#this is too many words but i rewrote it twice and could not make it shorter?? perplexed?? apologies

[redroomreflections]

Paint It Black Chapter 1 - Cracks In The Mirror

Teen Natasha Romanoff x Teen Reader

Masterlist | General Masterlist

Summary: Natasha Romanoff has never known love—or at least, that’s what she tells herself. During her time in the Red Room, she encountered a girl whose memory was forcibly erased from her mind. Now, as an Avenger, she faces a new enemy who turns out to be more than just a threat; they share a tangled history that challenges everything Natasha thought she knew about herself and love.

Chapter Summary, Reader disrupts Natasha’s rigid training routine, introducing her to small acts of rebellion while hinting at the dangers of being Dreykov’s favored.

W/c: 3k

A/N: I have been sitting on this for 2-3 years. Rewrote it plenty of times, but I really want this out in the world (mostly for myself, lol)

Warnings: This is a dark story, so read at your own risk. Mentions/hints of SA, violence, guns, and abuse. We're exploring the red room and Natasha's origins, kind of.

The room was cold, but sweat dripped down Natasha’s spine. She moved in perfect sync with the other girls, her limbs precise, her breathing steady. She didn’t dare falter. 

"Front tendu!" Tap. Tap. Tap. 

“Tendu side.” Tap. Tap. Tap. 

The words were yelled across the training room. A long, thin stick in wrinkled hands, tapping against the hardwood floors in measured beats. Girls stood in rows. All shapes, sizes, and ages. They moved their limbs with precision. There was focus and determination on every single face. A hidden wariness of falling out of line kept them from making the slightest mistake. Their bodies moved and bent to the will of the woman standing before them. The sound of feet sliding to their correct positions could be heard as the tapping of the ruler kept them going. Its tapping served as a reminder. One wrong move could be their hands, legs, or behinds. The soreness would last until the following day, disallowing them to sit or feel anything but the pain of their mistakes.

“Tendu side. Tendu back.” Over and over again. The mirror stretched across the room, reflecting each girl as they stared straight ahead, unblinking. This was routine, ingrained in them after years of practice. Ballet wasn’t just about grace—it was control. Every movement was drilled into them for flexibility, precision, and discipline.

 Madam B. walked through the small class with a heated expression. Her face was all hard lines and wrinkles. Her frown seemed to be permanently set. Her hair was pulled impossibly tight into a slick bun, leaving little room for tension and no hair out of place.

Natasha, short, thin, and less reserved than the others, stood proudly as she moved her feet. She was out of practice. Years of being away would do that to her. Her body ached with the use of muscles left untouched. Her knees buckled for a millisecond, but she fixed them. She squared her shoulders and breathed in through her nose and mouth. Her eyes never left the mirror in front of her. She was too focused.

A sharp crack of wood against the skin broke the rhythm. One of the girls flinched, her body folding in on itself for just a moment before she scrambled back into position.

Natasha didn’t flinch. She couldn’t.

From the corner of her eye, she saw you. You stood out of sync, your movements deliberate and slow, almost mocking.

Madam B’s stick struck twice against your thigh, then your shoulder. You didn’t react. Not really. A flicker of pain crossed your face before your lips curved into a slight, defiant smirk.

Natasha’s chest tightened. Trouble. That’s what you were.

"Yobanaya suka (fucking bitch)," you muttered to yourself from behind her. Natasha couldn’t help but wonder where you learned so many colorful words. She’s heard half a dozen since you chose your spot beside her almost an hour ago. She glanced in your direction, finding that you'd stepped out of position.

Madam B. tapped the ruler against the floor twice in a warning. You ignored it and continued stretching. Natasha didn’t miss the smirk that formed on your face.

You knew what you're doing.

She watched Madam B. walk over to you again, her movements quicker this time. She stood before you, her back rigid and her head held high. You looked up at her through fluttering lashes.

Madam B's lips curved into a thin, sharp smile as she stood before you, her voice cutting like a blade. "Dreykov’s prized little doll," she drawled, the mockery laced with venom. "So delicate, yet he lets you pretend you're special."

Your hand twitched at your side, a brief betrayal of the calm exterior you wore. As Madam B did, Natasha noticed, her eyes narrowing with satisfaction.

Her voice sliced through the air, dripping with derision. “Dreykov’s shining star. Always so perfect, aren’t you? Though we both know perfection comes cheap when you’re his favorite.”

You didn’t flinch. Your hand stilled at your side, and your face hardened into something unshakable, unreadable. Without missing a beat, you slid effortlessly into the next movement, your lines precise.

Madam B hovered momentarily, waiting for a crack, a tell. When none came, her sneer deepened. “Impressive,” she muttered, though her tone made it sound like a curse. She turned on her heel, the sharp click of her boots fading as she moved on, leaving you untouched but more closely watched.

Class today was boring for you. It was the same old things and the same old people. The same fifteen girls since you were four years old. Natasha has just been transferred into your age group and is a year or so younger than you. You didn’t know her that well. Only things you’d heard whispered about her from within the halls of the Red Room. Natalia Romanova is a spitfire. She’s quick-witted, fearless, and disciplined. Looking at her, you’re not convinced of any of those things. Though, you’d be a fool to think otherwise. People could be surprising.

