#no WONDER ive been so utterly exhausted

[delta-hexagon]

vitamin D deficiency and anemia diagnosis for christmas, yay!

[angelstrawbabie420]

hmm i think i am not coping. very well

[jjkamochoso]

Imagine… Soshiro Hoshina Finding You on the Brink of Death

Angst, Hurt/No Comfort

Soshiro Hoshina x gn!reader

Warnings: mentions of injuries, ivs, death

Part two with fluff can be found here!

It looked to be the end of the line for you. Your Defense Force suit had long overheated, leaving you exhausted and vulnerable in your solo fight against the kaiju. The oversized monster saw how weak you were, becoming even more excited at the prospect of devouring yet another human. You kept shooting its snarling face in your desperation, round after round bouncing off its armored body since you wielded no extra power. The kaiju’s tail whipped around in a flash, hitting your slow moving body in the abdomen and making your gun fly from your grip. You were now splayed on the ground, unable to run and barely able to breathe. You didn’t want to give up but things were utterly hopeless. Your communications had been down the entire time of your 1 on 1 skirmish and your team had no idea where you were, you having been separated from them for far too long at that point. The kaiju strolled over to you, an aura of bloodlust surrounding it as it snatched you up in its jaw. You had no fight left in you—you just hoped your head would go first before all your bones were snapped.

“No more dinner for you tonight, you ugly shit.”

Was that… Soshiro? He came for you? You heard the faint unsheathing of swords as your eyes closed, ready to pass out. In its anger at being disrupted, the kaiju dropped you from its mouth and you tumbled onto the asphalt. The last thing you saw was a blur of violet hair and a whole lot of kaiju blood.

It was almost totally quiet when you came to again, save for the wheezing of your labored breaths. The sun was hanging high in the hazy sky and the weather was perfect--not too hot, not chilly at all. You wondered what Soshiro was up to. Was he still fighting the kaiju? You smiled at the thought. He was always so brave, the first one to jump into action. The relief you felt when he showed up to save you was insurmountable, though you probably weren't going to survive with your extensive injuries if you didn't see a doctor soon. What you wouldn't give to see his face again for the last time. No matter, the memories that you had together were more than enough for you. Maybe it was better this way. You couldn't imagine him setting eyes on your condition right now, you didn't want to burden him with your death. You prayed to whatever spiritual guide to let you pass before someone found your body; there was no way you'd let him lecture you about being more careful as you died.

"Vice Captain! They're still alive!"

You sighed as much as your broken body would allow. With Kafka around, your peaceful death plans would have to wait.

"Y/n, stay with us. Don't fall asleep, okay?"

His kind voice, though loud, was a welcome sound. Even still, your eyes were struggling to stay open as your head lolled around, but now your body was being maneuvered by someone whose touch had become a familiar comfort--

"Soshiro," you muttered, opening your eyes to find bright purple irises boring into your own. "Did you kill it?"

"Kill it? He obliterated that thing!" exclaimed Kafka, excitedly gesticulating. "He was all, swoosh with the swords and the honju was like, ahhh! Don't dice me up! But Vice Captain was like too bad, you should've thought of that before putting your hands on my y/n-"

"That's enough, Hibino."

"Yes, sir. I'll just, uh... stand over there."

Kafka ran off without another word, leaving you in the arms of the man you loved most.

"You’re my knight in shining kaiju armor," you choked out, trying to get a laugh from Soshiro, but he wasn't having any of it as he patched up your external injuries the best he could with his field first aid kit.

"I almost lost you, y/n. You almost died because I was too slow."

"Soshiro, that's not..." The blood you coughed up mixed with the blood on Soshiro's uniform.

"I know this might be selfish of me, but I can't let you die because I can't live without you. I don't want to live a life that doesn't have you in it. I would do anything for you." He placed a large bandage on a cut on your face, letting his fingertips rest there for longer than necessary before getting back to the task at hand. "I remember you said all those years ago you would do anything for me, too. Would you please hang in there and survive this? For me? For… us?”

He was right, you did say that. It was about a year after you both joined the Defense Force. You were both underdogs and no one seemed to believe in you and your abilities, except for each other. You had bonded over being underestimated and swore to each other that you’d never leave one another behind, in anything. He very obviously made good on that promise today.

You coughed up more blood and you could see the worry and pain in Soshiro’s gaze as he looked upon you, lying in his arms like a broken doll. He so gently wiped away the tears that were falling down your cheeks.

“It-everything hurts,” you whimpered.

“I know, I know it does. But we’re gonna get you the help you need, okay?”

You didn’t respond, causing Soshiro’s heart to plummet.

“Y/n. No, no, no, you gotta wake up. C’mon, this isn’t funny,” he pleaded, tapping your face, but getting no response.

“Shit! Hibino!” he yelled, trying his best to stay composed. “We need medic right now! Y/n won’t wake up!”

“Coming right now, Vice Captain!”

Sure enough, a doctor came rushing over, immediately placing down a stretcher. Soshiro loaded your unmoving body onto the hard plastic and he couldn’t help but think of how fragile you looked. Normally you were such a bright light in his life and a formidable ally not easily defeated, but right now, you looked one step from death’s door. He and Kafka dropped you off in an ambulance, ivs immediately being pumped into your veins. As those doors closed, Soshiro getting one last look of the love of his life, he prayed to whoever would listen that the door hadn’t closed on the opportunity to tell you how he truly felt.

PART TWO

[strwbrryeyes]

Hello, I saw your post about your one year event and figured I'd send in a suggestion.

If he's not taken I would like to request Sugawara with a soulmate trope. (If he's already taken let me know and I can give you a different character.

Anyways have a great day and congrats on getting to the year mark.

༊·˚ Soul Helper

⟡ cw: slight angst, idk tbh its been a while since ive done this

⟡ a/n: ONE DOWN!! i will be honest i had my friend help me with this one (hope thats okay) bc idk how to write soulmate tropes (will work on it) so if it doesnt sound completely like my writing its bc i had help shout out to alisha!!!!!

The faint phrase on your wrist had always been a mystery that nudged at you: "I was wondering if you..." The words felt both taunting and cruel, incomplete like a cliffhanger. Growing up, you’d catch yourself staring at the phrase in idle moments, imagining scenarios where it might finally make sense but as years passed, the mark became less a source of excitement and more a quiet ache. What if it never completed? What if your soulmate never said those words?

It was a thought that haunted you even now, standing in the teachers’ lounge at Karasuno High, slowly drinking a cup of lukewarm coffee that was meant to ease your stress but instead only heightened it. Your first month as a teacher had been chaotic and busy, filled with lesson planning, late night grading, and the kind of exhaustion that you could feel in your bones. Still, there was a quiet satisfaction in your work, a sense of purpose you hadn’t felt in years.

“Need a hand?”

The voice startled you, snapping you out of your thoughts, and you turned to see Sugawara Koushi, one of the school’s substitute teachers and a frequent helper with the volleyball team. He had a kind smile, the sort that made you feel instantly at ease. His silver hair caught the afternoon light streaming through the windows, giving him an almost ethereal glow.

“Oh, no, I’m fine,” you replied quickly, though the stack of papers in your arms threatened to spill at any moment.

“Are you sure?” he asked, stepping closer. “That looks like it’s about to topple over.”

You hesitated but relented, handing him half the stack. “Thanks. I guess I underestimated how much I could carry at once.” a light and dry chuckle escapes your lips.

“Happens to the best of us,” he said with a grin. “Where to?”

As the two of you walked down the hall, you found yourself stealing glances at him. There was something familiar about his presence, something that made your pulse quicken. But you brushed the feeling aside. It wasn’t like you hadn’t met kind people before.

–

The next day, you found yourself in the teachers’ lounge during lunch, buried under lesson plans and feeling utterly overwhelmed when Sugawara appeared out of nowhere, carrying a cup of tea.

“Thought you could use this,” he said, placing it on the table.

You blinked up at him, surprised. “How did you know?”

“You looked like you needed it yesterday,” he replied with a gentle smile. “Figured it might still be true today.”

The warmth in his voice made something in your chest tighten. “Thanks, Sugawara. You didn’t have to do that.”

“It’s Koushi,” he said, pulling out a chair. “And I wanted to. Mind if I join you?”

You nodded, and the two of you fell into an easy conversation. He had a way of making you feel like the only person in the room, his attention unwavering and sincere. By the time lunch ended, you realized you were actually smiling for the first time all day.

–

Later that week, you found yourself in the teachers’ lounge again, trying to wrestle a stubborn stapler into putting together a work packet. Sugawara walked in, his eyes lighting up when he saw you.

“Having trouble?” he asked, leaning against the counter.

“Just a little,” you admitted, frowning at the uncooperative device.

“Let me try,” he offered, taking it from you. With a few swift movements, he had it working perfectly.

“You’re a lifesaver,” you said, laughing. “How do you make everything look so easy?”

“Years of practice,” he said with a wink. “And maybe a little luck.”

The way he looked at you then- like you were the only thing that mattered- made your heart skip a beat.

–

A week later, during a rainy afternoon, you found yourself stranded in the courtyard with a broken umbrella. Sugawara once again appeared out of nowhere, holding his own above both your heads like a superhero he always seemed to be.

“You’re going to catch a cold out here,” he said, his tone equal parts amused and concerned.

“I’ll be fine,” you said, even though you were shivering. “It’s just a little rain.”

“Not on my watch,” he replied, steering you toward the nearest building. “Come on, I’ll walk you inside.”

As you walked together, the sound of rain pattering against the umbrella, you couldn’t help but notice how close he was. His warmth seemed to chase away the chill, and for a moment, you allowed yourself to imagine what it might be like to stay by his side.

–

The two of you continued to cross paths in the most random ways. One afternoon, you found him helping a group of students set up decorations for an upcoming school festival. He was laughing, his silver hair catching the light, and you couldn’t help but stop and watch.

“Hey,” he called out, catching you in the act. “Care to lend a hand?”

You joined him, and the two of you spent the next hour untangling strings of lights and hanging banners. His laughter was infectious, and you found yourself relaxing in his presence, the stress of the day melting away.

Another time, you walked into the gym to find him practicing volleyball with a few students. He waved you over, his smile bright.

“Think you can keep up?” he teased, tossing you a ball.

“Is that a challenge?” you shot back, your competitive streak flaring.

The two of you ended up playing a spirited game, much to the amusement of the students. By the end, you were both breathless and laughing, the tension in your chest replaced by a warm feeling you have never felt.

–

In the weeks leading up to the school festival, your interactions with Sugawara grew increasingly meaningful and beautiful. One afternoon, he caught you struggling with a stubborn vending machine in the lounge. Without a word, he gave the machine a gentle nudge, and your snack tumbled out. "Looks like I have the magic touch," he teased, handing it to you with a grin. 

Another day, you found yourself caught in the rain once again, this time without an umbrella. Sugawara spotted you from across the courtyard and jogged over, holding his umbrella high above your head. "You really have to stop tempting fate," he said, his tone light but his gaze soft. The two of you walked to the main building together, and though your shoes were soaked and made your feet feel heavy, your heart felt strangely light.

Then there was the time you stayed late to grade papers, only to find Sugawara already in the lounge, typing away on his laptop. "Another late night?" he asked, sliding over a spare cup of tea he’d prepared. The two of you ended up talking long past what either of you had planned, sharing stories about your students and dreams for the future. 

Each moment, though small, left an imprint on you. You began to notice the way he leaned slightly closer when you spoke, how his laughter seemed to linger in the air, and how your name sounded like a melody when he said it. Sugawara, too, seemed to gravitate toward you, finding excuses to spend a few extra minutes in your company. 

By the time the school festival arrived, there was a quiet understanding between you, though neither of you had voiced it aloud. And so, when everything started to go wrong at your booth and Sugawara appeared at your side, his presence felt like the most natural thing in the world. You’d been tasked with organizing a booth, and despite your best efforts, everything seemed to be going wrong. The decorations wouldn’t stay up, the equipment kept malfunctioning, and you were on the verge of a breakdown.

“Need a hand?” he asked, his familiar smile cutting through your frustration like sunlight breaking through clouds.

You wanted to say no, to prove that you could handle it on your own for once. But the words caught in your throat, and all you could do was nod.

Together, the two of you managed to get the booth up and running just in time. As the first wave of students arrived, you turned to him with a grateful smile.

“Thank you, I don’t know what I would ever do without you,” you admitted.

“Anytime,” he said, his voice warm. “I was wondering if you needed help with anything else.”

The world seemed to stop. His words echoed in your mind, and for a moment, you couldn’t breathe. You looked down at your wrist, at the phrase that had defined so much of your life. The mark was glowing faintly now, the words completing themselves as if they’d been waiting for this exact moment.

“Oh,” you whispered, your voice barely audible, “Oh my gosh.”

Sugawara followed your gaze, his own eyes widening as he saw the now complete phrase on your wrist. Slowly, he rolled up his sleeve, revealing his own mark. The words matched perfectly: "...needed help with anything."

For a long moment, neither of you spoke. The air between you was thick with unspoken emotions, with the weight of a bond neither of you had fully understood until now.

“It’s you, [Name],” he said softly, his voice filled with wonder. “I can’t believe it’s you.”

But instead of feeling joy, you felt a wave of panic. This was too much, too fast. Without thinking, you stepped back, your heart pounding in your chest.

