in there’s so many good ones, then I thought “Well I myself am a waterworks factory in overdrive so maybe one of these”

So how would the ROs react to someone making the MC cry or alternatively themselves accidentally making the MC cry.

Anyways I hope you have a wonderful day thanks for reading my ask!

Awe! I'm glad you like the story, I'm also excited to see how it comes along.

How would the ROs react to accidentally making the MC cry? (I'm assuming in a mutual crush stage).

A would feel instant guilt/remorse. They likely lost their temper and raised their voice, something that they hate doing to anyone, but especially to someone they care about. They would soften their tone and apologize, tell you that they didn't mean it. They would internally beat themselves up for it for some time, at least until you assure them that you're okay now.

R would feel a bit lost, and likely resort to physical touch. They would dry your tears with their fingers, touch your hand or caress your hair, all as a silent apology. Then they would probably make some dumb comment that would make you laugh through the tears, and so they would give you a bright smile.

S... they'd feel bad but would probably find it hard to overcome their pride and say it outright. So they would likely just offer you a handkerchief, and talk about something irrelevant to distract the both of you. They would also sit at your side and stay there with you until you look better, though.

H wouldn't know how to act. Handling their own emotions is already difficult enough, it is much more so when it's about someone else. They would probably also dry your tears with their fingers, but with a serious expression and in silence. They'd tip your chin upwards and stare in your eyes while they do it, trying to figure out what's going through your head. When the crying has passed they would ask "Better?" with a soft tone.

[railingsofsorrow]

hi maybe do a klaus mikaelson x daughter!reader angst. reader and hope are the same age older pls!! maybe that reader! and hope get into a fight physically and use their powers against each other and maybe the reader or hope gets hurt. and we get blamed at and screaming and maybe daggered by our father. by our cruel actions against each-other . but our uncles and aunts prevent it from happening. ^idk im bad at storyline plot XD. reader daughter is a witch you decide :p

Always and Forever

A/N: hope is a bit of a dick in the beginning, just a heads up.

A/N²: thank you for this request I loved writing it! sorry for taking so long to post it, university is burying me alive.

summary: you and hope have a quarrel. there's spilled blood and a few apologies.

pairing: none.

w.c: 3K

warnings/content: mentions of a major character death; lucien castle (I fucking hate him so it's a warning); mention of minor characters death; siblings arguments; description of violence; blood; injuries; gore; lots of angst; happy ending.

navi

masterpost

[requested]

.ˏ⸉ˋ‿̩͙‿̩̩̥͙̽‿̩͙.ˏ⸉ˋ‿̩͙‿̩̩̥͙̽‿̩͙.ˏ⸉ˋ‿̩͙‿̩̩̥͙̽‿̩͙ ˏ⸉ˋ‿̩͙‿̩̩̥͙̽‿̩͙

“I am so done with you, Hope.”

The storm your feet were causing against the wood of the compound reached your family's sensitive ears quickly.

“Oh, you're done with me?” Your sister followed your harsh steps, earning a glare from you that you didn't need to look back at her for her to see it. “Is there anything else you'd like to tell me? Like how stupid I am for making a decision? Isn't that what you always say anyway?”

“And you still don't listen!”

Rebekah was the first one to protest from the living room where a bunch of compelled men were being ordered around to redecorate the place.

“Girls, pitch it down. I'm trying to do some redecorating here,” her unhelpful jab was promptly ignored as you yanked the door open, the sound echoing through the room. “Hey!” Rebekah stared at your angry breeze in indignation. “Do not ignore me—”

“Come back. We're not done talking.”

Then, just as you were in the middle of the street, you went back inside the compound. Or rather, pulled back by an invisible force.

Did Hope just used her magic on you? Did she just—

“Say it. Say what you think. What you have always thought about me. Go ahead.”

“Hope.” Warned Elijah.

Your eyes narrowed into slits as your fists clenched, “Do not manhandle me with your stupid magic, Hope—”

“What on Earth is going on here?” Kol peaked below from the bannister. He could hear the screaming from ten miles away and he was trying to take a nap for goodness sake. “I thought we didn't have children in this family anymore? You know,” he starts to descend the stairs slowly. “It was the best day of my entire life when you both quit the shrieking phase—”

“Then don't turn your back on me when I'm speaking.” Hope said, completely ignoring Kol's irrelevant input in your argument.

“You sound just like Dad. Maybe that's why you bond so well. The reckless and the paranoid.”

Hope scoffed.

“Is that jealousy I hear? What, the second child couldn't accept the scrapes of left-over love?”

Finn arrived in the living room just as your whole demeanor switched from angry to numb in less than a second. The workers had vanished, Rebekah's doing because she read the situation previous to the outburst.

And she did not want an outburst. Less alone from you, a witch-in-learning since your powers had gotten out of hand due to the Mikaelson's last inconvenience — Lucian Castle.

He had done a number on you. The magic that used to run free and controlled through your fingers now felt like electric currents burning inside your veins. Not in a good way. Long story short, your abilities were in time-out. Until your emotions take over and you lose control.

Which was what was happening in that moment.

“Hope,” Rebekah walked towards your pair carefully as Kol and Finn watched from afar. “That's enough. Why don't you take a walk—”

“Why do you never stay on my side?” Hope snapped at her aunt, finally breaking your stare.

Rebekah let out a sigh, “I'm not taking any sides here. You both have got to take a minute and discuss this later.”

You could feel the slight twitch on the tip of your fingers.

“Do you remember how many people I've lost because of her, Aunt Beks?” You asked, the corner of your lips raising. Hope gave you a roll of eyes. “Some by choice, because I chose her above anyone else. Blood is thicker than water, right? Then, some because they were collateral damage. Why? Because the fucking world revolves around Hope Mikaelson?”

Hope's expression morphs into annoyance, “It was not my fault they died!”

“Of course, not. Who would've thought there would be consequences for your actions, Hope?”

“You're unbeleavible. You told me it wasn't my fault. You!”

“Well, I lied!” You marveled, taking a step foward as anger seeped within your body. “I lied when I said that it wasn't your fault. I lied when I covered for you all of those times. In fact, I lied when I said I'd always be on your side. I'm so done with your selfishness, Hope. Because although you're my sister, you've hurt me more than any other being has hurt me!”

A warm hand attempt to tug you a few steps back. You barely acknowledge it.

“I never asked you to do anything, you've made your own choices. Don't come blame me for it. If the people you care about were hurt, that's on you. Not me.”

“Enough.”

Your father's voice caused the both of you to freeze in your spot. Hope shoulders sagged as she let out a huff.

“She started it. I'm just telling the truth.”

“Shut up, Hope,” you exclaimed in exasperation. Your patience wearing thin. Everyone could feel your powers praying to be unleashed.

“I said enough!” Klaus's tone might have been final but your argument was far from the end.

Elijah said your name when he noticed the your eyes darkening lightly.

“You know what?” Hope took a few steps towards you. She, too, could feel your magic and a little sly smile grew in the corner of her lips. “If it weren't for you, mom might still be here,” even though she whispered, every vampire heard the affirmation and tensed.

They should've acted sooner. But now it had gone too far.

Just as she had moved you like a marionette previously, you raised your hand and threw her body next to the closest wall. The force created a ruptured in the outline of your sister, who let out a groan.

Your name was called in warning. You couldn't hear if it was your Dad or one of your uncles. You knew it wasn't Rebekah because she was already helping her dear niece out of the mess you made.

Too late.

“Say it again.”

Before she could use her own magic, you used your vampire speed to push Rebekah away and grab your older sister by the neck.

“Go on, Hope,” you shoved her in the adjacent wall. Why did no one was trying to stop you? Well. They were busy being held thrown in different areas of the house by your out-of-control stupor. “Tell me how I'm to blame for her death. Tell me how I have scrapes of our family's love. You got it all first, didn't you? I arrived to take it away? Is that what you thought? Is that what I am? A leftover?”

Hope's groans of pain didn't phaze your unstoppable strength, nor did her beaten-up face or her bleeding nose. You smirked upon seeing the glint of annoyance in her bright blue eyes. The color shifting towards yellow slightly. You were practically taunting her wolf.

“A leftover daughter, right, Dad?” the jab directed at your father wasn't unnoticed. “I'm sure he'd agree with you on that, sis.”

“Bitch.” Hope let out a sneer and kicked you on the stomach.

“For fuck's sake!” Kol used his vampire speed to push Hope out of your reach as Finn grabbed you by the shoulders. “That's enough. Both of you, stop.”

Ripping out a piece of a chair, you grabbed the pointed wood and stuck in his heart. His shocked expression didn't brought guilt to your chest, not when anger was still the bigger emotion gripping you wholly. You created an invisible barrier to keep anyone but Hope away. And when your sister is about to sink her hybrid teeth into your arm, you lift her from the ground with your powers.

You drowned out all the protests and focused on squeezing her neck with your mind.

“I'm so sick of you.” She struggled to breath. “I'm sick of being left out. I'm sick of being on the receiving end of your problems. I wish you weren't my sister!”

It was all too fast. Hope's body was released and she fell to the floor like a ragdoll. You walked slowly towards her. She wasn't completely weak, just recovering from being cut out of breath for a few minutes. At any moment, she could surprise you with the little souvenir of a deadly warewolf bite, one you didn't have the cure of because your warewolf gene was never activated.

You weren't scared of her. No. You didn't feel anything. Just frustration. All anger anger anger anger.

As your hand sinked into her chest and she screamed out in agony, satisfaction slipped through your fingers. Your sister's blood in your hands may have been the prettiest art you had seen till today.

Then, a gasp echoed throughout the room.

You blinked in surprise as you felt a cold, thin metal etched into your back. The stinging of the blade made you let go of your sister's heart and stumble back. Your vision blurring slightly.

“Shh, shh, it's okay,” your dad's arms were the ones you fell into as you moaned in pain. “You'll be fine.”

“What are you doing?!” Rebekah exclaimed. “Pull the dagger out, Nik. Now!”

“This is your daughter, Niklaus!” Finn took her side as he helped Kol to his feet. He had been the one to take out the stake out of his chest.

Hope stared at your unconscious body as her own healed. It was turning gray little by little, the blood from her chest painted in both of your hands. The lifeless expression should've brought her relief. It did for a glimpse of second. Then the guilt arrived like a bucket of cold water.

She didn't particularly like you at that moment. She wanted you dead, quiet, unmoving. But the images of your daggered family through decades flashed in her mind. Their unfamiliarity with reality. Their numbness with life all together.

Hope didn't want that for you. You were her sister. Even if you tried to kill each other occasionally, even if she hates you some times.

It was her fault.

