#the absence nearly drove him mad

[mean-scarlet-deceiver]

Askbox time

Assuming that Nobby has seen Edward in preservation (post 1963 rebuild) (I think it was '63), what are his opinions on Edward being rebuilt into something not-so-Furness?

tl;dr: Nobby's just glad Edward is still alive, thank you — though he knows he has to pretend to give a damn about this sort of thing

The Awdry’s explanation for Edward does not come down to a single rebuild but to numerous modifications over the past, erm (checks notes) century or so. Some of these rebuilds would have been more extensive than others but it’s not clear to me that the one after the crankpin failure would have been one where they made the biggest alterations to his design.

I am sure that some significant rebuilding took place between 1920 and 1941. So Nobby already saw the beginnings of the Edwardification of 34 before he left Barrow. 

Life is change. Most of Nobby’s own working career was before Mr Pettigrew brought standardisation to the F.R., he knows how it goes. 

And, like, look, Nobby knows that when visitors come and say anything along the lines of oh if only so-and-so was still in their original form (and they do mention the Edward case to him of course, quite a lot), his job is to make vague sympathetic noises and to be sure to sound genial rather than biting if he observes that the world already has a preserved Sharp and Stewart passenger engine, you can go visit him any time, oh yes, I’m told the Dutch take very good care of him...

Incidentally, Nobby was sceptical about the project to rebuild 20 to his original form. May have kinda definitely been polite, diplomatic conversations with earnest representatives of the newly-formed Furness Railway Trust that boiled down to Nobby being like ‘Ya can’t bring back the past, shit don’t work like that’ and the FRT blokes being like ‘lol wut, nah bro, if you throw enough money at it you totally can — relax, we’ll show you.’

(At the risk of spoilers… the attitude of both parties proved justified in the end.) 

[mammons-lover]

Twisted Obsession

Mammon x reader

Genre: Dark Romance/Psychological Thriller

Word Count: 1k+

WARNING⚠️: Psychological Manipulation & Obsession, Kidnapping & Captivity, Stockholm Syndrome Elements, Supernatural Themes, Violence, Unhealthy Relationships, Yandere Themes, Depression and Emotional Distress, and Implied Emotional Coercion & Gaslighting.

A/N: I enjoy telling stories as if they are being read by a wise old person, (kinda like "once upon a time, long ago" type of reading) I hope the wisdom comes through in the reading.

(I'm experimenting with a new format and am uncertain if it will be permanent. Please read the warning, and if I miss something, please let me know.)

The night was cold, the kind of cold that prickled at the edges of your skin, but your heart burned with a fervor that defied any chill. You had waited months for this—memorizing every sigil, every chant, every nuance of demonology until you could recite it backwards. All for him. Mammon. The second-born of the Avatars of Sin, the embodiment of Greed. Everything about him fascinated you. His charm, his selfishness, his unexpected loyalty when it mattered. The more you read about him, the more you knew he was everything you needed. Everything you wanted.

When the summoning circle blazed to life, you felt a rush of triumph mixed with panic. There he stood—more striking than you ever imagined. Snow-white hair, piercing blue goldish eyes, an aura that commanded attention. Mammon.

He crossed his arms, glaring down at you with a mix of irritation and amusement. “Oi, ya seriously called The Great Mammon for this? What, did ya wanna gawk at me all day?”

You stammered, your heart hammering in your chest. “I need… riches.”

Mammon scoffed, a sly grin tugging at his lips. “Heh, typical human. It ain’t that easy, ya know. But fine. I’ll see what I can do. Call me again in a week.”

The thought of him leaving sent waves of desperation crashing over you. What if he never came back? What if he saw through your pathetic ruse? Panic drove you to a reckless act. You grabbed a vase filled with enchanted marbles and brought it down on the back of his head. As Mammon fell, your breath caught in your throat. You knelt beside him, trembling fingers checking his pulse. Relief washed over you...he was alive.

You whispered a spell to keep him asleep, binding him with enchanted wrap tightly to a chair bolted to the floor. You knew he’d be furious, but he had to understand. He would, in time. When he woke, his eyes flashed with dread and confusion. He yanked at his bindings, Pleading, “What the hell did you do?! Let me go! If it’s because I needed a week to get the money, I'll try to find a way to get it sooner.”

“I'm sorry, I had to,” you pleaded, tears pricking at your eyes. “I love you.”

Mammon’s face twisted with disgust. “Love? This ain’t love, it’s insanity! My brothers will come for me.”

You understand that his words hold truth, though not the part about insanity; your actions stem from love, not madness. However, once his brothers notice his absence, time will not be on your side. Therefore, it's imperative to win his love quickly.

You shook your head. “They won’t find you. You’ll see… you’ll understand soon.”

Days turned into weeks. You tried to make him comfortable, surrounding him with things he liked—his favorite foods, soft blankets, even decorating his corner of the room like a mini living room. You talked to him for hours, telling him everything about yourself, hoping to make him see how perfect you were together. But Mammon met your efforts with silence, disdainful glares, or sharp words.

“You can’t keep me here forever,” he sneered one day, rolling his eyes as you listed your common interests. “It’s pathetic.”

Still, there were moments—small cracks in his facade—that gave you hope. The first time he asked for water, you nearly stumbled in your haste to bring it to him. When he finally accepted food, you felt like you’d won a battle. He spoke more, complained about his restraints, tried to charm you into letting him go. “If you untie me, I’ll take ya out to the movies. Make it worth your while.”

You almost believed him. Almost. Instead, you brought the movies to him, setting up a TV and snuggling close while you watched. He didn’t pull away. Your heart soared. Maybe he was starting to care. Maybe you could loosen his bonds. But then you caught him trying to tamper with the magic in his restraints. When confronted, he lied, claiming an itch. You wanted to believe him so badly.

Another month passed. Mammon grew quieter, his eyes duller. You asked him what was wrong, and for the first time, he spoke honestly. “I miss my brothers. I miss freedom.” He saw your hurt and quickly added, “But… I like it here. I like you.”

Your thoughts raced with the realization of his love for you and the possibility of setting him free sooner rather than later. A sincere smile spread across your face, your eyes welling up with tears. He returned a smile, brief yet meaningful. You allowed him to roam the house, albeit with his ankles and waist restrained. He wandered, playfully taunted you, and even proposed snuggling on the sofa. It all seemed prefect, until the day he tried to escape.

You had just opened the door to bring in groceries when he rushed up from behind, shoving you aside in an attempt to escape. However, the restraints halted his progress, causing him to fall. Despite this, he continued to struggle, pulling himself forward as you began to drag him back inside by his legs. His face was a mask of desperation as he bellowed, "Let me go!" His strength was formidable, and your efforts seemed futile. Noticing the restraints weakening, you scrambled to secure them, but as you reached, they snapped, setting him free.

Mammon halted, his gaze fixed on you. For a moment, the thought crossed your mind that he might kill you. As you began to reach for your wand, he noticed and dashed into the forest. You quickly grabbed your wand and pursued him, following the trail left by the restraints. As you moved cautiously, becoming more aware of your surroundings, you noticed that Mammon was no longer tethered at the end of the restraints. Panic set in; you couldn't afford to lose him he was everything to you. Crying out, you pleaded for his return, vowing to treat him better and promising never to bind him again. Collapsing to your knees, you clutched the restraints, weeping, oblivious to Mammon perched in the tree above, observing you.

He can't fathom why you have such deep feelings for him, especially since you don't truly know him and have never met before. He contemplates returning to you, sensing that you need him. However, he catches himself mid-thought, dismisses it, and continues deeper into the forest towards home.

For months, everything was left untouched, holding onto the hope of his return. When he didn't, moving on became a necessity, buried in work. Yet, Mammon couldn't forget. Upon his return, he searched for anyone, but the house was empty. He retreated to his room, cleaned himself up, and waited. Lying in bed, his thoughts wandered to you, pondering if you were still searching for him. His reverie was broken by laughter and chatter downstairs. He found them happy, oblivious to his absence. When they noticed they were shocked at his appearance, they bombarded him with questions about his whereabouts. How they looked for him and couldn't find him. But the word "looked" echoed in his mind they had ceased their search. Questioning why they stopped, they simply believed he would reappear. Frustrated, Mammon secluded himself until dinner. At the table, amidst the interrogation, Lucifer asked about your whereabouts, but Mammon assured him it was handled. Life resumed, and though he feigned normalcy, thoughts of you lingered, wondering if you thought of him, or had moved on. The thoughts ate at him, as did memories of you. The way you’d looked at him, the things you’d done—all for him.

One afternoon, as he went about his day, those thoughts overwhelmed him, and he set out to find you. From a distance, he watched you at the market, selecting items for your potions and groceries. He followed you home and noticed you had rearranged the house, giving him the impression that you no longer cared for him. This notion unsettled him, and he returned home. The idea that you no longer cared gnawed at him with such intensity, one might think he harbored love for you. But he didn't... to him, you were just a lunatic who had stolen months from his life. Yet, there were good times. You never mistreated him, never hurled insults; instead, you praised his every action, no matter how mundane. Now, seeing you act as if those moments were insignificant, he couldn't help but feel aggrieved. Driven by what he claimed was mere curiosity, he shadowed you for months, learning your routine to avoid crossing paths with you...or so he convinced himself.

Eventually, he found himself at your doorstep again, unable to stay away. He picked the lock, wandering through your home until he found you in the kitchen. Leaning casually against the counter, he asked, “Whatcha makin’?”

You turned around, fear gripping you momentarily, your heart halting, then you break into a smile upon seeing him. "Mammon?!"

He walked closer, wrapping his arms around your waist. “Do ya love me?” he whispered, eyes searching yours.

“With all my heart,” you said, breathless.

He smiled, a dark, dangerous smile. “Good. Let’s keep it that way.”

He drew you into a kiss, and it was fierce, possessive. Caught in this twisted obsession, neither of you were willing to release the other.

[roanofarcc]

PROJECT SUNSHINE CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE → ONE WEIRD NIGHT

summary: steve harrington x oc

when another product of Hawkins National Laboratory escaped a long-survived nightmare alongside her sister, she crashed into one unsuspecting teenage boy and dragged him deeper into the dark mysteries that made up their hometown.

word count. || masterlist

warnings: cannon typical violence, child abuse, horror, gore, and depictions of mental illness. parts of this story were written pre-season 4 release. cannon divergence.

previous chapter ← → next chapter

In the passenger seat of an old, beat-up car, Calum Miller drummed his fingers against his chin in thought. He was unable to let anything go or be; his mind was a tangled web of suspicion that his hometown wasn’t what everyone believed, and he was almost desperate to prove it. 

“You know, maybe the whole Pennhurst idea wasn’t too far-fetched. It’s possible Danielle and even Will ended up there somehow,” he thought aloud. The whole story surrounding Danielle Torres drove him mad. No printed article or half-assed story the long-lost teen uttered convinced Calum that there wasn’t more to the story. He had done his research and in nearly every kidnapping case, it was unlikely the victim survived a week, let alone ten years. Someone- Danielle, her family, the Hawkins P.D., and probably others- was coving something up. They didn’t want the public to know something and Calum wanted to know what. He also wanted to know- no, he needed to know- if it had anything to do with his dad. 

“Jesus Christ,” Tamera huffed. 

“Are you really still upset about the tutoring thing? I know we blew it, but we can think of something else-” 

A dry, humorless laugh sounded from Tamera, and her eyes remained glued to the road. “No, you idiot. I’m not mad you blew the tutoring idea. I didn’t even want to do that! I’m mad that you basically accosted Danielle. She hasn’t come around the library in days,” she said. “I liked talking to her. She’s nice and sweet, and you scared her off! Now I’m gonna be lucky if she ever talks to me again.” 

Calum frowned. He didn’t understand why she didn’t see how weird things were with Danielle’s story. Sure, she seemed nice and all, he wasn’t doubting that, but something wasn’t right about her or how she found her way back to Hawkins. 

“Come on, Mara-” 

She cut him off with a quick glare. “No. Just let it go, please.”

Once again, the friends found themselves trapped in the same loop of a conversation they’d been having for weeks. Calum had thrown almost all of his focus into scraping together clues that would lead him to his dad, and Tamera had helped him where she could. But with the dead ends they kept meeting and then Calum’s questioning of Danielle, Tamera was getting visibly annoyed with him. 

Maybe he was being annoying about it, but he needed to find his dad and fix things. He needed his mom to stop drinking herself into a coma each night because of her husband’s absence. The only thing he had was that Danielle Tores returned the same week his dad and Will Byers went missing. Will returned but his dad didn’t. 

With a sigh, Calum ran a hand through his blond hair and pressed the issue further. “I told you, Mara, I can’t let this go. My dad is out there somewhere, and I have to find him.” 

She shook her head but didn’t ignore him; she wanted to convince him his efforts were misplaced and useless, but it wouldn’t work. Calum was too stubborn for anyone to convince him he was wrong. “There is nothing but that week connecting Danielle or Will or anyone to your dad. You have nothing besides those insane theories with no proof. You’re trying to turn nothing into something.” She paused and her anger melted into something of guilt before she continued, “Your dad is gone. He left, Cal. That’s all there is to it.” 

Her words stung like a slap to the face, but he tried not to let them get under his skin. Tamera sounded like his mom. The woman had shut down every possibility of her husband being taken or vanishing. She insisted he left her, but her behavior told a different story. There were problems between his parents, mostly because his dad spent a lot of time away at work, but they loved each other. That could explain her unraveling in his absence, but something about the way she acted was wrong. She didn’t seem sad or heartbroken; she was relieved and enraged in the most confusing of ways. There was something he was missing; his parents were telling him something. 

His mom didn’t make a livable wage as a hairdresser in downtown Hawkins. The job was more of a side hobby that she used to make some extra cash. It was Calum’s dad who was the breadwinner of the family. He didn’t know what his dad did, but it was some government number-crunching job that he never talked much about out of fear he’d bored his son to death. All Calum knew was that he brought in more than enough money to support them, but when he disappeared, Calum worried he and his mom would sink without the income. He picked up extra shifts at the arcade and got a second job at the movie theater in hopes of making ends meet. 

Then, one night when he returned home late from work, he saw his mom dressed in the same clothes as the day before, not having been to work. Calum mustered up enough courage to ask her how they were going to support themselves without Dad’s money. She shrugged him off and told him not to worry about it and that it was “all taken care of.” That only made him more confused. How was it taken care of? Who were they getting the money from? 

“My dad wasn’t a bad guy,” Calum said, keeping his tone level even though he was screaming on the inside. “There was no reason for him to leave like that. He didn’t take anything, and he didn’t say goodbye. There was nothing, he just vanished.” 

If his dad was going to leave, he would have said something to Calum, that much he believed. 

There was more that occurred that week that only heightened his suspicion that something odd was going on. “You know, that night he didn’t come home there were power outages all over town. Mr. Robinson said it had something to do with that power company in the woods, the one with the military out front.” 

Tamera rolled her eyes. “Oh wow. The Department of Energy had trouble with the power in November. That obviously means aliens came down and abducted by aliens.” 

“I’m being serious!” Calum snapped. Power outages had occurred more than a week than they had all year, according to the Hawkins Post. He knew it was a stretch, trying to connect a series of weird power outages to his dad’s disappearance, but he felt in his gut that there was something weird going on.  

“Don’t you think it's a little strange that a bunch of vans from the Department of Energy were at Nancy Wheeler’s house?” 

“What?” Tamera asked. 

He explained to her what he saw. The Department of Energy was out and about that whole week; Calum recalled seeing their vans around town, but not once did he see anyone working on the powerlines. He was no electrician, but he knew that the Department of Energy vans never came around the summer prior when a wicked storm knocked the power out for three days in the dead of July. Men were out working on lines from dawn to dusk trying to get the power back. What was different that time? His curiosity and suspicion peaked when he saw a line of those vans outside Nancy Wheeler’s home. 

Calum had cut through the neighborhood on his walk home from work. He needed to clear his head in the wake of his dad disappearing. When he reached the top of a hill that overlooked the other half of the neighborhood, he saw the collection of vans at the Wheeler’s home and the series of men and women, dressed in suits, carrying boxes out of the home. It made no sense to him. Who were those people and why were they at the Wheelers? But then he mulled it over and little connections were made. Nancy Wheeler was best friends with Barbara Holland who had also gone missing and never returned during that week. Her little brother was best friends with Will Byers. And her boyfriend, Steve Harrington was supposedly childhood best friends with Danielle Torres. It seemed to perfect to a coincidence.

Tamera a quiet for a long moment before she said, “That is… weird.” It was more than that, but he was happy with her not telling him to give up his pursuits. 

“That’s not all, either. I skipped school two days ago because I didn’t want to play basketball in gym-”

“Which is ridiculous, by the way,” Tamera said. “But continue.” 

“I ran to the store and when I was talking home, I saw Nancy and Jonathan Byers together. They came out of Radio Shack with a bag full of stuff.” The pair was odd, but Calum had seen them together more since the start of the school year. “I couldn’t get close enough to hear most of their conversation, but I swear I heard them mention Barbra Holland.” 

Tamera looked unconvinced. “Barb and Nancy were friends. I’m sure she talks about Barb.” 

“I guess, but did you know Nancy and Steve eat dinner with the Holland once a month? I bet they also think Barb’s still somewhere out there just like her parents do. The Hollands are selling their house to pay for a private investigator.” 

“How do you know all of this?” 

Calum’s mother was still on the fritz, but she had resumed working at the salon, just not as frequently as she had before his dad vanished. Calum helped around the place when he caught a break from work. If there was one place someone could get any information they wanted, it was the hair salon. The mothers, aunts, daughters, and sisters of Hawkins liked to talk about everyone and everything. 

“I have my sources,” Calum said, smoothly. “And those sources confirmed that they saw the private investigator the Hollands hired talking to Danielle more than once. If all of this shit isn’t connected, how do you explain that?” 

“I don’t know.” She paused before glancing at him through slightly more sympathetic eyes. “Just don’t jump the gun on this, okay? I agree that all of that stuff is weird, but there’s still no proof it’s connected to your dad.” But it had to, Calum thought.

He wanted to make Tamera understand, somehow, but before he could get another word out, a car came barreling down the street toward them. 

“Shit!” Tamera yelled as she jerked the wheel to the side and narrowly avoided the speeding car. Bright headlights flooded Calum’s vision and he let out a matching scream alongside Tamera. Their car veered slightly off the side of the road, the right wheels in the grass, as the other car passed, they continued racing down the road. 

Calum clutched his chest, feeling like he just suffered a mini-heart attack. “Jesus Christ! Who the hell was that?” he asked. 

Looking in the rearview mirror, Tamera narrowed her eyes under her large, wire-framed glasses. “I think that was the new kid’s car.” 

“What an asshole.” 

→←

Steve was dead, he had to be. Dead, but in a lot of pain, which didn’t make a lot of sense but even thinking was too painful. Every one of his muscles ached and his head felt too heavy for his body. His eyes were still closed when he tried to move, but it was as if he was crammed into a small space that wouldn’t allow his limbs to stretch. With a groan, he forced his eyes open despite the pounding in his head. 

The world was a blur in front of him. He tried to rub his eyes and clear his vision, but someone grabbed his wrist. “No, don’t touch it.” Dustin’s voice filled his ears as the kid’s face came more into focus. “Hey buddy, it’s okay. You put up a good fight. He kicked your ass, but you put up a good fight.” 

Oh, God. That was the only thought that flowed through Steve’s mind as the events of the night rushed back to him. The feeling of glass shattering over his head, the screams from the kids, and the taste of blood in his mouth all came back to him. 

From right beside Steve, another familiar voice sounded. “Please slow down,” Sunshine groaned. 

“Don’t throw up in here,” Mike replied, his head popping up on the other side of Dustin. 

“Okay, you’re gonna keep straight for half a mile, then make a left on Mount. Sinai,” Lucas instructed from somewhere in front of Steve. 

Steve had no idea where he was. All of the voices pounded against his skull and there was a weird feeling like he was moving. The last thing he remembered was blacking out in the Byers living room, but he was sure he wasn’t there anymore. Why did he feel like he was moving? 

He tried to sit up, but he was in an uncomfortable and awkward position. There were too many people too close to him. All he could do was look forward and focus on figuring out what was going on. Then, it dawned on him that in front of him was the front seat of a car and he was indeed moving. Not only that but the car was being driven by a redhead who sat way too close to the steering wheel. 

“What’s going on?” Steve started to panic. 

“Relax,” Dustin said, in a lame attempt to ease Steve’s worry. “She’s driven before.”

Mike scoffed. “Yeah, in a parking lot.” 

“That counts,” said Lucas. 

On the furthest side of the backseat, pressed up against the door with his hands shoved in his pockets and his hoodie pulled up over his head, Luke shook his head. “No, it definitely does not.” 

Ignoring them, Dustin looked down at Steve with an expression that looked slightly guilty. “They were going to leave you behind, but I promised that you’d be cool, okay?” 

It certainly was not okay; Steve was in a car being driven by a child. “What is happening?” Steve’s words came out a little slurred. He tried to sit up again as he repeated, “No, no, no.” But a small yelp sounded from his other side as his elbow hit something that was not the door. 

“Ow! Steve, stop moving.” Turning his head, Steve noticed that Sunshine was wedged between the door and him. His elbow was jammed into his ribs and her arm was wrapped around his shoulder, holding an ice pack to his cheek that he hadn’t even noticed until that moment. The side of his face felt numb but the panic inside of his was red hot as he peered past Sunshine and out the window to see Hawkins fly by. 

“No! Stop the car! Slow down!” he yelled. 

“I told you he’d freak out,” Mike huffed. 

From the driver’s seat, Max yelled, “Everybody, shut up! I’m trying to focus!” 

“Oh, wait, that’s Mount. Siani,” Lucas said, looking between the map in his hands and the road. Max shot him a confused look before he frantically pointed to the quickly approaching turn. “Make a left! Make a left, now!” 

Max muttered a string of curse words and yanked the steering wheel as hard as she could to make a sharp left turn. Everyone in the car screamed as a mailbox bounced off the hood of the car and flew over them before landing in the dust the car kicked up from its veer off the road. 

The rest of the trip was a blur. Steve was squished in the backseat and his ears rang from his blow to the head the yelling that filled the car. Somewhere along the way, they nearly collided with another car that was unlucky enough to be on the road at the same time as them and Max nearly drove them all into a ditch. 

Steve squeezed his eyes closed and held onto Sunshine’s arm for dear life as he silently prayed for their trip to be over. It felt like an eternity later, but eventually, Max pulled into an empty field and slammed down on the break. The car lurched forward to a sudden stop, and as everyone fell back against their seat, a collective sigh of relief rang out. 

“Incredible,” Mike said, breaking the silence with a look of bewilderment and awe in his eyes. 

Max pulled the keys from the ignition and tossed a look to the backseat. “I told you. Zoomer.” 

Steve didn’t know what the hell she was talking about, and he didn’t care. He needed out of the car before he hurled. 

Everyone was on the same page and made quick work of getting out. Sunshine pushed open the door and nearly tumbled out of the car before she leaned heavily against the side of it. 

Steve rubbed his throbbing temples, but his effort to collect himself was cut short as the kids all started pulling supplies out of the trunk and placed them near a gaping hole in the ground. 

“Guys,” he said, trying to get their attention. “What do you think you’re doing?” His words were still a little slurred and he had to hold onto the car door to keep himself upright.

“Steve,” Sunshine sighed, but Steve couldn’t stop his anger from bubbling up at the kids as they continued to move and ignore him. 

“What are you, deaf? Hello! We’re not going down there! I made myself clear!” 

A hand grabbed his shoulder and forced his attention. Sunshine peered up at him. He couldn’t see much in the darkness of the field, but it didn’t make much to notice the tiredness that adorned her features. Her brows were furrowed and there was blood smeared against her skin; Steve wondered how they kept finding themselves in those kinds of situations, blooded and bruised and exhausted. 

“I thought we were on the same page?” he said, exasperatedly tossing his hands up in the air, causing her to lose her hold on his coat and step backward. “This is insane and dangerous!” He didn’t intend for his voice to come out as loud as it did, and it was more pointed at the kids than Sunshine, but she still flinched. A wave of guilt instantly ran through him. He closed his eyes once more and willed the world to stop spinning so fast.

“Steve, you’re upset, I get it,” Dustin said, approaching the two teens. Steve rubbed his eyes once more and settled his gaze on the kid who held Steve’s backpack and bat. Dustin wore a pair of swimming goggles and a bandana tied around his neck; he looked ridiculous. “The bottom line is, a party member requires assistance and it’s duty to provide that assistance.” 

Steve hated how loyal the kids were to each other; he’d never seen a group of friends so utterly devoted to one another, and if they weren’t standing at the edge of a hole that led into another nightmare or if Steve hadn’t just gotten the shit beat out of him, he’d probably think it was sweet. 

“Now,” Dustin continued, holding out Steve’s backpack toward him. “I know you guys promised you’d keep us safe. So, keep us safe down there.” 

Steve turned and looked at Sunshine, who was already looking at him. She brushed her frizzy hair behind her ears and wiped the dried blood from under her nose. “They’re going to do this with or without us.” Steve knew she was right, and he knew Hopper and Joyce were going to kill them. 

“Fine,” he said and grabbed his backpack. “Let’s go.” 

Tag list. @sattlersquarry , @echoing-oursong , @leptitlu

[i-did-not-mean-to]

Jealousy & Confession - Maedhros x Fingon

Dear anon, it's my joy and pleasure to give you this sweet(ish) slice of Russingon!

They truly are the best! I love them so much! <3

Words: 1 070

Characters: Maedhros x Fingon

Warnings: A hint of sadness, a bit of obsession, a confession, and yes, they're still half-cousins :D

Gritting his teeth, Maedhros swallowed a few times to dislodge the lump of bad conscience in his throat.

He had no right to be doing this, and if anyone was to catch him—lurking around behind corners and nearly folding himself in half to keep his prodigious height from drawing too much attention—he would have been hard-pressed to find a reasonable explanation or excuse for his current shameful behaviour.