“I… I need some air,” you stammered before turning and walking away, leaving him standing there with a look of heartbreak on his face.

- 

You spent the next few days avoiding him, throwing yourself into your work in an attempt to drown out the whirlwind of emotions. But no matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t stop thinking about him, about the way his words had completed the mark on your wrist. It was terrifying and exhilarating all at once.

Finally, unable to bear the silence any longer, Sugawara found you one evening in the gym. You were sitting on the bleachers, staring at the empty court below.

“Hey,” he said gently, taking a seat beside you. “Can we talk?”

You nodded, though your throat felt tight. For a moment, neither of you spoke, the silence stretching between you like a fragile thread.

“I’m sorry if I overwhelmed you,” he said finally. “I didn’t mean to make things complicated.”

“It’s not your fault,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. “I just… I wasn’t expecting this. Any of it.”

He nodded, his expression understanding. “Neither was I. But… I think we owe it to ourselves to figure this out. Don’t you, [Name]?”

You looked at him then, really looked at him, and saw the sincerity in his eyes. He wasn’t asking for anything more than a chance, and in that moment, you realized you wanted to give it to him.

“Okay,” you said softly. “Let’s figure it out.”

His smile was brighter than the sun, and for the first time in a long time, you felt like everything might just fall into place.

—

As the days turned into weeks, the bond between you and Sugawara grew stronger through a series of shared moments that revealed the depths of his kindness and your growing connection. One evening, you stayed late in the school library, grading papers under the glow of a desk lamp. Sugawara wandered in, a warm smile on his face as he carried two cups of tea. “I made you your favorite,” he said, setting one down in front of you. The gesture, small yet thoughtful, made your heart skip a beat.

These moments, though seemingly ordinary, wove themselves into the fabric of your days. He started saving a seat for you in the lounge during lunch breaks, always with a cup of tea waiting. You began to notice how he leaned in just slightly when you spoke, how his laughter felt like a balm for your stress, and how he seemed to instinctively know when you needed a helping hand. Slowly, your conversations deepened, shifting from casual banter to dreams and fears you’d never shared with anyone else. Sugawara listened intently, his presence unwavering and comforting, as if he was quietly promising to shoulder some of your burdens.

In turn, you learned about him- the way he talked about volleyball with a spark of passion, the pride he took in his students, and the quiet moments of doubt he sometimes shared late at night when the world felt still. These exchanges weren’t just about getting to know each other– they were about building trust, one shared smile and heartfelt word at a time. Each interaction brought you closer, and though neither of you spoke it aloud, the bond between you grew undeniable. You began to learn more about him- his love for volleyball, his passion for teaching, the way his face lit up when he talked about his students. 

One evening, as the two of you sat together in the empty gym, he turned to you with a thoughtful expression. “Do you ever think about what it means? The whole soulmate thing?”

You considered his question for a moment before nodding. “I think it means we’re supposed to help each other. Not just in the big, dramatic ways, but in the little things too. Like carrying papers or setting up a booth.”

He smiled at that, his eyes warm. “I like that. It’s not about fate forcing us together; it’s about choosing to be there for each other.”

You reached out then, your fingers brushing against his. “And I choose you, Koushi. Every time.”

His smile widened, and in that moment, you knew you’d found something rare and precious. Together, you could face whatever challenges lay ahead, knowing that you’d always have each other’s backs. The incomplete phrases on your wrists had brought you together, but it was the choices you made that would keep you there.

—

Months later, the two of you found yourselves at another school event, this time working side by side with the volleyball team. Sugawara was effortlessly charismatic, his laughter echoing across the gym as he encouraged the students. You watched him from a distance, your heart swelling with a mix of pride and affection.

“Hey,” he called out, jogging over to you during a break. “You look like you’re deep in thought. Everything okay?”

“Just thinking about how lucky I am,” you admitted, a shy smile tugging at your lips.

“Funny,” he said, his grin widening. “I was thinking the same thing.”

He reached for your hand, his touch warm and steady. And as you stood there together, surrounded by the vibrant energy of the students and the hum of life moving forward, you felt an overwhelming sense of peace. This was where you were meant to be, by his side, facing the world together.

[odetoagirl]

my mother always had this wonderful skill of making the world seem vicious and uninhabitable. naturally untalented, pathologically demanding and inherently perfectionistic, my mother worked incredibly hard and excelled to her own high standards in everything she put her hand to. under the impression that she could manifest anything she wanted for herself with a firm hand, she decided to have a baby, which unfortunately no one had told her would eventually turn into a person. for a little while she loved me, her incredible untitled project who could do the impossible, swiftly complete ventures she couldnt even comprehend, i was wonderful, and her controlling hands could exert their power on me as she increasingly lost her own autonomy. but as i grew,i grew down, i fell from those perceived heights and began to reflect my hostile surroundings. .

the irony of being smart is that we know best how much intelligence is always wasted on the intelligent. life, in its exceptionally simple beginnings, makes excellence exceedingly low effort and high reward, breeding lazy, egotistical creatures. thus, unbeknown to her for years, no effort was asked of me for years. incapable of evolution, as challenges beyond academia were asked of me it became apparent that totally unfledged my whole life, the ambitious willing muscle of my mother had atrophied and died within me, and consequently incapable of growth i had become paralysed as the world around me expanded and demanded of me, the sophisticated child who now fifteen years later could better be described as intelligent, but ultimately incapable. just as i had always been, i remained tearful, sickly and touch averse. entirely uncomfortable.

i spent my teenage years worrying about developing tourettes, i thought i just seemed like 'the type' for it. i thought that with such a rich inner world and so much to hide, misfourtune or irony would likely strike me with an inability to keep quiet at all to spite my growing shadow.

once i turned twenty, the fear transformed and i became fixated on an incoming schizophrenic break. regular peripheral glitches and the sounds of a ghost kettle became forewarning signals and taunts from my future. but i never broke, my eye sight just deteriorated and the distant whistles disappeared when the iron supplements began.

i had become a totally inactive agent within my own life, from an exacting mother who did almost everything for me, wrought with a perfectionism antithetical to children, and the reward of her scathing tongue when basic tasks were done well, but never done right, i learnt a helplessness and incapability of taking care of anything myself. contrary to common belief, perfectionistic parents do not often create ambitious children who cripple under the weight of their own inherited self imposed expectations, but rather most of us fall unheard of between the cracks, knowing that nothing we do will ever suffice, and that there is no prize on the other side of perfect. as disciplined as my mother was, i never knew anyone more wrought with misery and mediocrity. it seemed clear to me that one had two choices, work to exhaustion to no result, or do little at all to the same end. and where there was no reward for trying beyond risk of punishment, where avoidable, i escaped into fantasy.

so, utterly terrified in a world which seemed unrelenting, unrewarding and hostile, i have known myself only to be weak, impotent and now, utterly alone. i have frustrated everyone who has tried to help me, everyone who insists i have control and ability runs into dead ends in my conversation. so ingrained, i see a world of people with only a perceived power, it is paralysing and unlivable to realise your own lack of agency, people have invented jobs and hobbies and gods to fill the space, but the hardest working women ive ever known worked until death, towards a shimmery mirage of happiness they never achieved, with no money or legacy, unable to outrun where they started, maintaining only the illusion of progress by never looking over their shoulder.

[ravegore]

all my life ive been trying to be seen, noticed, and not just that but respected. taken seriously and meaningfully. having some kind of authority. ive felt like some incompetent quiet little girl that nobody pays attention to, that doesn't know anything and can't do anything and whos an utterly oblivious magnet to people who just want to hurt and use the little girl forever. i speak and beg and yell louder and louder to those i was codependent with to be heard, respected, to have an impact, to mean something, to make a difference that shows i existed to them and have meaning and value to them. someone whos guidance was right and important. a person who was important. obviously, that wasn't the point, and i was never heard because i was never asked to speak at all. to the abusive ones, they used what anger and retaliation to try and mean something that i had against me, pressuring me to make myself small.

and yet, ironically, i still feel like that little girl all the time. if not more now. i don't know anything, i don't do anything, and my advice was always skewed and wrong built on enabling and soothing my own ego so i just need to be quiet always.

i wonder if the codependency made me feel important and valuable. to have someone depend on me felt like love and recognition, because someone found me important to their life. in all the wrong ways. someone who would easily be affected by things i said and did. even though i hated it. it exhausted me. made me feel like a shell of myself. but at least it felt like something. now i have real relationships and it doesn't feel like anything. i don't know what to feel at all.

at the end of the day i still just feel like that shaking little girl so sensitive and dramatic, so pointless, so unremarkable and less significant or interesting than my family and friends. so easy to hurt. so easy to sniff out and consume. im tired of being a target. sometimes i really just want to fucking hurt people. i want to make people scared. i want them to be scared of targeting me and to hurt for it. i want people to be ruined if they ever try and touch me. goddammit i want to just exist as something more than a squishy helpless little thing trying to cosplay as a well-adjusted person.

[tomatocatcher]

HELLO NEWSIES FANDOM IVE BEEN HERE A WHILE!!

I hope its okay, but I was super inspired by this and decided to make a javid ficlet out of it.

Here it is if u wanna see it!:

LISTEN TO BEST TEARS BY THE HAPPY FITS WHEN READING FOR THE SILLIEST EXPERIENCE!!

Jack sprints away from Medda’s Theatre as fast as he possibly can, so ashamed and disgusted with what he’s done that he doesn’t even bother talking to anyone on his way there. He hurriedly climbs the ladder to the rooftop, slipping on the top step before hastily recovering. He lands on the rooftop’s floor with a sharp thud, sweating in the unusually humid New York air. 

He wonders how Crutchie is doing right now. Is he being beaten, starved, or worse? Jack can’t get the image of him hurt out of his racing mind, clutching onto the rooftop’s railing to stand up (He wouldn’t be able to by himself on his wobbly, shaking legs). He grunts as he pulls himself up, looking down at the busy Manhattan streets with quivering legs.

How easy would it be to just.. fall off? Would anyone even care? Everyone’s mad at him anyway. The other Newsies probably be euphoric, hearing the news. 

Can he even call himself another Newsie with what he’s done? Crutchie would be glad to hear he’s finally-

He’s suddenly grabbed by the backs of his shoulders, being thrown to the hard metal grate-floor with a grunt, landing on his back. Jack squeezes his eyes shut and wraps his arms around himself, shoulders and back overwhelmed with pain from the fall. He groans, opening his eyes to a figure above him.

“God, Jack! What were you thinking, almost falling off like that? You could’ve been killed! And you know what..”

Jack blinks, vision coming in to focus to stare up at Davey Jacobs, kneeling above his face, patting him down for injuries. He’s yelling at me, Jack absently thinks, but why? I almost fixed all our problems .. 

“Jack. Look at me. Hey, can you stand up?” Davey says, gently tapping his cheek with a concerned frown. He stands up above him still, reaching out his hand for Jack to take. Jack does, standing up on shaky legs, not releasing Davey’s hand. He finally musters up the courage to look up at his face, taking in his expression.

Davey’s face is contorted with some sort of utter sadness, a hint of betrayal evident in his brown eyes. He seems confused, despaired, and double-crossed all at the same time. He gives Jack a once over, smoothing out his clothes, not seeming to mind how dirty and wrinkled they are.

”Are you okay?”

Jack’s mind slips, seeming to suddenly realize what he almost did. He gasps in a shuddering breath, feeling hot tears welling up in his eyes. He sniffles, cheeks running wet with salty tears. He dips his head, utterly ashamed at how weak he must look, crying over this. Davey seems to take some sort of notice of his change in demeanor, bringing a hand to graze his warm cheek, lifting his chin to face him. 

Before Jack can apologize, he’s pulled in a hug, head now in the crook of Davey’s neck. He sniffles again, wrapping his arms tightly around Davey’s waist and squeezing his eyes shut. He’d like to think that it’s just him and Davey in the world now, up on a high rooftop in lower Manhattan, not thinking about any stupid strike, or the fact that Davey isn’t gonna ever forgive him—

Davey hugs him tighter, rubbing a hand over his (now bruised) back softly. He shushes him softly, fingers running through his messy hat hair. Davey guides him to sit on the grated floor, leaning them both back against the railing, wrapping an arm around his shuddering shoulders.

Jack takes in one last gasp, wiping the last of his tears away with his sleeve. He’s more-or-less exhausted by his weak, crybaby session, arms wrapping around his knees.

“The otha’ boys mad?” He asks in a quiet, (weak) voice. He doesn’t bother trying to meet Davey’s eyes, knowing it’ll be upset.

“..No. No, not at all.”

“Don’t lie ta’ me, David.”

“.. Okay, yes. They’re feeling.. Betrayed. And honestly, I am too.”

Jack’s chest stings with those words, tipping his head lower towards his chest. He mumbles an apology, too tired to think of anything else to say. He leans his head onto Davey’s shoulder, cap falling over his face, leaving a dark shadow.

“I.. didn’t wanna do it. You know that, right?” He mutters tiredly, looking down at the grates of the rooftop instead of anywhere near Davey.

A soft “Yeah. I know.” is the last thing he hears before dropping into an exhausted, cry-induced sleep.