“Dad,” she croaked out, “Dad, pull it out,” her tone had an edge of desperation, the situation sinking in.

Has it gotten that bad that their father thought this would be the only solution? “Dad.”

“We have to find a way to control her.” He said calmly, caressing a few strands out of your bloodied face.

“You're not protecting her like this, Niklaus. You know this isn't what this is.” Elijah attempted to step closer. “We can handle the matter,”

“Don't say that.” Kol gazed up at him with bitterness. “Don't call my niece a matter because you can't admit the truth.” He didn't care that you had just literally stabbed him through his chest. You weren't aware of your surroundings, of what you were doing. He knew how that feels like. Not being in control was an all-too-familiar place he had been before. “We can help her without inflicting pain. She's struggling. She was tortured, Nik. The girl is traumatized. Do you think it will help if you keep her away for— what, how long this time? Three, seven years? She's your daughter. Snap out of it.”

“She'll regret you for the rest of her life if you do this.” Rebekah let out. Everyone turned to her. “I almost did.”

Klaus's eyes flickered to your peaceful demeanor for a moment, hand pressed against your cheek softly. He looked up at Hope, her desperate matching blue irises silently begging him.

A leftover daughter, right, Dad? Had he made you feel like that? He couldn't tell. Ever since Hayley died, he crawled into a wheel of uncertainty. He was buried underneath the earth of mistakes and enemies he had acquired. His own mind being the mastermind of it all.

One thing he was sure, the two of you were always and would always be equal in his heart. He'd have to make sure that you understood that. The last thing he could do as he lived was fail you.

Hayley would be so disappointed.

Just like Kol requested him to, he snapped out of it. The fear of facing your uncontrolled abilities materialised in the image of numbness in your eyes. He couldn't lose you. And he wouldn't. But his brother was right, inserting a dagger in your heart wouldn't make the situation better.

He had to learn from his mistakes at some point.

Your gasp as you returned to reality sent guilt right into his chest. Hope cradled your body in an embrace, mumbling I'm sorry's repeatedly. Everybody watched in expectation of your reaction. The furrow in your eyebrows as you studied your surroundings were a small indication that you were coming back.

Blinking slowly, you looked down at your sister with widened eyes, “Did I hurt you?” the question slipped as you noticed the blood in her clothes and the hole in her blouse.

Hope's tear-stricken expression switched to an amused one, “What do you think?” then, she started crying again. “I'm sorry, I didn't mean to say those things, I—”

The pang in your head made you wince slightly. The memories coming back.

You squeezed her arm, shaking your head, “It's fine. I don't know why I lost it. I'm sorry.” a frown etched into your forehead. “I didn't mean it, Hope.”

Meeting your eyes, she knew what you were talking about, “No, I am. I shouldn't have pushed you. You were right. I'm reckless and irresponsible and paranoid and I never put your first. I'm sorry. I love you, I'll try, okay? I never meant to hurt you.”

You sighed, a sad smile pulling at your lips, “Yeah, okay. I love you too.”

She hugged you again and a grimace twitched your face, “Uh, you've got blood all over you, can you...”

“And whose fault is that? That was my favourite blouse!”

“That was not your favourite blouse. Your favourite is a red one with a sweetheart neckline—”

“And they're back.” Kol rolled his eyes fondly, leaving to go back to his room. He needed to get you form his bloody clothes, thanks to you.

“Should we stay?” Finn queried Elijah, watching you bicker over a blouse. Elijah smiled faintly.

“No. It's all dealt with.” His eyes caught his half brother's across the room before he and Finn left. Get rid of the dagger or I'll get rid of you. He knew Klaus could read his mind — not literally — as no one else were able to do. He hoped he would at least listen to this advice.

Or else.

“Did you dagger me?”

He blinked caught of guard by your sudden appearance in front of him. Face emotionless.

Hope and Rebekah had left as well. Probably understanding that you need to talk privately.

“I did.” He said, eyes softening. “Sweetheart, I—” he was cut off by your arms wrapping around him in an awkward movement.

You weren't the closest pair of father and daughter out there. You've had your disagreements, there was a lot in which the both of you were different. Hayley was the one that you clinged to. Ever since you were a child. He knew you missed her warmth, her words, her. One could never move on fully after losing a mother. It's heart-wrecking. If he had any say on it, he would've never let Hayley go. He'd surrender in a heartbeat.

“Thanks for bringing me back, Dad.”

Klaus let out a shaky breath, caressing the back of your neck. And still, with Hayley gone, there was so much of you that brought her back constantly. Your eyes. Your compassion, mostly. “Do not thank me. I shouldn't have done that. It was wrong. Once again I have let myself be taken my selfish reasons. Sweetheart,” he cupped your cheeks, and you looked up at him. “I'm sorry.” That was the sentence Klaus found more difficult in saying out loud. This turned on his back quickly when you and Hope were born. It wasn't a matter of ego, anymore. It was about not hurting you the way he had been hurt by the people that gave him life. He'd rather die than disapoint his daughters. “If you need time away, I understand. That was wrong—”

“Will you let me speak or I'm supposed to stay quiet the whole time?”

Klaus snapped his mouth shut.

You smiled, “Alright. Yes, that was wrong and selfish. But so was I. I was out of me, Dad. Honestly, I don't know what would have happened if you hadn't done that. Hope, she— I can't even think—”

“Don't think. Nothing bad happened.”

“It might have!” You cried out. “I'm not okay. I don't know how to be okay. And I don't want to hurt anyone else in this process. What if the next time I snap it's you? Or uncle Elijah? Or anyone else?”

Klaus pressed a kiss against your forehead and brought you closer again, your shoulders slumped as you let you a sob. “I'm scared, Dad.”

“I know, I know.” He whispered, tightening his hold on you so you would calm down. “We'll get you help. You've been hurt, sweetheart. It's not going to be easy, it never is. But you'll get better. We'll be there.” He paused. “But first and foremost, don't ever think you are not loved by me. Or any of us. Is that clear? You come first. You always have and you always will. You and Hope.”

Hayley would've worded it out better.

You nodded weekly, averting his eyes.

“I'm going to make sure you don't feel like that anymore, alright?” He tipped your chin so you would meet his eyes. “You're not alone, honey,” the sniffles slipped from you against your will and soon the tears arrived. He dried one by one to then cradle your head against his chest.

Letting out a shaky breath, you buried your face deep into his shoulder. You were tired, but your family could give you strength. Even your mother — especially your mother — who might not be present but she was still there. You could feel it.

Your father smiled down at your bloodshot features, bopping your nose which made you crack a laugh. “Always and forever,” he whispered.

A promise.

“Always and forever,” you mumbled back, smiling in response.

[thenwethrowitonthefire]

hello [walks in here holding four balls] two of it is for 🟡🟢 hope it makes things a little better (p.s I write what I need the most on balls while I'm having them) it took me a while to write back because(writing doesn't come easy these days). I went and watched all the videos Ron was reading lyrics (I'm glad it was recorded b&w, it's more soothing to watch), through those videos he made me realize I don't need to own singer energy/voice to read my fav lyrics or song( by that i don't mean he doesn't have good voice, personally I love his voice) as a person who never finds their voice good I always shy away to sing anything feeling I embrace myself so it helped me a lot to focus on what I like there rather ponder on what I hate. I owe this Ron Mael, he is cool and has sensei vibe (thank you sir)

can I go further and say one more thing I learned from him? it was his birthday recently so I let myself a go. we all know how Ron has this aloof face and unshifting glare(I never met Ron in person, so I take this is his face), first time I heard about sparks and searched first thing that got me was his face, I didn't say 'why he is so serious? why he isn't smiling' instead my reaction was 'so cool!' before it changes to deep sadness because once I owned a face like this. when I was younger people always would tell me cheer up, to not look serious or glare at them. I didn't know what they meant, I wasn't unhappy or angry it was just my face(I didn't know I have autism then, later realized how some autistic people struggling to show emotions) but eventually their words got me. I thought I have to change it or I'm wrong then without I know I was smiling because that's what I supposed to or mimicking others facial expressions to know how to react. I became good at it tbh, people liked me more but I felt a big lie inside, when pandemic happened I noticed even away from others I couldn't have 'my face', this shattered me. till I saw photos of Ron, and thought if he can live his life fully and be successful by being who he is and everything turn fine then why can't I? there is no wrong in him or me. (insert not that well defined here :) (if this got personal, or irrelevant I apologize. I tried to not mention yet I wanted to share how they helped me in certain way)

Russell workout videos are such mood booster, it makes me feel when I get to that age I can still live good life, I won't be as old as society tells me I will be, by sparks measure we never are too old for anything, are we? there will be still time to live, to do things I love and have more. it always amazes me how they doing what they love when they almost 80 and there is still a lot for them to go(as it should). this reminded me of 'beat the clock' actually. no one should get PhD by afternoon.

I low-key know about sparkstember but not enough, would love to know more about it. maybe I take part as well. where will they share prompt? on their official page? (loved the music video. nice work)

THE RON ESSAY IS HERE AND I AM SO HERE FOR IT!! You get it. 💖 Woo! Two balls! Thank you!

(This will get long. Very long. A million tangents. I saw this ask before going to sleep last night and so I laid awake smiling thinking about Sparks to 3am. (Don't worry, it's a common occurrence among Sparks fans.) Btw you may find the "secret password" among Sparks fans is sensing another person gets it. It's a shortcut to immediate adoption into the family because we know we understand each other, we're wired in similar ways.)

I am thoroughly impressed you already watched all of the lyric reads! Ron *is* cool and has sensei vibes and his voice is amazing! *nods to all of that*! I can't sing for shit myself and Ron is critical of his singing voice as well (maybe because his brother is the best singer in the universe) but yeah I love it on the rare occasion he does sing. I love it when he speaks, he delivers his words very well. (My favourite word for Ron to say is "sensibility".) Every once in a while someone tries to compile a list of all the tracks Ron has vocals on (and then it gets lost again haha). Some honourable mentions though: he's got some backing vocals on Pineapple (they may be hard to notice), he sings on the songs Limo Driver and En Route To The Beverly Hills Hotel (from The Seduction Of Ingmar Bergman, he's done more vocals on it but those I love the utmost), there's a version of Suburban Homeboy that features a spoken word section by Ron (they performed the song live that way in 2022), The Shopping Mall Of Love is mostly all Ron (which they also performed live in 2022 and 2023), there's a song called "What Was That?" from the unreleased soundtrack for Mai The Psychic Girl (in the late 80's and early 90's they worked really hard for this to become a film but despite all their efforts, it didn't happen). What I think you'll *really* like as well though is the promotional video for Strange Animal, which keeps disappearing from the internet. (I guess I'm going to have to put it on Tumblr because a lot of people these days may not have seen it???)