It had all started, a few weeks ago, with an innocent crush which had soon devolved into outright obsession; Fingon—the object of Maedhros’s single-minded preoccupation—had only had to bat those dense, dark lashes at him while laughing at an honestly rather mediocre joke for the pale, freckled ginger to completely lose his mind.

In his head, he could hear Maglor drawling that this was all just a consequence of his genetical make-up and unusual upbringing, and that thought alone made Maedhros clam up and grit his teeth petulantly.

Of course, his father was known for being inclined towards mad fixations, and Maedhros had spent a shocking amount of time denying his own needs and desires to keep an eye on his younger siblings instead, but he was not about to readily admit that he might have sustained any kind of emotional or psychological damage from these circumstances.

So what if Fingon’s open smile and the way he consistently seemed to “accidentally” touch Maedhros when they spoke drove bashful heat into his hollow cheeks and made his heart beat faster with helpless agitation?

It didn’t mean that there was necessarily something wrong with him.

Hiding behind a beautifully carved column to watch Fingon talk to a young girl, on the other hand, was so irrefutably an indication of onsetting madness that even Maedhros could not explain it away.

Indeed, he was painfully aware of just how insane and worrisome his behaviour was for—even if he was special to Maedhros in every way—Fingon was kind and charming to every person he met, be they a random stranger or a family friend.

Thus, it was entirely unreasonable to feel as if every smile that was graciously bestowed upon another had been stolen from Maedhros who was far from destitute to begin with; he had six brothers, doting parents, and many friends.

So how could it be that he so yearned to bathe in Fingon’s benevolent attention as if he was gilded and hallowed by every sweet word and amused chuckle?

When the girl lifted her hand to push back one of Fingon’s braids, Maedhros growled.

As that feral, rumbling sound echoed through the hollow, aching cavity of his chest, the tall redhead was at last torn from his frenzy. Shame washed through him, hot and healing.

At last, he averted his eyes to slink away and seek refuge and solace beside a remote, forgotten fountain he had loved since his earliest childhood. Nobody would find him there, and he’d be free to bask in his own misery and self-reproach in relative peace.

Cursing himself bitterly for so unreasonably growing possessive and jealous, he hastened away.

“Huh?!”

Upon hearing the startled sound escaping the soft, rosy mouth of his friend, Fingon turned around instinctively to scan their surroundings.

“What is it?” he asked tensely—even though he had tried to arrange everything so that nobody would notice his absence, he could never be entirely sure that none of his younger siblings or cousins had followed him in pursuit of a tasteless, puerile practical joke.

“Nothing,” she chuckled, embarrassed by her nervous reaction. “I thought I had seen a flash of copper and gold in the distance, but it’s gone. Surely, it was but the light dancing on the columns. Do not try to change the subject, friend! You know you have to talk to him sooner or later! Just confess your feelings, you’ll feel better afterwards, no matter what his answer will be!”

Nodding unconvincedly, Fingon rose to his full height and squared his shoulders—he was no coward, and he agreed that he could not go on like this.

His every waking moment was consumed by intrusive thoughts about the gleaming eyes and alluring smile of one he facetiously called “friend”, and his nights were all the more upsetting as his mind painted pictures of puzzling promiscuity that haunted him well beyond the borders of Irmo’s realm.

“Go!” the girl cheered and gave him a gentle push.

Usually, finding Maedhros—tall as a tree and thrice as charming, may Yavanna forgive him—was not a difficult feat, but Fingon had to visit many a spot he knew to be amongst his friend’s favourites before he finally stumbled upon the long-limbed beauty, curled up on himself by a defunct fountain.

“Hi! I’ve been looking everywhere for you! How are you?” he chirped, hearing himself how shrill and breathless his voice sounded.

“Oh!” Maedhros looked up in surprise, but his eyes narrowed suspiciously almost at once. “I would not have expected you to seek me out…”

“I need to talk to you,” Fingon burst out, and his heart sank when he saw Maedhros’s face melt into an impassive, almost hostile mask that was so unlike the beautifully vulnerable flush he had come to love.

“Me? I’m sure there are plenty of other people, much lovelier than I am, you could be conversing with,” Maedhros grumbled, burying his face against his updrawn knees as the bitter, accusatory tone of his voice hit him.

“There is none lovelier than you,” Fingon whispered. “And I’d rather sit in silence by your side than listen to the most skilled orator to have ever been sung into existence…”

Slivers of silver emerged like crescent moons above bony knees, and Fingon dropped to the ground to clasp those slender, long-fingered hands in his own.

“I cherish our friendship, please believe me, but I must confess how much deeper my feelings run than mere amicable affection, lest I run mad with longing…”

“I—you—but…the girl?” Maedhros stammered, unheedful of the dreadful confession he was making.

“What girl? There are no girls,” Fingon laughed, kissing Maedhros’s tense, white knuckles in an expression of exuberant joy. “There is only you.”

And, because he was indeed not the most gifted or eloquent creation to have ever existed, Maedhros surged forward to capture Fingon’s smiling mouth in a searing kiss in lieu of a formal acceptance of his much-yearned-for, miraculous suit.

@fellowshipofthefics here's another one for this month!

No monthly challenge would be complete without these two!

Lots of love and well-wishes!

-> Masterlist

[thisfairytalegonebad]

"Drive safely." - Ignis & Noct, brotherhood era

Prompt #28 of the Love List.

Read below the cut, or on AO3 here.

This one's about Iggy's shitty parents, but there's not any physical abuse nor does it go into detail in general. Just a heads up.

“I think it’s a bad idea,” Noct said, eyes stubbornly on the floor.

In front of him, Ignis sighed, the kind of sigh that meant he thought Noct was being unreasonable and difficult, but in this case, Noct was absolutely convinced that Ignis was the unreasonable one.

“It’ll just be a few days, Noct. I’ll be back before you even know it. In my absence, Gladio will take you to school in my stead, and I’ve forbidden him from feeding you nothing but Cup Noodles all week, so you’ll probably get to eat takeout every day.”

It’s not about that, Noct wanted to yell, did Ignis seriously think he was just worried he wasn’t gonna be fed when he was away?

“Is your uncle going?” he asked instead, still refusing to meet Ignis’ eyes.

“No.” Another sigh. “He and my parents are… on bad terms.”

Noct scoffed. “Yeah, because they treat you like shit.”

“Noct-”

“Forget it.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Noct saw Ignis stepping closer.

“Noct, please. I don’t wish to part ways when you are angry with me.”

The childish side of him almost made him want to remain stubborn so Ignis wouldn’t go, but the pleading edge in Ignis’ voice made it impossible not to give in to him.

“’M not mad at you,” he muttered and closed the distance between them, pressing his face against Ignis' chest and wrapping his arms around his middle.

“I’m glad,” Ignis said and easily folded him into a hug.

Don’t go, Noct wanted to tell him, they don’t deserve you , but all he managed was, “Drive safely.”

Ignis laughed, soft and low, and pressed a kiss to Noct’s hair.

“Always.”

____

Going there had been a mistake, Ignis thought as he drove through the night, caffeine being the only thing keeping him awake. It wasn’t terribly late yet, but it was already dark and he hadn’t slept well the past few days, especially not at his parents’ house.

Realistically, he knew he should’ve waited until the next morning to go home, but he couldn’t stand the mere thought of spending even a minute more in his parents’ house. It had only been two days, and he’d been meant to stay for nearly a week. But from the moment he’d walked through the door, he’d heard Noct’s voice in his head, telling him what a bad idea this was, and his parents had seemed determined to prove him right.

Noct had been right, of course. Ignis was going to have to apologize to him.

Keeping his eye on the road, he pressed his thumb to his phone to unlock it and started dictating a message to Noct.

Coming home later tonight. Thought you’d want to know. Sleep well, and I’ll see you tomorrow.

He hit send and then, just before he made to lock his phone again, he hesitated.

“Call Amantius Scientia.”

His uncle picked up on the second ring.

And that was really the thing, wasn’t it? Ignis had still been a child when he’d come to the Citadel, and a very young child at that. As such, he hadn’t understood the implications of parents sending their four-year-old son to a foreign country to live with an uncle he’d never met before.

For months he’d waited for a phone call that never came, and after his uncle had tried to gently make him understand that it wouldn’t come, he’d continued to hope in secret for many more years to come.

In his childish naivety, he’d tried to come up with reasons why his parents never called. They were busy, he’d reasoned, but then, so was his uncle, and yet he always made time for him. So perhaps the fees for calls outside the country were too high - never mind that his parents had more money than they knew what to do with. And once they’d fled Tenebrae and come to live in Lucis instead, and still they never called, he finally realised the truth, painful as it was.

The truth was that his parents didn’t care for him, never had, and they were perfectly happy to gloat about their son who was to be the Lucian prince’s advisor to anyone who asked or didn’t ask, but they had no interest whatsoever in him as an actual person.

It was a truth he’d known for a long time, but he’d gotten careless - he’d let himself forget. But being back there, in that loveless house with those loveless people… It was a painful but necessary reminder that his real family was back home in Insomnia, waiting for his safe return.

“Uncle.” His voice wavered, just slightly, but he had no doubts that his uncle had picked up on it right away. “I just wished to let you know that I’m currently on the way home. I should arrive in a few hours.”

“At this hour?” Ignis could practically hear his uncle’s frown over the phone. “What did they do?”

Ignis sighed. “Nothing.”

It wasn’t a lie, they hadn’t done anything. But that was precisely the problem. They hadn’t done anything , nothing that indicated that they were in any way happy to see their son, that they had missed him, that they were interested in his life. They might as well have been two strangers whose house he’d walked into by mistake - and for what it was worth, they were nothing more but strangers to him.

“Ignis.”

“Really, Uncle, they haven’t done anything. I’m… not sure what I was expecting when I agreed to visit, but I should have known better.”

His uncle sighed, the original version of the very sigh Ignis had adopted himself and often used on Noct.

“None of that is your fault, I promise you this. They’re simply terrible people who have never cared about anyone or anything but themselves, and I wish you had never been involved with them in the first place.”

Ignis rubbed his temple with his right hand and reached for the can of ebony in the middle console, hoping that the caffeine would stave off his building headache, but found it devastatingly empty.

Cursing under his breath, he started to keep an eye out for a service station at which he could pull over and buy more coffee.

“This was the last time I’ve been involved with them in this lifetime,” Ignis told his uncle quietly, like a confession. Perhaps it was, if not to his uncle, then certainly to himself.

“Now that’s a sentiment I can agree with,” his uncle laughed, the sound filling Ignis with warmth. Even when reduced to a tinny voice from a phone speaker, his uncle, who had never wanted or intended to have children, who people viewed as stuck-up and unapproachable, offered him so much more care and affection than his own parents.

If Ignis had any doubts left about his decision to cut his parents out of his life for good, his uncle’s laugh washed them all away at once.

His uncle stayed with him on the phone for a while longer, until Ignis spotted a service station and pulled over, wishing his uncle a good night and promising to come see him the next day.

Noct had also replied to his message with a thumbs-up emoji, and had sent a second message to the group chat mere minutes later.

Noctis [20:49]: spontaneous hang out at my place, who’s in

Prompto [20:52]: oooo sick should i bring anything?? 👀

Noctis [20:53]: just your controllers

Prompto [20:53]: okidoki

Gladio [21:01]: Sure I’ll bring the beer

Gladio [21:01]: Just kidding you punks ain’t getting beer

Noctis [21:05]: @Specs

Noctis [21:05]: you’re coming right

Ignis smiled, touched by the unsubtle attempt to organise something to cheer him up.

Noct had been unhappy about Ignis going to see his parents from the moment he’d learnt about it. His concern had been sweet, but Ignis had tried his best to convince him that he needn’t fret, he’d gotten over his parents’ neglect years ago and he could handle facing them again.

Evidently, Ignis had been very wrong, and Noct had been right all along. Going to see them had been a mistake, but at least it wasn’t a mistake he was going to make a second time.

You [21:38]: Of course. I’ll join you in approximately two hours.

Noct [21:39]: ok

Noct[21:39]: drive safely

____

Two hours later, Ignis opened the door to Noct’s apartment, exhausted and suffering an intense headache. He just wanted to sleep, but going back to his own, empty apartment after the emotional turmoil of dealing with his parents wasn’t even an option. Not when his friends were right here, waiting for him even though it was the middle of the night and they surely had to be tired.

“I’m home,” he called as he made his way to the living room, smiling when Noct scrambled up from the couch and into his waiting arms.

“Good to have you back,” Noct muttered, pulling back to eye him critically. “You okay?”

Ignis looked at him, really looked, at the honest concern in his eyes despite his best attempts to conceal it.

Next, he looked at Gladio, sat on the couch next to Ignis’ usual spot - which had been left empty for him - munching on a forkful of Cup Noodles and very pointedly not meeting Ignis’ eyes.

He looked at Prompto who had jumped up and ran to the kitchen the moment he’d heard Ignis come home, who knew more of parental wounds than he cared to admit, pouring hot water over a bag of Ignis’ favourite herbal tea into his favourite mug.

He thought about his uncle, his voice still clear in Ignis’ head, supportive and kind, who had taken him in and raised him when his own parents hadn’t wanted him.

He looked back at Noct, who still stuck as close to him as he could while still trying to not look like he was sticking close to Ignis.

Ignis smiled.

“I am now.”

____

Read the entire project here.

[traayaawrites]

Burning

Ares lost his mate. His fire consumes him.

Word count: 3347

Edit: I forgot to say this is the brain child of an idea @inkrabbit and I had one day not too long ago.

The smell of smoke woke Ares, it was thick and suffocating, all he could think of was his own human death and the endless nightmares he still has after all these years. He turned to check on his mate, panic setting in when they weren’t there, curled into his side. Memories of them talking about going to the library coming back to him, now that he was wide awake. He bolted, following the smoke to its source. The library. 

He didn’t notice, but the rest of his pack had followed him, worry and fear setting in amongst them as they saw how panicked Ares was. He screamed out for his mate, getting ready to run into his worst nightmare to save them. He felt arms wrap around him and pull him back, trying to pull him away from the burning building. 

“NO! Let go, I have to save them. Let go of me!” Ares tried to fight, to break free of the hold on him. But with all of his pack there, it was no use. He might be able to get free if it was one or two, depending on who, but Neptune had a firm grip around his middle and there was no fighting that.

“They’re gone, Ares. I’m sorry, but there is no way a human could survive that. They’re gone.” Sil nearly broke, they all love Ares’ mate. Sil knew the pain of losing someone you loved. They would all mourn the loss of their favourite little human who was a kind and innocent soul, no one deserves to die like that. His priority was keeping Ares from running into the building, then it would be the grief. Their pack couldn’t lose another, let alone their leader. 

–

It had been a few days and Ares still hadn’t surfaced. Sil was starting to get concerned by the absence, he had left food at the basement door, but none of it was ever touched. Ares was letting the grief consume him. A dangerous thing, grief, especially when it wasn’t dealt with. Sil knew the human would hate seeing Ares in the state he was. They were always trying to make the pack smile, even on the bad days, the human was one of the first through the door, ready to deal with anything the pack threw at them with open arms and nothing but love and a warm set of arms to get lost in.

Ares didn’t know just how long he was down in the basement. All he could think about was his mate, how they smiled, how they laughed at all the stupid jokes from his packmates, how they would battle Ares to get into the room first when one of the pack needed him. The way their scent lingered in his sheets and how it nearly drove him mad when he came back the night of the fire. He wasn’t sure which was worse, the smell of the smoke clinging to his clothes or the scent of his mate that was still on every part of the dens. 

The door opening didn’t register to Ares, neither did Sil’s voice to begin with. The earth ghoul calling out to Ares a few times, making his way into the room, stopping in front of his friend. The pack needed Ares, they were all grieving the loss and the worry for their leader was starting to wear on them all. Sil was kneeling in front of Ares, about to rest his hand on the others shoulder, when Ares pulled away, hissing and growling at Sil. A small trickle of lava running from his eyes, a sign of just how far gone Ares was in this moment. 

Ares wanted to be left alone, for once, he wanted to be selfish. Give himself a chance to let his own emotions out without worrying for his pack or putting their emotions first. His mate was gone. All he had was his rage and his grief and here Sil was, coming to try to bring him back to his pack? He didn’t want to be the one everyone would lean on, not this time. Just once, he wanted to, needed to put himself above everyone else. He snapped. With a snarl he lets his rage consume him, grabs at the limb near his shoulder and burns. Let his fire consume him, let it burn whatever he can get his hands on, claw back at the grip around his wrist. Something in him tells him how wrong this is, that he needs to stop, but his rage is blinding and logic was losing the battle in his mind. His grief makes him feel like he is suffocating and with each breath he can smell their scent again. So he burns and burns and burns. He’s so consumed by it. Consumed by his fire, consumed by the memory of his mate, that even if he wanted to, the emotions slamming into him felt like they would devour him whole.

Sil tries to hold it in for as long as he can, the pain so strong, he can’t help but to let out a scream. White hot pain, everywhere that Ares touches him is burning agony. But he refuses to fight his way out of that burning touch, refuses to leave his friend when he needs him most. Sil will heal, in time Ares will forgive him for staying and Sil will forgive Ares for the pain. It’s everywhere, his entire body is on fire, his arms have caught the brunt of it, at some point, Sil isn’t sure when, Ares let go of his arm and took swipes at his torso, the pain spreading throughout his body. Sil isn’t trying to hold in his screams anymore, the waves of heat, the burning pain, it’s torture. But still, he won't leave, won’t allow Ares to go through this on his own. 

He could stop this, he thinks, Sil could stop Ares, but the cost of that choice isn’t a price he is willing to pay. Ares can’t heal like the rest of them, the force Sil would need to stop Ares now, to break him out of his feral state, would cost the fire ghoul his life. Maybe Sil is selfish, but he wont kill his friend. He’d rather Ares endure the pain of a lost mate than live with the knowledge he took his leader's life. He can take this, he can handle all the pain Ares throws at him.

The pain. It’s all he can focus on, he can’t hear himself screaming, he can’t hear the snarls from Ares. All he knows is burning, blinding, pain. Maybe if Sil could summon a vine, hold back any part of Ares. He feels a claw slice his arm and he’s pulled for the thought of his vines. Ares needs this, needs to get this out or it will eat him alive. A laugh bubbles out of Sil, it would shock him if he were capable of shock, at least Ares wasn’t hurting the others. Sil could live with the consequences knowing the others were safe from this.

Something in Ares tells him to stop, screams at him that this is wrong, that he needs to stop before it’s too late, but he can’t. He can’t make himself want to stop. He felt like he was going to explode, like his fire would engulf him. All his body wants to do is burn, no matter what or who was in the way. Almost nothing could bring him out of this, he needs to let it run its course. His pack needs him, he’ll have to shove whatever else he feels, so far down then. He had to let it out while he could. He can hear something breaking through all his rage, but he tunes it out, letting his only thoughts consist of burning fire. The image of the library, where his mate suffered the same fate he did as a human, flashed through his mind, with a snarl he let his temperature rise more, fire burn hotter. He was borderline feral at this point, he had enough awareness to know that if he wasn’t careful there would be no stopping until he burnt himself out, but not enough to care for the consequences.

—

Notus couldn’t bear it any longer. He ran to where Sil was screaming. The heat radiating from the room was breathtaking,he couldn’t remember the last time Ares burned this hot. He had to do something, Sil’s screams would haunt his dreams and he wasn’t sure how much more the earth ghoul could take. He threw open the door, the sight before him stoping him in his tracks, it was like Ares was glowing with his powers and Sil was crumpled on the floor in front of the fire ghoul, hardly able to fight back against Ares. Notus wasn’t sure what to do. Sil was being attacked and Neptune wouldn’t be able to get close with how much heat there was. Sil turned to look at Notus with a tear streaked face, pleading for Notus to help their leader, begging for Notus to snap him out of it. But he didn’t know how. Sil was the only one that could get through to Ares when he was like this, not him. 

Notus dropped to his knees near Sil, grabbing his arm and trying to pull him away from Ares. It only causes Ares to snarl at him and take a swipe at, what he perceived as, a threat. Notus, only just dodging in time, knew his only option was to push back against Ares, which would hurt. Hurt it did, touching Ares was like putting his hand on an open flame. Notus wasn’t quick enough to dodge the next swipe, Ares’ claws catching his forearm as he was pulling Sil away, the fire ghoul wrapping his hand around where his claws connected, causing Notus to scream out. Suddenly the heat on his arm lessened and he was free to move again. Without looking at the fire ghoul, Notus dragged Sil back a few steps, getting him away from Ares before putting himself between the two, ready to stop Ares from getting to Sil. 

A soft scream break through his feral state. Notus. He’d recognise that voice anywhere. Lucifer, please. Tell him he didn’t hurt Notus. He blinks a few times, focusing on the scene in front of him. Notus standing ready to attack if he needed, he could see the hesitation in his eyes. Behind him lay Sil, curled on his side, trying to make himself as small as he could, his shoulders shaking from the force of his sobs, his arm reaching for Notus. Ares looks at Sil, sees the damage he caused, the burns and blood and tears. Seeing what he’s done to Sil, he hates himself, he’d done so much damage in such a short amount of time. Ares falls to his knees and crawls over to Sil, reaches out to wipe away tears. Sil flinches, curling in on himself as much as he can. 

“Sil, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.” He reaches out again, needing to try to fix this. “Sil-” The earth ghoul hisses and dragging himself to the corner of the room, as far away from Ares as Sil could get.

Ares knows better to try to approach again, nothing is registering in Sil’s mind, nothing but fear he put there. He did this and now he’s helpless to fix it. Ares feels a tear land on his hand, he didn’t even realise he’d started crying. He almost never cries in front of his pack, he’s the one that has to be there for everyone else. But looking at Sil, seeing the fear an pain he caused. He can feel the heat, more lava leaking from his eyes. Sil shuffles, pressing himself further against the wall and away from Ares.

Notus moves towards Ares, intending to calm him down, tell him that Sil will be ok and that he’ll heal. His actions are cut off by a scream and vines blocking his path. Turning from Ares, Notus heads to Sil, crouching in front of the scared ghoul, shushing him, telling him it’s alright. Ares watches, and sees Sil seek comfort from Notus, the same way he normally does with Ares. A level of trust that the fire ghoul fears he’s lost with his second in command. He sees Notus eye the door before looking back at Sil.

Ares can’t stay here. He can’t listen to Sils' pain. Can’t watch as Notus wages a battle in his mind over who needs him most. He stands, looking down at the two other ghouls in the room. He’s hurt two of his pack already, everything is so warm, Sil is sobbing, he sees the burn on Notus’ arm. Ares hadn’t realised he had moved towards the door, ready to bolt. He feels Notus grabs his arm so tight his claws have started digging in. 

“Don’t you dare leave us like he did!” Ares stops dead in his tracks at that. Turning to look at the other two ghouls in the room with him, Notus’ grip gets tighter as the tears fill his eyes. “Please.”

He was desperate to get out, to get away from everything and breathe, but he can’t do that to Notus. He can’t leave his pack like this. He was the cause of all of this, all because he couldn’t hold in his grief at his mate dying, his rage at his pack for stopping him from going after them, at himself for letting it get this bad. He had his pack, a pack who was also grieving, Ares wasn’t alone. He understands Astraeus more, in this moment, than over the last several decades. 

He looks over at Sil, who was still sobbing into Notus. With a deep breath Ares pushes his emotions aside for later, he had a job to do. He needed to assess Silvanous’ wounds and get him to his room for rest. Against his better judgement he approaches Sil again, crouching down to his level, slowly outstretching his arm towards the scared earth ghoul. Sil swipes at him, he feels the dull ache as blunt nails drag along his arm. He watches as Sil tries to crawl further into the safety of Notus’ lap and the youngest ghoul wraps his arms around Sil more, whispering to him. Ares locks the idea of Sil trying to attack him away for later.

“Amore mio, please, let me see your arms.” The name he calls Sil feeling wrong and like ash on his tongue. Almost like he’s lost the right to call him that. They were the closest within the pack, lovers but not mates. His most trusted friend, now cowering from him. “Stay with him, Notus, I’ll- I’ll go get Neptune.” Ares sounds defeated.

—

Ares stood in the doorway, watching as Notus and Neptune wrapped the worst of Sils wounds getting him as comfortable in bed as they could, nestled between them so he wasn’t alone. Neptune gave Ares a nod, telling him that they would stay with Sil, that they would do what he couldn’t tonight. With that, Ares turned, closing Sils door before returning to his room, locking the door and curling into himself under his covers. He desperately wanted to cuddle with Sil, tell him how sorry he was, but he knew the earth ghoul wouldn’t want anything to do with him now. Ares knew his attack left his second traumatised, fire would always win in a fight against vines. He wouldn’t admit it to his pack, would take one of them away from Sil, but he didn’t want to be alone, in a room that was so full of his mates scent. It was suffocating. He closed his eyes, remembering your smile, your eyes, hearing your laugh before it all merged into a nightmare, your skin turning black, you screams begging him to make it stop, those screams slowly morphing into Sil’s all of it echoing in his mind.

“Ares-” Notus knocked at his door, “can I come in?” Notus was such a soft ghoul, so quiet and innocent. He knocks again. “Ares, I know you’re still awake, let me in? Please?” He hears Notus’ voice break on the please, like the young ghoul was on the edge of tears. Ares listens as his footsteps retreat, the scent of disappointment and something else lessening with those footsteps.

—-

He’d drifted off, must have, because he’s startled by the banging on his door, the soft scent of the forest filling the air. Sil. “I swear to all that is unholy Ares, if you hurt Notus by shutting us all out, there will not be a safe place on this earth that you can hide.” 