I love writing sleepy angst tbh!! Sorry for the bad ending, this is like, the first real fic i've written :D Please reblog if you enjoyed!

something something after crutchie gets dragged away jack contemplates jumping from the roof something something something

[aggressivelyaverage21]

Holy War Chapter 14

The pair of enhanced women follow Lucia down the hall, Lilith forcing herself to walk slowly beside Ava lest she stumble again. Completely ignoring the fact that she just wanted to offer as much moral support to Ava as she could as they approached the sudo ICU room.

It was a lot to see Beatrice hooked up to machines. Lilith had seen it a few times in all the years they had known each other, and each time it was utterly jarring to realize how small she really was. How fragile. How mortal. How truly precious.

Lucia opens the door for them as she stands just inside the room. She hadn’t said anything yet, settling to let the girls process and prepare themselves however they needed to. Everything around Beatrice looked quite severe, even to her trained eye.  

Here, outside of their friend’s ICU room, they were girls to her. She hadn’t seen them since they’d returned, but each one looked exhausted and beaten down by the mission, both literally and metaphorically. She knew enough to know that something had gone very wrong, obvious injuries aside.

Ava froze as she stepped under the door frame, and her eyes landed on Beatrice. She was pale beneath the fluorescent lights. Circles so dark beneath her eyes that Ava might think they were from the fight instead. Though seeing the C-Collar removed gave her a little hope, the various tubes and wires coming out of nearly every place imaginable ensured that relief was short-lived.

The chest tube must have been fixed more securely because now an output bag hung at the bedside, already collecting fluid. The IV was still running dark with what would hopefully be the final parts of the transfusion. Ava couldn’t help but wonder if Beatrice had any of her blood even left. She wasn’t intubated anymore, which was a relief, though a nasal cannula sat slightly crooked beneath her nose, a mask hanging just off the side of the bed for an easy switch out should Beatrice require it.

Her right arm sat propped on a pillow at her side, a metal cage around it, translucent yellow film over the still open gash stuffed with something white, of all the things that made Ava’s stomach roll the most. There was something about seeing hardware surrounding the arm. Pins entering skin. What looked like glorified sticky saran wrap was the only thing between the inside of Beatrice’s arm and the outside world.

All of that to say. Ava’s feet had cemented themselves in the white tile at the door’s threshold. She wanted nothing more than to reach out to Beatrice. To touch her. To feel her pulse thumping warm beneath the pads of her fingers. The much too-slow beep of the heart monitors not doing nearly enough to give her that fuzzy feeling. She needed to feel the warmth of Beatrice’s skin under her hands.

She wrung her hands together in front of her. Eyes yet to look away from scanning over Beatrice. The monitors also fell into her scan, not that she would know what to look for. Ava was suddenly weirdly concerned that she had yet to blink since laying eyes on Beatrice, and time seemed like it wasn’t moving at all. She could have been there for minutes or seconds and wouldn’t have been any the wiser. “Can I…can I?”

“It’s ok; you can touch her.” Lucia has moved over to the side of Beatrice’s bed without the preplaced chair, checking over the monitor. Administering something through a port on the IV. “Just be -”

“Gentle, yeah, of course.” Ava swayed forward, her feet still unmoving as she made no real attempt to move into the room. Something about Beatrice in the bed looked frozen in time. She wasn’t really moving. Ava couldn’t even see her chest rise and fall. She'd have thought Beatrice was dead if it wasn’t for the heart monitor. Usually, people talk about how peaceful people look when they are asleep, but here, everything about Beatrice looked fragile. Even the air around her somehow felt it, and Ava was terrified that if she entered the room that bubble would shatter, and things would happen, and she’d lose Beatrice forever.

Lilith was just at Ava’s back, taking in the same scene. Sighing as her eyes raked over her sister, she’d never get used to seeing one of them like this. It had been Beatrice many more times than Lilith liked to think about. Unlike the other times, though, the comfort would fall on her this time. Well, her and Ava. But there wasn’t Shannon to climb in bed next to her for a snuggle, not that anyone could do that with her current condition anyway. There wasn’t Mary to sit by her side, teasing yet steadfast.

Right now, there wasn’t even Ava.

The halo bearer hadn’t so much as stuck a toe inside the room. For all her habit of running when things got hard, for her penchant for the flight response, she had frozen herself solid. Where Beatrice was now, she was safe. She was safe, her heart was beating, and she was breathing. She was alive. Ava didn’t want to do anything to tempt the university. She was terrified that moving into that bubble to comfort herself might just push it to take Beatrice away from her. Forever. Because it always had. Everyone who has ever loved her has left for one reason or another.

She couldn’t risk it. Not with Beatrice.  

Gently as she could manage, not wanting to risk triggering that flight response - though Ava had done nothing since her return to indicate she was still a flight risk - Lilith took a step closer to her, just inside her personal space. She reached out with a hand pressing midway up Ava’s back, just below the halo. “Go to her, Ava.”

She had half expected Ava’s head to spin around so fast it was a wonder it didn’t pop off. However, the typically excitable warrior turned slowly this time, her trembling frame pushing a new wave of sadness through Lilith. When Ava finally met Lilith’s gaze, her eyes were wide and wet. Lilith hadn’t realized how nearly golden Ava’s eyes were until she was looking at them, shining beneath unshed tears and harsh fluorescent lighting. She opened and closed her mouth a few times, and in a lighter situation, Lilith might have scolded her for looking like a guppy. Unlike Ava, however, Lilith could read a room, so instead, she dropped her voice even quieter to whisper again, “Go. It’s ok.”

“She looks…”

Read More 

[desired-victim]

Helloo! I wanted to request hisoka with corruption kink. Just write however you want to lolol i dont mind any freaky🏃

Ha *wipes sweat off forehead* I hope this hard work pays off. I put every ounce of effort in writing this 😮‍💨. I didn’t do any bullet points on this one but it does have about four thousand words! Please ignore the possible grammar mistakes, I do have trouble writing dialogue. I worked on yours all night long and I’m exhausted. My fingers sure are. I kept your request deeply in mind. You can see poor, little (Y/N)’s innocence melt right off her like ice cream ;). Anyway, here’s your request, my love 💕

I wanted to honor the divine feminine so you will see my appreciation for the female body below 👇

💕TW: The content below contains: degradation, domination kink, submission kink, dub con, threat of forced anal intercourse, pure smut, corruption kink, possible bad grammar, loss of virginity, dirty talk, cunnilingus, vaginal sex, corruption of innocence, Oh, and Hisoka is a TW itself.

Enjoy…

He’s tall.

God, he is so tall. Such long, strong legs - slender yet thick with muscle. Despite being erotically pleasant, his legs weren’t the best part of him. The best part of him was what your eyes followed. From his shins, to his knees, to his thighs, to his hips, to that beautifully sculpted torso of his, to his neck, and then you reached his eyes.

Those eyes. Those sharp, golden eyes of his.

His eyes unsettled most people. It was as though they could pierce your very soul, and see how weak and worthless you truly are. He's a predator - always keen, always aware, and always watching for a reason for you to be his next target.

Hisoka… how did you get those eyes?

She wondered how she caught his attention. He was the type of man to overlook girls like her. A blushing, doe eyed dolt, who could barely speak to strangers without stuttering a storm.

Why? Why would someone like Hisoka find her worthy of even being near him? Of being in his bed, of being by his side, of being between his legs. He is so very special, and I'm…

“My Little Slice, you look delightful when your down there~”

His voice shook her out of her thoughts. She looked at his teasing gaze and meekly lowered her sight to his lips. There, she saw them curl up into a grin. She tensed up and covered her naked chest with her arms. Just then, she realized how unbelievably exposed she was to his scrutiny.

“Oh, nervous now~,” he laughed out, sitting up from the headboard and closer to her face, “isn’t that sweet…”

More red than ever, she turned her face from Hisoka and leaned back. Instead of letting her move away, his hand wrapped around her wrist and thrusted her towards him. She yelped out as her cheek pressed against his hard chest, her face embarrassingly hotter than his cool skin. His chest rumbled as he let out a chuckle.

She put her hands against his chest and attempted to pull away, but his arm wrapped itself around her. She struggled to shove herself away and her efforts were all for nothing; he hadn’t moved an inch.

Perhaps it was foolish to pursue a 200th floor fighter. Where was her older brother to protect her now? He had lectured her beforehand about the dangerous people here and she laughed him off and teased him about being some sort of guard dog. Now, she needed him more than ever. She had never been in a situation like this before.

“No boys allowed, Y/N!” he usually shouted out, a vein practically popping out of his forehead. It almost seemed like he loved saying that as it was repeated over and over throughout her life.

All she wanted to do was explore a place she never ventured to. To seek the thrill that felt so curious and good, yet hidden like the inside of a flower that hasn't bloomed yet. A buzzing heartbeat that formed when she laid alone at night and gently ran her fingers up her skin, leaving a trail of goosebumps and shivers.

Please help me, B/N…

Her struggles came to an end as she huffed, breathlessly. Hisoka’s hand trailed down her shoulders to her waist and to her hips. His hand was met with the pleasant plumpness of her bottom. She squeaked out in shock as his hand roughly squeezed her ass and kneaded it like dough. A loud crack reverated across the room as he slapped it, leaving a red blur behind. She gasped and her face converted into an embarrassed cringe. Frustrated tears pricked in her eyes as her fingernails dug deeply into his skin.

Once again, she attempted to wiggle away. Instead of his arm wrapping around her shoulders once again, she was swept over and under him. He was hovering over her and there was no way to escape. Her previous attempts at fighting back were a failure, and she no longer wanted to fight, only to flee.

Her eyes shot out towards Hisoka’s face only to find him smiling down at her. His warm breath fanning her face and his hips between her thighs.

The glint in his eyes shook her to the core. His facial expression was teasing and playful, but his eyes told a completely different story. She’s seen that look on his face before. The same expression on his face as he killed his opponents. He looked like an apex predator who was about to break the neck of his prey with his jaws.

“You’ve never been fucked before, haven’t you?” he asked, his finger trailing down her cheek, rubbing off a tear she hadn’t noticed fell.

Her face scrunched up at his vulgar language.

“No, I’ve never been f-“ she paused, hesitating before quickly spitting out, “no, ive never been f… fucked before.” Another tear came out of her eye. She never cursed - She wasn’t allowed to.

Hisoka giggled, his smile twisting even further. He looked down at her precious expression and felt his arousal rise.

“You're utterly adorable, you know that? I almost feel a little bad about this. Almost. But you wanted to play, and don’t be a spoiled brat when the other player is better at the game than you.” He mocked, his sardonic gaze on her. It made her want to shrink into the mattress and never come out.

“Now, now,” he said, sitting up, “I’ll make it as comfortable as I can.”

He spread her thighs and examined her high waisted shorts. He grabbed the zipper at the top and unzipped it. Down and down it went, until her underwear was revealed to him.

“After all, the first cut into the cake has to be perfect.”

Her shorts were suddenly off her and on the ground. She was only in her underwear now, more exposed than ever. Most naked she’d been since that time she went to the beach. She’d gotten sunburnt that day. At least then she had a top, now her whole body was on display to him.

Hisoka hummed as he tugged his own bottoms off, revealing the thick length of his cock. His cock looked magnificent combined with the rest of his body. That sexy v-cut of his looked like two arrows directing me to look at his big dick, so large it almost dangled under its own weight. It held its own though, refusing to droop over.

How is that thing going to fit inside of me? she thought.

He spread her legs wide open and examined the thin material of her underwear as the form of her vulva showed through. The flimsy material was practically invisible.

Hisoka’s big hands grabbed her behind her knees, pushing her legs up while also spreading them even further. The bed squeaked out as Hisoka crawled on his knees over to her, placing himself over her.

Hisoka’s claws clenched themselves around her legs, indenting the soft flesh, “You have such a soft, innocent face,” he said, his face hovering over menacingly. “But I know a hungry little whore lies beneath the surface… let me feed that little whore~❤️.”

Hisoka let go of one of her legs and let it fall against the bed. Her loose leg was between his two thighs and her other leg was still being held. The top half of her body was still on the bed. Hisoka’s strength was maintained as he carried half of her body weight into the air.

He’s so strong… of course he is, that’s to be expected of a top floor fighter.

The bed let out a groan as Hisoka pushed himself onto her covered cunt, rubbing his dick between her labia majora. His cock stroked the sensitive heat over and over again, he could feel her hotness tightening and then softening as her pussy throbbed to the beat of her heartbeat. The head of his cock stroked her hard clit over and over again, the little bump riddled with sensitive nerves. Her underwear was sopping as her pussy leaked out sweet nectar. The tip of Hisoka’s cock was also leaking with precum, mixing in with her own sweetness and creating an erotic cocktail.

“Yes, don’t stop,” she begged. “Please don’t stop - I want to cum so bad. Please let me cum, please!”

Hisoka let out a breathy laugh. “If you want to cum so bad, you need to beg for it. Only good girls get to cum. Are you a good girl~?”

“Yes! I’m a good girl! I’m your good girl, Hisoka!”

“Aw, you're so cute when you beg. But I don’t think you're a good girl. No, I think you're a naughty, little slut. Little sluts only get to cum when they're being fucked.”

The sensitive head of Hisoka’s cock pulsated with pleasure as he rubbed it against the soaked underwear. If he kept doing it, he was going to cum way too fast. He couldn’t let that happen. Not before he stretched her virgin pussy with his cock. He’d be damned if he let himself orgasm before biting into her innocence.