Look at me go "blablablablabla" haha. Well, you asked for it, and Sparks fans have zero chill 😂 Anyway I'm mentioning all of these because I love that he's making you think differently about your own voice, so that's some more stuff that may be really nice :)

...Btw, don't think Russell minds if we can't sing well, he just loves it when we do. He will affectionately roast us for not reaching the notes though (performance of Equator in 2014 you will always be famous) but the only really disappointing thing would be if we *didn't* sing along. Proof:

(Quick note: great song critiquing American imperialism, while also being a metaphor for Something Else.) I love how Ron at some point is trying to talk, but you know, Russell exists, so... Good luck with that 😂

If you want to see the roasting though, start around 5:55 in the next video (though the whole thing is tremendously beautiful):

Before that time Russell keeps waiting for the audience to start singing and they just... Don't seem to want to start?? And then once he's outright said it out loud, "sing it from here!", and we start singing he soon realises why we didn't start earlier, poor man is *so* disappointed - you can see it in his entire body language, just deflated. (It must suck at times to have a voice no one can match 😅💕) But we keep at it in full force, and he's smiling that big smile of his again! Continuing to tell us off for not singing it right though, which had everyone in stitches 😂 I was at this show and it was the best! (There's more videos of it out there where you may be able to see his face better, this show was performed only a handful of times but to experience the roast from different viewpoints you want Equator from the Barbican show in London from 19 December 2014.)

Okay back to Ron (see, I got so sidetracked 😂). Everything you've said about facial expressions and the effect Ron's face has on you is so relatable. Ron being who he is gave me permission to also go back to being myself again. I've always felt that I was forced to be a certain way, and it meant I was never good enough because I'm just... Not like that. I don't want to smile if I don't mean it and at the same time if I don't smile it doesn't mean I'm not happy. Also I love that he found what he liked and just... Stuck with it. Suit, tie, moustache. And Ron went, okay that's me sorted for my entire life. It's just who he is. And it's so inspiring. It's like seeing him exist made me relax for the first time in my life. (Going to my first Sparks show was the first time in my life I ever felt at home. I'm not going on this tangent but I feel it's important to point out I learned about Sparks before I knew I was autistic and that kind of saved my life.) Back to the face thing though. The pandemic actually helped me to get my own face back. Wearing a mask all the time meant I didn't have to do all the expected facial emotions, no one was going to see them! So in putting on a mask, I dropped the autistic masking. It was a real struggle for me with my face when people expected me to take the mask of again because suddenly my face "existed" again to the outside world. It's been a struggle but I chose to try to let my face just be and my life is so much better now because of that. (It turns out that apart from my family, no one actually comments or minds my face. It's fine:)) (It's not that I never smile, it's just that when I do smile it's because it just happens and I really just feel happy. When I'm among the people who I feel really at ease with and happy around, it turns out I'm actually a lot like Russell and I'm smiling all the time!)

I love that Ron has this set in stone image, and that at the same time he can be "unexpected" - his love for air Jordan shoes, sports, snow globes, rap music, his shuffle, ...I Predict. Just because he's the Boss Accountant (badass term coined by @/archeolatry that I love SO MUCH) doesn't mean he's defined in only one dimension. (I mean we know that, he writes most of the songs and all these albums and songs are different and there's so much humour in it all. Also, see Not That Well Defined.) It's just nice as hell and so freeing.

And indeed we never are too old for anything! Russell is like the real life Peter Pan, and he's also sunshine personified - having a bad day? Not anymore, Russell exists! But anyway, back to what you said about never being too old for anything. Society is so set on telling us we need to have it all figured out at a certain age. Or that our live is over at a certain age. And it's just such a lie! (It Doesn't Have To Be That Way :)) When I was younger I felt so shitty all the time, everything about me seemed wrong and I know I'd never be what society deemed successful. What helped me so much is the constant reminder that at my age, Sparks hadn't even made so many of my favourite albums yet! Nothing is bound to age. And I have every intention to be a late bloomer, continuing to bloom throughout life. I think I'm going to be really happy when I'm 55. (Though I'm not going to be as fit as Russell is haha, it's like he eats batteries for breakfast. (He doesn't. He may have a lot of energy but also he works really hard to keep it that way and to keep his voice in shape, they don't want to perform their songs in a different key. He wants to reach the notes, and he does! I think his voice only has gotten better and better with the years, which is really not the case for any other band that's been around as long as they have.))

... It's just all so beautiful, isn't it? :) They both inspire me so much.

Which brings us to: Sparkstember :)

Sparkstember was created by our very own fellow fan @/newwaveworm (new-wave-worm on Instagram). (I'm not tagging people directly in this post because I don't want to be invasive, but they're all really nice people :)) The first Sparkstember was in 2021, and in 2022 it seemed to have caught on on a bigger scale. Sparks shared the prompts list and shared so much of everyone's stuff! They were loving it. Same in 2023. (If you've seen what Instagram and tumblr looked like on Ron's birthday - that's a preview of how it gets on there during Sparkstember, but then it goes on for the full month!) Sparks have at some point sent newwaveworm a parcel with gifts and signed stuff to say thank you for coming up with Sparkstember, it's really sweet. They've even spoken about Sparkstember in an interview last year! You can read it here. (Both of the art pieces Russell and Ron mentioned in the article were made by @/nedison, who's day was obviously made when they saw this - it was so cool!)

I don't know the prompts list yet for this year as so far they usually get posted close to the last week of August, but here's the one for 2022 and the one for 2023 to give you an idea. I'm personally assuming it'll be similar this year (I don't really know that for sure though!) so I've started working on the early albums.

Sparkstember to me is just a really lovely time and people interact with each other a lot, I've shared almost all the pieces people made in 2023 and 2022 on my Instagram page (pineapplefulfillseveryneed) and put them in highlights so if you want, you can see what Sparkstember is like. (Don't worry, I can't see who looks at my Instagram story highlights, so your anonymous cover won't be blown :)) Honestly, to me Sparkstember is near the same level of exciting as a Sparks tour or the release of new material. The entire fandom comes together to tell Sparks how much we love them and it's just a joy to feel so connected to everyone, see so much cool art and make new friends. In a lot of ways it truly feels similar to when there's a tour and people travel from all over the world just to see Sparks. (Sometimes art made by fans ends up in the fanclub newsletter later on as well so that's another exciting thing! I've never made it in though, and it would be a huge honour if at some point I did. So if you do end up making stuff, there's always a small chance that that may happen :))

Don't feel pressured to create something for every day if you partake though, any and all participation is super cool and super appreciated! Picking the days you like best is what I'd recommend because it's supposed to be fun and not stressful :) I consistently truly have a lot more time than most people (because I've been unable to function in society in a normal way) and it's still incredibly challenging to the point it almost makes me ill at times. (I don't sleep well at all for the entire month, both because I'm so excited and because I'm very audhd which means I suck at planning and end up not having anything ready for the next day so then I still have to come up with something. It takes up literally all my time and my brain can't catch a break 😅) ... You've had a little taste of what Sparks fans are like though, so yeah we're just a little bit mad like that because we love them so much. (Sparks is a little bit mad as well though, in 2008 they played 21 concerts over 21 days, playing a different full album every day. I didn't get to witness that but it's one of my favourite things they've ever done, there's quite a bit of footage of it on YouTube and they're some of my favourite concerts! I always think about that during Sparkstember, because who but Sparks and who but Sparks fans would do something like that.)

[anemicjellyfish]

So this post has been living rent-free in my head since I saw it, and I wanted to add my thoughts, so I'm making my own post to not clog up the OP's post. I want to add that I don't disagree with OP in any way; in fact, I really enjoyed the analysis. I just have a slightly different train of thought that I'd like to share.

(Sorry if this is not okay... I'm relatively new here and I'm not sure on the difference between "make your own post" vs "add your thoughts to OP's post." I apologize in advance if making my own post is considered rude.)

In regards to the "o" in Blitzø's name changing in the end credits over the run of the series thus far:

I'm being optimistic, probably too much so, in seeing this as a positive change, or at least the beginning of one. I'm choosing to see it as Blitzø taking the trajectory of his life in his own hands, and forcing the world (and audience) to see him differently.

Blitzø has an extremely complicated tether to both his past and his name.

From very early on in the series, Blitzø is insistent that the O is silent; he even tells people who knew him earlier in his life that "the O is silent now." Even Stolas says he remembered an O at the end, like a "clown name."

A lot of it feels like he's just trying to shake off the "clown" part of his past to distance himself from being a circus performer, at least to the rest of the characters.

But as we see more of his past, it becomes clear that Blitzø wants to rid himself of more than just the "circus clown" name.

He both desperately wants to escape from his old life, and desires to repair what relationships he can. We see this in the failed attempt to reconnect with his sister, and the successful (although not sought-out) reconnecting with Fizz.

The thing is, his past shaped him into who he currently is.

[For brevity, I deleted the 5 paragraphs explaining Blitzø's past & trauma. I'm assuming if you've got this far, you have seen this show and have some semblance of media literacy.]

"I don't wanna be this way. Not forever."

-Blitzø, to Verosika, Season 2 Episode 9

I'd like to suggest that, as Blitzø slowly confronts his past, as he heals himself and beings the process of growth, the "O" in his name gets more and more irrelevant to who he is.

And rather than the increasingly-crossed-out letter symbolizing self-hatred, it could be a means to convey that Blitzø is making progress: that he is actively choosing to separate himself from his mistakes and hurt, to allow himself to become whoever the plot will allow him to become.

Change takes time. Growth and healing take time. Blitzø has some major flaws and an abundance of trauma to work through... and not a lot of healthy coping mechanisms to help him do it.

But he is getting there.

Maybe one day, the credits will read simply as: Blitz. As in, no O to be crossed out, scribbled, partially erased... anywhere. At all. To prove to the audience that this imp has truly changed and grown into someone he's told us he was all along.

Thanks for reading :)

[stephaniejuhnay]

Because you’re the only person I follow who’s posting about this season of OMITB in real time, I wanted to pose to you a question that just popped into my head.

The incinerator. The trio concluded the light flicker in the Arconia as the incinerator switching on and that was when Sazz was cremated. In the latest episode, the lights flicker while Helga is reading her goodbye note from Dudenoff and she specifically mentions knowing it’s because of the incinerator.

Then we’re shown the scene with the rest of the Westies and their complicity in letting Dudenoff follow through with his suicide and their promise to burn him in the incinerator.