“Leave me alone, Silvanus.” He doesn’t mean for it to come out as harsh as it does. Ares senses the change, knows he’s pissed off the earth ghoul even more. “Sil, go back to bed.” His last ditch attempt to get Sil to leave him be, let him sulk alone. It doesn’t matter if he opens the door, if Sil really wanted to get in, he could, he has a key to Ares’ room just as he has one to Sil’s. He pictures Sil on the other side of the door, using the wall to help keep him balanced and that’s when the tears start again.

He hears the door creak open, watches as Sil looks him over. A battle between rage and sorrow waging within the earth ghouls eyes. He’s furious at Ares for not being able to snap out of it, for sending Notus away and for trying to send him away. They all lost his mate, they were all grieving and the one that needed comfort refused to ask for it. But could Sil stay angry at Ares for all of that? He knew the pain of losing a loved one, but not the pain of losing a mate, especially not the way they lost Ares’ mate.

“Vinea mea?” It was barely a whisper, Ares’ voice breaking. “I’m so-”

“Shut up you idiot.” With a sigh, Sil crawls into bed with Ares. Ares pulled Sil into his chest with a softness only Sil ever got to see. Gently moving Sil so he was safely tucked under his chin and as comfortable as they could get him, given the extent of his injuries. Ares knew Sil was still angry and hurt, but the trust was still there. As Sil relaxed more into Ares, slowly leeting more of their bodies touch. An arm around Ares’ waist, a tail curling around a thigh, lastly their legs tangled together. They aren’t sure who started first. They were both sobbing into the other, Sil burying his head further into Ares’ chest as Ares pulled Sil in as close as he could. 

Ares didn’t sleep much that night, instead watching as Sil drifted in and out of sleep, trying to ease that pain as best he could, running his fingers through Sils hair to help him drift back to sleep. He cries a few more times that night, some on his own, some with Sil. They don’t talk, they don’t need to right now. There’s nothing the other can say that will make any of this better. 

Ares makes a note to himself to apologise to Notus. The moment the young ghoul screamed at him not to leave replaying in his mind. Panic starts to set in, panic that maybe Notus wont forgive him. No matter how bad it’s been, Notus had never let on that he was scared Ares would leave like Astraeus did. Would Notus forgive him? Did he understand Ares would never abandon him like that? He felt Sil stir. Looking down, he realised Sil was watching him. With a shake of his head, Sil tucked himself back against Ares’, muttering out a few words before letting sleep claim him once again.

“We love you, idiot.”

[swampgh0stt]

The Dance

& I thought to myself, for no particular reason, that I could re-write the Dabi's Dance scene, but with T'aaku. I do not consider this canon in the slightest, but it is fun to consider a route where T'aaku goes along with William & even enlists his help in getting revenge. Or trying to.

“Go.” K’uuna shoved his eldest forward roughly, nearly causing T’aaku to lose his footing on the ice. He glared back at his father, gripping his toggle harpoon ever tighter. “I’ve been more than patient with you, T’aaku, but this madness has to end. You’re not just hurting yourself when you spit on your responsibilities-”

He had heard this same argument over and over again. The words felt like boiling water creeping across his skin, burning deep to his bones. He grit his teeth, whipping around. This seal hunt be damned, he chose to raise his voice: “Nagats’ii is a better choice anyway! She puts in the work-- she knows what she’s doing better than anyone!” ‘And better than me, especially.’ “I didn’t ask for this-!”

His protest was cut off abruptly by a swift slap to the face. T’aaku stumbled back from the force, his eyes wide with shock. K’uuna loomed dangerously over him, his eyes wild with silent promises of violence. “You don’t want to end up like your mother, T’aaku. Do you?” 

T’aaku felt his heart skip a beat, his breath catching in his throat. They had not spoken of Dakde in such a long time, hearing her brought up now felt like an insult. Even worse, as his gaze shifted over to his father, T’aaku knew with certainty: That was a confession. There was no admission of guilt to accompany, he was unapologetic about his crimes. 

And then he saw her-- his mother’s haunted, crazed eyes staring back at him, wild with panic in her deteriorated state. He had been the cause of it all… He drove her to that point of no return. 

T’aaku gripped the harpoon in both hands as an eerie calm settled over him. “No,” he answered, his heart starting to pound in his chest. He knew what needed to be done. “No, I don’t.”

-----

Sixty seven days of Darkness. 

Nagats’ii remembered that day in particular, seared into her memories like a bad dream. She had woken early in the morning, acutely aware of the silence in the house. T’aaku and K’uuna had not returned from the hunt, it seemed. As the hours drove on, she alerted the village police, who sent out a search party. Within the week, K’uuna’s body was found, but it was impossible to reveal the cause of death after being submerged in water for so long… with so many animals having fed off his corpse. She feared the worst for her brother, whose body was never recovered.

And suddenly, she was tasked as the Head of her House-- taking care of an eight year old Sheet’ka and a fifteen year old Taán. Many others around the village pitched in to help; Nagats’ii and her family were loved. Aunties kept the kitchen full while Uncles were there to help with any repairs. Elders stuck around to take pressure off the seventeen year old and help care for her younger siblings. 

When the sun finally returned to the Alaskan sky, Nagats’ii couldn’t say she missed it. The absence of her brother hit hard. T’aaku’s face was plastered on Missing posters around, but those were slowly lost to time as the focus shifted away entirely. They would mourn him and K’uuna, chalking up the incident to a terrible hunting accident. 

But Nagats’ii wasn’t so sure. In the chaos of the first week, she noticed things missing-- some of T’aaku’s belongings, and most importantly? The carved wolf mask that was her mother’s cherished head piece worn for ceremonies. Nagats’ii had longed to wear it in Dadke’s place, even if she told herself she didn’t deserve to in the back of her mind. She wasn’t a wolf, like the rest of them. But she had been raised by wolves… 

And looking back at Sheet’ka, she knew she would have to raise another one.

-----

The sun had gone away from the sky again, drowning their world into darkness. A thick blanket of snow had followed, the rivers icing over. Sheet’ka loved the snow, loved rushing out into it any chance she could afford. But this sudden onset of eternal night brought anxiety bubbling out of her gut as she sulked around her home. She could hear the haunting howl of wolves around her home, filling the night with their songs. They faded in and out, sometimes going quiet for long periods before breaking the silence again-- as if they were hunting something. 

Her home was far too close to the shore for there to be any real big game lurking around. And something deep within her said they had come for her. 

How silly. The symbol of her clan, hunting her down? She should not fear them, yet every time their voices raised, she felt a chill run down her spine. Slowly, she trekked up to the window near the front door and pulled the curtains apart, revealing glowing yellow eyes staring right back at her. 

Sheet’ka jumped back with a fright, meeting the piercing glare of the canine in the window. He was twice her size, fresh blood splashed across his muzzle and dripping down against the outdoor windowsill. The howling disappeared, the silence so thick between them that one could cut it with a knife. The young matriarch felt her throat closing up, her body starting to tremble as she stared at the beast, unmoving. 

“It’s me.” 

A familiar voice fluttered through her mind, one she hadn’t heard in seven years. The source just escaped her recognition. Who was it? She knew him… She knew that voice, damnit! 

Sheet’ka jolted awake suddenly, gasping for breath. A quick sweep of her eyes around the room and she realized-- this was her bedroom. The curtains to her window were still pulled shut, undisturbed. She reached out shakily, hesitated, then ripped one open to see the ocean lapping against a black sand beach, the sun still looming in the sky—  but it would disappear soon. It was around that time of year. 

And there was no trace of wolves. 

“Sheet’ka?” Nagats’ii appeared in the door, drawn in by the sounds of distress. “What’s wrong?”

Sheet’ka paused, trying to calm her breathing. After a moment, she found her voice: “Wolves at the door.” 

Nagats’ii blinked in confusion, her brow knitting together. “What?” 

Her younger sister tossed the bedsheets away, slipping out to start getting ready for the day. “Nothing… Are we still going hunting today?” She was trembling still, making an effort to keep her eyes turned away from her elder sister. 

“Are you… okay to hunt?” Nagats’ii couldn’t hide the worry in her voice. 

Sheet’ka paused, trying to reign in her emotions. “I am,” she answered after a moment. “It’ll help clear my head too.” 

“Okay…” Nagats’ii wasn’t so sure about that, but she knew better than to start an argument. Sheet’ka was bullheaded at the worst of times, sometimes even to her own detriment. The last major blowout came after the youngest sister dyed most of her hair black in remembrance of their late father (which Nagats’ii protested). Sheet’ka said she was honoring both of her parents, as she kept her bangs white still! But how could she honor their mother when she never met her? K’uuna rarely ever spoke of Dakde after her disappearance, and only put in the effort to feign concern for her in the presence of other clan members. 

As soon as Sheet’ka was ready, Nagats’ii revved up the snowmobile. Sheet’ka clung on behind, burying her face against her elder sister’s back as the two took off together. They had their favorite spots for berry picking during the summer and game hunting in the winters-- always off the ice and away from the ocean after what happened to K’uuna and T’aaku. She drove deep into the forest, until the trees were too thick for the snowmobile to travel any further. After that, the two took the rest of the trail on foot, with hunting gear slung over their shoulders. The trekked along in silence, Nagats’ii taking the lead to break through the snow so it was easier for Sheet’ka to follow. 

But something caught the younger sister’s eye, bringing her to a stop. 

Finding remnants of past hunting parties was not so uncommon-- or from hikers who lost the trail. But nailed to a tree was a plain white wooden sign with the words “HE’S COMING FOR YOU” crudely painted in black. 

Sheet’ka felt her heart sink with fear, the same fearful tremble from before setting in. 

“What’s wrong?” Nagats’ii stopped as well. It was too dangerous to travel the wild alone. 

Sheet’ka pointed to the sign, looking desperately at her sister. “My dream--” She started with a puff of steamy air. 

The elder sister stumbled back to her side and looked over the sign. “It’s probably just some stupid evangelicals and their Jesus worship crap. Don’t worry about it,” she brushed it off with ease. 

“No, my dream! The wolf--” Sheet’ka insisted, her voice wavering in uncertainty. “He said It’s Me.” 

T’aaku used to have dreams like that. Nagats’ii remembered their eldest sibling waking up in a trance some days, most often mumbling about chasing rabbits on ice. The village elders called them prophetic, which left her in awe over how strong T’aaku’s connection with the spirits had been. She felt bitter afterward, wondering if it had been a sign of his impending disappearance, since everything had gone wrong on the ice during a seal hunt… 

Rabbits were trickster spirits. Had the Great Spirits been warning him? Or perhaps luring him to his own demise.. 

Nagats’ii rubbed her sister’s back, trying to comfort her. “Wolves are the symbol of our clan,” she recalled with a smile. “Maybe it was Tláa visiting you. Trying to remind you of something?” 

Sheet’ka didn’t think that it was her mother at the door. There was blood on his snout. He was hunting her, she knew that. 

The two continued on their trail shortly after, with Sheet’ka still shaken by the sight. 

Their favorite place to start was close to a river, with a rocky overhang to hide beneath. Nagats’ii knew the way by heart, had always found success starting from there and working her way out. The river had started icing over, but the middle was exposed thanks to its rushing water. They stopped briefly, spotting paw prints in the snow-- too small to be wolves, but impressive for a dog. Anxiety bubbled up that some other hunter was trespassing in her space, but without any visual? She had to push it down. Sheet’ka was already shaken up enough, she didn’t need to add on. 

Eventually, they made it to the river, and Nagat’sii breathed a sigh of relief. She cleared snow off some of the rocks nearby to keep their gear dry, unloading with a smile in Sheet’ka’s direction. The next few minutes were quiet, working on autopilot as they began checking over their rifles. A comfortable silence-- 

A voice broke through, cutting away their peace of mind like a knife. “GunalchÈesh haat yee.aadi, Aan yatkíu s·ani!” ( Thank you all for coming, honored princesses. )

Nagats’ii and Sheet’ka turned, staring along the rocky ledge beside them. Nagats’ii pulled her younger sibling behind her protectively, holding tightly to her parka. Some stranger loomed over them, wearing that carved wolf mask that belonged to Dakde-- disappeared those seven years ago. He was still for a moment, letting the shock and horror of some stranger interrupting the hunt stew in them. Then, he bounced on his feet, kicking up snow with his small dance step-- followed by a spin, a snap of his fingers, and ended with a deep bow. 

Two large German Shepherds flanked him on both sides, one as white as the snow, the other a silver and black color. The paw prints from before must have been from them. 

“Who the hell are you, stranger!?” Nagats’ii growled, baring her teeth. 

“Stranger!?” His voice was soft, feminine. She recognized it… from another life entirely, it felt. She knew that voice. “I have a name, ax Dl’aak’.” ( my sister ) He stood upright, pulling the wolf mask from his head with care. Yellow eyes, white hair-- she recognized him, after all these years. Then he breathed life to it: “T’aaku áyá ax̱ saayí.” ( my name is T’aaku )

Sheet’ka felt her throat close. He’s coming for you. The words from the sign fluttered through her mind as she stared in horror at the sibling they all assumed was dead, standing there as if he hadn’t disappeared at all. Wearing her mother’s mask. 

Wolves at the door. It’s Me. 

“T’aaku--” Nagats’ii felt her heart break. She had missed him dearly; he plagued her thoughts almost every single day since his disappearance. He was the spitting image of their mother, with the exception of his short hair. Dakde always went hunting with her dogs though-- her loyal pack of huskies that mourned her absence nearly to death. “Where-!?” She felt tears stinging her eyes, a sob threatening to spill out. 

He chose not to answer. Instead, the mechanic thrust one of his hands out and snapped his fingers twice. Immediately, the two German Shepherds began barking angrily. They were loud, showing their teeth as another threat display. 

Sheet’ka felt the dread churning in her stomach. Yes, wolves were the symbol of her clan… But was she even a wolf? Her mother had disappeared in her infancy. The hopes for their future was dropped on her eldest siblings’ shoulders, who had been taught by their mother, prepared for the future. Deep down, she knew she wasn’t a real wolf. She was more like a dog than anything; a cheap imitation, parading around with self-proclaimed titles their father entrusted her to take when she was old enough. She was no wolf. 

The real one stood above them, and she could only assume he was here to claim what was rightfully his all along. 

“Did you miss me, Sisters?” There was a wildness in T’aaku’s eyes that Nagats’ii didn’t recognize. He began fishing through the bag slung off his side, hanging off his hip. What he produced was a traditional dagger, carved by some long lost elder years before even their parents were born. His mission was personal, and he would see it through to the end. 

“I don’t want to fight you, T’aaku,” Nagats’ii spat back. “Why are you here?”

“For the girl!” He pointed the blade in Sheet’ka’s direction. “Turn around and go home. No unnecessary blood spilled then.” When his younger sister didn’t move, T’aaku curled his upper lip in a snarl. “You know damn well she shouldn’t be alive, Nagats’ii. As soon as she was born, everything went to shit. I’m here to fix all of it-- and I won’t ask again.” 

But when she still didn’t move, T’aaku knew she had made her decision. “Run,” Nagats’ii hissed out to her youngest sister. “Quick. You know the way back, don’t you?”

Sheet’ka clung tighter to Nagats’ii coat. “I won’t leave you.” 

T’aaku jumped from the ledge, just as Nagats’ii shoved their youngest sister back. He collided with Nagats’ii hard, slamming her down into the snow just as Sheet’ka took off running. “Get her, boys!!” The mechanic shouted back to his canine companions while he struggled with Nagats’ii in the snow. 

Shane and Beast leaped down to give chase, following the scent trail of their prey. 

Nagats’ii just barely caught her brother by the wrist, preventing the knife from plunging into her chest. With a rapidly beating heart, she realized he was actually going to kill her if she gave him the chance. He was out for blood. Out for Sheet’ka’s life. “Did you kill him!?” She had to know. 

T’aaku pushed down on her grip, using his body weight to bear down and bring the trembling knife closer. “Our deadbeat father?” The words were dripping with venom, hissed out like a swear. “I did. And I--”

“--I don’t blame you!” Nagats’ii spat out before he could continue. “After what he did to you, to us-- To Mom. You suffered the most, T’aaku..! I just wanted you to come home. All these years, I thought something bad happened to you..! I didn’t care about him at all, I just wanted you!” She kicked out at him, trying to shove him off. With some luck, she managed, forcing him to the side as she scrambled back from him with gasping breaths. “I defended you!” A sob choked its way up her throat, making her words shaky. Hot tears spilled down her cheeks, stinging against cold skin. “It’s not too late to stop this!” 

He was standing again, brushing the snow off. 

“Come home, T’aaku! We still have time to fix this!” 

The knife raised over his head. Nagats’ii flinched back, turning her head away as her eyes squeezed shut. The heel of his boot collided with her chest, pinning Nagats’ii down as he ground it in painfully. 

“Come home!” 

“What’s done is done,” T’aaku snarled. 

-----

It was hard to run in the snow. The icy air stung her lungs, and she knew if she pushed herself too hard? The elements alone could kill her in her panic. But Sheet’ka still fought her way through, her body protesting, her legs aching. She could hear the howling of dogs behind her, hunting her down. With the trees all around, it was hard to tell how far off they were, or if they were upon her. 

T’aaku really wanted to kill her? He really thought so lowly of her? She glanced back, over her shoulder as she ran. Could Nagats’ii really fight him off? What had T’aaku been through, in his absence? 

So many thoughts raced through her mind, only driving little Sheet’ka deeper and deeper into that panic. 

She slammed into something hard and fell back in the snow. Terrified, panting, she looked up to see the robotic, moldering body of what was once a yellow rabbit. The glowing purple eyes were locked on her, watching with sadistic joy as he drank in her terror. 

Shane and Beast quickly caught up, just as Sheet’ka shakily forced herself back to her feet. She was surrounded and had no weapons at her disposal. Well… not completely… 

She quickly grabbed up a rotted tree branch nearby and swung wildly, forcing the trio to give her some space. “Stay back!” 

Shane obeyed, his head low and ears erect. Beast snapped at her, experimenting with just what he could get away with. When she swung again, he only felt emboldened. It was just a stick, at the end of the day! 

“You don’t really believe that will hold them back, do you?” A deep, British voice spoke. Sheet’ka whipped around to face the rabbit, who took a bold step towards her and caught the branch when she swung. With a harsh tug, her only weapon was ripped away and tossed aside. 

William gained on her again, his rabbit shadow cast harshly over the teenager. “T’aaku always has the best trained mutts.” 

Shane’s upper lips curled in a warning snarl, but this time it was directed at William. He would chase down this girl on his companion’s order, but letting this monster get hands on her felt a bit too far. She was still just a little girl. 

“You did this!” Sheet’ka cried back. “You did something to my brother!” 

“Nothing he didn’t want.” William wouldn’t stand for those kinds of accusations. “While you’re uneducated little band of morons threw him away, I found him and put him back together. I saw his potential, when no one else would.” 

Springtrap took another heavy step, and Sheet’ka knew she had nowhere to run. “And if erasing you is what he wants, well..” A clawed hand raised. She swore she heard a chuckle from somewhere deep in his chest. “I can put that soul of yours to good use.” 

Sheet’ka squeezed her eyes shut tight with a scream as the monster swung. But his claws never found her. 

The two dogs at her side had jumped to her defense, the white Shepherd leading the charge. Shane sunk his teeth into the rabbit monster’s arm and swung down, forcing him into the snow as Beast ran the girl over to join his partner in the mauling. 

It was just the opening she needed to get back to her feet. “Thank you,” she whispered out, wiping away her tears before taking off for the snowmobile again.

[osunism]

"There are no prisons in Heaven."

One winter night, the King of Curses took an overly curious fugitive of heaven to task. That night, and the many that followed, would see her drawn into the jujutsu world, crossing paths with some of its most storied sorcerers and fighters across millennia.

Pairing[s]: Sukuna x Nadja || Toji x Nadja || Satoru x Sundari Warning[s]: Explicit violence including blood, gore, and body horror.

𓇢𓆸 Chapter 10: The Six Paths

Mount Shiroma, Hida, Japan, 424 AD

     Uraume had seen Lord Sukuna in fury before. Seldom did he cross paths with anything or anyone that got under his skin enough to send him into a rage, but his temperament was one where one avoided such an outcome if at all possible. No matter what side of the line of jujutsu one stood upon it was agreed that Ryōmen Sukuna was not someone one wanted to get up from his throne.

     And then Nadja blew into his temple one winter night and changed everything.

     Uraume could not fault their lord, not really. Nadja was a striking and fascinating creature, but Uraume could not understand why their lord had allowed her such free reign for so long. And now she was gone, having stolen off in the night some time after they were married. Uraume had to commend her. She’d done a marvelous job hiding her condition from Sukuna, who found himself in perpetual conflict with the Fujiwara. She’d even accompanied him in battle against the Fujiwara, and returned healthy and hale. They were to be married shortly after.

     And then one night, Uraume watched as Nadja gathered her weapons and provisions, saddled a horse, and rode off into the night never to be seen again. Sukuna had expected it, as Nadja’s own duties called her abroad often. She had promised she would return as early as the winter.

     It was nearly spring.

     There was no word, despite Sukuna’s efforts. He knew she could not be killed, but she had told him it was he who could not kill her. It left the very real possibility that she had come against a foe capable of removing her from the world. Sukuna did not pray to any gods, having established only the need for his own strength, but he wanted his fugitive to return. Uraume watched as Nadja’s absence slowly drove their lord to a madness that became a cold and enduring fury that settled in the lines of his face as surely as a river carved out paths in stone. Uraume could not believe it. Someone had broken their lord’s heart.

     It was a transgression that Sukuna carried with him through the ages, promising that if he ever saw his fugitive of heaven again, he would kill her.

Shibuya District, October 31, 2018 23:03

     Sukuna looked down at Nadja’s lifeless body, the satisfaction of snapping her neck already chased away by an indolent emptiness and something heavy tugging at nerveless heartstrings. All of what she was to him weighed him down like a stone and he hoped she would revive in time for her to watch him tear their daughter to pieces before her eyes.

     Then he would keep killing her in every way that mattered, until her soul was as stripped and starved as his own.

     “What the fuck is your problem?” Sundari demanded. “She can’t die, dumbass.”

     Sukuna’s eyes flashed a dangerous warning of red, like tail lights in the dark, and his gaze snapped to hers like a whipcrack. He saw only a brief hesitation but she stood her ground and glared back, her eyes the color of blood spatter. There was no fear in her, only a fearsome determination. Good. Sukuna allowed himself a manic grin. Very good. He expected nothing less of something born of his seed.

     “And when she returns,” Sukuna said, turning to face her. “Her first sight will be your severed head in my hands.”

     Sundari shifted into a defensive posture, raising her four hands in a combination of offense and defense. Sukuna spotted the maw on her belly and wanted to laugh. The only child of his that ever survived and she was magnificent. Had she inherited his technique? Had she developed her own? He was so eager to taste her power so he could humiliate her.

     He would not suffer even a worthy rival at his back. All who challenged him died. This was his way. The only way.

     He beckoned to his daughter, watching as her expression echoed so much of his own: the wrinkling of the bridge of her nose, the sharp-toothed snarl. Nadja's frighteningly symmetrical beauty but his savage and vicious ferocity. Gods she was perfect.

     “Land a hit on me and I’ll grant you a less humiliating death.” He said, offering her the same chance he offered countless others. He wanted to see just how much his whelp measured up or if her bitch of a mother had been lax in her training.

     Sundari snorted and then made her counter-offer: “Go fuck yourself.”

     Well, she certainly inherited her father’s attitude.

     She moved faster than a blink. Sukuna was impressed by her speed, catching two fists in his palms before redirecting their momentum. She moved like poetry and art, a deadly brushstroke that flowed with him. They danced in the street, composing a song no one but the two of them were capable of understanding. A song made more sweet when they sang it together.

     Sukuna had never felt so alive. His daughter was ferocious and bloodthirsty. He was reminded of the art of multi-limbed goddesses he used to collect. Goddesses with sharp teeth, fever-bright eyes, and dark faces. His daughter was one such creature, and since she had inherited her mother’s immortality and youth, Sukuna began to understand the puzzle Nadja presented him when first she’d crossed paths with him a thousand years ago.

     He knew what she was, and understood it as Sundari’s technique activated and began to wither away his cursed energy, devouring it, storing it…no. No! Not withering…something else. His eyes went wide.

     Purification.

     This type of jujutsu was beyond him. It was holy magic. Divine magic. If his daughter had access to such powerful techniques, then what had she inherited from him aside from his physique and immense cursed energy? Certainly she could not open the furnace doors as well?

     Nadja’s blood…her heavenly restriction…those damnable blades that unmade his cursed technique as if they were toys to be batted away on a whim. All of it screamed divine origin. And her immortality was not due to her pact. That left two options, and neither of them boded well for him.

     For the first time, Ryōmen Sukuna was worried.

     “What’s wrong, old man?” Sundari taunted, meeting him blow for blow, never landing a hit, but matching him nonetheless. “Looking a bit winded!”

     Sukuna threw out a measured pulse of dismantle, and Sundari guarded herself with cursed energy like a shield, healing easily for the slashes that did not miss their mark. Her reverse cursed technique was also on par with his own. Fuck, she was magnificent, and she had not trained under jujutsu sorcerers here in Japan. Everything about her fighting style was foreign to him. Even the mudras she made were unfamiliar, the chants of her lower maw in a tongue he’d never actually heard spoken before.

     “You’ve a sharp tongue, brat,” Sukuna sneered, clasping one of her arms and tossing her over his shoulder. For good measure, he sent out a slash of cleave, and then watched her wither the cursed energy of his attack away as she turned in midair, landing on her feet, the asphalt cratering beneath her strength. A light sheen of sweat glistened on her bare torso, the flames of their war painting her in a violent smattering of orange and yellow, making the stark lines of her tattoos glimmer in the light. Her eyes were fever-bright, the garnet irises glittering like the sharp facets of cut gems. She wore a grin on both her mouths, the tattooed tongue snaking out in an open taunt. Sukuna marveled at her, and then wondered if she would make a better vessel than this brat he currently occupied.