His nails dug into her thigh as he pushed himself further into her, making sure there wasn’t an inch of space between their heats. He was going to blow and If he didn’t stop, he wasn’t gonna see that shocked expression of hers when came in her for the first time. The longer he waited, the better.

(Y/N)’s pussy clenched and her breathing sped up. She was going to cum.

I’m going to cum, I’m going to cum, I’m going to cum, I’m going to-

Hisoka pulled back.

“No!” She yelled, kicking her leg in frustration. She let out another yell as her leg didn’t even move an inch in Hisoka’s grip. His grip was too strong. There was no way she could force her way to freedom.

“I was so close!” she shouted, a tear threatening to fall from her eyes. “Why did you stop! I felt so good!”

Hisoka threw his head back and let out a loud, sadistic laugh.

“Haha, you're so cute when you're feisty! I’m glad I’m the first who gets to fuck you.”

He let go of her leg after getting over his giggling attack. She found herself embarrassed as she blew out strings of her own hair out of her own mouth.

As she was pulling strings of hair out of her mouth, she was suddenly pulled back onto the bed by Hisoka’s hands around her hips. She gulped as she saw Hisoka’s face hovering over her crotch.

The part of her underwear that directly covered over her cunt was a darker shade than the rest of her underwear from when they grounded against each other like animals in heat.

She watched nervously as he adjusted his position. She let out a whole body shiver as both of his thumbs opened her lips like a little book.

Hisoka licked the side of her cunt - not directly stimulating her but gently teasing her. While not directly pleasuring her, the motion relaxed her from her last intense session. A little between-the-main-courses snack, if you will.

She sat up on her elbows and watched as Hisoka lapped at both sides of her lips. She felt a swell of affection begin to grow in her chest as she watched Hisoka’s cheek press itself onto the inside of her thigh. She realized how bold she’s gotten since they began to play with each other. In such a short while, Hisoka had corrupted her - denting that once-perfect surface with his perverted nature. To think ten minutes ago she was so shy she could barely even curse. In such a short time, she’d cursed more than she had in a year. A pang of guilt filled her as she thought about how her older brother would react. But he wasn’t here, and he never had to know.

In her own thoughts, she didn’t notice Hisoka’s face twist into a mischievous smile. Her eyes widened in terror as she felt his tongue on her covered asshole.

“Hisoka!” She shouted out.

How can someone be so vulgar?

“Oh, I’m sorry, my Little Slice~. I just love it when your sweet, angelic face turns into one of horror. It turn me on so badly~❤️”

Hisoka only smiled and slid his tongue upwards towards her pussy. He pushed the tip of his tongue against the entrance of her vagina and wiggled it there. If it wasn’t for her underwear, his tongue would have been inside her pussy.

The nerves around her hole were ablaze and her legs were shaking - with fear, excitement or pleasure? Perhaps all three, she did not know. All she wanted was to be pounded by him; she didn’t care how big and thick he was (from what she saw earlier, his cock had to be as thick as her forearm). Though she was unexperienced and naive to the acts of sex, this feeling was primal and indispensable. She needed it, she needed it like a runner needs water.

His tongue dragged itself from her entrance to her clit.

“Yes, yes,” she moaned out and spread her legs wider without an ounce of shame.

It was overwhelming in the best way possible. It was the most electrifying thing she’d ever experienced and she never wanted it to end. She wanted to be there forever - in that limbo of titillation and erotic reality that was unlike anything she could recreate with her imagination.

Hisoka rapidly moved his tongue against her clit. She squealed out loud and attempted to move her hips but his hands grabbed her hips and pushed them to the bed and continued to flick her covered clit with his tongue.

She lifted herself up to her elbows and looked down at him. A hint of fear aroused in her as she made direct eye contact with him. She was so caught up in her own pleasure she didn’t realize how deeply she was looking into his eyes.

As she continued to lock her eyes with his, her pussy began to relax, getting ready to tighten and cum on his tongue. Her heavy breathing paused and she caught that expression in her eyes.

Then her panties were ripped in half and her bare cunt was revealed to him. In a split second, his entire tongue was inside of her.

She screamed as her virgin cunny squeezed itself around his long, wicked tongue. Hisoka laughed out and wiggled his tongue - messaging and caressing her inner walls as she cummed.

The wetness of her aroused cunt seeped out and dripped down to her asshole, to which Hisoka slurped up and continued his assault on her cunny again. He did this over and over again until I couldn’t handle it anymore. My hands tried to push him away but he didn’t even budge. It wasn’t until my legs began to kick out in panic did he pull away.

“Ah, ah,” she panted, body completely limp. Hisoka observed her body. Her soft stomach was gleaming with sweat and the inside of her thighs were also gleaming.

“You might be the sweetest candy I’ve had since I first tried Bungee Gum all those years ago. I knew the moment I popped it into my mouth it would never leave me, marking me with its sweet syrupy taste just like a Scarlet Letter. Would it be a bold thing to say that you're just like Bungee Gum? You get so pink when you're played with. The pink on your cheeks is almost the same shade as my favorite snack.”

Hisoka let out a sudden dramatic sigh that startled (Y/N) for a second. “Unfortunately, the company who used to make Bungee Gum went bankrupt so now I have to search far and wide just to get a taste. Luckily for me, something similar is always nearby for me to stretch and pull at.”

He paused, looking directly into (Y/N)’s eyes with his own yellow ones. “You are, my sweet little slice~”

Hisoka grabbed her ankles and slapped her legs together. The loud smack of her thighs' sudden connection reverated across the room.

Hisoka wrapped his big hand over both of her ankles and grabbed his cock, stroking back the foreskin to reveal the pink, sensitive tip and a pearl of precum forming. He placed the tip of his cock on her clit, rubbing it in little circles before sliding it down her slit until it reached her entrance at the very bottom. He felt tempted to slip it into her ass before deciding it wasn’t worth the screeching. Even though he could easily cover her mouth and sodomize her tight little ass, he couldn’t just jump into completely breaking her; It would be a better idea to slowly lower her into the fire. A slow burn would be ten times more satisfying.

Putting both of my legs onto one side of his shoulders, he used his weight to push his entire cock into her pussy until his ballsack was resting against her ass.

She hissed through her teeth and threw her head back. She was filled with his cock. So full. So, so full.

She was bursting with new sensations. A new type of pain, a new type of pleasure. It was unlike anything she’d ever felt yet so primal and familiar. It was an instinct she never realized she had.

Bending over her with her legs still on her shoulder, Hisoka connected their lips for the first time that night. She could taste her own saltiness on his lips. It wasn’t the type of kiss she’d seen on romance shows (the ones her brother decided were appropriate enough to watch). No, this kiss was the complete opposite of those. This kiss was rough, unlike anything else.

She felt a burst of bravery as she slipped her tongue out and shyly lapped at his bottom lip. Hisoka let out a sardonic chuckle.

“Feeling brave now, are we?”

(Y/N) yelped as Hisoka slid his entire tongue inside her mouth, licking every corner of her mouth. Nothing was left untouched.

After completely violating her mouth with his tongue, Hisoka pulled away, smiling down at her.

“Are you ready?” He whispered. (Y/N) let out a shuddering breath and nodded. She braced herself by meekly grabbing onto the shoulder that didn’t have her legs with one hand, the other gripping onto the sheets.

Hisoka pulled back until only the tip of his cock remained in her, then he slammed into her with great strength. Her breath completely left her body with the slam of his hips. His hips smashing against her buttocks made a filthy sound that made her want to cum. The plop, plop sound that her pussy was also doing things to her.

Hisoka grunted with every hard thrust. She fit him just like a glove. It was almost like she was made for him. While the male penis did not have as many nerve endings as female genitals, a man can augment his sensations and cause it to heighten by being caressed just right. By holding her against himself, fucking her in a salacious dance, the more sensation builds up in his penis just like when a woman’s clitoris is tapped just so…

The friction of his cock pulling on her inner walls before being pushed inside once again left (Y/N) in a concoction of emotions. First, complete and utter pleasure. As he slammed his cock into her, dopamine bursted in her mind like an explosion of drugs. Second, regret. If her brother ever found out, how would he react to his own little sister getting fucked by the murderous Magician, Hisoka? She knew he’d feel like all his work to keep her safe were a waste of time and energy. Like all those years of pampering and protecting went right down the drain. She couldn’t let him find out. And thirdly, a rebellious energy. She was tired of being locked down by her own innocence. She wanted to explore the world. There had to be more to this world than just what she knew. There had to be.

From head to toe, she felt a symphony of pleasure as she came. Her toes clenched until they cramped. But she didn’t care, the pleasure outweighed the pain. Her fingers dug into his shoulder. She was sure there would be a five fingered mark there the next day. It would be a reminder of his clawed reach and her deflowering.

She screeched out as Hisoka went faster, overwhelming her. She hadn’t even gotten over her orgasm before he began to thrust into her twice as hard. She could feel his cock rub itself against the entrance of her womb.

It was primal to push into her beautiful, soft female body and pull back, only to push himself back. He could feel himself building up the height of his pleasure. The more he pumped, the higher the tower built, just ready to topple over and leave a big mess.

He looked at her closer than ever. Watching as her breast bounced and her lips glowed from their mixed saliva. He saw her eyes as she looked up at him, red from crying in complete pleasure. Her appearance increased his desire to come.

“Ahhhh,” he moaned out, feeling his orgasm in his very bones. It was a sensation he was familiar with. After defeating a powerful enemy, he sometimes glowed with the aftertaste of their fight and his victory. This was very similar - yet so different. More intimate, of course. His prey was still alive and he was still inside their body.

(Y/N) closed her eyes in bliss as Hisoka’s cum finally rested inside of her. Her breathing slowed down and the blush on her cheeks faded into softer shades of pink. The sun was coming down. Its orange tones highlighted her sweaty body like a canvas. It almost seemed like she was a freshly painted portrait. Divine Feminine tamed at last.

Both of them laid on their backs, observing the plain ceiling. It was relaxing to lay down after such an exhausting task. All she wanted to do was shut her eyes and rest.

Rest, rest, rest…

My brother! His fight is over!

(Y/N) shot up from the bed, practically tripping over herself as she gathered her things - putting them on. She didn’t even notice her bra was inside-out. More shockingly, she didn’t even notice cum was dripping down her legs.

Hisoka watched amusingly from the sidelines at her scattering around the room.

(Y/N) scanned the room for one final time. She groaned as she saw her wet panties on the bed, right next to Hisoka. She jumped onto the bed and reached for her underwear. As she pulled back, Hisoka grabbed her wrist.

“Tell me, (Y/N), how would your older brother react to hearing about how I ruined his little sister's innocence? How I fucked her and she enjoyed every second of it? I bet he’d try to kill me~.”

(Y/N)’s mouth opened and closed, not a single word leaving her starstruck mouth. Her body was paralyzed with fear. She forgot who she was dealing with in her panic.

“What's the matter? You want to keep our little secret just between us two? Fine. However, come to my room tomorrow at the same time you did today and we’ll have some more fun. If not…”

She didn’t need to ask - She knew. She imagined the consequences in her mind, thinking about the outcome of her moment of weakness.

Hisoka wasn’t done with her; this was just the appetizer.

—-

“Hey, (Y/N), where were you during my fight? I didn’t see you in the crowd at all.”

“Oh, I was just getting some snacks.”

“Ah, alright. Next time just tell me beforehand. I wouldn’t want a stranger taking advantage of my little sister. Right, sis?”

“Haha, yeah…”

[lowkeyorloki]

Aftermath

Loki has always hated weakness. Because of this, you try to remain strong- even after being kidnapped.

~

You couldn’t stop shaking.

It was cold where they kept you. Deep into the Earth, so far underground you almost forgot what the sun looked like. When Loki and the other Avengers had saved you, the gold and yellows on their suits hurt your eyes.

And your wrists. Did your enemies forget you were one of the team members without powers? Three days your hands were chained behind your back. It had been a week since you were back in the safety of the Avengers Tower, but the skin on your wrists looked like it had been harmed yesterday. Rubbed raw.

Fucking zip ties would have worked.

Loki was being so attentive. He left water on your bedside table everyday, and held you at night like he always did. 

You didn’t believe it, when he had taken you in his arms and out of that building. It had been three days without water and food. You thought the whole thing was a hallucination.

And yet, you awoke in the med bay, IV in your arm. Loki holding your hand at your bedside.

He cried when you woke up. Messily kissed you, his salty tears running into your mouth, before he remembered you couldn’t take breaths easily. 

You let yourself cry then. It didn’t last long enough for catharsis to set in. You were still exhausted, and fell back asleep in the crook of Loki’s neck.

You know now you were lucky then. One week later, you couldn’t sleep at all.

You kept shaking. Were you cold, or scared? Your captors had stripped you naked, left you alone in the freezing room. Was it on purpose, a way to drive a wedge between you and the frost giant you called your lover? You flinched when Loki’s cold fingers touched you. 

Yet, you only felt safe when he was in the room. Besides, you and Thor alone knew Loki’s true form.

You managed to smile around him. You stole Wanda’s concealer, caked it under your eyes to hide the dark circles. You drank the tea Loki brought you. Took bites of meals, and spit them out when he wasn’t looking. There was a feeling of nausea deep inside you.

There was nothing you wanted less than to remind Loki of your mortality. There was a time he hated humans, thought of them as below him- because of their weakness. You had to keep up your image, that of your mental and physical strength. You could not lose Loki.