You studied Natasha for a while.  With each extension, each plié, she navigated the dance floor effortlessly, her every movement purposeful and controlled. There was an air of mystery surrounding her, and you couldn’t help but be intrigued.

But the more you looked, the more you found her boring.

Everything about her screamed perfectionist. She seemed to have it all together and knew what she was doing. You, on the other hand, were bored. 

Determined to uncover the enigma that was Natasha, you made it a mission to learn more about her. She was your competition, after all. Dreykov whispered about her when he thought you weren’t listening. He praised her every chance he got. You needed to stay ahead.

*******

The halls were buzzing during the transition, though no one dared raise their voice above a whisper. Natasha had always imagined this was what middle school must’ve felt like—girls moving in packs, their identical uniforms blending into a single, faceless entity. White poplin shirts were pressed to perfection, black skirts were grazing their knees, and knee-high socks were pulled taut. No strand of hair was out of place; every ponytail was slicked back tight enough to ache. No individuality. No room for it.

Natasha lingered near the edge of the group, blending in but feeling distinctly apart. That was when you appeared at her side, your voice low, almost a murmur.

“Come with me,” you said, your hand brushing hers before locking onto her wrist. The touch was light, fleeting, but it made Natasha stiffen.

“What are you doing?” she hissed, pulling back slightly, though you didn’t let go.

“I’ve got a place,” you said, not bothering to explain more. “We can skip the next class.”

Natasha stared at you like you’d grown a second head. “We can’t just—”

“We can.” Your voice was steady, certain. “Unless you’d rather spend another hour listening to Madam B tear into us.” You tugged her gently, your steps deliberate as you weaved through the flow of girls. “Trust me.”

Natasha hesitated, but her curiosity—her reluctance to stand out in the hall—won out. She followed.

You didn’t stop until you reached a side corridor, the girls thinning around you—a clearing. Ahead, a door with the sign “RESTRICTED” leading to a narrow staircase stretched upward. You glanced over your shoulder.

“Keep up,” you said, already slipping through the door. Natasha followed reluctantly, trailing you up the steps, her grip tightening on the railing. 

“There are cameras,” Natasha said, her voice low and disbelieving.

“Not for another thirty seconds,” you replied, already moving toward the top of the staircase. You didn’t look back at her. “The cameras will swing back this way soon, so if you’re staying, stay. Otherwise, go back now.”

Natasha froze, indecision rooting her to the spot. She could feel the seconds ticking away, each heavier than the last.

“Your call,” you said over your shoulder, not waiting for her answer.

Natasha exhaled sharply, her feet carrying her forward before she could stop herself. The cool air hit her first, causing a shiver up her spine as she watched you. Maybe this was a trap. Maybe she shouldn’t have trusted you. 

"Don't you love being outside?" You twirled effortlessly, the movement precise, like muscle memory. When you stopped, you glanced back, catching Natasha’s wary eyes darting across the rooftop.

"This is a bad idea," she said, her voice flat, her shoulders stiff. She didn’t move from the doorway.

You laughed softly, leaning against the edge of the low wall. The wind caught your hair, tugging at the strands you sliced back. You didn’t care. “Maybe. But it’s better than listening to Madam B drone on about posture, right?”

Natasha didn’t answer, her eyes still scanning, her arms folded tightly.

“You ever do something just because you wanted to?” you asked, tilting your head as you studied her.

She finally looked at you, her brow furrowing slightly. “No,” she said, blunt and quiet. “Widows follow the rules.”

You smiled, a little sharper now, but your voice stayed light. “Rules are boring. You should try breaking one sometime.” You pushed off the wall and took a step closer to her. She didn’t flinch, but you could feel the tension radiating off her. She was too careful, too rigid.

“Aren’t you afraid?” she whispered after a beat, her voice so low you almost missed it.

You grinned, shrugging one shoulder. “Of what? Getting caught? Been there, done that.” You glanced at the rooftop around you, then at the open sky. “Up here, though? There’s nothing to be afraid of.”

The wind brushed against your face as you stepped onto the ledge of the rooftop wall, your arms outstretched for balance. You moved effortlessly as if you had done it a hundred times—because you have. “Relax,” you called over your shoulder, the corners of your lips quirking. “I’ve been up here dozens of times. It’s fine.”

Natasha stood frozen by the doorway, her arms crossed tightly. Her eyes tracked every step you took. “You fall, I’ll get in trouble,” she warned, her tone clipped.

You glanced back at her, unbothered, and twirled on your heel like a circus performer. “Nah, I won’t fall. And even if I did, what are they gonna do? Ground me?”

“Maybe not,” Natasha said, her voice dropping, “but you’re Dreykov’s star student.”

That stopped you. Your smile faded, and you hopped down from the wall with practiced ease, landing softly. You crossed your legs on the ground and began picking at the frayed knee of your tights, pretending not to care. “So what?” you muttered, your fingers moving restlessly. “You look like you needed this,” you said, changing the subject.

Natasha didn’t move at first. She watched you, unsure, her arms still crossed as she shivered against the chill. Finally, she took a hesitant step forward, then another, until she was close enough to sit beside you. You felt the warmth of her body as she edged closer, but you didn’t shift away, even though you could feel her gaze studying you.