     No, he decided when he caught another one of her blows and it sent him staggering momentarily before he quickly recovered. Her will was strong, and she had a firm grasp on her own soul if she was able to resist that patchwork curse. He would need the full of his power to transfer his soul to her body.

     He needed to subdue her quickly. Doubtless the monk would want to use her for his plans. That would make this battle less fun since he wouldn’t kill her, but still if she was as strong as he hoped, she would survive. Then, when he regained his full power, he would subdue her in truth. And if Nadja happened to be alive, he’d breed her again and start the whole process over. What better way to assault her soul until she deigned to tell him how to take her life in truth? He wanted her begging for death before he decided to give it to her.

     Sundari came at him again, a beacon of cursed energy. Not only was her technique a startling one, her fighting prowess was on par with his own. She moved with a skill that spoke of decades of experience. Nothing in her expression betrayed that she was nervous about fighting him, and every move was followed through. Strike and counter, she never stopped moving. Neither did he. It thrilled him. Their manic grins echoed one another’s.

     He could do this all fucking night but he knew it was only a matter of time before the brat regained control.

     “As entertaining as this is,” Sukuna said as he slashed Sundari across the chest, flaying it open to the bone of her sternum and driving her to her knees. “I have other business to attend to. Your mother should be up and about soon, perhaps she will know what to do with your corpse.” He lifted his hand, preparing to take her head.

     Sundari looked up at him, blood in her eyes, trickling from her mouth, spilling down her chest. She was already using reverse cursed technique, but he was about to strike and she needed to get off her knees.

     Another large presence spilled into Shibuya, giving them both pause as their heads turned in unison toward the source of the new power.

     “No way,” Sundari whispered, coughing as she healed her slashed chest. Sukuna lowered his hand, frowning. Sundari got to her feet as he began to walk away.

     “Hey!” She cried. “Hey wait! We aren’t fucking done!”

     Sukuna looked over his shoulder once, affording her nothing short of his disdain, but a grudging respect. He kept walking.

     “Where are you going?” She demanded as he bounded off. She knew he was heading toward the source of the immense cursed energy and for a moment she thought perhaps that other special grade spirit had gained power. No, that wasn’t it. The cursed energy tasted…different.

     Sukuna said nothing as she came to stand beside him, and surveyed what he was looking at. He watched her with his lower eyes and she watched him with hers. What they both saw put their own battle on pause.

     “No way,” Sundari repeated, breathless at the immense power. “What the hell kind of shikigami is that?”

     Sukuna snorted, watching as the massive humanoid shikigami made its way toward the piece of shit sorcerer making an attempt to crawl away with his miserable life. Sundari frowned when she saw another sorcerer leaned against the wall, blood spattered like a halo around his head. She recognized him from Satoru’s phone.

     Megumi Fushiguro. Oh no.

     She didn’t think, and before Sukuna could stop her she was on the move. She was so fast, even after their skirmish, snatching the crawling sorcerer by the scruff before the shikigami could turn him into paste. Sukuna joined her shortly after, confirming his suspicions.

     “It’s a subjugation ritual,” he explained, coming to stand over Megumi’s motionless body. “And that piece of shit you’re holding onto is part of it. If he dies, Megumi Fushiguro dies as well and the ritual is over.”

     Sundari frowned. “How do we stop it?”

     Sukuna sneered. “We? Tch. I will defeat this shikigami as an outsider and void the ritual. You ensure that little maggot doesn’t die in the meanwhile. Can you heal others?”

     Sundari shook her head. “Not yet.”

     Sukuna sucked his teeth in annoyance and Sundari tried not to parse why that stung her pried. Using reverse cursed technique on others was a highly advanced skill even Satoru could not grasp. Sukuna placed his hand on Megumi’s chest, circulating cursed energy into positive energy to stabilize his life, keeping his eye on the massive shikigami on the approach. Sundari was still holding the other sorcerer, who began to whimper.

     “Shut up.” Sundari and Sukuna snapped in unison, then tried not to meet one another’s gazes. The sorcerer fell silent as Sukuna approached the shikigami, and Sundari watched as the strange wheel above its head—a strangely familiar wheel—began to twitch, as if it were coming online.

     “Time for me to have a little taste,” Sukuna said, and Sundari heard the insatiable hunger in his voice. The hunger her mother had warned of in the past. The hunger Sundari feared lay dormant within her, waiting to come alive. And then the battle began.

     Sundari watched as Sukuna—her father—engaged the shikigami. There was an eager smile on his face, a glint in his eye that she was all too familiar with. He was enjoying himself, even as the shikigami knocked him into a dark storefront and he knocked it into another across the street. He emerged, slurping a soft drink with a bucket of popcorn in the other hand. Sundari resisted the twitching of her lips into an amused smile. He was a fucking showoff, just like Satoru.

     Just like her. Fuck.

     “Excuse me,” came the tremulous voice of the sorcerer she was holding. She glanced down with her lower eyes. “Can you set me down?”

     “If you run, you will absolutely die.”

     The battle escalated almost immediately. Sundari moved to shield Megumi and the other sorcerer from the falling debris and rubble as Sukuna and the shikigami took their battle to new heights…literally.

     “Well,” Sundari said. “I guess I’d better get Megumi to the infirmary.” She leaned down to pick him up, slinging him over her shoulders. Then, she began the trek back towards the bridge where she’d encountered Shoko and Yaga.

     Needless to say they were shocked to see her. Nadja herself was already there, having resurrected.

     Trying to explain the absolute chaos going on in Shibuya was difficult, especially when Sundari was carrying the culprit of the disruption of their only tenuous intel relay network.

     “Don’t harm him!” Sundari warned as Yaga made to split the blond sorcerer’s skull. “He’s currently locked in a shikigami taming ritual with Megumi. If he dies then so does Megumi.”

     “And where’s the shikigami being subjugated?” Yaga demanded. Nadja’s mouth thinned into a grim line as she watched them seal and restrain the blond sorcerer.

     “Well,” Sundari said rubbing the back of her head. “Sukuna’s fighting it.”

     The silence that followed was deafening to say the least.

     “You left your father alone to fight that thing?” Nadja demanded.

     “Her what?!” The blond curse user shrieked.

     “Shut up!” Came Sundari, Nadja, Yaga, and Shoko’s collective ire. The sorcerer cowered in his bindings, falling silent again.

     “It’s not like he needs my help,” Sundari said. “But I wanted to get Megumi out of harm’s way. I’m gonna go back and see if I can help beat that thing before anyone else gets—”

     In the distance Sundari saw the telltale signs of fire in Shibuya. Not just any fire, but the flames of the divine, which were pulled directly from Yama’s realm. Sundari knew it because she wielded those same flames. There were terms and conditions surrounding use of those flames, exacting rules that were followed in order to access them. She had never heard of Sukuna wielding them before in the records she had access to, and she could not recall her mother ever mentioning flame. She’d told her he’d called down lightning during their time together. But not flame.

     Where had he gotten permission to use such power? What vow did he undertake?

     Nadja looked haunted and Sundari understood all at once what she was experiencing: her mistake.

     “I guess it’s too late to join the fray,” Sundari muttered quietly. Nadja’s brow furrowed as she watched the plume of flame lick into the sky like a violent tongue, and then die down. And they all knew that nothing was left but a smoking crater. Things had truly gotten out of hand.

     In the silence, both women could hear the acute and distinct sound of a young boy weeping and knew Sukuna had returned to dormancy, leaving Yuji Itadori with the immense burden of the lives taken by his hands through Sukuna’s sadistic and chaotic whims.

     “When you fought him,” Nadja said quietly when she could bear the boy’s pain no longer. “How did you feel?”

     Sundari knew what she meant. She looked at the ground, her other arms receded into her body. Shoko was deft enough to hand her a spare shirt and she wore it. It bore the Jujutsu Tech symbol on its chest.

     “He made me work for it,” she said softly. “And he can do things that shouldn’t be possible. Mother, what the fuck were you thinking getting with a creature like that?”

     Nadja blinked rapidly, not expecting to be put on trial before half of jujutsu sorcery’s own. It was the only indication she was taken aback, and she pursed her lips.

     “It was a different era and he was a different person. Though I fear all that remains of the man I knew is the worst part of him. Nonetheless, the things he can do are an anomaly, much like Satoru himself.”

     Sundari looked up sharply at the mention of Satoru, remembering.

     “The Prison Realm!” She hissed, and before Nadja could stop her she took off, charging back toward the Meiji Shrine station. Nadja was not worried, Sundari was more than capable of defending herself. What she was not looking forward to was explaining Sundari’s existence to, well, anyone. But the cat was out of the bag as humans liked to say, and it was only a matter of time before Sukuna was at full power. Only then would she be able to truly act and finish their tale once and for all.

     “The ritual is ended,” she said to Yaga, and pointed to the blond sorcerer. “It is my understanding that he’s the one who has been killing the assistant managers. You may kill him if that is your wish.”

     She walked away, allowing herself a smirk at the blond sorcerer’s sniveling and whimpering as his fate was once again put in the hands of his enemies and his technique burned out for the day.

     “Hikmat!” Shoko called and Nadja stopped as the other woman caught up to her.

     “If you find any of our people down there, bring them back,” she said. “No matter what state they’re in. They must be properly disposed of to prevent more—”

     “I’m well aware of how it works, Ieri,” Nadja snapped irritably. “It’s the whole reason Sukuna has persisted for centuries. You sorcerers get killed by anything other than jujutsu and turn into curses yourselves. You mourn too long and curse the memories of your loved ones. I know. Gods above I do not care!”

     There was a stunned silence. Nadja took a breath.

     “I am going to help with whatever can be salvaged but you sorcerers would do better to be more of a community and not a collection of insular, self-serving cliques. It is that way of thinking that has landed us all here.”

     She was dreading what she would have to do.

     Shoko placed a hand on her arm, her expression devoid of its usual acerbity. Instead there was a rare note of empathy and compassion in her gaze. Nadja relaxed.

     “I’m sorry,” she said. “I am being faced with the fact that my daughter and her father may very well kill each other if we do not contain and exorcize him soon.”

     Shoko nodded, understanding why Nadja was here. Why she had always been here. She did not understand what Nadja was, but she understood a weapon cast by the hand of the divine when she saw it. Nadja was a dagger throw through time. Something only Satoru seemed to understand.

     And she was aimed for Sukuna’s heart.

     “Is there any chance the boy can be spared?” She asked quietly. “Gojo would have…”

     Nadja frowned. “The best case scenario is that he can be healed before the window passes, but the possibility is slim. Sukuna won’t make any of this easy.”

     Shoko had not expected anything less. She nodded.

     “Bring Gojo back,” she said and turned to walk back to the infirmary.

Shibuya District, October 31, 2018 23:12

     “Fuck!” Sundari cried in a rage when she returned to B5 and found the crater empty where the Prison Realm once sat. She knifed her fingers through her disheveled curls, tears of frustration pricking her eyes as her fury mounted. She knew that Geto had organized the chaos of unleashing Sukuna, and now Shibuya was in shambles and he had absconded with a captured Satoru Gojo in his grasp to gods knew where. The only comfot was that Satoru’s cursed energy residuals were so powerful that no other cursed spirits or transfigured humans would come near the area.

     She felt her eyes go dry as her resolve returned. Satoru was the strongest, and none of these worms were strong enough to fight him. That’s why they trapped him. As long as he didn’t go insane and kill himself inside the Prison Realm, there was hope of freeing him. And there was too much left unspoken and undone between them for him to give up. She meant what she said to Geto: she would wade through the blood of any who sought to keep Satoru from her.

     And then…Sundari let herself smile savagely as she surveyed the area. And then she would tear the thing possessing Geto’s corpse out and feed it to the maw on her belly.

     The visceral reaction shocked her. It sounded so much like her father and she shuddered. Not all of it was unpleasant. She turned her mind to the task at hand.

     Too many people had died tonight already, she had to prevent more deaths if this night was going to be salvaged at all. She focused her senses, seeking Yuji’s cursed energy. There was so much interference after her father’s battle with the unstoppable shikigami. His cursed energy residuals were like a scar across Shibuya.

     And she could not get Yuji’s weeping from her mind. Her father was tormenting that poor boy, all because her mother had loved him once.

     She gritted her teeth against the thought. Her mother had loved a monster and she was the result of that love. Although from how Sukuna had dealt with her Sundari could see no love there. Nadja had said he was stripped down to the worst parts of himself.

     She would have pitied her mother if she wasn’t so fucking angry with her.

     Instead, her mind was running a mantra of the only thing that mattered to her in that moment.

     Satoru.

     In one of the photo booths, a presence stirred.

Tokyo Skytree, September 19, 2018, 22:30

     “And you’re absolutely sure they don’t know we’re doing this?” Sundari asked, her voice a whisper. Satoru smirked at her and she got the distinct feeling his eyes, though blindfolded, were on her. They always were—she could feel his gaze as surely as if he were touching her. It was unsettling at first, but had become comforting over the last few months as they grew closer.

     “Well, you’re suppressing your cursed energy so it shouldn’t be too much trouble, right?” He teased and Sundari frowned at him before he tapped a fingertip to her nose. The wind was blowing this high up, making it hard to hear anything and yet they heard one another perfectly, as if—

     Sundari stared at him. Was he using his Infinity to play with sound?

     Satoru smirked as he watched the realization cross her face.

     “You’re insane,” Sundari whispered, shaking her head with a laugh. Satoru shrugged as if he already knew. He offered his hand and she took it and their fingers laced with eager familiarity. He gave her hand a reassuring squeeze and walked her to the edge of the rooftop platform. The wind was strong enough to topple ordinary people, but both of them were so far from ordinary that it may as well have been a pleasant breeze.

     “I come up here when I want to have a good look at the city while I work,” Satoru told her as she stared with scarce concealed wonder at the veritable blanket of twinkling lights that spread as far as her eyes could see.

     “The prince surveying his kingdom, hm?” Sundari teased and Satoru chuckled, leaning in to brush his lips against her temple.

     “No, nothing like that, but as the strongest I’ve got a duty to handle the biggest threats to humanity,” he told her. “And I came to the realization that I can’t do this alone. I will because I have to, but it’s why I take in the students that I do. I want to raise a generation of sorcerers who strive to be as strong as I am.”

     Sundari watched him, the city forgotten, as he explained his dream to her—his vision of a very different jujutsu society. For one who had been catapulted to the very height of that society’s social hierarchy, she found him to be surprisingly humble when it came to his dream.

     And it was in that moment that she realized that she was truly in love with him.

     “And you want me to do this with you?” She asked quietly. Satoru took his blindfold down, meeting her gaze with a guileless and fearless clarity that made her pulse leap.

     “Yes,” he said simply. “Your awakening doesn’t have to be a disaster, Sundari, and these…” he reached up, traced the sharp and elegant lines of the markings on her face, the crown limned on her brow. The brands that marked her as Sukuna’s own seed, carrying his curse in her blood and on her skin.

     “These don’t have to be a curse,” he said to her. “You can turn that strength toward anything you want. I’m just offering you the best way to do that.”

     Sundari smiled. “Satoru, I understand. You promised me worthy opponents…”

     Satoru canted his head. “I did. That’s why you and I are going north to retrieve another of Sukuna’s Fingers.”

     Sundari’s eyes widened. “What?! Right now?!”

     Satoru grinned and replaced his blindfold. Without warning, his arms came around her and she instinctively wrapped her arms around him, stepping close until the heat of their bodies twined together and Satoru could see the vicious barbs of her cursed energy held tightly to her. Concealed to everyone else, but he would always see his goddess no matter where she was.

     “Right now,” he said, his lips hovering a breath from hers. Sundari grinned at him, all four eyes glimmering with anticipation, and Satoru returned it.

     “Alright then,” she said. “Let’s go.”

     Sundari kissed him, then, deeply…and then threw them both off the ledge.

     Satoru’s laughter and Sundari’s manic shriek of unfettered and utterly thrilled joy echoed between Tokyo’s skyscrapers as they tumbled like tragic lovers toward the ground, clinging to one another.

     “You are insane!” Satoru cried but he was grinning right there with her. He merited one of her full-throated laughs in return.

     The world rushed past them before Satoru activated his technique, vanishing before they were halfway to the ground.

Shibuya District, October 31, 2018 23:14

     Nadja found Nanami on her way to Sundari, and he looked worse for wear.

     “Nanami!” She cried out to him. He seemed unable to hear her, and she quickly closed the distance between them, reaching to touch his uninjured shoulder. He whirled around and Nadja barely had time to block his blade with her own. The burst of his cursed energy was immediately extinguished as he recognized her.

     “Hikmat?” His voice came out exhausted and raspy and her brow furrowed.

     “Yes,” she confirmed. “What the hell are you doing? You need to get to Shoko immediately.”

     There were footsteps coming from the same direction, and Nadja turned her head, saw Yuji rounding the corner.

     “Nanamin!” He cried and it seemed whatever had taken the sorcerer away seemed to be brought back. Nadja saw the alertness return to his remaining eye and he glanced from her to Yuji.

     “Itadori…” Nanami said, and it was a pain just to breathe. Nadja frowned. He couldn’t think he was so tired and in so much pain. He wondered why he couldn’t figure out reverse cursed technique. He wondered when he would get to rest.

     “Itadori,” Nadja said and the boy looked up and she saw the haunted look in his eyes and the fierce determination  that burned like a perpetual fire, with his pain as kindling. Good. He would need that determination for what awaited them below.

     “Are you ready?” She asked. Yuji nodded.

     “Nanami,” she said. “Get to Shoko. The way should be clear, now. We’ll take it from here.”

     For a moment, Nanami and Yuji shared a glance. He must have seen it in the boy’s eyes too: that determined flame, that unbreakable spirit. There would be time to mourn the dead later, right now, they needed to finish the fight. And Nanami had done enough. He needed to heal and rest.

     Nanami left them, heading back toward the infirmary.

     “Will he be alright?” Yuji asked, looking after where Nanami retreated. Nadja placed a hand on his shoulders.

     “He will,” she assured him. “Let’s go finish this fight and get Gojo back, eh?”

     Yuji nodded, steeling his resolve as they turned and bounded into the darkness.

     Nadja lived for the moments like these, for she could taste victory in the air. She knew with her and Sundari on the field they were more than capable of tracking down the remaining curse and its curse user ally. Sundari herself could level the remainder of Shibuya that her father hadn’t decimated were she so inclined.

     Nadja hoped Sundari could contain her fury. Satoru was imprisoned but not dead. She did not want her daughter’s fury to be goaded by thwarted romance. She wanted her daughter’s fury to cut with the precision of a surgeon’s blade. She needed to hone and focus her fury and give it true purpose and direction.

     Love was not enough.

     The sound of battle greeted them as she and Yuji descended the steps.

     Sundari was engaged with Mahito’s transfigured humans, tearing them apart, her fury palpable as her cursed energy pressed up against everything in the area. Nadja could not feel it, nor were the transfigured humans aware of her yet. Yuji, for his part, was momentarily stunned by what he saw. He’d never seen Sundari before, Nadja realized. That had been Sukuna in control. Yuji stared at the Amazonian woman with four arms and tattoos that haunted his psyche, but Nadja placed a hand on his shoulder to still him.

     “She’s with us,” she told him. Yuji looked at her, shocked.

     “Is she another vessel?” He asked. “Did she swallow one of those Fingers?”

     Nadja shook her head. “No, she’s his daughter. And mine.”

     Yuji’s eyes were as wide as saucers but Nadja’s gaze hardened as she drew a dagger from a hidden sheath on her torso, the cursed energy bursting forth from it as she launched it end-over-end with lightning precision. It found its target in Mahito, who had increased his energy at the last moment while Sundari was distracted. The dagger pierced the curse’s arm, blowing it off before embedding in the wall behind it.

     Mahito’s wide eyes found Nadja closing the distance, but Yuji was just as quick and he had a score to settle with the cursed spirit. Sundari grinned with malicious satisfaction as Yuji proceeded to rain blows down on the cursed spirit’s body. Like before, he kept up the pressure to keep it from transforming at the moment of impact. And when it tried to flee, Nadja was there, deadly and undetectable, disrupting its transformations with her blades, of which there were innumerable.

     Sundari made a mudra with one hand, siphoning the cursed energy around them and purifying it. Yuji didn’t hesitate but he did notice the difference in the energy.

     Mahito needed to flee, being outnumbered and possibly outclassed, and before he could he felt the shock of pain in his entire body. His double had taken a blow aboveground, and Yuji grinned in triumph.

     Kugisaki was giving the cursed spirit hell.

     As above, so below.

     Mahito broke the line of their offense, scrambling toward the steps to flee. He tossed another transfigured human, creating a wall of flesh which Sundari promptly shredded without hesitation. She blinked in momentary confusion when a second Mahito came running toward them, followed by—

     “Run! Kugisaki!” Yuji screamed at his classmate and friend. Nadja looked up,  seeking to cut off one of the cursed spirits’ path. Sundari launched herself forward.

     But Mahito was faster, and he reached out, his face contorted in malevolent triumph: mouth too wide for his face, mismatched eyes glimmering with pure, unadulterated malice. His hand was as cold as a corpse’s as it made contact with Nobara’s smooth face with an echoing smack. Nobara felt a change in her, reaching to touch where the spirit had marked her.

     Sundari understood what was happening too late as Yuji went to Nobara hoping that what happened wasn’t happening.

     “Itadori,” Nobara said, and there was a resigned contentment in her voice. A sorcerer dying without regret. “Tell everyone that I lived a good life.”

     Idle Transfiguration.

     Can you heal others?

The silence that followed in the aftermath was deadly. Nadja stopped her assault—because she knew the girl was dead before her body hit the ground—her expression grim. Yuji stood there, stunned, his friend’s blood splattered on his face. Sundari moved quickly, coming to her knees by the girl’s side, catching her before her body his the ground to guide her gently downward, but even then she knew she was too late.

     Can you heal others?

She tried, she really did. But reverse cursed technique was already hard enough as is. To transfer it to another was a skill that seldom appeared. Sundari had only known one other in her lifetime with such a capability, but she’d seen her father heal someone else when he stabilized Megumi hours ago. She wished she could ask him how he did it, but she knew he would never be her ally when next they spoke. Again she wondered what her mother saw in the man, why she chose to bear his child.

     He was a different man, then.

     Can you heal others?

There was a loud whine in her ear, like the feedback from a microphone too close to the speakers. It was deafening as her trembling hands hovered over the girl trying to remember the mudras that healer made as she brought comrades from the brink of death.

     “Black! Flash!”

     The blow was sudden, and it was her own fault for letting her thoughts run away in the heat of battle. Her entire body was electrified with pain beyond reckoning, and she heard several of her ribs crack under the force of the blow from the cursed spirit’s fist. It knew since it could not mutilate her soul, it could try to mutilate her body.

     Sundari tumbled several feet, scrambling to her feet as her mind returned to the battle.

     Can you heal others?

Nadja was already moving but the cursed spirit had entered the zone after delivering a powerful technique. It took out Itadori next, targeting him specifically, screaming about ideals and wars and all manner of nonsense and Nadja was exhausted with it all. She silently cursed her pact for robbing her of the ability to use any of this magic or jujutsu, and understood why Toji had taken pleasure in thrashing sorcerers.

     Yuji coughed up blood, as did Sundari, who was already healing herself. She still could not summon her domain as that risked killing everyone and not just the cursed spirit, but she could continue to siphon its energy. Nadja just wondered what she planned to do with all of it. She had to expend it at some point.

     Clap!

Yuji vanished before Mahito could strike the decisive blow and  Mahito found himself stumbling and swiping at air. Disoriented, he looked around and saw Aoi Todo on the approach.

     Yuji, for his part, curled up on the ground, Nobara’s loss still fresh and bloody in his mind, and besides that, Sukuna’s rampage that killed thousands.

     Sundari was healed but Nadja could see she was tiring of this fight. This curse was stubborn and pesky, and she could have ended this fight ages ago if there weren’t so many innocents around. If only she had inherited her father’s cleave and dismantle techniques. She envied the precision of those techniques. Siphoning and converting cursed energy was exhausting and dangerous as it was not precise unless she was close enough to her target.

     And storing up all that energy would kill her if she didn’t do something with it. She needed to cast soon or she was going to burn out her energy trying to hold in all this power.

     Nadja knew of Todo’s ability, and she nodded to him in understanding as they closed in on Mahito. Nadja was open-handed, as her heavenly restriction made her highly resistant to cursed techniques. What should have killed her barely grazed her and like Toji, she had a body that was impervious to simple methods.

     And she was quick.

     Mahito soon found himself caught betwixt hammer and anvil and sledgehammer as Todo gave a brutal round of applause.

     Now Yuji, hooking right then left, his cursed energy snapping like a latent sledgehammer.

     Clap!

Now Nadja, a darkling whirl of deadly steel, disrupting the flow of his cursed energy, the very stuff of his existence. She took another arm, her good eye burning with cold focus and murderous intent.

     Clap!

Now Todo, delivering a devastating flurry of blows to Mahito’s face, causing him to cough up blood, choking and gagging.

     They did not let up.

     Clap!

Blood flew.

     Clap!

Yuji’s war cry seemed to drive his fists further as he knocked Mahito through the wall.

     Clap!

Todo launched into the air, and switched places with Nadja. She came down like an avenging angel, burying a wickedly spired set of serrated blades in the cursed spirit’s back, disrupting the shape of his soul momentarily.

     Clap!

     There was no switch! Only the pain of Nadja’s blades tearing his flesh, and Yuji’s fist caving in his chest.

     “No!” He cried, blood making his voice warbled and gurgled. “I won’t let it end like this!”

     He fled, stumbling and shapeshifting into a winged monstrosity, and the trio gave chase.

     Mahito stood, wild-eyed and mad, arms spread as if in welcome. Nadja’s hand went to her sword, a blade different from the rest and marked with the delicate script of a language that had never been spoken on this plain of existence. It thrummed with positive energy.

     An Executioner’s blade.