But, god, you had never been through something like this. The only person you wanted to be around was Loki. 

The last person you wanted to be around was Loki.

The training room became your solace. You spent hours training, treating the punching bag as though it was the one that had hurt you. You wrapped your hands, and your knuckles bled through the fabric. You never noticed until after your session.

You practiced getting up from the ground. Practiced looking around you- throw one punch, look left and right. Throw another, glance behind you.

Stay alert. You knew now it was possible to disappear even with a team of superheroes.

Sometimes you felt Loki’s gaze on you. He never joined you on the mat, and never mentioned it in bed at night.

You cried in the shower, where it would be easy to explain wet cheeks. It was the steam that made your face so red, that was what you said.

Hopefully Loki was truly the God of Lies, not lies by omission.

“What can I do to make it better?” he asked one night, his hand on your knee. Thumb rubbing up and down, pain in his eyes.

Worry.

“Nothing,” you told him. “It’s over. Nothing happened, anyway. It was just me in that room. It could have been so, so, much worse.”

You smiled then. Pressed a long, genuine kiss to Loki’s forehead. Let him think you fell asleep in his arms.

That morning, you swapped your hand wraps for boxing gloves, and headed to punching bag.

It could have been worse. There had been many hostage situations you were involved in that were. You were chained alone in a room, nothing more, nothing less.

So why did it consume you? Were you this small, letting a singular event define you?

You wanted to cry to Loki. Talk to him. But what would he do if he knew how tormented you were? How broken?

Half of yourself for all of Loki. It was worth it.

It was worth it.

According to the rest of the Avengers, Loki put all his effort into pinpointing your location. Forgone rest, food. Anything to find you.

Did he? you found yourself wondering. Is this who I was three weeks ago? 

You were utterly ashamed of the answer. 

You found yourself sketching what you thought your mind looked like. You drew a circle, wrote your morals in the center. Sketched your childhood stuffed animal, your pet, the name of the street you grew up in, all within the confines of the outline.

Every time you did this, you zoned out. When you came back to, your mind maps were scribbled over, and the lead in your pencil was broken.

Into the garbage. You were just wasting paper.

Maybe this was your life now. It wasn’t too bad. Your eyes adjusted to light again. Loki was physically in your reach. There was a shower, welcoming you with warm water and a locked door.

Were you angry, or sad? 

Were you just tired?

it was so embarrassing to be unable to decode even your own emotions. It would be unfair to expect someone else to.

You were staring in the mirror when it happened. 

Loki’s hands rested on your shoulders. Touch. It was so comforting before. Now, it made you leap away.

Adrenaline washed over your body. You could hear blood rushing in your ears, and you had jumped away from Loki with such force you rammed into the wall.

“It’s me!” Loki rushed over, kneeled down. “You... You were looking in the mirror. Did you not see me?”

Humiliation washes over you. You try to talk, but your throat is so dry.

You shake your head.

“Darling.” Loki’s voice is so thick. He cups your face, forcing to look at him, really look at him, for the first time since your return. “Please talk to me.”

You’re panting. Why? All you’re doing is sitting, pressed up against the wall. 

You finally, finally, let out a sob. Your body becomes limp, entirely supported by Loki. You wrap your arms around his strong frame, crying into his shirt. You cry like you’re going to lose him, because you probably already have.

Loki rubs your back. He murmurs into your ear. You’re safe. I’m here. I’m going to protect you.

I love you.

“Why didn’t you talk to me?” he whispers once you have the courage to face him. You trace the veins on the inside of Loki’s wrist, run your fingers over his calloused hands.

“I think I may have forgotten how to.” you rasp. Rediscovering your voice, you keep talking. “I didn’t want to lose you.”

Loki shakes his head, kisses the top of your head.

“I’m so sorry.” he tells you. You begin to interrupt, but he stops you. “It’s not your fault you were afraid of my reaction. I’m sorry it wasn’t clear. But this is a promise, love: I will never leave you, I will never stop loving you. And I especially won’t on the account of what you have and will survive.”

You’re crying again, silently this time. Loki kisses your tears away.

Then he taps your forehead.

“I won’t let anything take you like this again. Especially not your doubt.”

[boonki]

“You look absolutely horrible.” For the prompts!

OKAY I KNOW YOU ASKED THIS LIKE THREE HUNDRED YEARS AGO i am so sorry ive had to work a ton lately and have just been so tired, i havent written at all recently 

BUT

here you go!! some nice sleepy vibes from yours truly at 2:20 am, apologies if there are any mistakes 

_______

The only light on in their shared kitchen space is above the sink, drowning the space in a burnt orange color, like the warm glow of a fire. As he stumbles into the room, Obi-wan nearly misses Anakin sitting at the table, fiddling with droid parts, back curled over and head drooped to study a piece of machine in his hands. How he’s even able to see is far beyond Obi-wan, but he’s learned to let it go throughout the years.  

Obi-wan turns the knob on the stove and shuffles the kettle to check for water, startling Anakin out of his meditative state. 

“Oh, Obi-wan.” Anakin looks up at him and squints, exhaustion forming neat lines around the corners of his eyes. “I didn’t know you were awake.” 

Before reaching up to the cabinet for a well-loved mug, Obi-wan catches how pale Anakin is, how dark purple blooms around his eyes like bruises, how he seems to shrink into himself. Obi-wan has seen Anakin look tired before, especially when he was younger and put so much pressure on himself to perfect his schoolwork, but this is on the particularly bad end of things. Anakin’s hair is greasy, the long curls pushed back and tucked behind his ears, and the small blanket draped around his shoulders does nothing to hide the fact that Anakin is still wearing the same shirt from two days ago. He looks absolutely horrible. 

“You look absolutely horrible,” Obi-wan says, the mug settling on the countertop with a clink. “Have you even tried to sleep?”

Anakin frowns. “Hey, you don’t look much better. We’re both awake at what,” his head swivels around as he looks for a clock, and finding none, guesses, “four in the morning? What’s your excuse, old man?” 

Obi-wan hums noncommittally at that, amusement assuaging the growing worry nagging at his chest. He pulls a tea bag out of the flimsy cardboard box left out on the counter, and rips the packaging open, letting the sachet dangle into the cup. He lets the silence linger. 

With a softer tone, Anakin tries again. “You can’t sleep either?” 

Obi-wan pours the boiling water into the mug, watching the color turn into a deep shade of purple, and he gently bounces the bag up and down, encouraging it to steep. “I think you’ll find, my dear padawan, that I’ve evolved past the need for sleep.” 

Anakin’s eyebrows flatten, and he snorts. “I’ll make sure to pass that along to Cody, I’m sure he’ll agree with you.” 

A smile tugs at Obi-wan’s mouth. “No, I,” he pauses, taking a breath, “I keep waking up. Figured a cup of tea would help.” 

All of the mirth vanishes from Anakin’s face, leaving only unadulterated worry. Obi-wan looks down at his tea. They both know a euphemism for nightmares when they hear one by now, considering they’ve created half of them on their own. Fighting a gruesome, bloody, and endless war will do that to a person. Fighting a gruesome, bloody, and endless war where a good portion of the deaths are on your hands, on your conscience, even more so. 

The air is still between them, but dense with emotion. Obi-wan rarely admits his nightmares to anyone, and by the myriad of expressions racing through Anakin’s features, he can tell Anakin is struggling with the right response. 

Obi-wan sips his tea. 

“Sometimes, I,” Anakin starts, clearing his throat, “I wish I knew them better, my men who died. I see them in my dreams.” He’s staring down at his hands, either as a distraction or remembering the blood he’s washed off. The droid parts sit motionlessly beneath them. 

Obi-wan leans back on the counter, holding the steaming mug up to his chin. “So do I,” he nearly whispers, grateful for Anakin’s admission, his attempt to empathize with Obi-wan. He wants to say more, wants to sit down and let out the demons haunting his dreams, but he’s afraid that they’d rip all his bandages on the way out and tear him apart completely. It’s easier, he thinks, to keep it all inside, contained, controlled. But in the dim and molten light of the kitchen, with his face hidden in the shadows, he wants to be vulnerable. He also wants Anakin to get some rest. 

“Do you want to come sleep with me?” Obi-wan asks, eyes darting up to Anakin’s face. 

Anakin’s eyes go wide, and he straightens up in his seat. “What?” 

He suddenly realizes what he’s said, and he can feel his ears burn. “No, not like that.” He dips the tea bag in and out of the mug, and Anakin relaxes a bit, though still wary, looking somehow disappointed. “When you were a youngling, you used to crawl into bed with me when you couldn’t sleep. You thought I never noticed.” 

“You remember that?” 

Obi-wan smiles to himself, gazing wistfully down into his mug. “Of course, dear one. You weren’t the only one who slept better.”

Anakin’s eyebrows are knitted together, his lips parted. “Oh.” He looks thoughtful. “Sure, then. Your room?” 

Warmth floods Obi-wan’s chest in anticipation, not at all feeling guilty about his careful manipulation. He knows Anakin could never turn down helping others, it’s in his nature. 

Anakin’s little droid project is completely forgotten as Anakin stares at him for an answer. 

“Considering I don’t quite feel like tripping over half an engine, yes, my room.” Obi-wan takes one final sip of his tea and sets it by the sink, treading over the cold floor back into his room. 

With a scoot of his chair, and loud, heavy footsteps, Anakin follows, sliding Obi-wan’s door shut behind him, leaving the pair in complete darkness. Obi-wan is still in his sleep shirt and shorts from before, so he slips into bed, pulling back the covers for Anakin to join him. He hears the soft thump of clothing dropping to the floor and then a dip in the mattress next to him. 

Obi-wan lays on his back, as he assumes does Anakin. 

Then there’s a shuffle as Anakin readjusts, and with a slight startle, Obi-wan feels a bare arm rest against his chest, a face in his neck, a leg thrown over his. It’s odd, but rather nice. Obi-wan doesn’t remember the last time he felt so safe. 

“Is this okay?” Anakin mumbles into the crook of his neck, blowing hot air over his collarbones. 

“Yes.” Obi-wan faintly wonders if Anakin can feel his heartbeat. 

“What were your nightmares about?” 

Obi-wan considers this. Blood, so much blood, headless bodies strewn over a hopeless landscape, their heads coming to life and blaming their deaths on him, his call, his decisions. Qui-gon, standing in the flames, yelling at him to be better, to have saved him, saved his men, to save Anakin. Stillness, as he stands utterly alone and deserted, everyone finalizing realizing they were better off without him, because he is worthless, unlovable, tainted- 

“The war.” Obi-wan answers, his voice cracking. “And you?” 

When no reply comes, Obi-wan wraps his arm around Anakin’s back, tracing his spine, the flesh warm and smooth underneath his fingertips. Anakin’s breaths come slow and even, and his hand twitches once. 

Already asleep, then. 

Obi-wan bites a lip to keep from chuckling. Maybe this is the trick to get him to sleep. He rests his cheek against his hair, presses a light kiss to the top of his head. 

“I dream of losing you, dear one,” he whispers out to no one, letting the honesty linger in the darkness above them. He trusts the nighttime to keep his secrets. 

When they both wake up in the morning, Obi-wan is sure there will be some level of embarrassment from cuddling, from cracking open their hard exteriors to each other. They’ll probably be sent out to the frontlines and never speak of this again. 

He feels the sturdy muscles of Anakin’s sides, the dip of his waist and rise of his hips. 

For now, Obi-wan holds him, keeps him safe from the torment of his own brain, and lets him get some much needed sleep. 

___

Light billows out from underneath the door when Obi-wan wakes, morning having come and gone long ago. 

Anakin has curled further into him, practically seeping into his bones. There’s a leg thrown over his waist, face completely smooshed in his neck, and his arm drapes over his chest, Anakin’s palm cupping the side of his face. Delicate snores come from Anakin’s nose, and Obi-wan’s neck is hot from Anakin’s breath. Obi-wan’s hand is settled in the small of Anakin’s back, the other arm thrown up above Obi-wan’s head. 

A languid grin finds its home on Obi-wan’s face, sleep tugging at his edges. He hasn’t felt so well rested in years. 

Not wanting to wake Anakin, Obi-wan flutters shut his eyes, and lets himself drift back off, soaking in the feeling of love and security that pool together in his heart. 

He can feel Anakin breathing steadily on top of him, peacefully. 

The war will have to wait. 

[aminiatureworld]

In My Dreams IV

Characters: Xiao, fm!reader

Word Count: 3,167

Warnings: Brief depiction of violence, nightmares

Premise: The past is many things. Something to admire, something to learn from, something to hold dear. And yet how unreliable it can be, especially in the hands of ghosts.

In which the reader dreams of the past.

Author’s Note: Translation notes and historical references will come after the fic. This one was a little sketchy/ooc, prolly because I’m tired.

Xiao

If there was one thing that you appreciated most about your relationship with Xiao it was the fact that he never attempted to cage your independence.

Though the adeptus had a penchant for clinginess – something he’d never actually admit to – the circumstances of both his and your past had set a standard for a level of separation that you greatly appreciated. You were never pressured to tell Xiao about things you weren’t comfortable sharing and in return you never pressed your partner in regards to topics or events that made him somewhat uncomfortable.

And yet there was something very isolating about such a freedom.