“I know you,” Natasha said quietly, her voice laced with suspicion. “You’re always with him. He seems to like you a lot.” She glanced at your tights, your pointe shoes, then back up to your face. “Is that where you got the key to get up here?”

“Yes,” you said simply. Then, after a beat, you added, “Not like I had a choice.” Your voice was even, but the weight of your words lingers in the air. You tapped your fingers rhythmically against your legs, your eyes flitting to the open sky.

“Why does he like you so much?” Natasha pressed, her tone more curious than accusing now.

You looked at her, then back down at your knees. “As long as he doesn’t like you, it doesn’t matter,” you snapped, the words sharper than you intended. Natasha flinched, her shoulders shrinking inward. Regret crept in, and you sighed. “Sorry,” you mumbled, your gaze drifting back to the sky.

For a moment, it was quiet. Then you spoke again, your voice softer then. “When Dreykov takes a special interest in someone, it’s not good. You don’t want that. Trust me.” Your fingers kept tugging at the hole in your tights. “But I’ve learned how to use it. It gets me things—keys, a little freedom, a little breathing room. I can mouth off sometimes, and he lets it slide. Usually.”

You glanced at her out of the corner of your eye. “He’s got his eye on you, though. You're all he talks about since you came back from Ohio.”

Natasha frowned, confusion flashing across her face. “Why? I’ve barely done anything.”

You shrugged, looking back up at the sky. “Maybe that’s why. Or maybe he sees something in you. Either way, you should be careful. You don’t want to end up like me.”

She didn’t reply, but you caught the flicker of something in her eyes—curiosity, maybe. Or doubt."I think it's because you're a good girl. A rule-follower. Someone who knows how to distract others. I'm not. He wants you to be his best soldier."

"He wants to mold us into the perfect killers." Natasha frowned.

"That's why they make us dance," You said, "To teach us the grace and balance we'll need."

"Men like pretty girls who can do damage," You muttered. "You seem like the type."

"Oh," Natasha nodded. She's not sure what any of that means. She looked at your feet and then her own. "How old are you?"

"I think fourteen?" You tried to remember. "I'm not sure. I just had a birthday, so..."

You leaned forward, stretching your limbs until you could touch your toes. You peeked between your fallen curls to look at Natasha. She followed your every move. You sat up again to look at her.

"Do you like it here?" You asked her.

"It's the only home I know," She said, "And it's all I'm good at. Do you?"

"No," You said with a frown, "I despise this place.”

"I think we can be friends, Natalia." You held out your hand for her to take. 

“Friends?” She repeated the word as if it was foreign to her. She looked down at your hand. This could only mean bad things. But she shook it anyway. 

As you and Natasha released hands, footsteps approached from the shadows beyond the roof door. You barely have time to process the sound before a figure appeared—a tall, older soldier, maybe eighteen at most, with a roughness that spoke of years hardened by the Red Room. He had a scar that ran along his jawline, his gaze sharp and scrutinizing as it landed on the two of you. Instinctively, you straightened, keeping your face blank and ready for whatever he might demand.

“What are you two doing here?” His voice was gravelly, making you wonder what he’s been through to end this way. He crossed his arms, looking between you and Natasha with a disapproval that seemed all too familiar.

“I asked a question,” he repeats in English this time, his eyes narrowing. “This is a restricted area.” He stepped closer, and you felt Natasha’s shoulders tense beside you. You saw her instinctively brace herself, her fists tightening at her sides, but you placed a subtle hand on her arm, urging her to let you handle it.

“Just clearing our heads,” you answered calmly, meeting his gaze without flinching. “Training has been… intense.”

He gave a harsh, humorless chuckle, his eyes flicking down to your ballet slippers and then back up. “You think any of us get to clear our heads? Or take little strolls without a consequence?” He sneered. "Dreykov lets you off the leash, and this is what you do with it?”

You could see the threat in his stance, his arms bulging, muscles straining as he clenched his fists. It's the stance of a man who knows how to cause pain. 

"I should bring you to him and tell him you've been causing trouble. He'd like that."

"And maybe we should tell him you're a bully," You didn’t back down.

"You think you're immune because he f-"

You spit on his shoe. He didn’t need to finish that sentence.

"Disrespectful little brat," He growled, reaching for you. Natasha moves before you do. However, she paused when you spoke.

"You touch either of us, and Dreykov will have your head," You promised him.

The man paused and glared. "You little-"

"I will give him the honor," You told him, "Now, if you'll excuse me, I'll be taking my leave."

"You have to go back to class anyway." He reminded you.

"Not if I don't want to," You shrugged.

He scoffed. "I'd like to see that,"

"You will," You promised, turning your back on him. You grabbed Natasha's hand and tugged her toward the door. You walked off, and Natasha was the first to speak.

"I don't like him,"

"No one does," You told her.

"Why did he call you...that? Say that Dreykov likes..."

"I'm his favorite," You told her. You didn’t say it smugly or with pride. It’s simply a fact. You couldn’t lie. She already knew. It was a secret, but it was not. Everyone knew.

"That's why they treat you differently." Natasha nodded to herself.

"They treat you differently, too,"

"Yeah, but not like they do to you," Natasha suggested.

"You have no idea," You mumbled. "Anyway, are we cool Natasha?"

"We're cool," She nodded.