     Mahito, being a cursed spirit, was not aware of the hierarchy of the worlds, of the Six Paths. It was born as a congealed amalgamation of humanity’s ill intent toward each other, but it lacked the knowledge and wisdom of those truly born from the spirit realm.

     Nadja’s heavenly restriction was divine, a project created when the strength of cursed spirits were far mightier than this desperate child challenging the will of the gods. But it was not just her heavenly pact that made her powerful, it was who she was.

     Mahito met her gaze and saw his own reflection. And in Yuji, the same.

     Death. And in his own gaze: fear.

     This one doesn’t survive this encounter.

Sundari’s words had been a curse of sorts because no matter what happened, they intended to exorcize Mahito come hell or high water, fire or brimstone.

     They started with hell.

     “Domain Expansion: Self-Embodiment of Perfection!”

In that instant several things happened:

Todo activated his Simple Domain.

     Yuji launched a frontal assault.

     Nadja launched two disrupting daggers.

     And Mahito confronted not one but two malevolent souls in Sukuna’s innate domain.

     “I take it this time I’m off the hook,” Mahito said with malicious and smug satisfaction. Sukuna smirked at him, saying nothing.

     “I’m going to devour you,” Sundari snapped.

     “I’ll kill you before you can touch me,” Mahito said back, then turned his attention to Sukuna. “And I’ll kill Itadori before you can switch so just shut up and watch me work.”

     Sukuna didn’t stop smirking, even as the connection was broken and Mahito took the lesson of Gojo Satoru to heart. A domain expansion of 0.2 seconds, just enough time to maim and kill at least two of them.

     “Domain Expansion: Tripura Purification.”

     Unless a more refined domain dominated his own, which it did.

     This time, Mahito stood in the courtyard alone, and Sundari stepped forward, her lower hands placed in a mudra of power just above the mouth on her belly which chanted in a tongue Mahito didn’t understand, vocalizing and harmonizing with her main mouth. He was immobilized by the massive shadowy silhouette of a multi-limbed, multi-eyed deity with a long, forked tongue.

     “I warned you,” Sundari said with her main mouth, even as her belly’s mouth continued to chant the binding spell, rendering Mahito powerless.

     “I fucking warned you,” she growled.

     And that was when Yuji struck a decisive blow from behind. Sundari held her domain intact with no barrier, watching with cold, furious eyes as Yuji took Mahito to task with enviable and cold-eyed determination.

     And Mahito knew true fear for the first time in his cursed existence.

     It was only when the curse lay shivering and mangled that Sundari shifted the domain.

     Snowfall, and the growling of wolves on the hunt.

     Yuji stood over Mahito, his eyes cold.

     “I am you,” he said. “But that doesn’t matter, because I’ll just kill you.”

     Mahito’s eyes went wide as Yuji’s shadow fell over his own. Above, in the starry sky of Sundari’s domain, the silhouette of a multi-limbed goddess moved in the vast spaces between the stars. Below, Yuji closed in on him and he knew he was truly done for.

     “If you come back, I’ll just kill you again.”

     Sundari’s chanting became a frightening susurrus of whispers as Yuji brought his fist down. Mahito barely scrambled away in time as the stone beneath Yuji’s fist crumbled.

     Sundari dismissed her domain.

     It was just Yuji and Mahito, crawling away like a miserable maggot. Sundari smiled, cruel justice flaring in all four of her eyes.

     Mahito crawled faster until he was at the sandaled feet of Geto. Desperately he tugged on the monk’s robes, who looked down at him with tender but cruel eyes and a smile of poisonous benevolence.

     “Getooo!” Mahito cried, a desperate and frightened whine in his voice. Geto tilted his head.

     “Mahito,” he said in an almost cooing, motherly tone. “Do you want me to save you?”

     Sundari frowned. After using her domain expansion she needed to regain her energy. She could not remember how to do it quickly, her past still a fragmented and shattered thing.

     Can you heal others?

She was sure she could do it, she just needed to remember how. The mantras and sutras were engraved on her soul, she need only cut deeper within herself to access them.

     Satoru.

     Sundari and Yuji both had the same idea as they took off toward Geto who…held up a finger to pause them?

     Sensing an attack, it brought both fighters up short. And then Geto did something that shocked them further still and began the process of absorbing Mahito. Sundari realized that the thing wearing Geto’s body was using Geto’s technique. Cursed Spirit Manipulation.

     They’d been played from the beginning.

     “Yuji…” Sundari said and the boy looked up at her quickly, indicating she had his attention. “We have to get the Prison Realm from him no matter what.”

     Yuji nodded firmly and the two took up a dual-defensive posture. One might say they were locked in. Nadja took her time, helping Todo, who had severed one of his hands in an effort to negate Mahito’s last-ditch effort in his domain. She managed to staunch the bleeding, tying it off with her leather baldric that secured her Executioner Blade to her back.

     “My brother has come a long way,” Todo said as Nadja positioned him to sit up, bracing him against her lap. “And that goddess beside him: your daughter?”

     Nadja looked off into the distance where Sundari and Yuji faced off against Geto and as she narrowed her eyes she balked.

     Uraume.

     “Yes,” she said. “My daughter.”

     “And Sukuna’s,” Todo said and Nadja’s gaze snapped to his. Todo gave her a shrewd look.

     “People think I’m stupid because I excel at fighting, but idiots don’t excel at fighting. Warrior are scholars too. And I recognize the markings.”

     Nadja smiled, a bit of pride in her gaze as she tilted her head.

     “If you and she are as old as you say, and that sword you carry is what I think it is,” Todo continued, “I think that makes you one of the divine ones, huh?”

     Nadja said nothing. Todo smiled softly, closing his eyes.

     “It was an honor to fight by your side,” he said. “I hope we get to do it again someday.”

     And with that, Todo slipped into unconsciousness. Nadja reached out, stroked his head tenderly, as if he were her own son. So wise for one so young, and so inordinately perceptive of those around him. He was shrewd about the company he kept, and protective of those he deigned worthy of his regard. He’d solved a puzzle Sukuna himself had not yet unraveled, but that wasn’t all there was to it.

     Nadja looked on, her expression pensive.

The Dewed Lotus, 424 AD

     Pregnancy and labor were rough work.

     Nadja had found her way to the mainland after fleeing Japan, striking out to the southwest, until the Himalayas hid her tracks. As her belly grew heavier, she found herself unable to move with the same lissome grace she had laid claim to all her life. She took to traveling with caravans, who were happy to lend aid to a pregnant woman, and for those who sought to take advantage, were swiftly disabused of the notion when they saw her skills with a blade.

     By spring, her belly was swollen enough that she thought she was carrying the very moon. Her back ached constantly, her legs and feet ached, and she finally found herself in a small town in the shadow of the mountains, and being who she was hid amongst the outcast women of the community: in the brothel.

     The Dewed Lotus was owned by a sorcerer named Vanhi, who had the look of the preternatural about her. Nadja had never encountered her before, and Vanhi had been careful to avoid her notice. Whatever her technique was, it brought her great fortune. It also helped that the town was situated on a popular crossroads along the trade routes. Brothels tended to prosper in such circumstances.

     Nonetheless, when Nadja introduced herself and Vanhi took one look at her swollen belly hidden beneath her cloak, she’d welcomed heaven’s bastard daughter with open arms, her soft brown eyes reminiscent of a feline.

     Over the course of the weeks, Nadja used her wealth to buy her room and board in the brothel, sequestering herself away for the remainder of her pregnancy. She was afforded all the niceties befitting her wealth, of course, and she befriended many of the women who worked in the brothel. They cared for her, cooing over her swollen belly like a gaggle of aunties eager for the birthing of a long-awaited niece or nephew.

     Women of all backgrounds and ethnicities, women Vanhi had freed from slavery or dangerous situations, and who had chosen to work beneath her aegis. Nadja came to understand that the brothel was not just a house of leisure and hedonism. It was a training ground. The women all had that same svelte danger about them, like serpents more than women.

     The Vishkanya.

     Nadja could have laughed, and she did. Of course she had wandered into a den of female assassins who worked under a sorceress whose name was a spear in the sides of many men in their world. She could not have picked a better place to give birth.

     And so it went that in the spring, Nadja was given leave to use the sacred pools deep within the Lotus, where holy rites were performed, and there she gave birth to a strong and healthy daughter; her birthing blood staining the medicinal waters pink; her body shuddering in relief as the pain of tearing finally ended and one of the women brought the wailing babe to her, wide-eyed with shock.

     “You were touched by a god?” She asked and Nadja’s brow furrowed, wondering what she meant. That was, until she saw the babe swaddled at her breast.

     Oh. Oh no.

     Nadja had thought she could birth this baby and that they would come out with no markings of their dark heritage. No reminders of who their father was.

     But there it was, clear as day. No birth marks, these, but the markings of her father. She had all the soft innocence of a newborn, but the angry black markings on her face clashed with her softness. Nadja wanted to weep. The tiny little scars under her eyes were no scars, but eyes as well. And four wrinkly fists reached for her, finding her breast and latching on. Unexpectedly, Nadja let out a choked sob, smiling.

     Despite it all, she loved this little being that had sati n her belly for so long. The back aches, the exhaustion, the labor. All of it had been worth it. But the markings, the little maw on her belly, the four arms. Oh she was her father’s daughter in every way that mattered, and a few that didn’t.

     Vanhi took one look at the newborn and understood.

     “What have you done, Nadja?” She asked one evening. “I have heard the stories of the Disgraced One even all the way out here. It is said he eats the progeny of his concubines that none of them may grow and one day unseat him.”

     Nadja looked grim as Sundari suckled at her breast—the girl was ravenous, not unlike her father.

     “He did,” she said quietly and noted Vanhi’s raised brows. “But he wanted us to be wed before I left. Told me he wanted me to bear him a child, a worthy heir. He thought his power and my lack of cursed energy would beget something wondrous, I suppose. And if it didn’t, I assumed he would dispose of the child.”

     Vanhi crossed her arms. “But you ran.”

     Nadja glanced at her sharply, her pride stung by the lashing of truth in Vanhi’s words.

     “Yes,” she said begrudgingly. “I was afraid. For her. I couldn’t bear the thought of willingly feeding my own child to him. I do not understand how his concubines did it.”

     “He never gave them a choice most likely,” Vanhi said, sounding only slightly sickened. “Why didn’t you kill him?”

     Nadja didn’t answer. Vanhi snorted.

     “You fell in love with a monster and got scared when you remembered he was a monster. Gods, Nadja, you couldn’t be anymore of a neophyte at this if you tried. All that immortality and you’re just as foolish in love as a girl of 16.”

     Nadja felt the words like lashings. Pride. Foolish pride is all it was. But she did not have the heart to tell Vanhi that she’d never truly been in love before. Not like this. And she’d certainly never bore any children from her previous lovers. This was a divine mandate in her arms, nestled against her breast. This was some variable in the cosmic equation to redress an imbalance. Nadja did not understand what or how this would be accomplished, but she could only do as she was bid or risk the ire of beings greater than even Sukuna’s wrath.

     She tried not to think about it.

     But she thought about it.

     “You’re right.” She muttered, hating herself. “But regardless, Sundari is here now. And she wears his curse, as I’m sure is one of the reasons he was adamant about not siring any heirs.”

     “Until you,” Vanhi said. Nadja sighed.

     “If I didn’t know you favored women over men, I’d say you were jealous.” Nadja said slyly. “Do you think Sukuna will leave the seat of his power and come searching for me, Vanhi? Do you think he will steal me away from you?”

     Vanhi’s brown cheeks blossomed with heat and Nadja grinned impishly at her.

     “It is not that,” she said quietly. “He does not have to travel to have a hold on you. I see the way you look at Sundari, searching for him in her face.”

     Nadja looked away, guilt a hollowing fist in her gut.

     Vanhi gestured to Sundari. “When she comes into her powers, I will train her.”

     Nadja looked up, surprise coloring her features. Vanhi smiled warmly.

     “Did you think I would let you give birth to the daughter of the Disgraced One and leave her to become a danger to herself and others? She will be a powerful force, best she get the basics down at least.”

     And Nadja allowed herself to breathe a sigh of relief for the first time in months.

Shibuya District, October 31, 2018 23:45

     When Nadja heard the name Choso called Geto, she thought perhaps she might have taken a severe blow to the head. Mahito had landed a Black Flash on her, perhaps her body was still recovering. But no, she’d heard correctly.

     Kamo Noritoshi.

     Her stomach lurched as she stared at Geto and finally saw what she’d been overlooking. The stitches. The fucking stitch scars across the forehead. Just like Noritoshi had. Nadja felt sick, and she was glad when Utahime joined them to take to tending Todo while she got up and rejoined the fight.

     “Nadja!” Geto waved. “Long time no see!” He greeted her like an old friend. And Sundari’s lip curled.

     “Your daughter has grown to be such a charming and beautiful young lady,” Geto continued. Nadja approached, prepared to draw her Executioner Blade.

     Geto held up a finger.

     “Ah ah ah,” he admonished, wagging his finger at them. In his other hand he brandished the Prison Realm, the blue eyes roving and searching.

     “We’re going to play a game,” Geto said, “and we will see who deserves to inherit this new world! I expect great things from some of you…but you most of all, Sukuna. It’s beginning again, a new age of curses. Let us finally see who is truly the strongest.”

     And then Geto was gone, taking Gojo with him.

     Sundari’s fury was palpable as she stared at the spot Geto had just been standing in. Her heart was sick, and she had no way to express her fury without tearing someone apart. Her hands clenched and unclenched before Yuji reached out and took her hand, startling her. He looked at her, and there was a fierce determination in her eyes.

     “We’ll get him back,” Yuji said. Sundari nodded.

     “Yeah,” she said. “Yeah we will.”

     Nadja felt something shift, as if the world was adjusting itself. Her ears rang and she saw spots before her vision.

     What…?

     The pattern made itself known. A brief flash, like if she blinked she’d miss it. Patterns and shapes and impressions of emotion imprinted on her brain, on her bones, on her soul.

     Her divine mandate was changing.

     Nadja felt the compulsion well up in her soul, shifting it, rearranging, the terms of her pact rearranging itself.

     She had to kill Sukuna.

     And then she had to kill Sundari.

𓇢𓆸 Ending Notes: So, this is it. The final chapter. This is kind of a huge accomplishment for me. I didn't think I'd ever be able to write a long form fic ever again. I guess this fic was more for myself than for the fandom itself. I wrote it to see if I could, and I'm proud that I did. This was fun.

-ˋˏ ༻❁༺ ˎˊ- Masterlist 𓆗 Previous Chapter ☯

© 2024 Hajara Asiri. Do NOT copy, translate, plagiarize, repost anywhere without permission [reblogging posts is okay]. I only upload on Tumblr, AO3, and FFN. Title banner by me. Dividers and banners by @cafekitsune.

[darkorderaf]

oxytocin

So I don’t have like a canon for any of my fics but the OFC has sort of the same background for each one for the time being, Dark Order-aligned medic type character. They don’t all go together or anything like that and there's no real timeline. It just sort of worked out that way lol. Anyhow, ramble over, please enjoy and lmk what you think!!

Pairing: Kenny Omega x OFC

Rating: Big ol’ M.

Warnings/Content: Choking, unprotected sex (please be safe!!), hair pulling, spanking, multiple orgasms, jealousy, sort of hate sex. This...admittedly...took on a life of its own.

Word Count: 2028

(I don't own gif; credit to superkickparty!)

---

She didn’t know when cursory check-in glances had turned into check-out glances. Maybe it was after he gave her that side smirk, the one that had her stomach fluttery. He had never looked at her like that before and then one day, one hot night in Jacksonville, he did. It didn’t stop. The expanse of his hands across her lower back, the tease of a tight grip against her waist when she helped him away from the ring. That damn smirk and the slight narrowing of his eyes as he side-eyed her. She helped everyone out, she told herself. Hell, she had helped both him and Adam before...Well, before. She wouldn’t read into it.

Get your shit together, she had told herself. But he was Kenny fucking Omega. A top guy amongst top guys. Keeping her shit together was a Herculean effort.

His hand gripped the tender, red hot flesh of her ass. She panted out as she felt the weight of him press against the length of her naked back. Her arms shook with the difficulty of keeping herself upright. His mouth ghosted by her ear and his low, arrogant voice brushed against her skin.

“How many was that? Did you remember to count?”

He hummed as he took a moment to stop kneading the flesh of her ass. His fingers drifted down her wet slit to tease her clit. Against her own volition, her hips tried to press back into him. He chuckled and gave her cunt a light slap that nearly had her crumbling onto the bed. Her head fell forward and his hand grabbed at her hip to keep her still.

“T-Ten,” she gritted out. “I remembered. Kenny, please.”

“Ah-ah, baby, no. That’s not it.”

His teeth nipped at her ear. Teased against the line of her neck. She could have killed him. Or fucked him through the floor. There was no inbetween. She breathed out through her nose and when his hand slipped back between her trembling thighs, she tried again to seek out some release. With his grip as strong as it was, it was hard to move.

“Please, Mr. Omega,” she said and lifted her head enough to look at him over her shoulder. Her eyes burned and narrowed. “Please touch me. I counted like you wanted.”

He was just as affected as she was. Everytime she pressed her hips back, she could feel his erection against her ass. But the man had the patience, the stamina, of someone inhuman. She didn’t. What a match. His eyes flashed and he smirked at her. He shook his head and bit lightly at her shoulder. He trailed his tongue down her spine and she shivered when he blew against the line he left.

“Come on. Don’t you remember why you’re here?”

She nodded. His teeth bit into the meat of her ass and she tried to conceal her moan.

“It doesn’t mean anything, Ke--Mr. Omega,” she said with a shake of her head. “I helped them out. That’s all. I did my job.”

He tutted and feathered kisses up her back. His mouth was against her ear again as the hand around her hip relented and trailed up her chest. He squeezed a breast and groaned. Plucked hard at her nipple and twisted before he let go. He sucked in a breath through his teeth. His fingers gripped the purple medallion that fell between her breasts and she felt the chain tighten against the back of her neck.

“This. This stupid thing,” he said as he flexed his hips and grinded against her in a slow rhythm. “This I could handle. This doesn’t mean anything. But then you--Then I saw you with him.”

For a brief second, she heard it. He was worried. Her relationship with Kenny was, admittedly, a strange one. Kenny was paranoid. About himself, about the people around him, about so many things. Her laugh startled even herself. He growled and flipped her onto her back to look at her. The medallion bounced between her breasts and he leered at her, his errant curls in his eyes. Every muscle in his body was tight. Especially the one in his jaw. A brow rose.

“Is this funny to you?”

“It is,” she admitted as she held his eyes. His hand gripped the outside of her thigh as he frowned at her, his face taking on that look of annoyance that she so often saw in the ring lately. Slowly, she pushed herself up so she was almost face to face with him. Her chest pressed against his as she tilted her head back. “The man who has everything. Jealous of a cowboy and his friends.”

His tongue pressed hard against the inside of his bottom lip and he shook his head. One hand tangled in her loose hair and he dove in to kiss her. Tongue and teeth. Relentless. It was the most he had given her so far and when her tongue slipped into his mouth to take what he offered, he pulled away. When he spoke up again, his voice was a low hiss against her lips.

“Baby, if you’re his friend,” he stared as he trailed his fingers up her back and worked the clasp of her necklace. When he got it loose, he tossed it off the bed. His thumb rubbed circles into the side of her neck. The bulk of him kept her legs spread from where they had fallen open when he turned her over. He shoved her back onto the bed and gripped his length, worked it as he looked at her body on display. Pre-cum glistened in the room’s low light and she couldn’t keep her eyes off him. “Then why’d you come looking for me?”

The head of his cock slipped up her wet slit to press against her clit and she gasped. He wasn’t wrong. She shouldn’t have gone to see him after what he had done and continued to do to Adam. But she had. She had wanted to. Her body trembled with want and anger.

“If you’re that mad about it, Mr. Omega, why’d you let me in?”

Kenny huffed and stretched across her again. His large hand dragged roughly up her chest as he looked her in the eyes. His hand settled against her neck in an all-too-familiar fashion. Slowly, he started to press into her. His head slipped in and she moaned low. He could feel it in his hand. Her thighs tightened around his waist and she tried to pull him in further. He wouldn’t budge, even if she could feel how much he wanted to give in. He glanced down at where they connected and licked his lips. His eyes shot back up to look at her.

The need he found there coaxed a nasty smirk out of him and he pulled out of her with a pop. Slow enough to watch the disappointment flood her face. His fingers replaced his cock and he narrowed his eyes as she squeezed around him. They crooked up and brushed against the bundle of nerves that had her body tightening. His fingers played her expertly and his mouth pressed harsh against hers to swallow her breathy moans. The hand around her neck played with a slightly tighter grip. She tried to tell him to go faster but he wanted to destroy her slowly. With as worked up as she was from his roughness earlier, her first orgasm hit her hard. He bit her bottom lip before he pulled away, a thin light of spit connecting them before he tossed his hair back. Half-lidded eyes looked at her. She wasn’t the only one breathing hard. His large hand, covered in her juices, splayed out across her belly to keep her there. The head of his cock nudged against her.

“I guess we’re both just that desperate.”

He seated himself in her fully with one hard, heavy thrust. Her head fell back against the bed and his grip around her neck tightened. Kenny pressed a kiss to her temple and took a moment to ask her if this was okay. Funny how he could still be sweet when he was being insufferable. That thought didn’t last long in her head as slow, drawn out thrusts quickly picked up pace. The hand not around her neck gripped her hair at the base of her head and pulled. Her legs trembled around him. Lightheaded and climbing higher, she bucked against him with wild abandon. He drove into her just right and her second orgasm rippled around him tight enough to have him sputter out a heavy, startled breath. Not yet though.

Suddenly, he pulled out of her and released her neck. She whined at his absence as she breathed in and in a blink, his mouth and his fingers were on her. His tongue played against her clit with a fury as he slipped one, then two fingers back into her quaking slit. She was barely through her second one when he relentlessly started to coax a third one out of her. Her thighs tightened around his head as she came a third time with a ragged scream. Her body nearly seized. Her fingers pushed and pulled at his curls and she could hear him hum with satisfaction against the sensitive skin of her inner thigh. His teeth bit down hard enough to leave a mark.

“Kenny!”

“That’s right, baby,” he huffed out as he grabbed her legs and pulled her towards him. He didn’t correct her. They were beyond that. “That’s goddamn right. Say my name.”

With her ankles by his head, she was nearly folded in half when he surged back inside her. At this angle, he fucked her slow. Ground against her clit as he fucked into that spot of hers that he found every time without fail. Looked her in the eyes as she panted his name and whined. The pace he kept was agony for the both of them. She tried to say something but he couldn’t quite hear her. He angled his ear toward her and smirked.

“What is it, baby? I can’t hear you.”

It took everything in her to speak and when she did, it sounded weaker than she wanted. He was fucking her senseless. Crowding her with everything that was him. He wouldn’t accept anything else.

“Is that it, Mr. Omega?”

Her teeth found his earlobe and he snapped his hips against her. She grinned at him and he flashed his teeth back. The room was drowned in a cacophony of slapping skin and low moans. Her hand snaked up across the broad expanse of his back and dragged her nails down his taut skin. Almost hard enough to draw blood. He jerked and lost the pace he had set.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck. Goddamn you.”

He pulled out and flipped her over so he could fold her across the edge of the mattress. His hand found her clit as he pounded back into her. Her walls clenched and fluttered around him. She bit into the sheets as her fourth orgasm reared its head and when she came, she screamed into the mattress. Kenny thrust into her three, four times before he stilled and spilled into her with a guttural groan. His hands flexed around her hips as he fought to get his breath back, his hips jerking against her as the final wave of his orgasm passed through him. She wiped at her mouth as she tried to get up but he had fucked her boneless. He slipped out of her with a quiet moan and she felt him climb onto the mattress beside her.

His cum seeped out of her as she rolled onto her back. She glanced over at him, with his dark curls and sharp jawline. The bow of his mouth was still covered in her slick. She used to think he was beautiful once. He reached out to her and she hesitated. His eyes slid over to look at her. He laughed and smirked, set his head back against the bed. She supposed she still did. In a terrible way.

[wolveswithin444]

Her hands found any excuse to graze his Sunkist skin. A moment shared and stored away like a precious gift hidden inside her heart. Moments she tenderly recalls, eyes closed, when his absence weighs heavy, a dimming of her soul. Like the sun shining bright and warm, bringing forth life, so to where these stolen memories. A gift of alafirin seeds, a sharing of intimate thoughts, and deeds of a life before the occupation. She took in all he said, each word spoken, and each word left unsaid. Those were the most important, most cherished. Arondir’s eyes, oh those glorious windows to his Elvish soul. To look into them was to see her destiny. His most private thoughts lived there. The stars if history, hundreds of years danced within them. As did his love for her.

It had been far too long, but to Arondir any moment away from her was too long. Time. What was once his ally had turned its voracious teeth upon him, leaving scars upon the surface of his once untouched heart. His future had never brought about the soul crushing agony It did now. Now there was she. The endless years that before gave him not a moment of pause, now nearly drove him to madness. As now his future would be as empty and devoid of color as the ash in a cold fire. Because she was his rainbow that painted his skies with her passions, kindness, quiet, strength and tender smiles. Her touch was red, igniting fire in his blood, his heart. Orange and yellow, the sunrise of her laugh that filled him with joy. Her very presence, greens and blues, like the soothing and healing shadows of a cool flowing Brook within the deep woods of his homeland. A balm to his aching soul. Finally the purples and violets. The quiet coming of night when she would come to him in dreams. The diamonds in the velvet sky, the backdrop to whispered words of love and devotion. Bodies so different yet fitting and blending so perfectly into one. His rainbow, Bronwyn. Arondir closed his eyes, hiding the sadness from her as she gazed up at him, and even in that knowing, that certainty of his destruction when she leaves the bonds of this earth. He could not stop the pull of his soul to hers. He did not want to save himself. She was both his executioner and his salvation.