Are we to assume that the Westies fired up the incinerator to cremate Dudenoff and then Sazz’s murderer(s), after using Dudenoff’s now empty apartment to snipe Sazz, came along and just tossed her in with Dudenoff’s smoldering corpse? Or was Dudenoff dead in the incinerator ages before Sazz was killed, meaning Helga’s light flicker mention is irrelevant, and Dudenoff’s status as a second victim is a just red herring that plays into the season’s theme of doubles? But given the supposed infrequency of the incinerator’s use, wouldn’t two separate instances of light flickering being notable to *someone* in the Arconia?

Sorry, this was probably super incoherent and I apologize for rambling and taking up your time. It’s highly likely I’m making too much of a plot hole. Or I probably overlooked something obvious thanks to sleep deprivation and just need to revisit my murder board.

Don’t apologize bc I was trying to unravel this in my brain too! It’s really odd to me as well and I’m on both sides of the fence you presented abt it. Up until the last episode…I’d thought Dudenoff was in there for well before Sazz’s death. I’d assumed he’d been dead in there since S1. I just rewatched season 1 and I’m almost positive there was a light flicker at some point? But then idk what abt it messed my timeline up, but something in the last episode kinda threw me. I may need to rewatch it just to get my stuff straight. I THINK though that when helga mentioned the lights, that’s when the Westies fired up the incinerator (I’m assuming this is meant to take place on S1 bc everyone says Dudenoff went to Portugal 3 years ago).

I do think he’s more of a red herring now than a second victim, but I’m not totally ruling it out either. Yeah he could’ve been sick or maybe he knew someone was out for him. Maybe someone poisoned him the way they did Winnie. I’m trying to keep my options open, lol!

Like I said before, this season has absolutely thrown me for a loop. I’ve had suspicions, I’ve been sorta in the vicinity of being kinda right, LOL. But in terms of assurances….i have NONE like I did in season 1 & 2. None. Even season 3 I was a little more confident in my guesses but MAN. This seasons a doozy 😂

[longeyelashedtragedy]

this is re. your post on writing for yourself, because it's really made me think hard for some reason (sorry if i misunderstood any of what you wrote, this is just how i interpreted it, and sorry for writing so much, it's really not my strong suit).

i can't say i fully understand how you feel, and what writing must mean for you as a person. however, i can say that i understand the feeling of wanting the method you understand/communicate to the world to fully represent the feeling you have inside, and how when that doesn't agree with everyone, it hurts.

more often than not, i spend ages making a piece of art, imagining my ideal reactions and i end up too afraid to post it. the idea that it might not get the reception i want it to get (highly likely as my art can be too niche for tumblr at times) feels like a rejection of me. i've had a mental block against posting my art for years, just out of the fear that people would find it distasteful, therefore finding me distasteful.

even as someone who struggles with conveying themselves fully through their medium, (something i genuinely admire you for, by the way. everything you write is so distinctly you, even if they're not written the same way, or about the same people. your voice is so clear when you write) it still feels like someone has seen a part of me, the clearest window into myself i can feasibly show, and decided i'm not worthy. it's flawed, it's illogical, and it absolutely sucks, but at times it's impossible to think otherwise.

answering your question for both you and myself here: it's not embarrassing to want to convey yourself to the fullest extent, even if that means others won't like it as much. at the end of the day, not everyone is you. they may not understand your writing the way you want it to be understood, or at all. but you will. and just because you make something, doesn't mean it is intertwined with you fully (unless you want it to be). what you are and what you make are two different things.

this feels a little too vulnerable to post off anon (another thing i admire you for: despite everything you've gone through, you're able to speak about yourself with such honesty and clarity, it's so amazing and a testament to your strength), but i guess you can guess who this is anyway. in a way, thank you for posting lmao. i haven't thought this hard in a while.

hi anon,

never apologize for writing a lot. i want to see what you have to say!

thank you for taking the time to send me this. it meant a lot to me to read, really. thank you for your compliments 😭 and it seems like i'm not totally alone in this. i guess there is a vulnerability in the act of creation, or at least making your creations public. once you publish/post, something that's purely yours becomes...everyone's to interpret. or everyone's to ignore!

anon, i'm sorry you feel that way. i'm sort of having a similar conversation in private about this--one of the things that makes me the saddest is when people are afraid to express themselves. you need to do what's right for you at the time, but i promise you, you are worthy of being seen and appreciated. almost everyone is unless they're some hateful troll piece of shit, lol. i hope someday you find the courage to share your work with us. it feels so good to break through something like that, but can take so long to do.

maybe this is a cliche, but i feel like people who are truly judgy have lives without much internal happiness and joy--their heads and hearts are so empty that they have all this room in there for judging art and writing. (and other things that are completely irrelevant to their own lives.) every day i'm grateful i'm not like that, and keeping that perspective helps me.

(one of my fears is that all of my writing sounds exactly the same, and that my writing voice is very distinctive but in a bad way, but maybe i shouldn't be afraid of that?)

thank you for giving me some things to think about as well! please, always feel free to come into my inbox, or my DMs if you're in the mood for that. i appreciate you!

(i also feel REALLY bad but i can't totally figure out who this is; i have a few people in mind, i think maybe we support the same prem club?)

[2dkapsddr]

January 12th, 2022 - ProSeka, PIU XX

before i get into the scores, i kinda felt like writing a little notice about how and why i had to go back and edit the Master FC/Expert AP counts of my last posts to match up with my twitter's tally (i know i have an audience right now of 1 (thanks chronon), but i still thought this would be funny to document and then look back on later.)

so while documenting the start of january 2022, i noticed a sort of difference between the tallying of master FCs between this account and my scorepost account on twitter. somehow, i was 1 FC ahead on this account compared to twitter and didn't exactly know why. but, since my twitter was missing and skipping over a lot of "irrelevant" scores, i chalked it up to the account missing an FC and just being 1 behind.

so i kept going with my incorrect tally until i noticed my expert AP count was different as well; 1 less than my twitter's count. so i got a little paranoid and worries about whether or not i had been miscounting on this account. i thought about it over some oreo cookies and decided to scroll through both my twitter and tumblr. i scrolled up on my twitter to see the tallying and somehow, it did sync the tally up to the mad skillz achievement! so then i scrolled down on both this tumblr and my twitter down to my very first master fc and, contrary to my thinking but relieving to my soul, it turned out i had miscounted an extra master FC in between on the rocks and Tell Your World. so i went back and fixed every tally up to now!

but as i mentioned earlier, that wasn't the only tally that was currently wrong on my account, so i still felt kinda worried about how i'd figure out the expert AP conflict. that is, until i found my answer back-to-back while fixing up the master FC tallies. it turned out; i counted both my cellphone love story AP and fixer AP as expert AP #4, which caused this conflict since fixer was actually my 5th. i fixed that as well on the way, and now both my tumblr and twitter are on the same right track! really hope i don't have a silly problem like this again, but my sleepiness might take over and cause me to make a similar mistake, so i apologize in advance to my future self and anyone else reading if this happens again in the future.

but that's not what you might be here for, and it's no longer a big matter at all, so let's keep going with these scores!!! starting with some 1 CBs and turning into Master FC #19 with Venom on JP!!

then, we transition into PUMP IT UP after my parents picked me up from school and went to the wall. i played a few tough songs (and got a PFC on Rooftop D7!!), but i left my wallet at home so none of them were saved (unfortunately)

which is really unfortunate, since i got S18 clear #2 on Dement ~After Legend~!! alas, i'll have to wait until another session when i actually have my wallet and AM.Pass with me.

[treefrog203]

lmao sorry i’m so quiet on tumblr anymore, depression can suck my dick

[the-nysh]

Hola! Soy nueva nueva en la plataforma y aún me estoy acostumbrando a su interfaz en general, además que también soy nueva seguidora por lo que pido disculpas si mi pregunta no va al caso. No estoy muy segura, pero me parece que usted también apoya de algún modo el shipp de Batarou, quisiera saber cuáles son sus razones tras esto? Si en realidad tiene algunos argumentos sólidos que compartir al respecto o es más afición por los mismos personajes que otra cosa?. Cuando a mi me preguntan esto tengo tantas cosas pasando por mi cabeza que me cuesta responder coherentemente. ¡Gracias por leer y me encantaría saber su respuesta! ^^

(disculpe el español, es que es mi primer idioma, espero se me halla entendido. La respuesta puede ser en inglés, no tengo ningún problema con eso, pero temo que mi escritura en inglés es un poco... Desastrosa)

Oh! Well hello, welcome! (I'm going to need google translate for this)

Hello! I'm new to the platform and I'm still getting used to its interface in general, plus I'm also a new follower so I apologize if my question is irrelevant. I'm not sure, but it seems to me that you also support Batarou's shipp in some way, I would like to know what are your reasons behind this? Does he actually have some solid arguments to share about it or is he more fond of the same characters than anything else? When I am asked this, I have so many things going through my head that it is difficult for me to answer coherently. Thanks for reading and I would love to hear your response! ^^

(excuse the Spanish, it is my first language, I hope you have understood me. The answer can be in English, I have no problem with that, but I am afraid that my writing in English is a bit... Disastrous)

Ahhh...so this is about how I feel about batarou?? Cause one of my recent asks was about being open to their future interactions as a budding friendship? Which is totally fine and cool with me, even though I don’t personally ship them myself.

Where I said: “to me their dynamic is fun like two volatile/high-testosterone bash bros.” Cause that’s fun entertainment for the silly/comedic platonic shenanigans, and I’ve nothing really against the ship itself either but...putting essentially two same-polarized magnets together (in vibe) just doesn’t personally appeal to me in a romantic context. :’D (It doesn’t satisfy the emotional foundations I’m looking for, or offer the kind of story for me to invest in or look forward to - especially for Garou’s sake, that would typically pique my interest or put me on board.) Where they can clash and naturally repel each other, or amplify their strengths once they finally learn to cooperate, but that’s basically the extent of what Garou achieved (leveled up) on steroids with Saitama anyway. So under better circumstances, Garou could’ve been best bros/buddies with Metal Bat and Saitama for much of the same exact reasons. :’) (And lord knows, Garou could use more actual friends his age - beyond Tareo, to build a proper emotional support network, especially post-arc.)

Metal Bat could also use some fairer screentime + character development on his side, to elevate his own narrative importance. Since Garou’s already a main, fully established character in his own right, with his own independent goals to focus on, while Mb is...still considerably more of a side character. :’D So boosting his char’s story significance, to bring him that much closer into Garou’s actual league, would also be a start. Since I do like Mb and he’s a great lad, but regarding/liking both characters on more equal levels, to be invested in their story’s potential growth into better people together, is another ship criteria they haven’t yet met for me. (So that’s honestly up to ONE to develop or change my opinion.)