It was an ordinary enough commission, laughably so in fact, the kind that you could knock back in ten minutes flat if you put a little effort into it. Treasure Hoarders were once more encroaching on Liyue, this time gathering at the vicinity of Dunyu Ruins, something that would surely be a hazard to the archaeologists who gathered to study the lost jade monument. The act of chasing out the Treasure Hoarders was indeed easy enough, and it was only until you started rifling through their loot that you found yourself uneasy.

The lid was an innocuous enough item. Though the box that it once covered was nowhere to be found it must’ve been a work of art, as the smooth tortoiseshell lid was clearly the result of patience and love. Painted a deep blue it depicted a snowy scene, with a castle or cathedral at the front and center. The building itself was of a unique design; a tall turret stuck out at the top while small onion domes sat a little lower, each painted a more outlandish color than the last. The architecture was completely unlike what one might see in either Liyue or Mondstadt, and really there should’ve been nothing to it except the odd design of the building. Yet the moment you set your eyes upon the building you felt something harden in the pit of your stomach.

You never thought about what you couldn’t remember; after all, what was the point of it? Why mourn something you weren’t even sure was good or bad? Yet in that moment you felt that you would give very little to not remember just a little bit. At least enough to know why the image of a cathedral in the snow made you wish deeply for something you couldn’t remember, and frightened you just as much.

“Something’s wrong with you face.”

“Xiao!” You sputtered, surprised by the sudden bluntness of your partner. “My face is just fine, a little dirt won’t kill me.”

“That’s not it.” Xiao scowled. “Your face is harder than usual. Did something happen?”

“Nothing happened! Sometimes I just don’t smile, okay?” You instinctively moved the corners of your mouth upwards, trying to ignore the sudden jump in your heart rate. “I’m fine.”

Xiao looked supremely unimpressed at your efforts, sighing and flying up to the balcony of the Inn. You sighed, letting your expression once more droop. It was easy sometimes to forget how in tune Xiao was. You wouldn’t expect it from an adeptus who had spent thousands of years mostly secluded from humans, but your partner was impressively good at reading your mood. Usually you didn’t mind the ability of his, even welcoming the fact that he so bluntly brought up the question of your feelings. But today you wished despite yourself that he was a little less aware. After all, how could you explain to your partner what you didn’t even understand yourself?

The rest of the night was oddly tense. Though Xiao said nothing you could tell from the way he stared intently at your face that he hadn’t given up his suspicions. For your part you tried to ignore his gaze, talking about trivial matters such as the question of replacing the Guild roof and the fact that you had managed to gather a few Qingxin during your commissions. All the while you felt the roiling of your heart; and all the while you kept rubbing your fingers along the smooth finish of the lid in your pocket as if in doing so you might suddenly be struck with what you currently missed and currently, desperately, needed.

The next day you walked up to Katherine utterly exhausted. Though you’d made a concerted effort to sleep, knowing that if not you’d just arouse more worry in Xiao, most of the night had been spent tossing and turning, your eyelids feeling paper thin as you attempted to drag yourself down into the depths of sleep. Of course now that the sun was shining you felt like even a stone bench would be a soft enough mattress. Blinking heavily you smiled awkwardly at Katheryne.

“Any commissions today?”

“Two ordinary sweeps and one request.” Katheryne tilted her head slightly. “Are you sure you don’t need rest?”

“I’m perfectly fine Katheryne, thank you for worrying. You said there was a request?”

“Yes. It seems that the citizen who noticed the Treasure Hoarders for us claims to have been robbed by them. He says to meet you at Dunyu Ruins so you can hand over the item.”

“And what item is that?”

“He said it was some sort of box lid. He didn’t give many details I’m sorry. If you’re uncomfortable though of course we could send someone with you.”

“I’ll be fine, thanks for worrying.”

“Of course! Good luck!”

“Thanks.”

You turned around, trying to stem the ice that flooded your veins. Who was this man to whom the cathedral belonged? How did he come across such an odd item, was he from one of the other nations of Teyvat you hadn’t visited? Most of all you wondered if he held some connection to your past. The idea thrilled you in some way, though dread also lingered. You weren’t entirely sure you wanted to meet this mysterious person. Commissions were commissions however; you wouldn’t betray the Guild. No matter how much you wanted to; you couldn’t.

The Dunyu Ruins were still, no monsters seemed to linger at the gates and no other adventurers peeked out from behind old walls. The air was utterly still, something which worried you greatly. Walking at an increased rate you sought out your mysterious commissioner. The more you thought about it the more you wished the whole thing to be over as soon as possible. Turning the corner you stopped in your tracks, gazing in awe at the person a few meters in front of you.

The first thing you thought was how oddly he was dressed. The second thing was that he was much younger than you had expected. The third thing was that you felt an odd sense of familiarity from him.

“Ah yes, the adventurer who accepted my commission. Have you brought what I asked of you?”

Though a response was certainly in order you found the words stuck in your mouth. Staring at him you felt the ground shift between your feet slightly. He was familiar, this young man in front of you, and yet he was also a perfect stranger. He seemed more like an apparition than anything, a spirit who had yet to cross to the far side. You stepped closer, reaching out your arm slightly. If you went to touch his shoulder, would your fingers go right through him?

“You really must think it’s odd that I’ve returned.” The man chuckled. “I assure you I’m completely real. You weren’t the only one to survive sister, though I know that information might be too little too late?”

“Sister?” You snapped out of your trance. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“Surely you aren’t pretending not to recognize me? I think that’s beneath even you. Come now, was I such a brat as that?” Reaching out the young man went to grab your hand. Instinctively you pulled away, feeling discomfort shoot through you.

“I don’t know what you mean? And you certainly aren’t my brother! I’ve never had a brother!”

“Then who was the kid you lived with your whole life before the incident?”

“I… I don’t know what you’re talking about. I don’t know about any incident or any brother. You asked me here to return something so I’m returning it.” Reaching for the lid you thrust the little work of art in front of you. “Here. Take it.”

“So you really don’t know who I am?” The young man reached out to take the lid. “How is that possible? Have they gone so far as to erase me from your memories? Have I been taken out of your family?”

“They?”

“The gods.” The young man’s eyes seemed incredibly harsh all of a sudden. “Their presumptiveness holds no bounds.”

“Don’t speak of the archons that way.”

“Answer me this,” the young man ignored your protest, “where are you from.”

“Why should I tell you that?”

“Humor me.”

“I…” You stood there for a moment, wondering whether or not you should tell this strange figure the truth. Morbid curiosity floated in your mind, and you took a sharp breath. “I don’t know. I don’t remember.”

“So I really have been erased from your mind.”

“Nothing’s been erased! I just don’t remember, should that surprise you so much?”

“Yes, it does. I see my plans will have to be changed.” The young man took a deep breath. “Very well then, we shall see what we shall see. I have an offer for you.”

“And what is that?” You felt suspicion wash over you.

“Join the Abyss.”

“Over my dead body!” Instinctively stepping away you drew your polearm. So that’s what this was about.

“I figured you might say that. However, let me tell you this. Our family was torn apart by the cruel whims of faraway gods. Teyvat suffered the same fate, still suffers it. You may not remember what happened to us, but I know it is buried in you somewhere. If you wish to avenge our family, then you’ll join us.”

“I have no petty thoughts of revenge against the gods.”

“That may very well change.” The young man smirked. “I’ll be back in a week. I expect your answers then.”

He was gone before you could say anything, carried away by a blanket of purple stars. You stared at the empty ruins, confused and empty, feeling far worse than you had felt when you arrived here.

“You look worse.”

“Thanks Xiao.” You let out a sigh, unsure how to respond.

You’d spent the rest of the walk back to the Wangshu Inn in agony, thoughts darting back and forth as you tried to reason with yourself about the veracity of the young man’s claims. There was no proof he was who he said he was after all, no proof that he wasn’t simply insane, or trying to convince you to join him by lying. Yet there was something about him, his demeanor, his anger, something that spoke to a truth about him. Not that the idea made you any happier. After all truth or not, he was still an Abyss member, or at least an advocate. You could never side with him, even if he was your long lost family. And yet what if he was your family? What then? Would it truly be a betrayal then to simply send him packing?

Xiao’s hand enveloped your own, the soft warmth drawing you out of your confused thoughts. Looking up you found him leaning into you, the tips of his hair lightly brushing your cheeks. His eyes bored into you ask he scanned your face. You stood perfectly still. You knew what Xiao was doing, knew that he was trying to figure out the depths of your discomfort. It was valiant of him, even if you hoped that he turned up empty handed. How could you tell Xiao, an adeptus who served directly under Rex Lapis, about the man who blasphemed the gods.

“You should sleep.” Xiao finally pulled away.

“It’s still early evening.”

“You didn’t sleep well last night, I could tell. You should sleep now; maybe you’ll feel better.”

“Maybe.” You replied, knowing that even if you slept better than you had ever before nothing would change when you woke up.

Still your eyelids were heavy and your feet aching. Sleep beckoned you with open arms, and you were quick to fall into its depths. Pressing a soft kiss on Xiao’s cheek you made your way up the stairs. Collapsing onto your bed you let out a sigh of relief. Sleep was coming on fast, and you quickly found the outside world swirling away. The last thing you were aware of was a dent in your mattress, and a set of familiar eyes staring down at you, filled with affection and worry.

It was dreadfully hot. That was the first thing you were aware of. The second was how loud everything was. There was a terrible sound swirling around you, inhuman shrieks seemed to rise up from the ground beneath you, accompanied with a banging that cracked through the air, echoing oddly in a night that was all too quiet. The third thing was that you had no idea where you were. Looking around you found yourself reeling at the scene that met your eyes. The house in front of you must’ve been nice at some point, but now had fallen into ruin and disrepair. Smoke was drifting up from a door that led into the ground, and bottles lay in pieces on the ground. A wall seemed to separate the house from the outside world, so tall that you had no idea what lay beyond it. Trembling slightly you felt yourself move towards the source of the noise, feet moving despite the rising dread that you felt. Making your way down a set of stairs a few lines came to you all of a sudden.

A ceiling of amber, a pavement of pearl

The smoke was thicker now, filling your lungs, leaving you short of breath. Little bits of orange blurred your vision, wielded by strange men in strange uniforms. They seemed distorted in the smoke, made into ghosts that might haunt a child’s nightmares.

Through the narrow paved streets, where all was still

You didn’t move your head towards the back of the room, somehow you couldn’t. Your very soul fought against it. Instead you closed your eyes, overwhelmed with how hot it was.

“You’ve come so far and you can’t even look?”

The voice was mocking, familiar, full of scorn. Opening your eyes you stared at the men in front of you, the men with fire at the tips of their hands. Why did he want you to look? You knew what you’d see. Somehow you knew.

We climb’d on the graves, on the stone worn with rains

You couldn’t make it out among the smoke. All you knew was that it was red.

You screwed your eyes shut, even as sudden clarity danced before you. Someone was calling your name.

There was a hand on your shoulder.

And alone dwell forever

The smoke cleared, and with it the dream.

The scream ripped through your throat before you could even process it. You knew that you should stop, knew that you were no longer dreaming, knew that the hand on your shoulder belonged to your terrified partner. Still you screamed. You screamed and screamed and screamed.

“Hey. Hey!” Xiao’s voice was frantic. Shifting your gaze towards him you felt yourself begin to tremble.

“It, it was true. It was true, I saw him. I saw him. I saw me. It was true. I, I, they’re dead. They’re dead.”

“It was a dream. No one’s dead.”

“But Xiao, they’re dead. He was right, they’re gone and dead and somehow I forget them.”

The loneliness slammed into you, mixing with the horror that sent your stomach churning. You dug you nails into your palm, desperately trying to stop shaking. Everything seemed distorted, the light emerging through the window just as menacing as the dark.

“Take my hand.”

Xiao pulled one of your hands on his lap, gently opening it and running his fingers over the marks that now rested in your palms. Unfurling your hand you it was flat against his he covered it with his own. Letting his palm rest gently against yours he looked up at you.

“No one is dead. You were having a nightmare.”

“I was remembering, Xiao. I finally remembered something. And now I wish I never had.” You unfurled your other hand, wiping furiously at the tears that pooled in your eyes. “I’m so alone Xiao, I’m so alone.”

“You aren’t alone.”

“My family, my family is gone. The only one left is an Abyss member. I, I’m so utterly alone.”

You felt Xiao drop your hand slightly. The sudden lost connection made your founder for a moment, but soon the feeling was lost as Xiao wrapped his arms around you. Pressing kisses to your forehead his grip was tight and strong, encasing you utterly in soft comfort. Letting yourself collapse slightly you leaned into his embrace.

“You’ll never be alone. I’ll always be here.”

If promises were conveyed in actions then you had no reason to doubt Xiao’s. Though the air around you was sticky with heat you found yourself pressing into your partner’s chest eyes more, soaking up every bit of connection that you could get. Xiao said nothing more, simply keeping you in his embrace, lips brushing against your cheeks as he kissed away your tears.

You knew that he wouldn’t ask about your brother that night, perhaps not even the morning afterwards, or even tomorrow evening. After all your partner wasn’t one for words, and your relationship wasn’t built upon the expectation of painful transparency. If you weren’t ready to talk he wouldn’t push you.

Eventually your tears slowed, though the pain in your chest still burned like a brand. Bringing your hands to your chest you gazed up at the adeptus who was still wrapped around you.

“Can we stay this way a little longer?”