[laurfilijames]

Slow Burn- Part 1

Pairing: Modern AU Fili x female OC Prim

Words: 1,670 give or take

Warnings: It’s about to get smutty all up in here!!mentions of sex, swearing, alcohol and drug references

Summary: Fili and Prim are in love, but choose to tease each other rather than admit their feelings.

A/N: Part 1 of about 4. Or 5. I don’t know yet. It’s taken me WEEKS to post this, partly due to nerves and the fact that I make edits every time I re-read it before I think I’m going to post it. Please be patient with me! Thanks to @fizzyxcustard for giving me courage!

—————

It started the same way every time.

A night out for drinks with Kili and Tauriel. Dinner at Thorin and Bilbo’s house. Innocent and familiar gatherings with the family that has treated Prim as part of their own for the last four years.

But it also ended the same way every time.

Fíli’s lips brushing against hers ever so slightly as they said goodnight. His hand habitually clutching her waist and Prim silently willing this to be the time he finally gives in to the temptation that is her.

It happened every weekend regardless of the occasion or setting and it drove her mad with desire. She knew he felt it too, so why was he toying with her for so long? Teasing her like one would their prey before devouring them.

God, she longed to sink her teeth into the flesh on his neck. She watched now as it creased when he turned his head in her direction to look at her, his nose still crinkled from laughing at something Kili said.

Prim released the nail she had been nibbling on from between her teeth and slowly moved her finger down her bottom lip.

Fili noticed, no longer laughing, his pupils dilating as he watched.

Now that Prim had the attention of her preferred audience, she wrapped her arm around her head to clasp her thick, dark hair in her hand and draped it over her right shoulder, her left shoulder and neck exposed to the side where Fili sat.

From the corner of her eye she noticed his hand grip his thigh and his cheek flinch as he clenched his jaw.

As frustrating as it was to be taunted by him for this long, Prim relished in knowing she had the same effect on him.

He took a long sip of his beer and licked his lips once he swallowed, no amount of drink able to quench the thirst he always had for Prim.

Does she know that every move she makes drives him mad? It was getting near impossible to control his urges and the longing he had for her.

This couldn’t continue, he was a grown-ass man for fuck’s sake. He knew one day he would have to finally kiss her like she deserved and tell her how he felt about her, but at the same time it was too much fun, making her squirm as they continued to build the sexual tension between them.

He glared at her now, watching her move her long finger down her full lip before pulling her hair off her delicate neck. He fidgeted in his chair, resisting the urge to attach his lips to her neck and chest.

“Fili, pay attention!” Kili shouted at his brother, smacking his arm and pulling him from his thoughts.

“What?” He scoffed, annoyed for being interrupted.

“Tauriel has asked me to move in with her! I’m moving out!” He explained, excitedly.

It took Fili a moment to process the words, shocked at the news. He felt a slight pang of hurt knowing he would be all alone in his apartment, the absence of Kili creating a large void, but quickly tossed away the thought and decided he needed to be happy for his brother.

“That’s great, you two!” He smiled as he stood from his chair. “Let me get a bottle of champagne for the happy couple, we need to celebrate.”

Prim couldn’t help but notice a slight insincerity coming from Fili as he walked over to the bar. Kili and Tauriel were now lost in their own world together, kissing and whispering in each other’s ears, so Prim took the opportunity to check on Fili.

“Are you okay?” She asked, gently touching her hand to his shoulder, his body heat radiating through his t-shirt on to the tips of her fingers.

He sighed heavily before looking at her with a weak smile tugging at his lips,

“Yeah. I’m happy for them, I truly am. It’ll just be different without him. He’s been my little brother for thirty years and lived with me the entire time. He’s always just been there.”

The bartender placed the chilled bottle of champagne on the bar.

“Cheers.” Fili said, taking hold of the bottle and looking back at Prim.

“I’m fine, really,” he smiled at her fully this time, both dimples making an appearance. “And don’t think I forgot you prefer Prosecco over Champagne,” he beamed at her and held a second bottle up in his other hand.

Prim couldn’t help but grin, flattered how he always remembered the things she loved.

“I need to stop being so predictable,” she smiled.

She placed her hand on his forearm and looked into his piercingly blue eyes, serious now,

“I just want you to know that I’m always here for you. If you’re lonely or bored without Kili- and even if you’re fine- you know I always enjoy your company.”

“I know.” he said.

If you only knew how much I crave your company, how your hands and lips on my body could cure any loneliness, how boldly I will love you, was what he didn’t say.

Thoughts of the two of them alone in his apartment flooded his mind, picturing her naked and moaning against him in his kitchen, his living room, his bed.

Before he lost control of himself, he nodded in the direction of Kili and Tauriel, “We better get back to the table before their pash session gets us kicked out of here.”

Fili placed the bottles on the table and nudged his brother on the back once his hands were free.

“At least have the decency to drink this expensive champagne before you abandon us like you always do.” He requested.

It happened all too often that Kili and Tauriel would leave Fili and Prim on their own, anxious for privacy, but he never cared too much as it gave him the opportunity to be alone with her.

So long as Kili paid his portion of the bill.

“Yes, sorry! Thank you!” Kili grinned as Fili opened the bottles and filled their glasses.

Prim smiled as she held her flute in the air, listening to the toast Fili gave to Kili and Tauriel, wishing her luck in putting up with him and thanking her for taking his messy brother off his hands.

The night continued on as it typically did, all of them agreeing that it was cheaper to drink in the comforts of one of their homes, not having to pay for overpriced drinks.

Tonight they ended up at Prim’s apartment, and she was thankful she could fall asleep on the couch when she was ready to and not have to worry about getting a taxi to take her home late in the night.

She stood in the kitchen, leaning against the island with her chin in her palm, admiring Kili and Tauriel snuggling closely on her couch now, giggling at each other and completely unashamed to express their love.

“At least I won’t have to witness this anymore.” Fili said, topping up the wine in Prim’s glass.

“Oh, come on, it’s not that bad.” She sipped her drink and immediately took her words back as she watched Kili climb on top of Tauriel, their intensity increasing quickly.

“Never mind-.” Prim turned to face Fili and away from the couple dry humping on her couch.

“You have to admit though, Fi, that one day you would want that..” she trailed off when her eyes landed on the curly chest hairs peaking up through the neck of his t-shirt.

Yet another part of him she ached to touch.

He carded his fingers through his hair, slicking it back out of his face.

It was getting long, grown out now to just below his ears, curly and bleached even blonder from the sun. She loved it like this.

Honestly, she loved his hair any way, having seen it in every possible style through the years, from short, to short on the sides and long on the top, to just long and curly at his shoulders, but the way it was now allowed her to dream of tugging on it in bed.

Wetness pooled between her legs at the thought as it often did, and she knew she needed to think of something else before she threw herself at Fili and begged him to take her.

“I do want that,” he answered her in a low voice, his eyes telling it was her he wanted it with.

It was like ecstasy to her. No matter how many times she listened to him speak his voice made her melt each time. She bit her lip and closed her eyes when she felt him take a step closer to her, her pulse quickening as he leaned in to speak in her ear.

“I need to get those two home.”

Her head tipped back at the sensation of his breath tickling her skin, his hair brushing against her flushed cheek.

Prim clenched her teeth as he pulled away from her body, furious that he continued to do this to her.

“Okay,” was all she could manage to get out.

Please, don’t go, was what she wanted to say.

Just once she wanted him to stay the night, be in her bed with her.

Her breath caught in her throat when he placed his thumb on her chin, pulling it up so she looked into his eyes. Her hands gripped the counter for support as he took a step toward her again, making her lean her back against it.

“Goodnight,” he nearly whispered it as his lips pressed against the corner of hers, half on her cheek.

Prim inhaled sharply at his contact and tried to turn her mouth into his before he pulled away, missing him by a second.

She nearly growled when he winked at her and grinned, knowing he was fully aware of what he was doing to her.

“Goodnight, Fili.”

She glared at him with such want and she hoped he could feel the burn of it on his skin.

[darkenedreaper]

So Was I

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x reader, Avengers x reader.

Warnings: angst, strong violence, language.

Part: 5/5

A/n: I’d like to state that I made up a few lines of poetry and I’m proud of myself.

For the time you had been taken it seemed like your body had been put under severe treatment. At this point you could’ve been gone for months. You recognised the big symbol that was painted onto the wall. Hydra. They had been testing on you, testing on the Avenger. Every day you’d go through a new pain until they found the right one. From what you could catch they were planning on using you as their next super soldier. They had obviously saw the News and what had happened and who did it to you, so they took their chance and succeeded. You were laying back onto the white bed, your arc reactor now had a new red vibranium lining on the outside of it and your new suit which stood beside you, was black, with the logo on the back. You felt stronger, stronger than you would after training, stronger than you would after once pinning Steve on his back. Steve. Steve Rogers, your enemy according to Hydra. And ‘let’s not forget’ they said ‘what that Russian Widow did you to you’. They now began another experiment on you, testing a new serum.

Back at the compound and above the ground. It had been 10 months, 3 weeks, 2 days 6 hours that you had been missing for. To say they were all ashamed would be an understatement.

Steve wanted to get away from his shield, he couldn’t look at it let alone touch it. On his wardrobe floor where he had placed it 10 months ago, it had pieces of the glass from your arc reactor surrounding it. From the impact, some of the glass had melted to his shield. He didn’t want to be reminded of it, but his tears for you couldn’t help but.

Tony nearly drunk his whole cabinet if it wasn’t for Bruce dragging him back to the lab. And then went Tony was alone, the man would cry.

Bruce didn’t want to focus on the thought of you being tortured, which you were or experimented on, which you were. But he did focus on doing everything to find your arc on the map somewhere.

Thor went back to Asgard and he didn’t want back to Asgard and he spat in everyone’s face that he didn’t want to talk to them unless the found you. His mother back at home was increasing getting worried of your absence.

Clint was home aswell to his wife and kids. Laura distanced herself from him whilst he was back there as she thought of you as family. The kids just drew drawings and tried to make their Daddy and Mommy feel better.

Wanda and Vision tried to buck up the team, but they were falling apart themselves and if they didn’t have each other, they’d be lost.

Bucky spent time on his own, he would stay in your room and sit in your chair, hoping you’d walk in the door and do his hair. He felt his arm was tainted but there was nothing he could do about that, so he tried his best to find you with Steve.

Natasha. She wallowed. She was dying inside. She wondered if the heartbreak she was going through was what you felt all those months, creeping around hiding from the team. If it was what you felt when she watched the shield drive into your heart. She didn’t dare go in your room. She couldn’t. She couldn’t look at herself.

She worked night and day trying to track you down, on every mission, in every country, yet all were failures.

They barely spoke to each other now. You affected them massively and they wanted their Y/N back. Whether you hated them or tried to kill them, they’d be so joyful that you were back.

Right now you felt best coursing through your veins and the machine that was attached around your head was slowly vanishing away your memories. You could feel all your knowledge slipping away from you. Your weaknesses being taken over from the amount of power your body had. You yelled out in pain as they would boost it up, clear it was working. A huge flash of light took over the large base and you were listening for your first command. You saw your Commander walk up to your face and he saw the change in your eyes. He snapped his fingers towards the leather straps that had metal chains wrapped over them. And you broke free from them. You hadn’t gotten taller perhaps a few inches, but your muscles were evident as your suit was placed onto you.

You were supplied with 4 guns and 3 knives. Your arc reactor had layers of protective and bulletproof glass coated over it. Now you were unbreakable. You didn’t have a name. You didn’t remember. You don’t remember your friends or if you had any, or any family. All you were focused on was your mission, the Avengers. And your main targets were ‘Captain America’ and ‘Black Widow’.

When you had been brainwashed they had managed to rid of everything except the torture the Avengers put you through. The heartbreak and physical damage. You were given your own jet and a black helmet with a red H on the front and you went off to the compound in search of one of your targets. And it wouldn’t take you long to get there.

Night had fallen at the Avengers compound and they were all in the sitting room. Silently watching a movie that no one was paying attention to. Jarvis seemed upset as he wouldn’t talk to anyone anymore, unless that was because she hadn’t been looked after for months. Friday nearly disabled herself because she was so mad at her boss. If she were a human she’d be looking for you non stop as you often had conversations with the AI.

They had all dragged each other for ‘bonding time’. They were so down and ashamed that no one heard heavy footsteps. Until Bucky picked up on the reflection and he sat up a smile on his face as it could be you.

And around the corner you came, every Avenger jumping up from their seats. No one noticed the Hydra suit because they were so focused on your breathing body. Until Natashas gaze landed on your eyes. She saw it wasn’t you, well it was. But right now you were a Hydra agent trying to kill the Avengers.

“Y/N!” Tony shouted with a big grin on his face. You pulled dour your gun and shot above his head and you would’ve gotten him if it wasn’t for Bucky pulling him away as they all scattered off in all directions. Right now you were behind a man known as Hulk. You were shooting everywhere at everyone who crossed your path or came into view. You were putting multiple holes in walls at once and you put your gun back and instead ran towards the coward and grabbed him t shirt nearly picking him up off the ground. You got out a knife from your thigh pocket and nearly jabbed it into him if it wasn’t for that voice that came from behind you and him.

“Y/N.”

You recognised the voice as Black Widow and she was a main target so you flung the other man into a wall, crashing him into the next room. You ran after her and you were nearly faster than her if it wasn’t for her jumping up into a vent. So you took a gun and starting shooting holes in the vents, hearing scurries of fear through the vents. Your super soldier hearing picked up on a whisper that came from East.

It was Tony and Wanda. They thought they were hidden as Tony was crawling towards the table with his iron fist on.

With one quick shot you blew it up. Wanda tried getting into your head but she couldn’t even get past the thick line of Hydra.

“Come on Y/N I made that! It’s Tin-Man you know me!”

He kept calling out a name you didn’t know and as he hit the wall you took a look at his arc reactor and looked at yours. You saw his hand pout from his to yours.

“The same. You see. It’s Tony.”

You put your hand around his throat and lifted him up, his head hitting the ceiling, and you started punching at his bright light. Groans, pleads and yells at you to stop game from his mouth but you soon threw him to the side aswell, discarding of him while he collapsed onto the floor. Watching you walk away, walking on the glass that had fallen from his reactor.

You went in search for the girl who was trying to break into your head and instead you ran into the man with the metal arm known as the Winter Solider. He was trying to call out your name trying to talk to you but you shut him up by grabbing him arm and jamming a piece of glass into his weak spot where the arm connected to the body. Footsteps were approaching and it was the girl again. You took a knife and held it in the air to jam into ‘Buckys’ throat but your knife was thrown across the room with some sort of red magic around it. You threw the limp body of the other super soldier towards the girl and she was too slow to react as he came crashing down into her.

The compound was a mess, glass everywhere, holes everywhere, a little spark came from a wire where your bullet had hit it.

Vision had also been seen to. He just approached you and you didn’t even acknowledge him so you just drove the bottom of your gun into his temple sending him down, and kicking him out of your way.

You would finish the targets of after you’d found your other two. You went towards the hangar where their jets were stored to see no one around.

Meanwhile, Steve was on his way down to you. His shield in his hands, not strapped onto him arm.

You knew who was behind you and pointed your gun to the troubled and saddened man who stopped in his tracks.

“Y/N. I know your in there.”

You walked up to him and smashed the gun into his face, making him fall onto his side, shield still in his hands. He got up.

“You’re not a Hydra agent. Your Y/N. Our family.”

With a grunt you hit his stomach with your fist, sending him flying backwards. He got up.

“I’m sorry Y/N.”

And now you sent your boot into his chest and made him fall on his back. This time he struggled to get up.

You had punched and kicked him so far bad that you near the edge of the runway, splashed of the water hundreds of feet beneath you. He got up.

“I’m not gonna fight you.”

He tossed his shield away from him, trying to bring you back. His face was bleeding, his back was in agony and his suit was torn because of how far and harsh he skidded backwards.

“Your my friend.”

It was an odd feeling, one you hadn’t felt for months. Did you know him? Steve? No. He was your target right? And you went with your head. As soon as he saw movement from your feet dashing towards him, he didn’t move. If you were to kill him he wouldn’t envy you, he would’ve said he deserves it. His head didn’t hit the ground and he was now on the edge of the cliff with you above him, one fist balled into his suit and the other clenched.

“Your my mission.”

The first time he heard you speak in months and it was this.

After the first punch his eye had already began to close over. The second punch, his facial skin was torn. The third punch, both nostrils began to bleed. “Your.” The fourth punch his lip cut. “My.” The fifth punch, his lip bled out. “Mission!” The sixth punch sent his head lolling around.

You had to stop to consider if what you were doing was right. You knew this man. You knew them all.

“Then finish it.” His voice broke.

“Cause I’ll go with whatever your ordered.”

He even nodded confirming that it was okay for you to kill him.

He was talking about him being your target to kill. You were ready. You were so ready to throw him off the edge of it wasn’t for that voice.

Calling out a name. You turned your head and got up. The red head was standing. Arms crossed. She had fear and tears in her eyes. As soon as you stood quickly her arms unfolded like lightening.

She took a step back as you slowly approached her, getting a knife from your pocket.

“Y/N, this isn’t you. You need to listen to me. Y/N please.”

Your anger had slowly started to build again inside you.

“Stop saying that goddamn name it’s fucking pissing me off.”

Her mouth was bobbing open and closed. She wanted to sob at seeing how you were. She wanted to see those E/C eyes staring back at her instead of the blank ones that had one thing in mind.

“Do you not know me?” She was starting to walk back into the weapons room but she had no intention of doing any harm to you. And if you wanted to beat her and kill her then so be it. She’d let you. Your fist that was empty was slowly beginning to ball up but you couldn’t hit her and why? You didn’t know.

“моя любовь, пожалуйста, послушай меня.”

The Russian sentence of ‘my love please listen to me’.

It caused you to snap and you swung at her face, causing her to groan and stumble backwards.

“Do not tell me to listen to you. I’m not your fucking love.”

She wanted to cup her face as she felt the bruise appearing but that would be selfish after everything you’ve been through.

“Ты понимаешь русский мой дорогой”

‘Do you understand Russian my dear?’

You were never taught Russian at your Hydra base so why could you understand it. You took heavy breathes and you had a confused look on your face because your lip trembled and anger was painted onto your face again. You threw your fist at her again causing her head to snap backwards and blood tricked down her lip.

She was exhausted. The sleepless nights without you, the guilt drowning her. You ran towards her and she put her arms up to defend herself but you were quick to pull them down and you landed kicks to her side and plenty of hard punches to her ribs. By the time she had cornered herself she was sure a rib or two were broken. Her forehead was gashed and bleeding. Her sides hurt like hell and her neck was strained and had knots in the muscles because of how many times her head had flung back from the strength of your fists. You were still standing strong and unharmed and that was when you retrieved your knife again.

“Моя любовь, когда ты вернешься дома, только тогда я буду дышать, моя дорогая, когда ты узнаешь мое имя, только тогда я буду улыбаться. Когда ты вернешься ко мне, только тогда мое сердце поправится.” ‘My love, when you get home, only then will I breathe. My darling, when you know my name, only then will I smile. When you return to me, only then will my heart recover.’

You were lost in thought and you could hear voices just like hers whispering that into your ear late at night or when you had gotten back from a tough mission. You heard other voices. Buck? T? Banner? Wands? Vis? Stevie?

“Natasha?”

She had tears freely falling and she noticed your tight grip on your knife still. She nodded and she slowly approached you limping but smiling to herself as you didn’t tense or move backwards.

“But you hurt me.”

She nodded again as she was in front of you now, subtly slipping the knife from your hand. She took of your helmet and placed it on the floor alongside the knife. She could see it in your eyes. The good and bad memories coming back to you. But she could see hesitance.

“I’m sorry Y/N. I’m sorry. I’m sorry but please stop this. This isn’t you Y/N, it never has been and never will be.”

You took in her words and started to accept her, not yet forgiving her and the team for what they had done to you. She knew you were still going to be a super soldier and she knows her and the teams’ actions were always going to haunt you. She placed her hand on your arc reactor and it felt like home. All she could do was hope. Hope that you still had forgiveness in your heart. Time would need to be taken for you to heal. For the hydra walls to break down. But she would be there for you. She’d do whatever it would take for you to forgive her, for her to get you back.

They all would.

(My gif use as you want)

@natasha-danvers @imnotasuperhero @aaron-despair @confusinggemini612 @thewidowsghost @ecruzsalaz @fcbarcelona-and-marvel-4-life @gaytrashgoblin @capmarvelq @nat-romanoffdanvers @lesbian-x-blackwidow @emilyprentisswife @captain-josslett @fayhar @oblivious-horny-lesbian @trikruismybitch @summergeezburr @username23345 @xxxtwilightaxelxxx

[moonchildsaurora]

Garden of Words

✤ prince/king!Yunho x tailor!reader ✤ genre: Prince AU // angst, fluff ✤ t/w: sfw, lots of bittersweetness, rated PG ✤ count: 3.5k+ ✤ [ part 2 ] of Lacuna miniseries

a/n - look, when I was writing my plan out for this, my notes only centered around the garden scene. . .and here we are 3000+ words later hahahaaaaaa, this is what happens when the mind goes “what if” and gets invested in the before/after rather than just the now 😔 one day I’ll be able to write shorter, sweeter pieces but today isn’t the day. I’d like to whole-heartedly thank anyone who reads through this entire piece, for your time and hopefully it was worth it. Also I’ve decided to have a little bit of fun with subtly featuring other members in each others’ mini stories, so see if y’all can spot who the next character we’ll be visiting next! 💙 P.S. paragraphs in all italics are flashback scenes!

“Excuse me, are you the fae of the garden?”

The watering can of butterscotch shade in your hands tilted back to pause in the sprinkling of water droplets on the freshly bloomed red gardenias. Turning around, you found the source of the small tinkling voice.

“Good morning Young Prince,” you greeted him, setting the watering can down on a nearby bench before making your way over. Sunlight shone abundantly down on the Royal Glasshouse, some areas where the stained-glass windows stood were bathed in colourful hues. Where the light hit your peachy robe made of georgette-silk gave an ethereal glow to your figure.

The Young Prince looked at you with wonder as you bent down to his level before speaking to him again, “and how did you manage to find your way here, little one?” You recognised the mahogany velvet capelet that wrapped around his form; after all, just two weeks ago were you tirelessly hand-sewing those dainty pearls that left a trail of constellations across the velvet surface.

“Hmm…I followed the pretty blue butterflies!” the Young Prince excitedly pointed to where several of them were fluttering over the yellow hibiscuses. Of course he would, he is the King’s son after all and his smile was perfect proof of that too.

Your eyes soften and the sides of our lips tilted further up, “Well they definitely have led you to a special spot haven’t they?”

“Please don’t tell anyone!” the Young Prince turned to look behind him quickly, as if to check if the coast was clear before taking a few shy steps closer to you. He brought up his little hands to cup them around his mouth and anticipating that he was going to whisper, you leaned in with a listening ear. 

“I’m not supposed to come here on my own but Father brings me here sometimes and always tells me that the flowers here are most happy because of the fae who cares for them. I wanted to meet the fae because they never are around when Father and I are here.”

With great effort you suppressed the giggles that threatened to spill out, not wanting the Young Prince to think that you were laughing at him but rather at how adorable of a pout he formed by the end of whispering his little secret to you.

“Who told you that you couldn’t come here by yourself?”

“Everyone says that this glasshouse is Father’s most favourite and no one should come in without him saying ok. Even Mother doesn’t come here.”

Now it was all starting to make more sense to you, trust him to give you a title like fae of the garden. Letting out a gentle sigh, you gave the Young Prince a reassuring smile and held out your pinky.

“I promise not to tell, if you don’t.”

His eyes sparkled immediately as his little pinky was quick to curl around yours, “Oh thank you great fae!”

The soft spot in your heart grew once more.

“Would you like to see what fresh blooms will greet us today, Young Prince?” 

The initial shyness he had melted away and the eager tug on your hands with a delighted laugh was a clear answer to your question. You let him lead you down the cobblestone pathway, patiently answering his questions whenever he’d point out flowers to you along the walk.  

“Ah! Father’s favourite flower!”

The both of you slowed to a stop where the sea of multi-coloured freesias clustered, like a protective circle, around the Juliet Rose bush. With glowing apricot coloured petals that looked tender to touch, the rose bush stood dignified in the middle. Oh, the amount of care and love that went in to growing these roses, it truly is the treasure of the Royal Glasshouse.

You could still feel the phantom prickles on your fingertips from when you’d accidentally catch on one of the thorns whilst pruning. But you also remembered the warm hands that used to encompass yours and those same hands fought many more thorns to build this piece of Eden just for you.   

“Shall we get some to give to him later on?” you suggested, having swiftly gone round the corner to retrieve the pruning knife from the crate.

“Yes, yes! Oh but won’t our shoes get muddy going in there?”

“Your Father didn’t mind losing many good white trousers to the dirt when he used to tend to the garden.”

“Father did that?” gasped the Young Prince, his eyes locked on as you moved with practiced ease. Still unsure as to whether he should risk a scolding from his tutor later on, he stayed behind the pebble border.

You hummed in reply, tip-toeing to avoid disturbing the freesias to reach the rose bush. “He drove the palace tailors mad with the amount of buttons he’d lose…but it was all worth it in the end.”

Your hands cupped one of the larger roses, observing the intricate layers of petals within the heart of the bloom. Just like the layers of memories that stirred within you in that moment.  

”Not again Your Highness!”

Shoving the tunic you had been sewing to fix up a rip at the seams to the side, you hurried over with a handkerchief towards the Crown Prince as he came out of the Royal Glasshouse. When he wasn’t attending his classes or royal duties, all free time was spent on the garden. The only rule was that no one but the Crown Prince was allowed inside.

“Blossom, we’ve talked about this. You know I’d prefer it if you used my name.”

“That’s the last thing you should be worrying about now! The Queen won’t be too thrilled to know that you–“

A snow white camellia was tucked behind your ear, distracting you to a pause. Your hand immediately reached up and your fingers were met with the morning dew still upon the petals.