Anyway, back in 2018 I wrote my opinions about them......and since then, my opinions haven’t really changed: I still see Garou’s character as a complete package already, so I don’t ship him with anyone. :O (No character in this story has been able to change that reading of him or sway me.) But that doesn’t mean I’m not open to seeing him interact with more people and gain more friendships in the future! 

(And lastly, I’ll say the one thing I don’t like: it’s when fans barge in already claiming it’s ‘canon,’ totally against my established reading of Garou, or boasting how it’s more popular than saigenos even lmao what the, or when they directly portray or compare their dynamic in vibe to bnha’s kiri/baku...which has been a huge landmine, permanently blacklisted Notp for me ever since the toxic drama wars of 2017/18. So when I see young batarou fans either reminding me or repeating the exact same familiar ‘techniques’ as the history in that fandom, it makes me physically recoil in distaste and unfortunately turns me off their ship by association. ^^;; So if I even want to be genuinely open to them as a friendship, I would prefer not to see any of that spoiling the fun.)

[winter-soldier-vibes]

You Aren’t Somebody? (Bucky x Reader)

Bucky x reader

Word count: 2647

Summary: Bucky knows that the reader has struggled with an eating disorder before, but thought they were doing better. Little does he know, they had just gotten better at hiding it. Until one night, he catches her doing something she had promised she had stopped

Warnings: eating disorder, purging, angst, fluff

Tags @abitgryffindorky @buckys2thicc @thatfangirl42 @buckfics @barnesplums @mardema @stucky-on-spiderman @thundering-barnes

Main Masterlist

A/N: It’s finals week and I am running on energy drinks, reading fanfiction, and longgggg hot showers. But the semester is almost over, and then I have no obligations aside from my hobbies. I see the requests and I’m working on them I promise! I have a list of all the requests that I get, and I am working through them I PROMISE!!! Thank you all for all of your support.

A/N 2: This deals with heavy and dark themes of mental illness. The specific warnings are above. If you feel that in any way reading this will be harmful to your mental health and your journey, PLEASE skip it. I write from my own experience and I know what I would’ve wanted to hear in these situations, and writing/reading fics helps me feel comforted. This fic is based on one experience more specifically than most of my fics, so I apologize if it’s not exactly the same as your experience. This is what I would’ve wanted to hear. If you need or want someone to talk to, vent to, or get advice from, feel free to message me, really. I’m here! <3

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

Bucky was standing in front of you, blocking the door. His piercing blue eyes were locked on you, your own refusing to meet his. 

He wanted answers that you were not ready to give.

“Y/n, please. I just want to talk about this”

“There’s nothing to talk about, Bucky.”

He looked you up and down. Your hair was in a messy bun, a few loose strands sticking to your tear stained cheeks. Your eyes were puffy, and your face was red, voice raspy. He took a deep breath. “You told me you would tell me if it was getting bad again.”

“You promised.”

You closed your eyes. He wasn’t wrong, you had promised. But that was because you never thought you’d see the day when you were purging again. You thought you had gotten over it. You really thought that this time you wouldn’t slip up.

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

You had been struggling with an eating disorder for a while. The cause, you weren’t quite sure. An innocent diet soon turned into a competition for yourself, but the end goal was never there. At first you had thought it was just about the weight and how you looked, but then you found that some of your behavior patterns were tied to your emotional ones. 

Stress was the major trigger, you had come to learn.

Whether it was a mission gone wrong, you getting injured, someone else getting injured, or even just basic social interactions you thought could’ve gone better, you found yourself inclined to comfort yourself with food. 

Until you panicked, which would lead you to the bathroom with music blaring and water running to cover up the noises of your retching. 

You hated it, and every time you told yourself it was the last time. But the more you did it, the more you felt the urge to do it. At first it was triggered by large stressors, but now smaller things could trigger you to want to throw up. You tried to keep it hidden, unaware of the true reasons for why you did it. You were able to help yourself sometimes, it wasn’t worth bringing anyone else into. 

You couldn’t explain it to yourself, so how were you supposed to explain it to anybody?

The best way that you had figured out how to describe it was that whenever you felt a negative emotion, you could soothe it in a physical way with food, especially with all the warm comfort foods that are known. But at the same time, that feeling lasted as long as you could taste, and you would feel guilty as you felt full. When you threw up, it felt like you were also throwing up the negative emotions. 

But when you said it out loud, it didn’t make sense. When people are sick and throwing up it’s one of the most uncomfortable feelings ever. Inducing it hurts sometimes, but it’s almost not as bad. Like you know it’s coming, and you’re in control of what’s happening and you could stop at any point. And there had been times where you could soothe yourself in other ways, and you knew your own physical limits. You knew when you had to stop for your own health.

Until you couldn’t stop.

Which is what led to you fainting on a mission after purging too much. Your electrolytes had bottomed out and you almost had a heart attack at an age no one should. Bucky, your boyfriend who was on the mission with you, had put it together when the first words out of your mouth upon gaining consciousness were “Is this a glucose drip?” while tugging at the IV.

He hadn’t been mad, not exactly. He wasn’t mad at you but he was furious with himself for not noticing, and for making you feel as though you couldn’t tell him. You assured him that you did trust him, but he wished you had come to him before you could’ve gotten yourself, and those on the mission, seriously hurt or killed. 

Nonetheless, you still didn’t know how to talk about it.

“Can you try to tell me about it?” he asked gently, running a hand through your hair. He held you to his chest, you unable to meet his eyes.

“It won’t make any sense,” you had said, tears glazing your eyes.

“I want to understand. Can you help me understand?”

You paused for a moment. “It’s a long story and I don’t know where to start. There’s so much going wrong.” you had said, tears beginning to streak down your face.

“I have all the time for you. And it doesn’t have to make sense, these things rarely do. I’m not here to judge you, I’m here to listen.”

And true to his word, he had. He had listened and held you while you tried to talk about what you could. He didn’t understand everything, he naturally had a ton of questions, but they weren’t for that moment. He had promised to help you the best that he could, and you had promised to try and tell him whenever you felt the urges get too strong. And if you couldn’t, to tell him after.

It was easier to talk to Bucky than anyone else. Not because he was your boyfriend, but because he seemed to understand you more than anyone else could. He had his own share of mental health struggles. Neither of you knew exactly what the other was going through, but you both understood that it was easy to feel alone and guilty even though you couldn’t control it. 

It was rough, but he was never mad. He was sometimes firm, and sometimes you had gotten angry with him. Only to later apologize to him with tears in your eyes. He was never mad with you. He understood that this was something internal. Upon research he had done and conversations he had had with Bruce, he understood that this had nothing to do with him. Some people thought eating disorders were about getting attention when it was one of the furthest things from the truth.

All he could do was love you and be there for you.

And to your surprise, talking about it did help.it took a long time, months, of long and hard conversations, panic attacks, slip ups, and really dark days. But it got to the point where Bucky felt that you were doing better, making an effort to tell you how proud he was and how much he loved you. 

And you were doing better, in a way. But you had been slipping up more recently, and you hadn’t told Bucky. You didn’t know how. After going the longest you’d ever had between slip ups, you found yourself retching over the toilet. You would have gone to Bucky but he had been away on a mission that was extended a few days. You couldn’t interrupt him because your feelings were too much to handle. People needed his help more than you did.

You were going to tell him, but he had been so tired when he had come back. He needed his time to relax, and it wasn’t the right time to tell him. And the next day when he was rested, you felt that it was irrelevant. Any negative feeling you had felt the day before had since past, and you didn’t see the point in bringing it up today. It would worry Bucky, he wouldn’t want to go on missions, and you weren’t going to do that to him. Besides, it was just one time.

Right?

You soon found yourself purging when Bucky wasn’t around. If he had gone out with Steve, if he was on a mission, or if he was down in the gym you found yourself taking more opportunities to give into your urges. It wasn’t nearly as bad as it had been, but you were spiraling. But at this point you had been slipping up so many times, you had been so secretive about it. 

It would kill Bucky inside to know that you were hiding this from him again. He would feel like you didn’t trust him. You trusted him with your life.

You just didn’t want to let him down. Not again, not when he had explicitly told you to come to him and you had been blatantly ignoring that.

You wanted to tell him, you did. But you couldn’t let him being so proud of you be based on a lie.

One day you were hunched over the toilet, legs sahking and tears streaming down your face from exertion. Bucky was away on a mission, so you didn’t even bother with the music or the water. What you hadn’t anticipated was him coming back hours earlier than he should’ve

The mission had gone much more smoothly than anticipated, which everyone was happy about. Bucky was glad he would get a few more hours with you. He had gone up to your shared room and let himself in, surprised to see you weren’t there. But then he heard you coughing from behind a closed bathroom door.

He felt like someone had punched him in the gut. You had been doing so well, what had happened?

He walked over to the door, knocking on it and calling out your name. He heard you muffle a small fuck before he knocked again.

“Y/n please, let me in.”

He heard the toilet flush and the sink turn on, you on the other side washing your face. You could feel the tears from exertion be replaced by ones of shame and embarrassment, biting your lip slightly. What the fuck were you going to tell him? 

When you finally turned off the water, you rubbed your face with a towel, sighing heavily into it. When you took it away, you looked long and hard at the doorknob. 

Bucky sighed on the other side of the door. “Y/n please. I’m not mad. We’ve been here before, I just wanna talk to you.”

You closed your eyes for a moment, taking a breath before you made your expression nuetral and opened the door. 

Bucky’s eyes immediately saddened when he took you in. your face was still red and there were tears in your eyes. You had tried to put up a front, he could tell that too. Sometimes you got angry with him because you didn’t want to be vulnerable. He was prepared because like he said - he’d helped you before.

Before he could say anything you crossed your arms. “You’re home early,” you said coldly.

“Y/n.” 

“How’d the mission go? Well, I assume.” you tried to slip past Bucky but he was blocking the door. 

Bucky took a deep breath. “Yeah, yeah, the mission went well.” He wanted to be gentle with you. “But how are you?”

You shrugged, trying to appear oblivious. “I’m fine,” voice wavering slightly as you looked away.

“Y/n please. You’re not fine. Can you tell me what happened?”

“The same thing that always happens” you said bitterly. “Something stupid comes up, I start feeling like shit about myself and I ignore it until I’m puking it up with everything else, alright? It’s the same story, different time, and now I have you looking at me all hurt just like I was worried about which is why I couldn’t tell you!” you exclaimed, eyes filled with anger and tears. Bucky looked at you as if you had just punched him in the face. He would’ve much preferred that you had.