"Good, now go get dressed. You can't wear your ballet outfit to the infirmary."

"Right," She nods her head. "The infirmary? Why?

"We’re going to be getting excuses from my favorite nurse,” You grinned. 

The last thing she expected when she arrived back at the Red Room was to make a friend. As Natasha headed toward the dorms, she couldn't help but look back at you, her new friend, in this cold, barren place. There’s a flicker of warmth, the briefest feeling of connection she hadn’t known she needed. Even though she’s been trained to rely on no one but herself, knowing someone understands makes the isolation a little more bearable.

---> next part

[oscengrim]

The anxious feeling of wanting to write something, but then never getting the nerve to publish or actually finish it. There are so many drafts, so much research for one fandom, yet actually finding the words to make good fanfiction feels impossible.

So many of my works get decommissioned before I even publish the first chapter because I just can't.

Some decommissioned works that didn't get around to but were major projects with hours of work behind it. This is not mentioning my many doctor who projects that I dropped over the years.

As She Drowns —Finnick O'dair | Enemies to Friends to Lovers |

"Igne natura renovatur integra" Through fire, nature is reborn whole.— Latin Proverb

Summary: A smile here, a wave there, the 67th Hunger Games made Emrin Grazewin an expert at playing the Capitol except Emrin hates the Hunger Games. She hates the Capitol. She hates President Snow, and most importantly, she hates Finnick Odair, not that anyone would ever know it. Of course, no one would ever know. They couldn't know, not when Snow decided that the Capitol needed a distraction and what better way then a relationship scandal.

Reason for decommission: I was unsure where I wanted to start in Emrin's story. Ended up writing part of her Games, resulting in me getting exhausted as I struggle with writing dialogue. This was a more recent drop as stopped writing this like a month ago.

Once Bitten, Twice Shy— Supernatural |found family

This one barely got its feet off the ground. I rewrote it so many times. I wanted my OC, Maxine Clarke, to be independent. I loved the way Dean was with children in supernatural, so I was like, "Hey, what if Sam & Dean found a teenager who was just as reckless as they are at times." Of course, they would try and discourage her from hunting, but after a while, they just get tired of her just showing up places that they just sort of adopt her into Team Freewill.

I bounced back and forth between how old she would be, the timeline, what season to start in. Overall, it was just a mess that I got super tired of and deleted most of my work out of frustration. I love found family, and I don't think I could ever get enough of them.

Yours Truly Joan John, ��� 1940! Steve Rodgers

Oh boy this one was a cringy one. So much research only for me to hate it. Way to much of a Mulan concept going. What can I say, got bored. Researching for this one was fun thought, writing not so much. I struggle with writing as it is but adding the element of the 1940s was a major yikes.

Most recent project

Undetermined name —Young! Din Djarin

So exciting. I've been working on this for week or two. Trying to navigate through the cringe of the earthling trope but it's been a blast to plan out. Plotting Corrie's journey and researching Mandolorian culture has interested me. The idea behind it being, "What if two foundlings found comfort in eachother." I just — my heart. I haven't wrote most of the romance yet as it's been soooo slow to get the build on how she comes across the Mandolorians but I really hope I don't drop this one before release as it's just too cute.

[wolfjackle-creates]

Ooh, wait, I have thought about this a lot.

I've been off and on writing since I was in highschool. Back then it was with paper and pencil during class. And I never finished anything. Nor was what I wrote that good. But I enjoyed it and it kept me from getting bored in class.

Then I went to college where I had an intense major (18 credits a semester for 2 semesters a year for 5 years then a year of school-sponsored, unpaid internships). I started working part time in my 2nd year, too, so yeah. I managed nano twice during that, but it was literally just word vomit and not that great.

In fact, it took until 2018 for me to really start trying to write again. And I got nowhere until 2020 when I joined a new fandom and made a writer friend and got an idea and forced myself to put it down.

But I wasn't very good. I didn't have the discipline to sit down and write. I needed to really force myself to learn how to craft a story. I had the plot and the characters all figured out, but getting it written? That was hard.

So I wrote something and it wasn't that good. But then I rewrote it and focused on *how* I was telling the story and it got better. It took me so many rounds of editing to get that 24k fic to something I could be proud of. And I am proud of it. After all of that, it turned out pretty damn good if I do say so myself.

And I did that a few more times over the next 2 years.

And then, not quite a year ago, in Nov 2022, I did something new. I'd gotten invested in a new fandom about a year ago (Aug 2022) and this fandom shares prompts like you wouldn't believe. So in November, I saw one that burrowed into my head (hi @gremlin-bot!!!). And I went with it. I went into a haze and wrote 3k in a single night. Only spent 2 days on editing before I posted.

Since then? I've done that a dozen times. If you go to my blog, you can see a masterpost of quite a few stories, the majority of them have been written in the last 10 months.

And what have I realized? My first drafts are getting better. I don't need to do full rewrites and 2 rounds of heavy edits and 4 rounds of line edits to get something that I'm okay with sharing anymore.

If I hadn't started by learning how to edit, I don't think I would've gotten to the point I'm at now. I needed to learn how to fix bad prose before I could learn to write good prose on the first go around. But at the same time, it wasn't until I started writing prolifically that I was really able to improve in leaps and bounds. My improvement before was slow and tedious. Now it's beyond obvious to me. And that's happened in the last 10 months because of how much of it I've done.