Xiao’s eyes gleamed catlike in the moonlight. Leaning down he brushed his lips against yours, sighing slightly as you met him with exhausted ardor. Pulling back you rested your head on your partner’s chest. The dulled beat seemed almost musical, a reminder that Xiao was alive, a reminder that he was right next to you.

You had assumed in some way that it meant he didn’t care, or didn’t want to know. Though you would’ve never thought that before, the feeling of loneliness that had threatened to swallow you up had made that perfectly clear. Yet Xiao did care, cared enough not to prod and poke at wounds that were surely bleeding even now. Cared enough to kiss your worries away, cared enough to let you embrace him as long as you needed. Cared enough to show that you weren’t truly alone. 

In a week you’d give the young man who had once been your brother an answer. In a week you’d face the fact of your loneliness, of a family that you’d once been a part of. In a week you would let yourself be truly lonely. But until then you would listen to the familiar beat of Xiao’s heart as you remembered that you weren’t truly alone. That you never would be.

-------

The box lid itself was based off nothing in particular. The building painted on it is a reference to Saint Basil’s Cathedral. 

The poem I used was “The Forsaken Merman” by Matthew Arnold

The scene in the reader’s dream is a reference to the execution of the last Imperial family of Russia. It took place in the basement of the Ipatiev House in Ekaterinburg on July 17th/18th 1918. 

[yashimolala]

⎡can you hear me now?⎦ toji f.

➵ pairing: fushiguro megumi & fushiguro toji (familial) ➵ word count: 1,278 words ➵ genre: fluff/angst ➵ author’s notes: I like writing these two because it's amusingly painful. ➵ warning(s): manga spoilers

I. Three Megumi’s delicate stature sits still on the floor as his emerald green eyes observe the movements of his father’s large, rough hands, beaming with excitement. 

Toji was crafting out something for him - he didn’t know if it was a toy but if it was anything from his father, he would be more than glad to receive it.

The man smiles upon noticing this. His son’s eyes shone like how they did when he looks over books that he can’t read yet, or when his puppy snuggles towards him.

A hand hovers over the small child’s erratic hair and ruffles it into a mess more than it already is, watching as his plump cheeks are brushed with the tint of pink from the unexpected display of affection. A small burst of laughter escapes from the man. 

“Be good for me, won’t you?”

Strangely enough, Megumi nods, despite not understanding much of what he said.

“That’s my good boy.” Toji whispers under his breath, taking him by the chest, and pulling the child in to a warm embrace. The kid was astonished by the unexpected action, but his small hands soon grasp on to his back, burying his face into the man’s chest.

His father’s sweater had the faint scent of oranges, and a spritz of cologne. The warmth brought him solace.

He wishes he could stay in this moment for a little longer.

II. Four

It was 9:39pm.

Megumi’s eyes flutter open when he hears a knock strike gently on the wooden sliding foor. A small hand comes up to rub on his eyelids, before slipping out of his blankets to check on his father.

He then picks the tin can up, and holds it to his lips, tied by a red string to the other can that was in his Toji’s grasp, going through the wall so his father could speak to him without having to go anywhere.

“Pa…pa?” The man perks up upon hearing the meek sound of his son’s voice. A smile pulls on his lips, proud that he could teach Megumi words that wasn’t vulgar, remembering how he accidentally slipped out a string of cusses around the toddler.

“Heya, Megumi.” He responds, leaning against the wall with a sigh of relief. “I hope you’re doing well even if I’m not home at most times. But, Tsumiki is not that bad to be with, right?”

He could picture his child nod twice in the other side.

“That’s good. I wonder if you can read bedtime stories now. Do you want me to buy you more picture books? Tell me so I can try out asking for a raise. Maybe I could even take you out to a fun fair sometime. There’ll be bunny cotton candy, rides with elephants in it, and owl stuffed toy in the booths.” He goes on and on through the night, listing off what’s on his mind.

Halfway, he comes to think, Megumi might have fallen asleep now. He stops rambling and takes it to himself to stand up from the floor. He heaves a small sigh before settling to leave the balcony.

“Papa…?” The child’s voice peeks out.

Toji’s eyes widen. He reaches for the can once again and holds it against his ear.

“I love you.”

The pronunciation was slightly off, but clear enough for Toji to understand what he wanted to say.

His eyes are almost brimming with hot tears, lips twitching with the familiar ache lingering around his scar. “I love you too.”

He wants to stay, but he can’t.

He has to go.

“Good night, ‘Gumi.”

III. Four (2)

It’s his day off.

Toji sinks into the comfort of the couch as he attempts to nap.

Keyword: attempt.

Perhaps, he was getting too used to the exhaustion in his job that he becomes restless himself when he’s not tired out?

His attention is caught when he could hear the light pitter-patter of Megumi’s feet pace on the floor as he approaches. Curious, he sits up to see his child who jolted in surprise from his sudden movement.

The kid was holding a picture book that he bought him a week ago. He raises an eyebrow, and realizes what Megumi wanted to tell him. His child was rather quiet, as he notices. Even told that he looks like his father whenever he scowls.

“No.”

Megumi averted his gaze away, lips pursing into a small pout.

He eyes the visibly glum expression of his son, a small pang of pain tugging at his chest. Closing his eyes, he heaves a light sigh and gently pulls Megumi into his lap.

The book rests on his hand, and he flips to the first page, starting to read the story softly. “A long long time ago, there lived an old man and an old woman.”

As the tale unravels from Toji’s lips, the boy eventually starts asking questions whenever he pauses, to which the man would patiently answer. They went on and on until afternoon came.

Megumi’s jade green eyes – the same color as his – they were glimmering with joy, even more whenever he looks up.

His chest swells with happiness. He could feel a small smile creep up onto his lips.

The kiddo fell asleep right on his torso, face buried in the material of his sweater. He rans a hand through the erratic tresses of Megumi’s hair, mapping the soft strands lovingly with the rough prints of his digits.

‘I just can’t say no when it comes to you, huh.’

IV. Five

It’s been weeks since Toji last spoke to Megumi through the tin can telephone.

The boy waits until it’s 10pm at night, before he decides to slip back into his futon, only for no one to knock on the window, or a sound to quiver through the string.

Until that night came.

“Megumi.”

A voice rises in the darkness to call out for him. The boy slowly stirs awake, finding himself crawling towards the tin can.

“Mmnn?” He sleepily hums.

“Papa’s going somewhere, okay?”

A slight pause takes over the conversation before the child asks. “Where?”

Toji’s eyes were a striking shade of emerald under the moonlight as he gazes at the night sky, head leaning against the icy surface of the wall. He takes a deep breath and responds, “Somewhere far away.”

“Okay.” Megumi says. “But, we’ll still read bedtime stories together, right? You promised me the other night.”

The man bites the ‘yes’ down his lip, knowing too well that he couldn’t refuse his son’s requests. He readies himself to leave.

“Megumi. Papa has to go now.” He informs.

“But-“ The boy’s cries were futile. No matter how it hurt Toji to leave him like this, there’s no turning back.

“See ya later, ‘Gumi.”

V. Seventeen

Megumi pushes a hand on his wound to apply pressure, a small act of preservation before he blacks out. Beside him lies a tin can telephone that connected to the other wall.

It was utterly annoying. He doesn’t know why but he had the urge to take it.

He slowly picks the small thing up, careful not to injure himself further and props it next to his ear.

Red was blurring his eyesight and he doesn’t resist as the darkness takes over him.

“Hey. What’s your name?”

“Fushiguro.”

“Not Zen’in huh? Good for you.”

The boy wakes up to a dream. He knows that it isn’t real. But.. he could hear someone speak in the other side of the wall.

“Live for me, Megumi.”

The scent of oranges fills his nostrils, and he closes his eyes once again, relishing in the little solace it brought.

Inspired by this art  ^

❥ It’s actually funny how the story of Momotaro is a folktale – which means it is a work of fiction. Now I’m starting to headcanon that Megumi has resorted to reading nonfiction because he does not want to be reminded of the bedtime stories that were read to him by Toji or Tsumiki. ❥ The titles of each shot is the indication of how old Megumi is in the scene. ❥ Also, planning more of this because why not. =p

[whats-rambled-rambled]

stuck in stories - Neil’s perspective

Neil x Reader

summary: the team is blowing off steam, drinking and playing a dare game

+ song: The Neighbourhood - Cry Baby

warnings: language, alcohol mention

author’s note: another request, thank you! It was quite tricky to switch the perspectives, but once that chaotic idiot let me inside his head, it was so much fun to follow his thoughts as the story progressed.

Even though I usually try to write Reader as gender-neutral as possible, this time I chose to insert fem!Reader directly, I hope you’re still going to enjoy it!

This is a one-shot, but as always - hits differently in you’re familiar with Neil and Reader from Stuck in Reverse series.

---

“You lot are a bunch of fucking children! Who wrote that, eh?!”

Neil’s mouth widened in a shit-eating grin. “Now now, Ives, we all know you want it,” he teased, snickering as he had to dodge an empty beer can Ives threw his way.

The whole team of rookies decided to blow off some steam after their first big mission together. Everyone was too tired to do anything too elaborate though. Instead of going out, the squad ended up on the floor of Wheeler’s hotel room, drinking and playing a dare game.

“What did I miss?”

Neil looked up and smiled as he watched his best friend sat down on the floor between him and Ives. He noticed how exhausted she was, even though she tried to hide it under the curious expression painted on her face.

He couldn’t help feeling so proud of how well she did during the mission. The truth was, he’d never doubted her abilities on the field. It might had been his idea for her to join Tenet alongside him (he still couldn’t believe that TP wasn’t more opposed to the recommendation; Neil took a mental note to ask him about that the next time they meet), but she quickly proved that she was a natural and made her way to the first response squad. There was a certain comfort in having her next to him when things got heated, because even though he trusted the rest of the guys to cover his six during the missions, he trusted her with his life.

Neil’s train of thoughts was interrupted by a sudden holler that filled the room

“The Universe has spoken!” cheered Wheeler, raising her beer as she winked at Neil. He furrowed his brows, not entirely sure what made her so gleeful about the change of events. Well, she probably was straight-up drunk at this point.

Neil switched his gaze to his friend, her bright eyes darting left and right, trying to make sense of the cackling people around her.

“You and your impeccable timing, huh?” he said and showed her a small piece of paper.

She squinted as she read the dare prompt. “...Kiss a person sitting on your right?” she glanced at Ives and flashed her teeth in a wicked grin. “I must admit, I kinda want to see that!”

“Oi, fuck you, mate!” Ives groaned and kicked her leg, making her giggle in response.

Neil nudged her shoulder, then tilted his head and smirked. “Well, but now you are the person sitting on my right.”

He watched as her eyes widened, a hint of blush creeping up her cheeks. She clenched her jaw and blinked twice.

“Shit,” she started laughing, but Neil was studying her closely. Her shoulders tensed slightly, she held her breath for a moment and shot a quick look in his direction.

The last thing he wanted was to make her uncomfortable in any way.

Neil put his hand on her arm and squeezed it reassuringly.

“Only if you’re okay with this.”

She looked at him, thankful for his concern. She chewed on her bottom lip. “Well, I mean…,” she hesitated and shrugged, but then her eyes lit up and she asked, “What’s the worst thing that could happen?”

Neil couldn’t find an answer to that.To him, it wasn’t a big deal. Because she was...her. His best friend in the entire world. The one he knew like the back of his hand. Always there, joined at the hip, as her mother used to call them. The one constant in his life.

...But there he was, feeling all sappy again. Oh, if only she knew, she would smack him in the blink of an eye.

He couldn’t resist trying to make her laugh, just to wipe any leftover tension remaining in the air.

Neil’s eyebrow quirked. “Try not to fall in love with me,” he said, leaning in her direction.

“Might be too late for that,” she mumbled.

Neil could swear a flash of panic clouded her face for a second, as if she realized what she’d just said. He hesitated.

“...what?”

Whatever that was though, it was already gone. She rolled her eyes and tittered. “You wish.”

...Sometimes, he did.

Or at least he used to, anyway.

Neil chuckled and shook his head. He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and when their lips met, he closed his eyes, utterly mesmerized by the sensation. And then, just as he wondered if maybe he selfishly lingered for too long in this moment, her lips parted delicately.

His mind went blank.

Without giving it too much thought, Neil’s fingers slid on the back of her neck and he pulled her a bit closer. His heart was pounding in his chest as he lightly deepened a kiss.

The team’s collective “ooh” rolled through the room, breaking the spell.

She gasped quietly against his lips. Their gazes locked. Her expression was puzzled, the pupils dilated in her shimmering eyes, her cheeks flushed.

Neil tilted his head, his brows drew together in a silent question.

Are you okay?

She blinked slowly and nodded, the corners of her mouth curling into a coy smile.

Then, she turned her attention to a small pile of paper rolls on the floor in front of her. “All right, my turn, I hope that you idiots put more of those in there, I wanna smooch my girl Wheeler next!” she teased, hiding all the softness behind a smug grin.

Neil smiled to himself. She was impossible.

Later that night, he was laying on his bed wide awake, staring at the ceiling in the dark, thinking. His mind running a thousand different scenarios. Carefully examining all the what ifs.

Finally, he scoffed, rubbing his face with his palms. They were both tired, tipsy, and it was just a kiss, no need to overthink it.

Her sudden nervousness. That little smile. The softness of her lips. That quiet gasp. The strange look in her eyes.