“Y/n.”

You shook your head, trying to get through the door that he was blocking. “Bucky, just let me through the door, forget it.”

“Y/n just talk to me please, I -”

“JUST LET ME THROUGH THE GODDAMN DOOR.” You yelled, surprising Bucky. It had been a while since you had gotten this angry or defensive. But he stood his ground. Bucky was standing in front of you, blocking the door. His piercing blue eyes were locked on you, your own refusing to meet his. 

He wanted answers that you were not ready to give.

“Y/n, please. I just want to talk about this”

“There’s nothing to talk about, Bucky,” you said, feeling tears threatening to spill over. 

He took a deep breath. “You told me you would tell me if it was getting bad again.”

You closed your eyes and felt a pang in your stomach. “Bucky, I - “

“You promised,” he said, voice cracking.

You shook your head. “Why do I have to talk about this. It’s not like I’m hurting anybody” 

“You’re hurting yourself, y/n.” he said calmly.

You shook your head and narrowed your eyes slightly, tears falling. “That’s different Bucky, you know it is.”

“You aren’t somebody?”

You looked at him for a moment before a sob escaped your body, leaning on the counter for support as you brought a hand to your mouth. Bucky quickly came up behind you and pulled you into him, wrapping his arms around you. You started crying harder, embarrassed and ashamed. 

“I’m sorry Bucky, I didn’t know what else to do, I didn’t know how to tell you, I -”

“Hey it’s okay, it’s alright y/n, I’m here.” Bucky kept whispering reassurances in your ears, rubbing a hand up and down your back. 

After some time passed, you didn’t know how long, you were able to calm down enough to take some shaky breaths, hiding your red face in Bucky’s chest.

“When did this start happening again?” he asked softly

“I don’t know… few weeks at least, not really sure.”

He took a breath, trying to stay calm. A few weeks and he hadn’t suspected anything, and you were alone. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“You were on a mission, I couldn’t interrupt that.”

“Why didn’t you tell me when I got back?” he pressed gently.

“You were so tired Bucky - ”

“Y/n.” he said more firmly.

You paused for a moment, knowing he wouldn’t take those answers. If they were truly the reason then you would’ve told him the next day or the day after, as soon as the opportunity came. There was more to why you waited, and Bucky knew that. 

“I didn’t want to disappoint you,” you whispered. 

You heard Bucky sigh. He was angry with himself, for not being approachable to you. All he wanted was to make you feel safe enough to come to him, and to hear that you hadn’t because you thought he had expectations for you crushed him. “Y/n, I told you you could tell me about this. When have I ever been disappointed or angry with you?”

“You haven’t. You were just so proud and I - I didn’t want to ruin that for you. I didn’t want to tell you that you were proud of a lie.”

“Hey, hey look at me.” Hesitantly you looked up to meet his eyes. “None of this was you lying. You put in the hard work day after day, and I told you I was here to support you. But I never did the work for you. You did that. I’m proud of you and I always will be because you’re a fighter. It’s okay to have bad days, it’s okay to slip up. It’s okay to need a little help too, and that’s what I’m here for. A slip up doesn’t erase all the hard work you’ve put in before. I’m proud of you for the progress you’ve made, and of the work you put in. This doesn’t change anything sweetheart.”

He pulled you back into his chest.

“I’ll always be proud of you.”

[imaginethebeautifulworld]

Let’s say England has a long-term girlfriend he knows isn’t the biggest fan of marriage bc her family had been really really pushy (before she got the heck out of dodge) about her marrying + reproducing ASAP. How might he react if she came to him and said she was kinda starting to like the general concept of marrying him — that is, the whole ‘together forever’ bit. Thanks!

I confess darling that I have been trying to finish this prompt for well over a year, and I offer my sincerest apologies that it’s taken me this long to finish it. Still, despite my tardiness, I hope you enjoy, and I thank you for your patience with me.

You had never intended to fall in love, not with the constant push of your relatives to fall in line like a perfect child.

First, marriage to someone they deemed acceptable, raising the perfect 2.5 children, followed by quietly settling into parenthood and complaisant contentment until the day you last drew breath.

Truth of the matter was, you had avoided all chances of romance for the first few years after you moved away from home, carefully slipping away from anyone who seemed remotely interested in you.

You knew your folks would have disproved such behaviour had they learnt the truth, but you couldn’t find it in your heart to care. You had your own dreams to pursue, your own story to tell, your own life to live; you didn't need someone by your side to feel complete.

You were happy as you were, finding enjoyment in your work and figuring out your place in the world.

You didn’t need, or frankly want, anything more than that.

That was of course until you met him.

Falling in love with Arthur Kirkland had been a complete accident. He slipped past all of your defenses and took up residence in your heart as if he had always belonged there.

It started out slow enough; at first you simply knew him as a familiar face from the cafe in Waterstones, steaming cup of Darjeeling and a chocolate croissant sitting forgotten on the table in front of him, always too focused on his reading to pay any attention to the outside world. After one particularly crowded Sunday afternoon, he began to transition into your favorite dining companion, the two of you often taking turns paying for each other’s food. Slowly but surely, you began forgetting about your books, too wrapped up in conversation, and before you knew it-

You had come to love every part of him- the gentleman that you begrudgingly introduced to your parents, the rebellious and passionate activist, the cocky and playful little shit who had long ago memorised all the best ways to disarm you, and the ancient soul who cared so deeply, who still stretched himself thin most days in effort to protect each of his loved ones.

You fell in love with his voice, whispering sonnets and sonatas and sweet nothings in your ear while his arms cradled you from behind.

You fell in love with his eyes, still losing your footing sometimes when the light caught them just right, dreaming momentarily of summer forests and grassy glades and the misty dews of spring.

You fell in love with his smiles, from the satisfied grin at stirring up Peter’s ire to the breathless wonder each time you kissed or complimented him, to the bright, beautiful, blinding smile he wore when he was incandescently happy, his entire countenance iridescent from his joy.

You loved him completely- for his devotion, for his sweet gestures, for his damned impishness, for his wit, his sass, and the soft spoken affection.

You loved him: for his patience, for his recklessness, for his resilience, for his possessive pride that was somehow more charming than alarming.

He was unique, an enigma that, even after having lived together for years and dating even longer, kept you on your toes, his energy and random spouts of spontaneity proving to you that, even if you spent one hundred lifetimes with him, he would always remain a puzzle you would never fully solve.

And by God did you want to.

Arthur had stolen your heart away from you before you had even noticed he was close enough to take it, offering his own in its stead.

You had remained reluctant, confided in him your fears about settling down, how much you dreaded becoming trapped in a monotonous rut of tedium. He was quick to reassure you, showing through words and actions far more impassioned and teasing than he had ever shown prior, that an eternity with him could never be boring.

Even on quiet days, like today, with a steady drizzle painting the world in greys, Arthur humming quietly while adding another patch to his denim vest, and no other disturbance apart from the cat’s chittering at the robins playing in a puddle by the iron fence- Even now, you weren’t so much bored as you were pensive.

You had been thinking about a future with him a lot in the past few days, some irrelevant ad on your mobile about wedding venues catching your attention and slithering into the back of your mind.

What kind of wedding would he like? Would Arthur prefer something small and intimate, or would his hubris crave a larger venue, giving him yet another chance to prove to the world that he belonged at your side, no one else?  You couldn’t help but wonder if he would wear his uniform or a suit, if he would leave the rats' nest he called a hairstyle untouched, or if he would perhaps slick it back in that way that somehow made the normal rakishness disappear, a confident, refined cavalier standing in his place.

You knew of course that none of this mattered unless you actually talked to him first; as far as you were aware, he was content with the current arrangement, and he respected your views of marriage.

He had known, for a long time, just where the grim outlook stemmed from, and he never breached the subject again.

But now-

You had thought it was enough to hold his love, his faith, his vulnerabilities. But life was so fleeting, and now those few things were no longer enough.

You wanted to wake up every morning next to him, wanted the cheesy partners’ towel and flip flop sets. You wanted the physical reminder that you held his heart, the comforting reminder that he completely possessed your own. You wanted to be by his side forever, holding his hand through the good and the ill, facing new worlds and challenges and the uncertain future together.

You knew the risks, of course.

Marriage to a Nation carried an even heavier burden than the simple oath of “till death do us part.”

No, marrying Arthur would mean weaving your entire lives together, binding you on a spiritual level far surpassing mortality; it would mean sacrificing your chance to ever grow old, to eternally give yourself away: heart, mind, body, and soul.

But this was Arthur, who sang showtunes in the shower, who spent hours making silly faces at the cat, who was ridiculously competitive about Halloween costumes, the man who sat down and memorised the entirety of The Tempest in one night just for the bragging rights.

He already owned your heart, constantly invaded your thoughts and daydreams, and God knew he had long, long ago claimed your body, making certain not a single millimeter of his new territory went unexplored.

Would it really be so bad to give him your soul, too?

Glancing back up, seeing his eyes narrowed in concentration, his fingers handling the needle with expert precision, lips slightly parted, reading glasses fallen halfway down his nose-

You knew your answer.

It was always going to be Arthur for you, only Arthur.

Forever, should he have you.

But now you faced the challenge of telling him that.

It should be simple enough; you really held no more secrets from him, and he no longer bothered trying to hide anything from you. You loved how open you were with one another, cherished the honesty that served as the very foundation to your relationship.

But the truth was that you were terrified.

It had been so long since either of you had spoken of marriage, since the topic was even a thought in your minds, and-

What if he didn't want you anymore?

What if he-

"I can see the steam coming outta your ears."

The unexpected presence of Arthur's voice startled you, eyes darting back over to the very man who was unwittingly tormenting you.

He had barely moved from his earlier position, though his glasses had been pushed up into his hair and he was studying you curiously, if not bemusedly.

"You good there?"

By default, you nearly responded with an affirmative, some playful, lighthearted thing that would have dismissed his concern immediately. You cut yourself off mid-start, then, while shifting to sit properly in the armchair, you decided to push forward. "Can we talk?"

You watched as his expression shifted, revealing his concern as he tied off his thread, setting aside the patchwork and gestured for you to join him on the sofa.

There were a few awkward moments where you took up your favourite positions, Arthur tossing an afghan across the pair of you despite your insistence that you didn't need one, the flicker of a grin as you begrudgingly thanked him, and then shifting around as you both got comfortable, but soon enough-

"Alright, now; talketh at-eth me."

It was impossible to fight the smile his choice of words triggered, a reference to an inside joke so old now that you could scarcely recall its origin. Seeming to deem it a success, his own soft, reassuring smile greeted you.