But I did need to be an editor first. That is what helped me figure out word choice and sentence structure and how to make a story flow.

I'm not a perfect writer, of course. And there are definitely things I still need to improve (descriptions. I'm not a visual person and I hate trying to describe things). But I'm so much better than I was 3 years ago when I really sat down and wrote my first story to completion.

I’m curious when it comes to getting better at writing, do you genuinely try to fix your mistakes, is it editing or just plain keep writing and writing even if it’s published after the first draft to get better? Like write story after story to get better at writing?

Improving your writing

This is a very interesting question. And I think my answer would be kinda... both? I think the best way to improve your writing is through editing, because it forces you to really think about the writing, the style, the words with intention. BUT creativity is also kinda like a muscle, you need to exercise it. Thus, writing a lot can also be important, it's practice. The more you write and the more you edit, the easier it is to apply the intention you learned by editing while writing. So it kinda goes hand in hand!

What do you guys think?

[darkfinch]

so. I'm less inclined to be charitable to her for obvious and unfair reasons but. quinn's mother. if rabbit felt betrayed by her decision (and if he was initially reassured that she would be training quinn) then they must have been friends in adulthood as well as childhood? what was that like? did they ever work together?

sigh. yeah. quinn’s mom (who has kind of a sophie relationship to names, but is currently going by Alina, so let’s please call her alina for the sake of me not having to write “quinn’s mom” 30 times and Also because reducing her down to just Mother Of Child She Does Not Know is. weird).

she’s a few years older than him, so she was already out of the house and working by the time he started his mentorship with jean-loup, and they only really saw each other for holidays (but it was one of those friendships where you can see them after a year apart and it’s like you hung out yesterday). 

usually part of a mentor’s job is to be kind of an In, if they’re good, so they’ll set their kid up with a couple of contacts to make getting into the business a little easier. rabbit, uh, does not get that; alina hears about the jean-loup thing and flies back to babusia’s the next day, like, “so is this a funeral dinner or are we clapping for you” (it’s a “babusia needed something to do with her hands so we’ve got a lot of food now” dinner), and then she offers to let him tag along for a bit.

they settle into a system: rabbit plans, alina fulfills the contract, rabbit sets up across the street with a rifle in case of emergencies, they split the paycheck and anything they steal. neither of them Like Teamwork, but they were trained together, they fight well together, and they trust each other which is fucking RARE, so they keep the partnership going for a couple of years (taking solo jobs in between).

(eventually, rabbit’s established enough that he’s getting good work on his own, and alina’s looking to get more into grifter-y long con type jobs, so they go their separate ways, no hard feelings <3)

when it gets Weird is when alina shows up to christmas dinner in Province, Canada, after six months of radio silence, with the most normal man you’ve ever seen. the most boring possible guy, the guy whose picture shows up when you look up Guy in the dictionary. Bathroom-gender-sign-ass dude.

Also, she’s pregnant, and she’s going to be Normal now, don’t worry about it. please don’t talk about crimes in front of Normal Guy <3

when it gets Weirder is when she 1) distances herself further from the family over the next few years “for a clean break”, and then 2) SUDDENLY ditches the toddler with Normal Man and calls rabbit out of the blue like “hey i’m getting back into the game :3 are you free”. and he’s like, *double checks that he’s not hallucinating* “what the fuck are you talking about”

Anyway, he says yes (he kind of always does), and they do take a couple more jobs together after that, but alina’s more interested in more grift-heavy jobs, more blackmailing and homicidal dinner parties etc, and rabbit’s more interested in Shoot Guy From Distance, so it doesn’t really work out. she still visits babusia to say hi, she still mentors a couple of kids, they all still kind of act like Normal Baby never happened—

—and then quinn shows up. and suddenly Normal Baby is an actual physical child who, it turns out, was NOT okay with Normal Man living an idyllic suburban lifestyle. and rabbit knows what alina’s like, she is how she is, he sighs about it but accepts that she just…isn’t particularly Concerned about other people’s feelings, and that’s fine—except now rabbit’s watching this kid watch alina, when she visits, and watching him get Nothing from her, and he’s like. ohhhhhh that’s a problem

(quinn’s thirteen and poking at their campfire with a stick, a little dejectedly, because baba showed him some photos of baby rabbit + alina, and he’s like, do you just like me ‘cause you knew my mom, like he’s thinking maybe rabbit’s just looking at him and seeing her, like his dad did, maybe

and rabbit drags quinn’s chair back a safer distance from the fire, and adds another log, like, I like you ‘cause you’re you, and if i’m honest i like her a little less now that i know...you…… where’s—did—look at me, did you seriously eat half a bag of marshmallows? …don't laugh, I was gone for like Five Minutes, sunny, what the Fuck—)

the mentorship thing’s a betrayal because there are exactly two people on earth rabbit can go to when he’s having a crisis about something. Alina, who is Historically Speaking one of them, watches him try to breathe around what if someone’s fucking awful to him, what if they do a shit job, what if they get him killed, and very hesitantly goes, “well. I could maybe do it, if it comes to that. I mean i’d have to think about it, but you have a year left, don’t worry about that yet” 

And babusia talks to her about it too, and reassures rabbit, and so when the Time Comes rabbit’s like. well, of course she will. right. of course she will, even if it makes her uncomfortable, even if it’s awkward. this one person he loves is of course going to do the right thing for this other person he loves, of Course.

and then she doesn’t, and he doesn’t speak more than two words to her for the next three years

[stnaf-vn]

Hi!