“This is first of the few that have successfully bloomed.”

“You’re distracting me on purpose, Yunho!”

“Well it got you to say my name, did it not?” he laughed, crouching down slightly to allow you to help wipe some of the soil off his cheeks. Even as you continued to fret over his mess of a stained blouse that certainly will cause a ruckus over afternoon tea, Yunho looked at you with so much affection that it would’ve made the rest of the flowers blush.

“You are impossible,” with no real bite to your words.

“And yet you’ve stayed by me all this time.”

You weren’t just the child of the Queen’s personal seamstress, no, you were Yunho’s first real friend within the palace. He treasured the friendship, for being with you meant Jeong Yunho could breathe freely. 

The hallway had a woeful chill despite the midday sunlight streaming through the arched windows. Perhaps it was reflecting your current state of mind, your feet scurrying with haste to carry you to the safety of your chambers. Only behind closed doors did you allow your walls to crumble.

“It’s settled then, we shall entrust you with the task of creating the wedding gown. After all your sewing skills are immaculate and the Princess herself personally requested for you.”

Your mind kept replaying the announcement, echoes taunting the reality right in your face. Extremely confused at the absence of feeling on top of the world that you’ve been tasked with such a prestigious request nor were you jumping with joy knowing that Aethevintis and Cilon were officiating a strong alliance through a royal engagement.

“Every tailor in the kingdom would’ve killed for this job! Soon you’ll be making a name for yourself!”

The palace staff showered words of encouragement and your mother couldn’t be any prouder…

...yet it did nothing to ease the piercing cold emptiness that invaded your shattered heart.     

“Blossom that would be considered as assault against the Crown Prince.”

You threw an unamused look his way, right after you had nearly kneed Yunho in the face when he effortlessly hitched you over his shoulders. Without so much as giving you a valid explanation as to why he arrived unannounced at the tailors’ room, only to whisk you away from your half-sewn bodice.

“Some of us need to work, Yunho!”

“You’ve been working a fair bit lately, I simply miss spending time with you.”

Now that you have actually acknowledged your feelings towards him, you couldn’t afford to let such words feed the false hope; not when you knew there will be an inevitable split in your pathways. You had been purposely avoiding him since preparations for the Engagement Ball have started, under the guise that you needed complete focus on your commission. It numbed the hurt inside temporarily, but you couldn’t deny that you’ve missed him.

Terribly so.

“Where exactly are you taking us?”

Scrunching your nose slightly at the smell of hay and heavy worn leather upon entering the stables, you noticed the saddle was already on Yunho’s Friesian stallion. Had he planned this beforehand?

“On an adventure!”

Of course, Yunho may have forgotten to notify you that he was supposed to be at a council meeting at that moment instead of bolting out of the stables like your lives depended on it.

He needed to breathe again and you decided to run with him for once, rather than away. The faint shouts of his name could be heard in the distance but consequences be damned if it meant seeing his radiant smile be set free and feeling the steadiness of your entwined hands.

“Watch your step.”

For whatever reason you couldn’t fathom, that Yunho somehow managed to sneak away from his own Engagement Ball without getting noticed and now was guiding you through an alternate and poorly-lit route towards the garden. Had it not been for his insistence that this matter was of great importance, you would’ve dragged him back in to the Grand Hall yourself.

Not even daring to think about the implications of his future wife being left, having to wait inside and what should happen if any of the guests or palace staff saw you with the Crown Prince in this questionable state?

“I’ve already talked to Captain Song and requested for his guard unit to ensure this area is kept clear for tonight, so you needn’t worry.”

His warm hand that held onto yours gave a reassuring squeeze, dampening your anxiousness just a little. You ended up facing the entrance to the Royal Glasshouse, the window panes were crystal clear in the dark that you could see the stars that hung above in the night sky in the reflection. Admittedly this place hadn’t graced your mind in months and you immediately felt disappointment towards yourself for not checking in with Yunho over time about his progress.

As you were about to speak, your vision suddenly goes pitch black.

“Hope you don’t mind but it’s a surprise,” Yunho whispered softly and only then did you realise that those were his hands covering your eyes. Wordlessly you nodded and allowed him to lead you in, an array of floral scents hitting your senses almost immediately, indicating that you both have made it well in to the glasshouse.

Something brushed against the top of your head unexpectedly and you flinched back, hitting Yunho’s solid chest.

“It’s ok, it’s just the blue jade vines. I’ve got you.” You wished your heart would stop fluttering as you felt him shuffle around you.

“Had it been anything else, I would’ve been right out the door and never stepping foot in here again,” you murmured.

You heard Yunho’s low chuckling before, “And leave me behind? That’s harsh. Who would I ever share this with then?”

His hands lifted and you blinked a few times to settle the initial haziness. Your breath caught in your throat as you took in the view; there were lanterns both hanging from the roof and ones scattered around to illuminate the interior with a soft glow, fireflies danced about unbothered and even with the vast amount of plants it wasn’t a suffocating space.

Taking tentative steps to look at some of the flowers up close, you couldn’t help but let out a breathy laugh. Just when you thought Yunho couldn’t get any more incredible than he already is.

“Yunho, this is…you really did it! From which fairytale did you pull this garden out of? All of this is exquisitely stunning!” you said, gently running your hand over the pink and white baby’s breath bushes.

Unbeknownst to you, Yunho’s barely keeping himself together under his calm façade. His heart has been yearning to just go against all odds and take you away with him but that meant condemning you to a lifetime of hardship, in a world where tradition doesn’t take too kindly to change.

He would never do that to you.

If he couldn’t be free to love you openly, then he’d love you in all the ways that required unspoken words. He poured his time and love into creating something, untouched by others and solely from himself, that he could give to you.

Just like he already has with his heart.

So when you heard him call your name, rather than the usual term of endearment he’d use, it set off the butterflies in your stomach. He reached out for you and you met him halfway.

“Did you know these are my favourites? They’re still young but as they grow, you’ll see that they aren’t just ordinary roses. They’re called Juliet Rose.”

Yunho showed you around the garden, telling you of the different flowers and their meanings. Peruvian lilies for lasting bonds, bluebells for devotion, gladiolus for strength, chrysanthemums for happiness, carnations for faithfulness. You were so caught up with keeping track that you nearly missed what Yunho had said next.

“–for an undying love or you’re the only one…”

“What...did you say?”

A barely-there whisper as you choked the words out. The running water from the mini fountain in the lily pad pond was the only sound among the silence that stretched between you both. And then there was the feeling of dread again, that you needed to run. Far away. Now. “W-We should go, th– your future fiancée is wait–“

You barely made it past 4 steps before Yunho caught your wrist and this time, he wasn’t going to let go. He called your name again.

“Please look at me.”

Perhaps it was the desperation in his voice that got through to you, telling you that you’d deeply regret it if you were to leave. So you willed your heart to stay through the pain and to stay for Yunho. It wasn’t until you felt damp velvet against your cheeks that you realised it was from the tears that cascaded down from your eyes and soaked in to Yunho’s suit, for he held your shaking form close to him.

“I’m such a fool.”

“Well, I guess we’re both just fools very much in love then.”    

And then it dawned on you.

This entire garden being Yunho’s vow to you, which made you cry even harder than if he would’ve just confessed out loud to you right from the start. 

Your hands grasped onto his back, fisting the fabric as you buried yourself further in to him. Noting that he smelled of clementines on a cool breezy summer day, you ingrained that scent to your memory. Wishing upon all the stars above that time would stop and allow you both to just live in your little garden.

“And with your permission, could you allow this fool to be selfish for a while more?”

A light kiss to your forehead before your face was tilted up, sore tear-stained eyes meeting his matching ones. “You? Selfish? Impossible.” Keeping your voice soft, partially from not wanting to break the peaceful ambience as you clumsily wiped his tears away.

Yunho knows he already has been selfish especially with time, he can’t stop it but he can draw it out at least. And he’s selfish in wanting to take from you when he knows he cannot give back entirely. But if it’s once in this lifetime that he gets to have you before having to return to the cruel world of normality, then he will get on his knees to beg for your forgiveness for being selfish.

He pours out everything in to the searing kiss he places on your lips and whilst you never imagined your first kiss to be like this, at the very least you finally have closure. Swollen lips, rosy cheeks and warm hands that refused to part until the very last second. Words that you both have been meaning to tell each other over the years are woven into poetries.

The garden kept it all, kept your love safe and your hearts safer.

“Do they make you happy too?”

Just like that, you’re brought back to the present. “What gave it away little one?” you asked, glancing to smile at him before focusing on cutting off two large roses.

“You were making the same face at the roses as Father does when he’s happy…when he tells me about you and the garden,” replied the Young Prince with honesty. The blue butterflies from before came fluttering around the roses that you held in your hands, much like the ones that stirred inside you once more when you heard the words.

Some things never change, do they?

You started to take the thorns off the stems with the pruning knife before replying, “They do, and this is my happy place.” Once you deemed the stems were safe enough for the Young Prince to hold, you made your way back over to him. You knelt down and presented the roses to him, “What do you think?”

He cautiously took the flowers that dwarfed his small hands, peering in to the layers curiously and taking a whiff of the delicate scent. “They’re really pretty! I think Father will like them very much!”

“Shall we go look for a few more blooms? You can create your very own little bouquet.”

The Young Prince made little noises of excitement and rushed to hold on to your hand once more, continuing on the quest to pick more flowers. It wasn’t until awhile later when you were showing the Young Prince how to arrange the flowers he picked to tie them together, that you heard the sound of approaching footsteps.

“Father!”

If Yunho hadn’t already learnt how to harden his heart these past years, the scene before him would’ve surely made him cry with happiness. For a second he could pretend that this was real, that you were the one with the aquamarine diamond band around your finger and that he was coming to join his actual family for tea in the garden. His eyes never wavered from yours, even when his son came barrelling in to his legs waving his bouquet merrily in the air.

“Your Majesty,” you greeted with a formal bow, not missing how Yunho’s smile didn’t quite reach his eyes.  

“Father, I finally got to meet the great fae! We spent all morning finding these!”

Only when you subtly flicked your eyes down towards the child did Yunho respond, quickly reaching down to take the bouquet from his son’s outstretched hand and bringing him in for a hug too.

“I had a feeling I’d find you here, sneaking off from your tutor again,” amusement lacing Yunho’s tone, “and what an intriguing choice of flowers you’ve got there.”

Father and son both adorning mirrored grins on their faces, “they’re for you, do you like them? And I’m sorry for sneaking in here Father!” said the Young Prince, little brows furrowing slightly.

“Very much, thank you…the both of you. And it’s ok as long as skipping your lessons doesn’t become a habit,” said Yunho as he ruffled his son’s hair affectionately and drew his gaze back to you.

“Unfortunately we must take our leave now.”

“How come? Do we really have to go?” The Young Prince seem to have inherit the puppy-dog eyes from his father, putting on the best pout he could muster as he looked between the two of you. Yunho shook his head, bending down to pick his son up. “Remember Grandpa and Grandma are coming by for lunch? Your Mother even asked the cooks to prepare our favourite dessert,” as if attempting to appease him.  

“But…I wanted to spend more time here!”

“You’re always welcome back here little one, if His Majesty is ok with that–”

“Of course, although I hope it won’t be too much trouble?”

You gave a gentle smile and eyes twinkling with mirth, “Considering he hasn’t lost more than two dozen buttons within the last two weeks nor requires daily stitch repairs, I’d say it won’t be too much trouble at all Your Majesty.” That drew out an apology and light laughter from Yunho.  

You walked the King and the Young Prince back to the entrance of the Royal Glasshouse, and just before stepping out Yunho turned to you once more. “Have you stopped by the pond recently?” the random query puzzled you.

“I thought I saw something interesting growing there the other day.”

Please go.

Right after waving a goodbye to Yunho and his son, without a care of making it obvious you hurried to where the lily pads floated at. It wasn’t hard to miss the bundles of serene blues nestled in the damp soil near edge of the pond. As you got closer, the realisation of what those were made your heart soar and ache at the same time.

A couple of tears fell onto the sea of blue petals as you reached out to cradle them with your hands.

“As if I could ever forget…my beloved King,” you whispered to the forget-me-nots that silently delivered Yunho’s words for you—

This garden is forever yours and so is my love, always. Never forget that.  

[wastelandlovingscenarios]

76 with danse and a f!sole, please! - “three times i didn’t return your feelings and one time i did.” 👉🏽👈🏽

in this house, we love and support danse. <3

did this turn out longer than i expected? absolutely.

prompt 76: “three times i didn’t return your feelings and one time i did.”

-

Danse:

the first time, he was injured, taking an unexpected shot from a raider camping on the roof nearby.

“you’re hurt. lay down.” danse hissed under his breath as sole pressed down on the wound located on his shoulder. sole had dropped the bullet on the desk nearby her, grimacing at the sight of his blood staining it.

“i’m fine.” he bit back the sharp breath that threatened to release as he rejected soles offer. “it’d be a waste of time if we were to halt for such a minor injury.” stubbornness. of course. it was something that the paladin was great at and it was no mystery to the people who surrounded him.

sole shot danse a sharp glare as she forcefully pushed him down to the bed. “and it won’t be a waste of time. a few hours wouldn’t hurt, you know,” she let out deep sigh as she caught the harsh tone painting her words, “you always preach about me taking care of myself, i think it’s time for you to follow that.”

as much as danse wanted to argue, he couldn’t deny the fact that she was completely right. everytime she refused to receive care or neglected her health and well-being, he was constantly on her case about it until it drove her insane. instead of talking back, he remained silent as his head hit the pillow under him. “glad we settled that.” she laughed and ran her hand on his shoulder, sending a shiver down his spine. he closed his eyes, feeling her hands work on his shoulder as she cleaned it up and have it proper attention.

he hadn’t known how heavy his eyes were and how exhausted he actually was until the warmth and tenderness of soles touch lulled him to sleep. how long he had been out of it was something he couldn’t answer but felt himself wake him up enough for him to hear the words that left soles mouth. his eyes remained closed, showing no signs of him listening, but every word imprinted in his mind.

“you gotta take care of yourself, danse.” the way his name left her lips made his heart flutter, “i love you too much to lose you.” he wanted to say something, anything, but he laid still despite the urge to do so. danse felt the warmth leave his face, and a blanket being put over his body as he pretended to sleep during it all. “not that i’d ever say it out loud.”

she didn’t have to say it out loud. he had heard every single letter that echoed within the room, leaving his heart beating and mind full of wonders. instead of bringing up the topic the next morning, he fell quiet and pushed it away to the back of his mind as if he was never listening in the first place. there was no room in his life for a relationship, especially over someone he felt no romantic feelings for.

or so he thought.

- -

the second time around, danse finds out who he truly is. in the midst of chaos, all the people he’s ever trusted had turned their backs on him without a second thought, shunning him out of their lives. the reassuring hand on his shoulder was the only reminder that not everyone had the same intention of doing so.

“danse, look at me.” she crouched down to his level, watching as the former paladin leaned forward, hunching over the bed. he had concealed his face with his hands to hide the devastation that was written all over his features. he didn’t acknowledge soles presence nor did he respond to any of her requests, much to soles distress. “danse.”

silence only followed after regardless of her voice calling out to him. with a soft sigh, she peeled off his hands from his face, eyes softening sadly at the distraught expression written all over it. it takes her a moment to keep herself together before she can properly speak to him. her hands travel to either side of his face, caressing his cheek. “i know it’s hard right now, and i know you’re going through hell,” he tried to swallow the lump in his throat, eyes glistening with tears. sole notices this but doesn’t say a word, not knowing what was going through the former paladins mind at that moment. “but i will always have your back until the end of time.”

as expected, danse just stares at her with distraught eyes and gave no response. sole doesn’t take mind to this and continues, brushing her thumb over his cheek soothingly, “it doesn’t matter if you’re a human or synth, it will never change how i feel about you. you’re the most important person in my life danse, and you will never be nothing,” she fights back the tears that threatened to spill, knowing she has to be the strong one in this situation, “you can push me down a million times and i’ll always get back up. you won’t be alone. you will never be alone.”

her arms snake around his shoulders as she pulls him into a tight embrace, her hands gripping the fabric of his shirt. “i love you, danse. i will always love you for who you are and who you’ll be. nothing will ever change that.” he doesn’t acknowledge her words nor does he return it back, but let’s a tear slide down his cheek as he envelopes his arms around her torso.

those words lingered a little longer than the last time it had left her mouth.

- -

the third time, shes deadbeat drunk, nearly to the point of blacking out as preston supported her, standing in front of danses doorway. he held a nervous smile as he tried to let the words down easy, “sorry, danse. she got a little carried away.”

he cocked a brow up, irritation clearly plastered all over his face as his eyes flickered to sole for a mere second. “just a little?” preston smile died down as he shrugged awkwardly, unsure of how to respond. danse let out a small huff, stepping forward to take sole into his arms, looking at the lieutenant before shutting the door. “i appreciate your assistance. have a good night.”

he carried her to his bed, laying her down on the bed as she dozed off, not far enough to sleep. she still had the strength to remain awake despite sleep calling her name. danse went to the kitchen and brought back a bucket of water and a towel, setting it on the nightstand near his bed.

“what were you thinking?” he chided her, wiping her face down with cloth gently, removing any signs of alcohol. “i understand that it is normal for you to consume alcohol, but this is unhealthy, even for you!” he didn’t mean to be harsh- danse was just terribly worried. out of their time of being together, he’d never seen her like this, only going as far as seeing her tipsy and whatnot.

he noticed the guilt in her eyes and instantly regretted scolding her. “ ‘m sorry, danse. i didn’ mean to make you worry. just needed to take my mind off things.” she slurred with half lidded eyes, “don’ hate me, please. don’ be mad.” danse sighed heavily, placing the cloth into the bucket. he looked at her, his voice much gentler than it was earlier, “i’m not mad and i don’t hate you. just don’t do this next time, it doesn’t benefit you in any way.” he hesitated for a moment before speaking up, “feel free to speak to me. you don’t need to go to these measures to ease your mind.”

she stared up at him, and for the first time, he felt his heart beat in a way he was unfamiliar with. “ ‘re you worried ‘bout me?”

“of course i’m worried. anyone would be if the person they cared about neglected their health.” he felt himself pull back, a blush creeping onto his face as sole grinned softly, almost childlike. he had seen her grin a thousand times before, so why did it suddenly feel so different now?

“ ‘m glad you care ‘bout me.” she happily whispered, “next time, ‘ll come to you if somethin’s on my mind.”

“please do so.” he coughed, tucking her in so she wouldn’t be cold for the remainder of the night. sole continued to gaze at him lovingly, and he felt his chest tighten at the sight of the expression on her face. “i’m here for you.”

“thank you for caring ‘bout me. i love you, danse.”

those three words filled the air again, only this time it affected him in some way. the way his face turned red, his heartbeat rang through his ears, and how choked up he became when he processed them was entirely foreign. he couldn’t tell if he liked it or not, but it certainly didn’t feel unpleasant.

“rest, sole.” was all that came out instead of a proper response. she hummed in approval before closing her eyes in content. “m’kay.”

even long after sole fell asleep in his bed, he remained in the same spot he was in moments ago, unconsciously admiring soles features as one question lurked in his mind.

why couldn’t he reject her?

- -

out of all the times he could’ve returned her feelings, fate decided for it to be this one. danse swallowed the anxiousness in his throat as he waited for soles return, knowing that she was a day late from the date she was scheduled to come home. he tried to do anything and everything he could think of- build a cabin, mod his armor, mod some weapons- but the more time went by with no sign of her, the more he began to lose his sanity.

she never returned home late, even in the craziest of situations she found herself in, she always came back on time or maybe a little earlier if she was lucky. then again, in the commonwealth you could never know. he bombarded preston with questions, growing impatient at soles absence and demanding answers he knew the lieutenant himself didn’t know.

“i’m sure the general has her reasons, danse. you can’t put her down so easily.” it was prestons way of reassuring danse that sole was perfectly fine and would make it home regardless of the dangers out there. danse wasn’t convinced, not one bit.

he lied in bed, staring restlessly at the ceiling at images of sole popped into his mind. danse missed her smile, her voice, her touch- he missed sole and it was killing him inside and out. all his memories led up to the one that always seemed to linger in the back of his mind, but never properly confronted due to his cowardness. suddenly, he feels a burning pain in his chest as tears begin to rise in his eyes, a soft sob escaping his mouth as it reverberated off the walls to remind him of how much soles disappearance had affected him.

“i love you, danse.”

and it hits him like a train. he shouldve told her everything he’s felt about her instead of trying to push it away and avoid it with every fiber of his being. he should’ve held her in his arms a little bit longer and told her how much he appreciated everything she’s ever done for him and how much she’s changed his life. this pain was unbearable; he couldn’t breathe or think right and the tears fell uncontrollably as his words came out strangled for no one to listen, “come home,” he cried, “please.”

and when sole does come home the next day, he drops everything he’s doing and runs up to her as fast as his legs could take him, nearly pushing down any settlers that dared to block his path. before she could let a word out, she felt his arms wrap around her as he pulled her into a tight embrace, burying his head into her shoulder. sole had been caught by surprise, nearly losing her balance as the man nearly crushed her lungs out, removing any air out of her system.

“woah, woah. whatd i miss?” she’d joke, wrapping her arms around danse, who refused to loosen his hold on her. once she realized he was trembling, she pulled away, holding danse on both his shoulders, a look of concern on her face. he looked terrified and it didn’t suit him well. “danse? what happened?”

and just like that, those destined words left his mouth before he knew it. “i love you, sole. i’ve always loved you. i’m sorry for not saying it sooner, i-i..”

sole blinked in surprise, a blush spreading across her face at the sudden confession. “w-what-“ she couldn’t even come close to completing her sentence as danse interrupted her, stammering.

“when you didn’t come home... i was so scared.” he cupped her cheeks gently, his voice barely a whisper. sole leaned into his touch- it was so warm and tender. “i was so scared id never see you again. i was afraid of losing you.”

sole took one of his hands and placed a soft kiss on his knuckle, “you’re never gonna lose me. i told you i’m never gonna leave you alone and i meant it.” she whispered into his skin, “i love you too much to do that.”

danse pulled her in for another embrace, taking in her scent as she wrapped her arms around his torso tightly. he placed a soft, gentle kiss at her temple as he caressed her hair. “don’t ever do that to me again.”

[longitud-de-onda]

Porque el querer causa pena, pena que no tiene fin

pairing; mad sad genius (we never got a name) x reader summary; you can love someone with all your heart, but nothing compares to the madness that exists in their absence rating; t warnings; language, a bit of alcohol, angst, it isn’t specifically covid-19 but it is a pandemic science fiction story, so the quarantine and other situations are taken to the extreme which could be potentially triggering depending on how you’re handling the quarantine. word count; 3.0k a/n; this is fanfic for ngozi anyanwu’s for all the lovesick mad sad geniuses which aside from pedro’s amazing performance, is a brilliant monologue. we’re taking the title from the rosalía song (maldición, cap. 10: cordura) that helped inspire this.

You met him at an art gallery. It was your own show, and you were standing in the corner drinking wine from a clear plastic cup, the edge of which was sharp against your lips. You held a paper plate with five almonds, a mozzarella and tomato crostini, and a mini chocolate cupcake carefully balanced in your other hand.

He was standing in front of your favorite piece. No one else was. Probably because the gallery owner told you it wasn’t the sort of work that would stop anyone. That out of all the work in your collection, it was the type that belonged in the back, where it would be found by the people who cared enough to wander there, whose interest would likely be piqued enough for them to enjoy it. It hurt to hang it up on the back wall and not up in the front where you wanted it.

But he hadn’t stopped at everything else. He had walked into the gallery minutes before, giving every painting a quick glance before settling on the one in front of which he was standing. He had been there for almost five minutes before you decided to walk up next to him.

He looked over upon seeing you approach and your heart stopped. He was the most beautiful person you had ever seen. His smile reached his eyes and you found yourself falling into them. You almost asked him if he would model for you.

You didn’t paint portraits.

“This one is beautiful,” he told you.

You smiled and took a sip of your wine. You didn’t need convincing that it was beautiful. That much you already knew. It was the one piece you were confident beyond belief about.

“What do you like about it?” you asked, jutting your chin up at the painting in question.

“The artist seems to have cared. You can see the brushstrokes. They’re more detailed than the others. Someone only spends that much time on something they really care about.”

That was when you fell in love with him. Thirty-three words. That was all it took.

Your first date was dinner after the gallery closed for the night and he dragged you out to his favorite burger joint because he said you deserved it after opening an exhibition. After wolfing down more than enough food and splitting a tub of fries, you spilled out onto the streets in a pile of laughter and joy and you’ll never forget the look on his face when you asked for his number.

Your second date was a night you’ll never forget. He had taken two days to contact you after the first night, and you had begun to worry you would never hear from him again, but he called you and said he wanted to meet you at 6pm the next day and to dress nicely. You showed up where he told you too and he was there with that goddamn smile.

He took you to a Chinese restaurant and said I’d take you somewhere nicer but I don’t think you’re that kind of woman. And you would have slapped any other guy in the face but he looked so earnest and he was right about you. It was like he could read you like a book. And when you laughed he’d sometimes stop laughing with you just to stare with a certain reverence that made you question what you did to deserve the sort of man who looked at you that way.

He took you past all the big theaters showing musicals and stopped at one tucked away with a modest set of doors but the grandest entry hall you had ever seen. You let him lead the way as he took you through the doors into the auditorium and you walked down the aisles to seats near the front.

You didn’t know what you had done to let him know you loved comedies, but he had picked out the perfect play. By the time it was over your stomach hurt from laughing so hard and your eyes held the watery ring around them from your tears. You hit the cool night air just as it started raining, and any other time you would have run for cover but with him and his smile next to you, you didn’t give a shit.

The aimless wandering that night was your favorite part. You were doubled over laughing as he told you the parts of the play he liked, and the parts he didn’t.