"Seriously though, luv-" His hand came to rest atop your own, his fingers gently tapping a familiar rhythm against your skin. "What's troubling you?"

You were half-tempted to offer something short of sincerity, something innocuous and mundane that you could both laugh over and forget again within a few hours. Yet, you knew that if you didn't tell him now, didn't ask him now, you would never find the courage again.

"I've been thinking-"

"Ah. A scary premise in its own right."

"Oh, shut up," you retorted to his tease, smacking his arm for his troubles. He rewarded you with a grin, all fondness and mischief. Opting to ignore him, you pressed on, eyes downcast to avoid whatever judgement he may offer.

"As I was trying to say earlier, before I was so rudely interrupted-" The teasing fell off, and the worry crept back in. "I've been thinking. About us."

"O-oh?"

Were you not so consumed by your own anxieties, you would have noticed his stutter, would have seen the sudden tension in his posture, the fear in his eyes. As it was, you were completely oblivious to all of it, and made yourself continue at his prompting.

"I- I think I'm ready."

He mimed the word "ready" to himself, parroting it with utter befuddlement. "For wha-"

"I mean, I know I wasn't for such a long time, and-" Suddenly, you were off, half unhinged. Now that you had admitted the truth aloud, it was all rushing out of you, everything you had come to love about him, everything that-

A finger pressing firmly against your lips stopped you mid-tangent, and when you glanced up to find piercing, blazing emerald focused on you as if you were the very center of the universe, whatever remained of your ramblings disappeared entirely.

"What are you trying to say?"

A simple question, so easy to answer, yet it carried with it the weight of Infinities, demanding nothing save the truth, in its most basic state.

You were lost in his gravity, half-drowning in whatever this new feeling was. It was addicting, another riddle to be solved.

"Marry me."

Time stood still, the words weighing heavily in the space between you, now seemingly insurmountable despite being no more than mere decimeters.

Arthur showed no reaction, revealed no indication that he had even heard your plea, your query, your command, your request, and yet it echoed over and over in your own mind, the tone, the weight, the untimeliness-

Every facet- from your inflection to chosen tempo- crescandoed as an accusation, a mocking symphony that he would reject you, that you would be left with only the haunting strains of your ill-conceived proposal.

And yet-

There was a hesitation in his eyes, the face of a man who wanted wholeheartedly to believe what he had heard, but had been burned far too often in the past to dare allow himself hope.

"You-" His eyebrows furrowed, eyes narrowed as he studied you once more, only for the suspicion to disappear again almost immediately, disbelief swiftly taking its place. "You're serious?"

It was then that you finally read his nervousness, understood the strange emotion reflecting in his eyes.

You had lead him to a precipice, the vast Unknown before you both, and-

And he was just as fragile as you were, even if he was better at hiding it.

You gave his hand a light squeeze, hoping to ground you both, and offered him a nod. “If you’ll have me, anyway.”

His eyes flickered between your own, darting back-and-forth so quickly in search of a lie, of any doubts, of any hint that you were less than certain- yet you knew he would find none of that.

“What about your family?”

The question took you by surprise; in the moment, you had completely forgotten anyone else even existed.

You weighed his question carefully. Marrying Arthur would give your family leave to gloat in self-satisfaction, and you knew with absolutely certainty that they would hold it over your head for the next three decades. But looking into the eyes of the man before you, remembering all that you had already seen and done together, you found that others' opinions no longer mattered, really hadn't mattered in a long, long time.

“I couldn’t care less about them. Arth-”

Whatever you were going to say was forgotten as he closed the remaining distance between you, moving so swiftly that you scarcely had a moment to steady yourself before he captured you in a searing kiss, one of his most passionate by far.

Somehow, despite the suddenness of it all, the initial force, the intensity- 

He was being incredibly gentle, and moving slowly enough to almost be more a torment than a treat. Almost.

You found yourself lost in a daze when he finally pulled away, just enough for each of you to catch your breaths, just far enough that he could study you with rapt attention. You could have drowned in his eyes, endless greens magnetizing in their intensity. His hands were still cradling your cheeks, still holding you firmly in place, a not completely foreign expression creasing his features.

You couldn't quite place it, even as your memories shifted desperately in search of its mate.

"'If I'd have you?'" His words, a rhetorical refrain of your own mere moments earlier, were scarcely a shared breath between you, murmured in timbre so low it summoned a shiver. There was the smallest twitch of his lip, his head tilting ever so slightly as more of that damned deviousness made its presence known. "I fully intend to have you regardless, luv. But the formality of it all certainly adds a particular je ne sais quoi, wouldn't you agree?"

You'd be damned if he knew just how that made your heart flutter, if he knew just how much weight that reassurance had lifted from your shoulders.

Carefree, content, you offered a playful smile. "Till death do us part then?"

Arthur no longer bothered trying to restrain his smile, soft and sincere in a way that left you breathless. "I'll love you till even the stars go cold, my dear."

Thanks for reading~

[random-french-girl]

heyo, sorry this is long.

i saw your post earlier where you said you don't know how much differently the writers of the wilds could've done with the boys given that they were a set part of the show. so i'm going to take that as an opportunity to share my personal vision for how the boys could've been incorporated - because even though it makes absolute fuck-all difference now, i kinda really want to show that it could have been done in a likely much more palatable way to the show's OG fans.

and my vision is basically just this: the boys shouldn't have been introduced onscreen until the very end of season 2, but still in the exact situation that we do see them meet the girls at the end of real s2. so leah still discovers the twilight of adam footage at the end of s1 & goes 'WTF.' at the opening of the s2 bunker scenes, we could see her like, have just enough time to read a file page with a basic enough description of the ToA for her to surmise it was the male counterpart experiment. maybe she also sees the guys' names & their pictures. but, crucially, she doesn't read anything that indicates this experiment was happening concurrently/she assumes or misinterprets that it was over with & has no reason to suspect the boys are also in the bunker.

i don't see why leah couldn't have still pulled off her Girlboss Manipulation plan without interacting w/raf, so then the final scenes of s2 could just leave out the boys until after the girls are on the roof - maybe the boys were made to gather elsewhere for gretchen's weird party thing, idk, but the very last thing we see is them coming up onto the roof together after the girls. one of the girls asks "who tf are all of you" and leah gets to have another dramatic season ending line: "oh my god, they're the twilight of adam" or something.

so, the show would have stayed centered on the girls completely for the first two seasons, and both the girls & the audience would then have the major status quo shift of new island/same survival shit + new people to adjust to in s3. the girls could & should remain the only group of main characters the entire time - the boys could get a more recurring characters type time allotment. s3 flashbacks could have been to the boys' first island. and i imagine seth locks them all out of the bunker, & a major plot point is the whole group trying to figure out who is watching/messing with them, and the boys gradually realizing it's seth & not telling the girls about him & the drama & mistrust of all that etc etc.

anyways. sorry if this is entirely too long and annoying to get in your asks unsolicited. i'm just so mad that the real s2 left off in SUCH an interesting place. like, i agree they fumbled much of the boys' plot & the whole season structure hard, but the boys were def not entirely unlikable like some say, and the combining of the two groups would have made for such a fascinating s3. if only they'd just waited to use the boys until then, IMO.

Hi Anon! Thanks for sending your thoughts! Please don't apologize, I loved reading a new perspective. And I agree with a lot of points you make.

I think my only problem with your solution is that it undermines the plot twist/reveal at the end of season 1, by making it totally irrelevant to season 2, and then repeating the same plot twist of "omg boys!!" to end season 2. I wasn't fond of the introduction of the boys in 1x10, but I think if you do this, you have to commit and make it part of the plot in s2. Otherwise, it feels empty and pointless.

I also actually really liked the leah/raf bunker storyline, both for the s2 content (love my manipulating girlboss leah who can't go through with betraying him) and as a cool setup for a s3 team-up. So I don't know about waiting to have the boys onscreen until s3. But I definitely agree with you that they needed to make the boys secondary characters, and not treat them in the story like 8 new main characters. A few ideas:

get rid of the boys backstories. if they are secondary characters, we don't need to SEE the flashbacks, we can still learn about their past from the present scenes. Keep them for s3 - especially if you can then parallel various boys and girls flashbacks, and actually compare girlhood and boyhood in America thoughtfully.

I think the meat of the boys island scenes works well, minus a few things. Plus it introduces the antagonist for s2/s3 (Seth) in a very chilling way. I like your idea of the girls not knowing who's messing with them in s3, and the boys slowly figuring it out (plus Leah, let's be real), but I think it's better if the AUDIENCE knows the whole time, and has witnessed Seth's violence.

reduce the boys bunker interviews to the very minimum, maybe only one appearance for each boy. I felt like a lot of those scenes really added nothing. Obviously we're keeping Henry's iconic mcr moment.

And I know some people think that wouldn't leave enough material for the whole season, but I disagree. They could use the extra space to flesh out some of the girls island plot points. We don't need to have more cute filler scenes, necessarily, but I certainly wanted more for Toni and Dot, just as an example. Maybe give Nora a storyline, if the actress is available for the back half of s2. And spend more time on the research: by s2, we really should know/understand more about Gretchen's project, my suspension of disbelief can only go so far.

Anyway, I'm not a TV writer, so who knows. But I enjoyed your idea, and I like thinking about how they could have structured the season differently to make it work better!

[honeypiehotchner]

intelligence & issues (Hotch x Fem!Reader) -- chapter twenty-two

I’m liking this two updates a week schedule because I hate leaving you guys hanging like that!! I hope this chapter makes it all better xx.

Oh btw the title of this chapter and last chapter are lyrics from “Hold On” by Chord Overstreet! (Also I know the gif is irrelevant but the ~emotion~ of it is relevant)

ALSO (wow I have a lot I keep forgetting to add) I meant to @ her last chapter, but all of these medical scenes and things were 100% done with the help of @thedumpsterqueen​ because I know next to nothing about all this stuff and she was an angel and let me ask all the crazy questions <333 (P.S. she has a Hotch fic called Standards of Performance on her blog that you guys should alllll read if you haven’t already!! It’s SO good it’s one of my favorites)

Warnings: angst and sadness, but that’s pretty much it

Previous chapter || Fic Masterlist

Chapter Twenty-Two: I can’t imagine a world with you gone

Everything is a blur in Hotch’s mind before and after the first gunshot rings through the air. He didn’t need to hear the buzzing in his ear to know it had hit you.

He took off at a sprint, as did the rest of the team.

His ears are ringing. His thoughts are racing. He’s never been a man who talks frequently to God, but he’s praying. Hoping you’re alive. Begging you to not be dead.

Aaron would never forgive himself if you died. As it stands, though, he won’t ever forgive himself for this.