I was wondering if you could tell us why you started working on STNAF and what got you inspired and how long it took you to put out the demo?

I’ve been wanting to start a VN but I guess I don’t really know where to start? And yours is just… amazing, I love it a lot. I played twice and got the friend? and boyfriend endings! I’m excited to see the whole game

I guess I’m just wondering what the process was like to make (and still are making) STNAF

Eeeeee I'm excited to learn about your story!! This may be a little long but I'll try to explain it as best as I can!! Well....for starters I didn't actually expect anyone to be invested in this LMAO. I was just like "Man...it'd be cool to make a game." I was going to just base it off the animation but....I thought Friend's character deserved more substance than 'mean, manipulative Friend' So, I love the yandere trope and I think it's so interesting, so I made him a yandere. All game devs start at ground 0, but if you want to make a VN, there's loads of information in LemmaForums, Reddit, Youtube, and you could also ask game devs for advice as well!! (Lord knows how many times I asked @queenlilithprime for help) It took me quite a long while, the demo would have came out a lot sooner if my Macbook wasn't a piece of garbage, but honestly I'm glad it didn't and I'm glad I pushed it back. The original demo had some of the worst art I ever created and I was ashamed of myself for wanting to so badly get it out there I sacrificed quality. So, I pushed it back. Rushing yourself on anything is never a good thing, especially when it's a project you care about so deeply. I rewrote the script three times in the past two months because I couldn't decide on how I wanted the story to progress. Then I came up with the story you know now, and let me tell you: At this point I was BURNT OUT. I was afraid I wasn't being the best I could be, and if I can be completely transparent, there were times where I thought other game devs could handle the story better than I could. But,I started it and I refused to let it be half finished. So, I sent it over to beta testing and there were quite a few bugs. Lily helped me so much work through them and taught me some cool coding tricks. They also helped me get rid of that quick menu (which was more difficult than I expected LMAO) And, well, now here we are! Demo is out, and it's gotten such amazing feedbacks and small things that'll make it even better when I get the chance to update it. My way of working starts like this: 1. Synopsis. Writing down a short paragraph of what the game will be about and how each chapter/day will go is super helpful! Think about what you want your VN to be like. Do you just want to make a short and sweet VN, or do you have a full story to tell? Pull up a Word or Google doc, and write down a small synopsis. 2. Assets/Sprites. Once you have the idea down, fine-tune it so you know what type of sprites and assets to make (backgrounds, props, music, etc.) This is where you get ~artsy~. I use Procreate for my stuff. 3. Game Script. This can be the tricky part. I use Ren'Py for my VNs and I use Atom to edit/write. It's just easier for me since I am familiar with Atom, but there's tons of different text editors out there (Although Atom quit on me, so I switched to VSCode. ) 4. Beta Testing!! You ideally want to give yourself around 3-4 weeks to fully beta test and work out any bugs you might encounter (having others play it can be super helpful too)

There are probably other ways to do it, but this is just what's easiest for me!

So...I hope that helps Anon!! If not, my DMs are open if you need any assistance!

[zellerysworld]

『 𝐖𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐒𝐮𝐧 𝐑𝐢𝐬𝐞𝐬 』

Sukuna x GN!Reader

WC: 6.7k

Tags: Angst, murder, reincarnation, heavy violence, language, suggestive themes, heavy trauma, mentions of genocide, origin story, slight soft sukuna

I rewrote this bitch three times trying to perfect it- and I’m still not 100% happy with it because there’s so many ways I wanted to write this. Plus I didn’t get the promotion at work so I just got depressed. anyways I wrote the story but @cqcophobiq requested a gender neutral reader. <3

A/N: Readers abilities are touching people to make them sleep, transfer memories, and see past (for those with DID, talk to the souls within the persons mind). They serves as a informant by going inside victims heads to look in their pasts for curses that were around them; informing teammates of location and grade level. They can also gain powers from whomever they touch for a short period of time.

Ex: Sukuna can give Malevolent Shrine to them for battle, but after one use/within five minutes, it vanishes. If they use powers that are harsh on the body, (domain expansions or strong cursed manipulation) they faint/get nose bleeds. *Reader only has abilities in modern times*

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Around 1000 years ago, you ventured out into the woods seeking to kill a god. 1000 years later, you are reincarnated so you may meet this god once again.

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Fear: that is all you felt while you watched the mass murderer known as Ryomen Sukuna walk throughout the same forest you were in. It took so long to hunt him down, and now the moment has finally come. You have trained for years to defeat the villain of your story, but his presence was more intimidating than you had anticipated.

He stopped to bend down, putting out a hand to stroke a sleeping fox. Surrounding the regular-looking male was a meadow filled to the brim with tall grass and flowers, hidden away by bamboo and birch trees. Everything looked so peaceful around Sukuna, as if he was a Dryad. ‘How could he look so peaceful?’ You thought to yourself. It also felt as if you were lied to, since most people told you he had facial marks and four arms, which he did not have.