“She was a fucking genius and a poet, you know?” he said.

“Who?”

“The playwright.”

“What? Why?” you asked.

“She wrote a play about another fucking genius,” he said. “And despite it being the funniest shit ever made, it still had all those deep-ass lines. You know, like, ‘If you got one friend when you die then most people never have something like you.”

And he didn’t know why you started giggling until you calmed yourself enough to tell him what the real quote was in between fits of laughter. He had that look from earlier that night on his face. The one where it was like he didn’t even know you could see him. He gazed at you like he could see you. Not just on the surface, but underneath everything too. Like he could see every thought that went through your head and took the time to hold every one and appreciate it before letting it go.

He leaned down to kiss you and you tilted your head up to meet him and you wondered how you hadn’t kissed him before. Why you didn’t when you said goodbye your first night. Why you didn’t when you were getting to know him over a burger. Why you didn’t let him kiss you that first fucking moment when you fell in love, right there, after he told you about your own goddamn brush strokes.

You fell in love all over again the following weekend when he took you to his favorite spot in the park, a large grassy hill overlooking all the kids playing below and you spread out a blanket and ate sandwiches that he had put into little ziploc bags. You told him that he should have packed some wine and he said baby, we didn’t need any alcohol our first two dates and you flushed and told him about the wine you had at the gallery and he laughed.

“I probably wouldn’t have had the guts to walk up to you without it,” you protested when he jokingly expressed mild disappointment.

“If you hadn’t walked up, I probably would have shouted ‘where’s the fucking artist, I need to talk to her!’ by the end of the night,” he said, and you found yourself laughing again.

“Wouldn’t be the weirdest thing that’s happened at one of my exhibits,” you said.

You met him every morning before work to go out for coffee, even if it meant waking up an extra hour early because he’s a morning person. You had his coffee order memorized by the third day.

He invited you to his apartment one day and you found yourself laughing over home videos of him as a kid late into the night. When you said goodbye, your heart yearned to stay. To take one of his shirts and wear it as you curled up next to him in bed. Instead, you kissed him good night.

After dinner one evening, you brought him to your place and showed him the little studio you had in the most well-lit room. He spent almost an hour exploring it, asking you questions about every little thing, the brand of paints you liked best, the angle you preferred to set your easel, your favorite tools, your favorite color, and telling you how honored he was to be in the workplace of a genius.

You didn’t tell him he was the smartest person you had ever met.

You didn’t tell him that he was the genius out of the two of you. That he could talk about his work and you could listen for hours to his voice but not understand a single word he said. That he would talk like no one was listening and then say the most serious shit. The sort of thing that made you rethink life, and by the time you had escaped from your thoughts he was already on another topic, rambling about the multitudes of things he loved. He saw the beauty in everything.

How the hell could a man like him love you?

He was the sort of person you would hear about in movies. The type to never stop dreaming. Someone watching the two of you would think you both mad. He had his head in the clouds and you would watch from below in awe as if his brain was firing off fireworks, and then you would speak about anything and he would give you that smile and that goddamn look that drove you crazy.

Your entire life he was there, living his own life without ever having met you, and you often wondered how many times you had almost met. You lived in the same city, surely there must have been times. Hundreds if not thousands of moments in which your paths nearly crossed. Whether what kept you from meeting was a mere 3 feet of distance in a crowd or a mere 3 minutes of time and space in which one of you was running late or early to something along which way you would have found him.

But you were lucky to have met him when you did. Gotten to share the brief moments while they lasted. That was before the virus hit.

You were sitting on his kitchen counter, covered in acrylic paint he had bought at the grocery store as the two of you detailed messy renditions of Van Gogh’s work on his cabinet doors, and he had wrapped his dirty hands around your waist, leaving two purple handprints on your painting shirt, and pulled you into a kiss. And this one was different. It was deeper, searching for more. There was more heat and passion. Your whole relationship, months of it, had been slow and beautiful and intimate, but there were times where it was more like friendship then romance and neither of you minded as you walked along the fine line between the two, happy with the state of things as they were. But you had loved him since the first day and you didn’t mind the idea of, one day, collapsing naked and sweaty into bed with him instead of snuggling up against his side as he wrapped you in his arms like he usually did when you did decide to spend the night.

But that was for another day. You broke apart after minutes to return to your project. By the end of the night you were screwing the doors back in and he was admiring everything. If you were being honest, he was completely helpless when it came to handiwork. Couldn’t hammer a nail, tighten a screw, sand some wood, or even recreate a decent Starry Starry Night, but that didn’t matter. Because his kitchen looked vibrant and beautiful and the art reminded you of all the ideas you could see swirling in his head. The fucking genius.

The reports had started to come in by then, but it wasn’t until the following morning that you realized how serious everything had gotten. Schools announced that day that they were closing. He called to tell you he was working from home. You got the call that evening that you would be too.

A week later and you had met with him once, in the park. It was a long trek for both of you, living on opposite sides of the city. But the brief kisses, kind words, and soft touches on the waist, thighs, arms, neck, jaw, nose, back, anything? Those were all worth it.

The following day you learned you couldn’t leave your neighborhood. You video-chatted with him in tears. If only you had let yourself follow the thoughts of moving in with him instead of stamping them out as soon as they started to take root in your head. If only you had let him spend the night one more time. So you wouldn’t be clinging to his fading smell on the t-shirt you stole from his closet.

It was like your whole world cut out when the strikes started. No internet. No cell service. No connection. The postal service was all but gone, and you had no way of connecting with him. Your only source of news was the newspaper, three times a week, delivered to your doorstep. And your neighbor who got it every day and would shout to you the important things.

You wished you had photos of him framed around the house. 

Then when you did, the sight of him staring at you from every corner of your apartment was enough to drive you mad with longing that you took them all down. 

When the government got the strikes under control, they started to introduce the plans for rolling out the internet services again. Things had become grim. You spent every night dreaming of him, but you were starting to forget his face. Did his nose curve that much?  Were the creases around his eyes that deep? Was his shabby beard that full? Did he have dimples, or were you just making that up?

You would stare at the photos on your phone, desperately trying to commit him to memory. Remember how he looked when the man in the photo came to life in three dimensions. How did he walk? How did he wave his hands?

By that time, life was different. You didn’t make art anymore. What was once your life had been shoved into your studio room, the light turned off, and the tubes of paint left to dry up. Your apartment didn’t smell like clay and charcoal and linseed oil anymore. You didn’t have it in you to keep painting. You went to the grocery store once every fourteen days, grabbing produce and frozen goods, bottles of alcohol and some cleaning supplies before handing over your newly minted ration card to receive the staples. Rice, pasta, beans, eggs, flour, sugar, a couple bags of dried fruit, a bottle of milk. It wasn’t so bad when you lived on your own, but you felt bad for the mothers and fathers in line behind you, knowing that their children might be too picky to even eat the food they were lucky to get.

The introduction of connectivity services was a slow process. Neighborhood by neighborhood across the country so as not to overwhelm the systems. There were new rules. It was only to be used for three things: education, work, and essential communication between legal family members.

Your finger hovered over the call button next to his name hundreds of times, but you could never press it out of fear that someone would be watching or listening. You knew that when you walked the streets they were. It was likely the same for your phone now too.

One day in a drunken fit of anger and yearning and the craze of love, you deleted all the photos on your phone, hoping that maybe without them you could forget how much you missed him.

You tried to forget him. But every night you dreamt of his slowly warping face. You wondered if he was doing the same.

Sometimes you would watch the DVDs you had and try to replace his image in your head with the actors. Sometimes it would work and weeks would go by with only dreams of the movies. But it would always lose its effectiveness. Usually around the time that you remembered that he was probably your soulmate and you didn’t get enough time.

In every single one of the possibilities of your lives together that you daydreamed about for hours every day, there was never enough time. But this reality was the worst. You were sure of that.

You had read every book in your house. Read every poem you could get your hands on, even the ones you had risked your life for in searching them on the internet, carefully saving pdfs and screenshots and printing them out on the dwindling paper in your apartment. Words didn’t do the same thing they used to anymore. They didn’t bring joy and excitement and escape. You stopped reading them.

You talked with your neighbor for the first time in a month. It seemed that almost everyone had stopped reading books. You wondered if people stopped doing other things too. 

The world before was starting to blur around the edges. You couldn’t remember if the path you liked to walk in the park had such an erratic course or if it was more subtle than you could remember. What did you like to do on the weekends? There was a place, a building, that you liked to go to. You couldn’t remember what it was called or what was inside, but you remember the feeling of standing there. The musty smell and the awe and the sensation that you were staring out at all of humanity. And you had no idea what the fuck it was. 

You weren’t sure how much of the world before you had forgotten. But you couldn’t shake him from your memory. You wished you could. 

When you weren’t working you were cooking or eating or sleeping. And when you weren’t doing that, it constituted the dangerous time where you didn’t have anything to do and nothing to interest you.

And every fucking thing you did, be that making pasta or lying on the floor and staring at the ceiling, made you think of him. You had loved him as you’d never loved anyone before. And you never told him. Did he even know that you loved him? Did he know that you knew he loved you back?

You would close your eyes and the only thing you were sure of in your mind’s image of him was that goddamn smile.

.

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[baby-grayson]

Do Ness and Gray Ever Get Back Together Or Are They Done For Good?

 tw: discussions of drinking and depresssion

Grayson spent the entirety of Christmas break without speaking to Ness. He hardly spoke at all, truthfully: only the occasional chuckle when Ethan brought up a story from the good old days. Most of his clothes stayed folded in his suitcase: he rotated between a few pairs of sweatpants and some thermal long sleeves when his mother drove him to physical therapy. He spent every night staring at the ceiling, hearing Ethan’s low snore next to him, and wondering what Ness was doing at that exact moment. When he watched Ethan drive away at the end of winter break, leaving Grayson behind to take the semester off, Grayson felt like was giving up more than just his academic responsibilities that semester.

During the holidays, Ness was more than happy to have the distraction of her four brothers around her. With someone always mad at someone else, or bleeding onto the coffee table, she had enough chaos in the world around her to distract from the chaos in her life. Her only thought of Grayson happened when her Nan sat down beside her to ask about that boy, she had been seeing last year: Ness shook her head softly, said they were together anymore, and changed the subject.

The next semester went by in a whirlwind for both. Ness rushed from class to class, trying her hardest to pull up her GPA from the nosedive it took when she was taking care of Grayson after he came home from the hospital. She bolstered enough confidence to apply to be a writer for the school’s newspaper. Her happiest moment that semester came from reading the email that she had been hired as a contributing editor. For a moment, she paused and imaged what Grayson would have said if he was there. Afterall, Grayson had been the largest encouraging force for her to apply when they were together. She shook the thought out of her head and immediately called up Samantha, who suggested they celebrate Nessa’s victory of a box of white claws and bottle of cheap vodka from the gas station.

Nessa’s life saw many changes that semester: the absence of Grayson, her appointment to the newspaper, and a newfound predilection for shitfaced, promiscuous, wild partying. Samantha dragged Ness from frat house to frat house on Friday and Saturday nights, and even on Thursday afternoons. When Ness would gravitate toward the corner of the party, fingering her bottle in her hands, sometimes she would wonder about Grayson, how he was doing, if his condition was getting better: she would wash away the thoughts by pressing the bottle to her lips and returning to whatever antics Samantha and her friends were getting up to. It was a dangerous cycle: high risk and high reward but the constant mental stimulation excused Ness from her quieter, introspective thoughts.

Grayson lived a quieter life: splitting his time between at home therapy exercises and helping his mother prepare the garden for springtime. He drove Ethan’s old Tacoma truck to the local greenhouse to pick up bulbs and fertilizer, planting a bed for the start of springtime. By the time the crocuses had started to poke out of the ground, Grayson’s arm was in much better shape. Thanks to the selfless work of his healthcare team, and his commitment to his own wellbeing, he was more than ready to return to school in the fall.

Had he been in a proper frame of mind, he would have called Ness. Not with the intentions of explicitly getting back together with her, but to see her, talk to her, tell her that he missed her. However, his body had healed much faster than his mind. His mind still craved his bed almost 24 hours a day, despite never allowing him the sweet respite of sleep. He chewed at his lip all day, until he tasted metallic blood on the tip of his tongue. He spoke to no one except Ethan: even in the locker room. The once boisterous and bubbly Grayson became a shell of a person: quiet and limp in the corner of a room, only the physical memory of the lion’s soul he used to host.

Ethan tried to coax his brother to go out. Ethan even went as far as the hook his arms around Grayson’s ankles and try to pull him from his bed, dragging him from across their apartment floor, but Grayson was always the heavier twin. Grayson anchored himself to the edge of the couch and only grunted when Ethan sighed and mumbled a few words of goodbyes. Grayson heard the front door closed but didn’t have enough energy to pick himself up from the floor and walk back to bed.

Being a senior, Ethan was well recognized at most campus parties. He walked through the door and instantly start giving people side hugs and asking how they have been. He smelled the familiar odor of stale, cheap beer emanating from people’s plastic cups. He stopped in his tracks, however, when he stood in the kitchen door to see Ness standing with Derek. She was in a tight black crop top and held out a red solo cup in front of her. Derek looked down at her with wobbly eyes that suggested his stupidity was heightened by warm feeling of alcohol.

Ethan cleared his throat and tried to divert his eyes but couldn’t help himself when Ness strung her arms around Derek’s bicep and asked him to go dance with her. Ethan pretended to be distracted by the six bowls of chips in front of him, but in reality, he couldn’t stop watching the scene play out in front of him. Derek was too drunk to take two steps to the left. He couldn’t barely walk with Ness hanging off of his arm, so much so that he held onto the kitchen counter for stability.

“Ness,” Ethan said emphatically.

She spun around with a surprised look on her face, shocked to hear someone use that tone at a party. For a second, her heart dropped into her stomach. She recognized the masculine angle of the jawline and the kind hazel eyes and in her tipsy statement, her emotions betrayed her for a second. But the lighting fixture of the kitchen befriended her to remind her that she was looking at Ethan, and not the man she thought about before she went to sleep at night.

“E?” Ness asked, suddenly forgetting Derek, who was now wobbling his head over the sink as if he was going to puke.

Ethan took a step toward her as Ness did the same, “What’s going on?”

Ness knew Ethan meant more than what she was doing in the frat house kitchen, but she played coy, “I’m here with Sam and some of her sisters from APhi. I think they’re in the basement if you wanna-“

“Ness,” Ethan said, nearly sounding like he was scolding her, “What’s going on with you?” Ethan gestured to the red solo cup in her hands, something she wouldn’t have been caught dead with last year.

Ness shrugged in response, “I’ve been okay.” She thought about asking Ethan how his brother was doing: but decided against it, choosing that appearing strong was better than tipping off Ethan that she still cared.

Ethan looked at the ground for a moment before looking back up at Ness, “He’s not doing the best, Ness.”

She wore a blank stare. The only semblance of a reaction she gave Ethan was that she slightly sucked in her top lip before he continued talking.

“His arm is better, took a couple months,” Ethan sighed, “I just can’t get him out of the house anymore Ness.”

“He’ll come around eventually,” Ness tucked her mouth against her cup to take a sip while watching the expression fold on Ethan’s face.

He shrugged again, “I just thought maybe-,” he sighed, “Nevermind.” Ethan turned his head to look out of the kitchen, at the rest of the party that was still booming in the house. He turned to Ness, “Find me if you need a ride home, alright?”

Ness nodded while Ethan walked away. She started the amber liquid in her cup for a minute before feeling her spine curl at the sound of Derek vomiting into the sink.

Ethan came home without a pretty girl by his side: something about the action of dragging Grayson across their apartment and then running into Ness threw him off his usual flirtatious game. His keys clinked as they hit the kitchen counter, “You’re still here?”

Grayson groaned from the floor.

Ethan reached down to give his brother a hand, pulling him off the floor.

“You’re home early,” Grayson yawned, his voice was raspy with sleep: a dead giveaway that he had fallen asleep on the cold, hardwood floor while Ethan went to the party.

“Not my night,” Ethan mumbled and passed a hand through his hair.

“What happened?” Grayson’s voice shook as it spoke, wavering between frequencies.

Ethan looked at the bathroom door and contemplated escaping the conversation before decided to state clearly, “I ran into Ness. She was there with Samantha- and some of their friends.”

Grayson’s mouth went dry. He pressed his tongue against his cheek, avoiding looking at Ethan’s eyes.

“I told her how you were doing,” Ethan tried to keep his tone casual, “told her maybe- I dunno,” he shrugged, “she could say hi sometime-get you out of the house-“

“the fuck you do that for?” Grayson didn’t wait for Ethan to finish his thought.

Ethan sighed, “You’re just- Gray” Ethan perched himself on the arm of their couch, “All you do is sleep.” Ethan looked at his brother with eyes of concern, “Maybe it’s time to start-“ Ethan sighed again, “having some fun.”

“And my ex-girlfriend is fun?” Grayson’s eyes squinted as his tone sounded acquisitional.

“That’s not what I meant,” Ethan tried to defend.

“That my ex-girlfriend, after telling her I’m a pathetic mess, is fun?”

“You know what,” Ethan conceded, “Just forget it. I tried doing the right thing for you but clearly- clearly,” he passed a hand through his hair, “Clearly I don’t know what to do.”

Ethan turned away from the conversation before Grayson could grow angrier. Grayson heard the hiss of the shower turn on and locked his bedroom door behind him as he laid awake in his bed.

The consequences of Ethan’s meddling came to fruition nearly a full week later. Ness donned her old knit beanie and thermos to sit on the stands at their football game. Unlike last year, she did not scream and cheer when they scored: she took little sips of hot liquid and silently watched the crowd as they game went on.

She was leaning against Grayson’s car when he walked out from the locker room: in a pair of joggers, his hair a mess, and his duffel bag thrown over his shoulder.

He stopped in front of her. They looked at each other for a minute. The sound of cars and buses reversing out of the parking lot and merging onto the road filled the air around them.

“Good job tonight,” Ness whispered into the air.

“Thanks,” Grayson’s tone was low and curt.

“I uh- how is your shoulder?”

“Better.”

“Good.”

Grayson looked from side to side, not seeing anywhere he could run to to avoid the conversation. “You know you don’t have to talk to me Vanessa,” he said lowly, shifting his weight on his heels, “I get it- you moved on with your life. I’m happy for you.”

“I’m not-“ she started but didn’t finish. She sighed and shrugged, “I wanted to see you again.”

“Well here I am,” Grayson said flatly.

“You are,” Ness mumbled. She stared at a spot far away on the ground, “Maybe we could- do coffee? Sometime?”

Grayson shrugged, “Don’t really drink it anymore.”

Ness nodded softly, “Okay well,” she sucked her lips in, “I just thought I would try.”

Grayson responded by folding his lips into a tight line and opening his trunk to throw his duffel bag inside, signaling that he was done with their conversation. Ness mumbled words of goodbye and stepped away from him. He watched her walk away: fondling remembering what the fluff of the pompom on her hat felt like when he used to kiss the top of her head after a long game.

That night, both of them laid in their respective beds and thought about the other: each of them convinced that they were done forever. They woke up the next morning: husks of people. Ness tried to sleep in, she danced her feet around in her sheets but it made her miss the familiar warmth of Grayson’s arms on a Saturday morning. She jumped out of bed and found a pair of sneakers to go on a jog with: she told herself it was a coincidence when she jogged right past Grayson’s apartment.

Grayson continued his depressive patterns of living in bed and only showering every two weeks.

Ethan had gone to a party: telling Grayson not to wait up as he slid through the door. Grayson didn’t even feign a response. He scratched his balls and sniffed as he changed the channel on the television. Grayson thought that Ethan had forgotten something when there was a knock at the door twenty minutes later.

Ness stood in front of him.

Her face was red and puffy, but her eyes were smeared with distinct coats of concealer. Her hair fell in front of her face in messy strands. She looked up at him with knitted brows.

“You okay?” He asked brutishly.

Ness signed and gritted her teeth, “I-I uh-“ she closed her eyes, “I need you-could you- I didn’t know who else to go to- Grayson.”

Grayson looked around her shoulder to see if anyone else was lingering in the stairwell. He shoved his body to one side of the door way and nodded his head in a motion that asked Ness to step into his apartment.

“Thanks,” she gulped. “I-uh.” She sighed and looked around, being in his kitchen flooded her with memories. She remembered the last time she walked through his door. “Can you drive me to the drug store?” Her words came out in a flash.

Grayson took a moment, trying to use all of his brain to make sure he heard her correctly before hesitantly saying, “Yeah…sure.”

“Thanks,” Ness nodded quickly.

Grayson looked from one side of the room to the other, “Should I ask-“

“I missed my period,” her words merged together, “By a week.”

Grayson nodded, “Okay.” He said lowly.

Ness did not move from where she stood but her eye grew into large orbs as he moved passed her. For a minute, she wondered if he was abandoning her. But instead, he came out of his bedroom with a fleece thrown over his t-shirt and his car keys in one hand.

Both of them stayed silent in the car ride. They were brought together in a wordless commitment to privacy. Neither of them even bothered to reach to the radio and put on something to fill the void: they sat there. When Grayson parked, Ness didn’t ask him to go with her, but he did anyway. Even slid a twenty-dollar bill on the counter when they stepped to the register.

Grayson didn’t realize he should have driven Nessa back to her dorm until he pulled up to his own apartment building. Ness didn’t question it: she bolted from the parking lot to Grayson’s front door and tapped her foot against the floor as he worked his eye into the lock and opened the door for her.

Grayson waited on the couch while she locked herself in the bathroom. He didn’t even bother taking his shoes off. He looked up when she opened the bathroom door, with a thin smile.

Grayson’s mouth tightened into a small knot, “Everything uh..all set?”

Ness sighed and nodded softly, “Yeah uh..” she weighed her head from side to side. Suddenly, the embarrassment of the situation flooded over her entire body like a tsunami, “Crisis averted.”

“I’m sorry I-“ “I didn’t mean to-“

They spoke over each other.

“You go-“ “No you go-“

Grayson folded his hands in his lap while Ness chewed on her bottom lip.

He spoke into the silence, “I’m happy for you- that you know, everything worked out.”

Ness nodded, “Thanks, and thanks for—thanks for doing that, you didn’t have to.” Grayson tried to response graciously but she kept going, “I didn’t know who else to- I didn’t have anyone else I could-.” Nessa’s shoulders drooped, “It’s funny, I’m always around people now- but I’m never really with them.”

Grayson nodded, not knowing what to do with that information, “Glad I could help.”

They stood in silence for another moment.

Grayson cleared his throat before continuing, “And sorry, for uh- sorry for breaking up with you I just- I thought it was best because of -..well- I could have gone about the whole thing better.”

Ness found a shy smile, “Thanks Gray.”

They nodded at each other.

Ness groaned and grabbed fists of her hair, “What are we doing?”

“Talking?” Grayson stuttered.

“No, I mean.” Ness turned herself around once before looking at him with a tired expression, “We were so good, what happened to us?”

Grayson shrugged, “I don’t know. One minute we were perfect and the next-“

“Lights out,” Ness finished.

Grayson nodded. He took in a sharp breath through his nose, “Sorry I- sorry I turned you down- last month. About coffee.” He shrugged, “I guess- I just thought you were asking because you felt bad for me. That was- that wasn’t the best move.”

Ness nodded softly, “It’s okay, I get it.”

Grayson looked up at her, “Do you still want to go?”

Ness looked up at him. She moved her mouth from side to side, pensively. She swallowed, feeling a lump dissolve in the bottom of her throat. “Yeah,” she said lightly, “I mean- if you want to.”

Grayson nodded in response, his eyes darting around the room.

“What happens-“ Ness bit the corner of her lip, “What happens if it doesn’t work? If we’re just…too different now?”

Grayson shrugged, “Then I guess you get a free cup of coffee and I’m five dollars poorer.”

Ness chuckled, “Fair.”

“And if it works,” Grayson leaned toward her, “Then I get the best thing that ever happened to me back.”

Ness started to blush and rolled her eyes, “You were always too smooth for your own good,”

Grayson shook his head with a soft smile, “I mean it Ness- you-“ he shrugged, “I know I used to say it all the time but I really don’t know what I ever did to deserve you.”

She smiled shyly at him, feeling the tension in the moment subside.

“You’re-you’re an angel Ness. An absolute angel,” he reached out to hold her hand, “my sweet girl.”

His fingers sparked with they reached out for her palm, telling Ness that they would be seeing each other for much more than just coffee.

EPILOGUE

Two elementary school age boys barged through the front door of the family.

“MOM!” “Pass!” “Throw!” “Back!” “Johnny—” “Alex—” They spoke over each other.

Ness chuckled and lowered the heat on a pot that was simmering on the stove. From their highchairs, two twin toddlers babbled and spitted at each other. Grayson busted through the doorway, “You shoulda seen them Ness! Two regular all-stars.” Ness smiled and hugged both boys, placing careful kisses on the tops of their heads while looking for bruises on their visible skin.

“How were the twins?” Grayson started wiggling a finger at little Bradley who was transfixed by the jiggly motions of his father’s hand. Next to him, Connor called out, wanting an equal amount of attention from his daddy.

“Good,” Ness commented, “Alex! Johnny! Go wash your hands, dinner’s almost ready.”

Ness exhaled softly and a smile lit up her face when Grayson wrapped his arms around her. He placed a sweet kiss on her lips. He brushed a hand over her bulging pregnant belly, “You think it’s another boy?”

“I hope not,” Ness laughed.

Grayson smirked and kissed her again, “At this rate, I think we could make a whole team.”

 (A/N: Thank you so much for reading, especially if you were someone who started reading from the beginning. This story took over my blog like a whirlwind and it’s been a lot of fun. I’m still more than happy to do pre-fic or post-fic concepts if you want to send them in. Also, I never posted it but I did work out a story for Ethan in this AU: who he ends up with and what happens to him so let me know if you’re interested in that arc. As always, I love getting feedback from you guys. I hope this week brings you all of the positively and light you need)