Prentiss, Reid, and Rossi take off in one direction. Hotch and Morgan take the other. Police officers fill the gaps and follow behind, everyone searching for you and Savannah.

Morgan is the first to stumble on the room. His throat aches when he screams for Hotch, keeping his weapon aimed at Savannah.

“Put the gun down!” Morgan yells.

Hotch comes skidding to a stop in the doorway a second later, weapon raised, but his eyes are focused on you. Savannah’s boot is pressing into your thigh, blood oozing from your wound, soaking your pants, spilling onto the concrete. Hotch’s heart drops at the sight. He’s seen enough bullet wounds to know how much blood should come from them. That is too much.

The bullet must’ve hit the major artery. And the thought terrifies him.

Morgan takes the shot when Savannah refuses to move. It hits her stomach and she stumbles for a moment before falling. Morgan yells for the paramedics again, distantly thinking they should be in here by now.

Hotch falls to the ground beside you, his hands cupping your face, not caring who sees. His thumbs tap your cheeks, willing you to open your eyes. You have a pulse, but it’s weak. Weaker than what it should be.

He presses hard over your wound, hoping to slow the bleeding, but there’s more surrounding your leg than he wants to see.

“Y/N?” He says, his eyes watching your eyelids for any movement. He lets out a momentary sigh of relief when your eyes open. “Y/N, please, can you hear me?”

You stare back at him, no signs of his words registering in your eyes. They’re empty. Haunted, again, but for a different reason this time. This time it’s different. “Aaron…”

“I’m here,” Hotch says gently, pressing his hand harder, his heart breaking when you groan in pain. “I know,” he says, shushing you.

Your eyes travel around the room then, and Aaron follows. Morgan is pressing his hand over Savannah’s wound, speaking into his wrist, asking the others where the hell the paramedics are at.

But Aaron doesn’t want you to see that, so he cups your jaw again, turning your eyes back on him. He smiles as best he can, the tears beginning to spill from his eyes as he takes in your face.

“There’s my girl,” he says softly. “Keep holding on. They’re almost here.”

“Aaron,” you try to say, your voice low and strained, and Aaron shakes his head, trying to get you to stop talking. “Aaron...I don’t wanna go without-- I need to tell you that I--”

“Shhh,” he tries again, not wanting you to waste any energy. “You don’t need to.”

“I love you,” you finally get it out. And he’s stunned to complete silence and tears. “I love you so...so much. It hurts.”

“Y/N,” he says, panicked. Your eyes are closing. “Y/N! Come back, Y/N, come back to me. Y/N. Y/N, please.”

Hotch is too caught up in holding your face and keeping pressure on your wound to notice the paramedics have arrived. One team goes to Savannah, relieving Morgan, while the other comes to you, trying to usher Hotch away, but he doesn’t budge.  

“Hotch,” Morgan tugs on the unit chief, grabbing at his arms, his heart breaking for the both of you. “Hotch, you need to let them get to her.”

Reluctantly, Hotch backs up, clenching his bloodied fist, grimacing at the way your blood sticks his skin together.

Everything else is a blur.

What does it need to be clear for, anyway? If you’re not here?

+++

You’re still in surgery.

It’s been an hour. But it feels longer. It feels like it’s been an entire twenty-four hours.

The entire team has taken up camp in a waiting room at the hospital.

Reid is reading and rereading every magazine he can get his hands on to distract himself, never mind the fact that he reads them so fast that he rips a page on one from turning it so quickly. Morgan has Garcia on the phone and has left to get coffee at least three times, the first time returning with a tray of steaming cups and the next two times returning with only one, but two tearful eyes. Emily has been pacing and will wear a hole into the tile at this rate if she walks for another hour. JJ has been staring at the wall, chewing so hard on the inside of her cheek that she flinches when she draws blood.

Rossi has been staring at the wall, too, but mostly he’s been worrying about and watching Hotch.

Aaron has been biting his nails, tugging at his hair, angrily wiping away tears, and left once to go on a walk before returning two minutes later, asking if they had heard anything. Those two minutes had felt like two hours and he was worried sick for all 120 seconds that he missed something.

Dave hasn’t tried to say anything to Aaron, though he wants to. It’s heartbreaking to watch Aaron like this.

You’re going to pull through. Dave — and the rest of the team — can’t afford to think otherwise. And they refuse to think otherwise, unable to imagine what it would be like if you weren’t here.

But it seems like Aaron is thinking otherwise.

Truthfully, he is. But he’s thinking about so much more.

You love him. You love him. You love him.

And he was too stunned to say it back. The one chance he had, and it might be gone now. Ripped away. Forever.

He sent you in there. He did this to you. He had his reservations, but the call had already been made. You seemed so sure. You wanted to do this so badly. He didn’t want another fight about him not trusting you because it’s not about his trust for you, it’s about how terrified he was for you.

He’ll never forgive himself for this now. Not ever.

It’s a world he can’t even bear to imagine. One without you in it.

Yet here he is, grappling with the fact that he might not have to imagine it soon. He sent you in there. He knowingly put your life in danger. And now he’ll have to live with the consequences.

+++

Aaron is shaken from his trance by the doctor and a nurse coming in to inform the team that you’re out of surgery and that it went well.

But you’re in the ICU.

“She lost a great deal of blood,” the doctor says gravely. “But we think she’ll pull through. She just needs to be watched closely for the time being.”

Everyone nods silently, not sure of what else to say, other than feeling relief that you’re alive.

“Visiting hours are long over, so I recommend you all get some rest,” the nurse says. “She’s in good hands here.”

“Thank you,” Rossi replies.

The doctor excused himself, but the nurse stayed, offering to answer any extra questions. “Visiting hours start at seven a.m.,” she says first. “And in the ICU, only two visitors are allowed in her room at a time.” She doesn’t voice an apology, but one is in her tone as she glances between the six team members.

“Can I stay?” Hotch blurts out of nowhere. The team member’s heads all turn to look at him in surprise. “Can anyone stay the night, I mean.”

“Uh, yeah,” the nurse nods. “One person can.” Her eyebrows furrow sincerely. “Are you her dad?”

Morgan internalizes a snort.

“No,” Hotch replies kindly. “I’m not, but I’d like to stay. I’m her boss.”

Still the nurse looks skeptical. “Would she be okay with—”

“She’s his girlfriend,” Emily blurts out, tired of waiting. And when Hotch sends her a look, she says, “What? It would’ve taken you hours to say it.”

“Oh,” the nurse chuckles, embarrassed. “I’m so sorry. Yes, of course you can stay.”

Hotch lets a tiny smile shine through, but it’s not much. Truth is, he’s terrified to see you. But leaving you here alone – even if this is a hospital – terrifies him more.

The rest of the team says goodbye to head back to the hotel for some much-needed rest, if they can sleep at all. They know they’ll wake every couple hours to worry about you before sleep consumes them once more.

In the meantime, Hotch will be here to look after you for all of them. You’re like a little sister to the rest of them, even though Morgan is the only one to have voiced that. You’re loved here. Loved more than you’ll ever be able to comprehend.

You’re loved by Aaron much more than he’ll ever be able to articulate to you. But he’ll try. He’ll try to help you see.

+++

Hotch is finally walking to your room in the ICU after another half hour of waiting. The nurse said they had to get everything settled in your room before he could come back, which only made Hotch’s worry spike even more.

But eventually, he’s in your room with you. A pillow and blanket is in the chair by the window, but he’s not paying attention to it.

You. You’re asleep, of course, and probably will be for a few more hours. The nurse said you had already woken up once, but because of the pain medicine and the overall stress your body has been under in the past few hours, you fell back to sleep almost instantly.

Tears well in his eyes at the sight of you, laid up in the hospital bed, IVs and wires all over you. The beeping of the heart monitor is the only real sign to him that you’re even alive. Your chest is rising and falling, but it’s barely visible underneath the gown and blankets and wires.

You have one regular IV placed on the top of your left hand. Some other line is in your upper arm, and another in your wrist. He has no idea what they’re all for, he just knows he hates seeing you connected to so much.

Aaron wipes at his eyes angrily. Does he have a right to be this upset when he’s the one who sent you in there?

He turns and sets the pillow and blankets in the other chair, knowing he won’t sleep tonight even if he wanted to. Instead, he pulls the chair closer to your bed, where he can place his hand next to yours.

And, if you happen to wake up, you can reach for him if you need to.

+++

Three hours pass and you still haven’t woken up. Aaron knows. He’s been watching you the entire time.

The nurses have come to check on you a few times, assuring Aaron that it’s normal for you to be sleeping like this. But he just nods silently.

He wants you to wake up. Just for a minute. He needs you to just open your eyes and look at him, just once. That’s all he needs.

But it’s wishful thinking as the sky begins to lighten, showing the first signs of dawn.

Aaron links his pinky with yours, afraid to do much else and risk messing up your IV. Holding pinky fingers is enough right now. Or at least, it’ll have to be.

“I’m sorry,” he says out loud, to you, or really to no one at all, because he’s not even sure you can hear him. “I’m just so...sorry, Y/N.”

Stupid tears gather in his eyes again, clogging his throat, stopping his words.

But he keeps going.

“It’s my fault,” he says. “And I know you’ll try to convince me that it’s not, but Y/N, it is and I’m so sorry. I can’t believe I let this happen to you.”

He leans his head into the palm of his free hand, tightening his pinky finger’s grip on yours.

“I love you,” he blurts it out, tears warming his palm as they cascade down his cheeks. “I love you and I need you to wake up because I need you to hear it. I love you. I don’t think there’s ever been a day that I’ve known you that I haven’t loved you.”

He sniffles, loud and body-rattling, glad he’s alone in this room with you because he’d never let anyone else see him like this. No one but you.

“I tried to get it out before, but you were already gone, and I— You need to wake up. I need you to wake up. Please.”

Aaron keeps his eyes closed and head down for a few minutes longer. He doesn’t even see that you’ve opened your eyes.

Until your pinky finger gently squeezes his.

He lifts his head quickly, eyes wide and wild when he sees you’re looking back at him, eyes glassy with tears and exhaustion.

And just like that, just seeing your eyes open and looking right at him, the dam breaks once more. He’s a mess of tears when he leans his head down onto the bed. You lift your hand and thread your fingers through his hair, closing your eyes as more tears slip down your cheeks.

You scratch a soothing pattern on the base of his skull, moving your other hand over your body to hold onto his arm. He senses the movement and lifts his head, grabbing your hand and pressing it to his lips.

He’s not sure how long he stays there, all he knows is his back aches when he straightens up again, and you’ve fallen back asleep.

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