It looked as if he were another human; that was until you flimsily attempted to move forward. Having been hiding within a large bush, you couldn’t see what was beneath you. And just like, a cracking sound emitted from the twig below you. You closed your eyes and rolled your shoulders back, whispering to yourself, “Oh fu-.”

Now, how exactly did you get yourself into this situation? And why were you in the middle of an uncharted forest trying to stalk Ryomen Sukuna? Well, it is a rather gruesome story for you to look back upon.

The Heian Age is at its peak in Japan, while Jujutsu sorcery is also at its peak as a ripple effect. (Many young children in this period began to claim they have “seen” curses.) Ryomen Sukuna was a young sorcerer, having attended the very school you attended. While amid his fourth and final year, and in your first year, he burned down almost every inch of the school alongside slaughtering over half of the staff and students.

You took it upon yourself to track him down with the intent to kill for revenge. Teachers that survived had entrusted you with information about him after learning of your plans. Granted most told you not to do it, but the ones that supported it told you information of his appearance, how he secretly practiced sacred and forbidden jujutsu techniques, and his unwavering strength. With every day that passes, Sukuna grows stronger at rates nobody can foretell.

So here you are, three years after the incident. The reason for why he did it is still unknown; But you trained to your breaking point for this moment to happen- having bled, cried, screamed, and thrown up countless times. Your classmates called you insane for thinking you could beat Sukuna, but none of their words mattered to you. Sukuna stole people from your life that you could never get back.

Now, back to your current situation. Sukuna shot his head up to the sound, his lips curving to reveal blades for teeth, “Myyyyyy Myyyyy!!! Do I have a challenger?” His voice stunned you, fear engulfing your mind as his body morphed into a four armed and nearly 8 foot tall being with black markings wrapped around his body. Although barely visible, Sukuna first saw your eyes that had such a curious wonder that was tinted with rage.

Before you could even take your bandages off to fight, he was behind you and holding your neck, “A jujutsu sorcerer, huh?”

Air left your lungs faster than anticipated, causing you to slightly panic. You closed your eyes, then leaned your neck over in an attempt to play dead, which worked but to only half of its extent. When your neck rolled to the side, Sukuna slightly loosened his grip. This gave you room to breathe before catching him off guard with a back-kick to his ribs.

The unexpected hit made his brows furrow, anger stirring in his stomach at your cleverness. When your clogs hit the ground, you took off running as if an army of samurai were in pursuit behind. And although you were fast, Sukuna was faster. The sound of his footsteps gave the warning that he was gaining up to you.

Logs and fallen tree branches were dodged by your legs as your jumped over them, Sukuna following behind. The sound of crunching grass as the demon-like man pursued you made the experience even more terrifying, knowing that with every step you took, he took two. There were so many sounds, making it harder to think with the already small amount of time given to you.

You made the judgement call to stop, believing that you could backhand him from behind by catching him off guard. However, it became apparent that you made a grave mistake the second two muscular elbows hit the left side of your waist. The feeling of your ribs cracking on both of sides of your waist when you slammed against the tree made you scream out in pain. Your eyes widened at having never witnessed strength such as his nor pain such as this.

Out of response to the pain, tears formed at the edges of your squinting eyes as your back slid against the tree. Sukuna approached you, cracking his fingers in excitement of killing another jujutsu sorcerer such as yourself. However, you had a trump card that was now in play.

You bit down on a piece of cloth that held the bandages on your left hand together. Ripping the bandages off with your teeth, Sukuna let out a menacing laugh, “You really think jujutsu can help you now?”

His left hand strangled your neck, pulling you upwards to be eye level with him. When Sukuna noticed that your orbs showed no fear, his brows furrowed in curiosity. Just seconds before he was going to snap your neck, both of your hands latched onto his arm. You forced a nerve connection, sending sounds of people screaming, children crying, and raging fires into his head.

The sudden sounds caused Sukuna to release you from his grip, “What-what Is this…?” He looked around, trying to see where the sound was coming from. You leaned against the tree while holding your left side, “How could you forget?” He looked down to you, his eyes widening at the realization of where the sounds came from.

“Those are the sounds of the people you killed!”

Sukuna froze, realizing that you were not just an ordinary jujutsu user. Catching him while he was still confounded, you put all your force into an aggressive headbutt. He stumbled back a few feet before growling at the dripping blood from his scalp. When he looked up, a smirked was smeared across his blood-stained face, “You’ll die here.”

His hands joined, making the symbol for a domain expansion spell. However, you temporary gained his powers after touching his arm a few moments ago. As he opened his mouth, you cut him off while bringing your hands together, “Domain Expansion!”

“What?”

Your eyes rolled back, “Malevolent shrine!”

The domain built around him, fear striking Sukuna’s mind at the sight of seeing you mimic his powers. His technique was too powerful for your body to handle though, causing you to stumble. You blinked twice before coughing up blood into your hands. Sukuna walked forward as the domain fell apart, his interest being piqued at how your powers work.

Looking up at Sukuna, blood fell from the crevices of your lips before you fell onto the ground. His powers completely defeated you from within, being too harsh on your body. When you hit the ground, all that was in your tunnel of vision was black. It felt like it was just a few minutes that you had been knocked out, but when you opened your eyes, the forest surrounding you was nearly pitch black.