...right?

He sighed.

Enough.

[marauder-exe]

Outburst- Sirius Black x reader

Prompt: “I'm in love with you! Is that what you wanna hear?”

word count: 1506

A/n: Hihi! This is my first full fic so id love your feedback!, Requests are open as always. Thank u :)

It fucking sucked. Your best friend, Sirius had been ignoring you all week, most days you where practically attached at the hip, inseparable and content. But one day, out of the blue, he started ignoring you, like what the fuck? Being close with the marauders since first year, you tried to ask them what was up with him, but all you received was a chorus of ‘i dunno’s . It was utterly frustrating to be honest, and it honestly hurt. You'd been crushing on him since second year, in love since third. It was hard, keeping the biggest secret from your best friend for the last four years, but you couldn't tell him, tell notorious playboy Sirius Black, that you've been in love with him since he had cheered you up with endless jokes and stories that one night you'd been crying in the hallway all those years go. It was impossible, if you told him you'd loose him, fuck up your friendship and be alone again, but if you didn't tell him, you'd be stuck, crushed under the weight of your love while he goes rendezvousing with some 6th year. You couldn't live with him and you couldn't live without him. You where undeniably, irrevocably in love with him and he hadn't the faintest idea. But today you where determined to find out why he had been avoiding you, all the moving seats away from you in classes, the avoiding you in the great hall, the library, the common room, what was it all for?

So the next day you woke up, you where on a mission, You stretched and yawned, sitting up in your bed, looking at your picture of the marauders and you, you started to get ready for the day, you where on a mission. You mentally checked your timetable, for what lessons you had with Sirius, Herbology, DADA, and care of magical creatures. Perfect Care of magical creatures was the last lesson of the day and he couldn't possibly avoid you. So your day went along, slowly may I add. Herbology, divination, DADA, muggle studies, alchemy, Sirius desperately trying to avoid your burning glare through your shared lessons, which was pretty hard. Lily had come up to you during Herbology, to ask what was up with you and Sirius, knowing you two where never out of each others sight, but you couldn't exactly give her a solid answer. Then you saw something in her eyes, a little glint of something.

“Ahhhh righttttt.” She dragged on.

“what is it lils? Do you know something? Did James tell you something? Why that slimy git!” You quickly perked up. Although you didn't miss the blush that crept on her pale face at the mention of James.

She quickly shook her head “Nope, just heard a little something through the grape vine.” She smirked.

“I swear to merlin lils if you don't tell me ill strangle you with that grape vine!”

“Ah ah ah, all in due time, peaches.” You smirked and saddened at the thought of where the nickname came from. Your very classy best friends, the marauders, well mostly James, decided it would be a great idea for you to flash the whole school your underwear. A cute set with peaches on them. Sirius stopped them after a few seconds, citing it was a bit insensitive, and he would do it to lily if James tried that again, but you didn't miss Sirius’ little whisper, ‘they do look cute doll’, You smiled, you and Sirius had always been like that, flirty. It broke your heart every time because you knew he didn't mean it. You huffed.

“Fine, lils but if I don't find out soon I will blow my lid”

She smiled, shook her head and started to walk away, she turned “You'll be blowing more then that when you find out”

what was she possibly on about?

The conversation lingered in your mind for a dew hours after, a strange strange woman she was, but you could see why James was in love with her, You longed for something like that. Care of magical creatures finally rolled around, you'd been anxious all lesson, dreading and anticipating your chat with Sirius. Classes with professor Kettleburn where always exciting, I mean the man was missing half of his limbs, for god sake. Although it passed by fairly quickly, your nerves went up and up. The end of the class came and you saw Sirius make a dash back to the castle, obviously not wanting to speak to you, the marauders drawled slowly behind, talking about whatever.

“Sirius! Sirius!” You shouted, but he just quickened his pace. As you neared the whomping willow, you quickly ran up to him, pushed him against the tree, and stuck your wand at his neck. “Why wont you talk to me?”

James, Peter and Remus quietly made a bet as the scene unfolded. “ Bets on that he’ll choke” James clearly had a lot of faith in his friend.

“I don't think he’ll tell her” Peter squeaked. Thanks man.

“Nah, he’ll tell her” At least someone believed in his friend.

“Alright 5 galleons he chokes?” James challenged.

“Bet”

“I have no clue what your talking about” Sirius said offhandedly.

You removed your wand from his neck, you where not playing this game.

“You know what im talking about, You've avoided me this entire week. Practically attached at the hip for the Last 6 years and now! Now is the time you deicide you've had enough. What is it Sirius? What are you running from? What's got Hogwarts stone faced, witty, playboy so down? Why wont you fucking talk to me?” You belted, not caring who would hear. He grew angrier from each word you spoke, until he stood his full ground, shoulders squared, looking hurt and angry.

“’m in love with you! Is that what you wanna hear?”

That's when it hit you, he couldn't, He's Sirius black, playboy extraordinaire, he couldn't possibly love you.

“Sirius…”

“What? That-that iv'e been in love with you since I saw you in first year, that my heart aches every time I see you because I know you don't feel the same, that I have to sleep with every girl under the sun to try to forget that you couldn't possibly love a man like me. You wanna hear how I notice how angelic you look in the morning, even after crashing in my bed from exhaustion? How every morning you look at the picture of us and the marauders you have on your night stand because “you always want to begin the day with your best friends” on the off chance you don't see one of us today? Or the fact that since the day ive met you ive never seen you wear a single pair of matching socks because your superstitious and their lucky? How you have books practically falling out of your dorm its that jam packed, because you want to read every book ever created? How you look so perfect without even trying? Even when you've been swimming, or not slept in days, or haven't showered in a week, even then you look unbelievably perfect I wonder what we did to deserve you being friends with us? I wonder what I did to have someone as perfect as you in my life? Huh? How ill never have a chance with you because of how undeniably perfect you are? How you deserve someone smart like Remus, or sporty like James? Someone who you would undeniably be perfect with? But they're not in love with you, I am! And as much as you don't feel the same I really hope this doesn't ruin our fucking friendship just because im fucking in love wit you!”

By the end of his speech he looked so exhausted, like the weight of the world had just been lifted off of his shoulders, while you just stood there, dumbfounded. The boy you've been head over heels for since 2nd year liked you back. You just stared, stared and stared. You where left absolutely speechless. He took that as a bad sign, a tear rolled down his cheek as he turned to walk away, muttering a quiet ‘that's what I thought’.

You had to do something, anything before he walked away. So, you ran up to him and pulled him down for what had to be on of The Most Passionate Kisses In The History Of Kisses ©. Its like all the emotion over the past 6 years had been poured into the kiss, only to be broken apart by hearing your friends dry heaving in the background, you shot them a death glare and turned back to Sirius, who had the most lovestruck look on his face.

“So, you feel the same?” He smiled.

“Of course I do, dummy” You two where so enthralled in each other you missed Peter and James each slipping 5 galleons into Remus’ hand with disgruntled looks on their faces while he just smirked

[scoundrels-in-love]

Climb on your tears like a ladder to a rose, baby (There's a time to rest, There's a time to move on)

Three times Brienne doesn't have a birthday party and the one she does.

--

Brienne-centric | Angst and Emotional Hurt/Comfort | Grief | No Major Character Death | Birthday blues | And gradual growth | Happy, Hopeful ending

Also on AO3.

--

Disclaimer: This work is in no way or form related to author's personal life or personal wish fulfillment. /s

That said, early Happy New Year, everyone! Thank you for sharing so much love and creativity, whether in procuring new content or amazing comments, or pressing that kudos button!  Best of wishes in the 2021, may we all find healing or at least a glimpse of hope it is possible.

I

Brienne is ten and there is a movie on the large, chunky TV that sometimes needs to be smacked to work right. Specifically, there's a birthday party scene, complete with pretty banners and colorful balloons in shapes she didn't know were sold, and they're singing Happy Birthday and the child is blowing out birthday candles. Making a wish. The girl shares it with her friend later and Brienne scoffs, because everyone knows you're not supposed to say your wishes out loud. (That way, your dad's eyes don't get sad when he knows he can't fulfill it.)

Other than that, she doesn't really think about it much, never has. It's as foreign to her as the palm trees and sipping juice from a coconut. She supposes it's real to someone, somewhere, but not to her. People of Tarth have a different song to sing, but most of them don't sing any at all, nor did they blow out candles before they picked the tradition up from Mainlanders recently.

At least, that's what Brienne thinks. It's not like she's been to any birthday parties. But that's what her dad has told her of how he grew up. And that's how it continues in their household.

She gets a tight hug and a kiss on top of her head and a few presents, and a cake that doesn't have a shiny candle in it, but tastes just as good.

It's good and it's warm, when winter winds run hungry for snow to chase, and she doesn't wonder if she'd be like that kid in the other movie, the one to whose birthday party no one came.

She doesn't.

II

She is twenty three and she is picking out her own birthday cake. Her eyes skip over the number candles, because she's far too old for that kind of thing, and she doesn't even want the cake. She just doesn't want to think how sad he'd be if she didn't buy it. It’s her first after his passing and the thought of his worry is sharp. It’s never been deserved, but inescapable, because that’s what parents do, except she never managed to do what children are supposed to - to provide and take care so the final years are long and kind.

The cake blurs slightly as she exits the store, across the street from her apartment complex that seems to have lost the last of its colors in these winter months and the few strung up Sevenmas lights highlight that.

Brienne thinks her peers would call her insane if she told them she thinks winter in King's Landing is a lot more bleak than the ones she spent on Tarth. There is sharp quality to the contrast between the pale sky and darkening, rich color of water, even the jagged cliff edges stretching toward the horizon. It keeps one vigilant, wakeful. Here, the mild autumn grows more dulled and wraps everyone in an unassuming cocoon that slowly drifts toward spring, which finally hatches not quite rested.

But they have called her uglier things, too.

"Words are wind," her dad would tell her, but the wind isn't the same here, it doesn't take anything with it, only swirls dust around her. Brienne chokes on it, chokes on the echo as well.

Her father had loved the best he could, loved her truly, and if that rent ravines in her ribs, prone to collapsing in on themselves until she stacks them up again like a house of cards, then what hope of being loved gently, wholly, purposefully does she have?

She misses being hugged and told it's okay even when it's clearly a lie. She misses the certainty that her own love wasn't selfish. "He is in a better place now," they had told her, as if it didn't mean she had failed him utterly, repeatedly, until she had carved a crypt in the stone with her pacing?

Brienne falls asleep crying in a bed that doesn't feel hers, but she can't remember last time anything did.

III

Brienne is twenty eight and she pauses at the hallway mirror to fix her ponytail. There is half eaten cake on the kitchen table, bought at half price as leftover from Sevenmas, and a freshly opened wine bottle. It's the same kind her dad had brought her for her eighteenth birthday and she's never bothered to find another one she likes. (It tastes like the kind of summer she's never had.)

In this light, it's hard to tell if the shadows beneath her eyes are from the bit of mascara she had tried to scrub away a minute ago or the exhaustion she unintentionally cultivates like a little succulent garden on the windowsill.

She doesn't focus on the ugly or the beautiful of her face now, it's not what caught her attention. Brienne just stares at her reflection and thinks how she looks neither young nor old, that she just is. And that she has no idea what it means.

Shouldn't she know? Shouldn't she know by now? Shouldn't she be past the age where she is grabbing at dream colored smoke? Shouldn't she...

Brienne looks away before the first tears fall.

She eats her cake and thinks how her dad had told her that hawthorn and cranberries alike turn almost sweet after the first frost. How many frosts have been there now? Brienne's lost the count and the feeling of warmth alike.

She ends up drinking a little too much of the wine and going to bed early, looking at the single candle-look alike flickering on the table and willing herself to sleep after this completely ordinary day that should’ve been something, but it never is. (She isn’t.)

+ IV

Brienne is thirty six and her sides hurt from laughing.

She extracts herself from the couch corner, which Jaime immediately expands into like a lazy cat while flashing her a grin. When she comes back, he might try to coax her into his lap and maybe she will even concede.

She opens another juice carton and refills her glass, leans against the counter and watches her friends arguing over a board game in the living room. It's odd, to know you belong and yet to be so aware of it in this moment, and she cannot quite throw herself back in there, even though it is no mirage she could simply crash through. Instead, Brienne follows the cool and tethering moonlight that has looped itself around her feet.

She steps out into the garden - because that's a thing she has now. There is a thin, crunchy layer of snow that will bite through her fluffy slippers any moment now, chasing her back inside. But for now, she cranes her face toward the sky, sending white little puffs of breath chasing after clouds that slip across the moon.

The door opens behind her and she doesn't look who it is, because there's no one here that she'd want to hide away from. She's lucky, Brienne thinks, that trust was never a truly foreign concept to her, though she's had to learn how to expand it and recognize its many forms like a toddler would with a shape sorter.

Arms wrap around her waist and Brienne allows herself to lean back and rest against Jaime's chest as he props his chin on her shoulder. She considers telling him that she's fine, because she likes to say that, now that she knows how it feels to truly mean it, even if it's not every day. Instead, she allows the bittersweet ache in her chest to mend itself with his quiet warmth.

She hopes that next time she dreams of her dad, she can tell him of this night, to not worry quite so much, and that peace sounds a little like the sound of her friends' laughter drifting through the door left ajar and Jaime humming in her ear.