“You snore.”

Hearing Sukuna’s voice, your body snapped up from the ground beneath you to find him sitting against an oak log. When you tried to use your hands to fight him, you quickly became aware that they were tied up. You huffed at the feeling of the rope while noticing the black kimono you wore had been taken off to reveal your white Cossack.

Sukuna’s lids opened to reveal crimson-colored eyes. In his current state, he was back to being inkless and having two arms. He glared at you with a sense of sternness, “Tell me how you did that.”

“Did what?” You snapped back, having no respect for him.

“Listen,” he stood and walked over to you, bending his knees down so his face would be in yours, “Only reason you are alive right now is because I say so. So, either tell me how you did it, or I’ll cut your hands off with my fingernails.” He sat down in front of you, crossing his legs and arms.

To be honest, death seemed better than having to deal with this situation. Before replying to him, you had to think if you really wanted to explain your powers. Either way around, you were going to die so it didn’t matter. Talking about your powers only delays your inevitable future. And it’s obviously been hours, so if help would have come, they were either killed by Sukuna or never came.

You sighed, leaning your head back before making eye contact with him. “My technique was used by ancient sorcerers; They call it ‘Somnium Nexum’.”

“I know all of the jujutsu techniques; how come I have never heard of yours?”

“Well, if you would shut the fuck up then I could explain.”

Sukuna rolled his eyes at your disrespect, “Why do the generations become more disrespectful with each passing year?”

“Do you really have room to talk about disrespect?” You huffed, continuing, “My technique hasn’t been seen for hundreds of years now. It went extinct, until I was born that is. My hands… I use them to transfer memories to people, see memories of people, and temporarily steal people’s powers. That’s how I did it.”

“Those sounds were the people I killed. You were there that day?”

“Of course I was!” You shouted, anger filling your voice as tears formed at the edges of your eyes, “You killed people I loved! You ruined peoples lives…. WHY?! WHAT DID YOU GAIN?”

“I gained revenge.”

Silence fell between the two of you. The moon’s reflected light shined against your eyes as tears rolled down your flustered cheeks. Your lips parted to speak, but there were no words. Revenge? It didn’t make sense to you. What did all those people do to cause an anger such as his to exist?

Sukuna broke the silence, “If you run, I’ll kill you.” He leaned forward and reached a hand behind you, his lips being uncomfortably close to yours. Your thoughts closed at hearing a ripping sound, his hand pulling back.

“Look into my memories, and whatever questions you have will be answered. But then you’ll answer mine.”

You hesitated to move your hands, feeling fear in the back of your mind at how calm he was. Just a few hours ago, this man was trying to murder you in cold blood, but now he is acting… soft? It didn’t settle in your gut too well, but you had no other choice than to do what he says. Complying to his request, you raised your hand to rest the palm of it on his lower check and jawline.

“Close your eyes.” You commanded while closing yours.

He obediently closed them, letting the connection into his nervous system open into yours. The tears that were made at the thought of your dead classmates shifted towards tears of pain upon seeing Sukuna’s memories.

You watched from the background as jujutsu sorcerers stormed his childhood village and burned everything to the ground, both curses and humans alike. A young Sukuna was in the middle of it all, screaming for his mother as the fire surrounded him. From the fires, a sorcerer ran through and picked him up.

Sukuna screamed and kicked at the masked sorcerer. You noticed though, that the very badge that was embroidered onto your shirt was the same badge of the sorcerer carrying him.

When you turned to see where he was being carried, you noticed only the children were spared. You covered your mouth in disgust, seeing crying kids from ages of newborns to 5-year-olds being carried away. You watched a young Sukuna let out a loud screeching sound, black markings appearing on his face as his eyes turned red.

He sunk his teeth into the sorcerers’ shoulder and killed them, trying to run away before being caught by two other sorcerers who put him to sleep. One said through his mask, “This one is strong with cursed energy, he needs to be cleansed.”

You watched them carry him away. When you turned back around, you saw another memory of Sukuna at a slightly older age being tortured on a table as an instruction screamed out, “YOU ARE A DISGRACE!” Another memory appeared, the child being much older now as he sat in his room and communicated with a curse in its own language.

Memories upon memories flashed before your eyes of him training, talking to curses, and being tortured by humans. Then the memory that stained your mind of blood had appeared. The boy used his malevolent shrine against students and teachers alike, causing chaos with curses following behind him wherever he stepped.

Squinting to notice, you saw a pained look within his eyes as he killed the students that tried to fight him. He bent down to one and closed their eyes, “Humans have become the virus of this world. Jujutsu scholars are the creators of the virus.”

You came out of the link, speechless at everything you had just seen. Taking a deep breath, you looked into Sukuna’s eyes, “Why did they burn your village?”

He turned his neck to look away from your eyes, not wanting to be the person that breaks the truth to you. Although Sukuna didn’t know your name, he still felt an aching sensation at the bottom of his heart for you. There was finally someone else that he could tell of his secrets, but they were too painful. Yet he knew if he didn’t tell you, and instead killed you or forced you to go back, that you would never have a normal life anyways.

“Tell me, what’s your name?”

“Y/n L/n- but my name is not important. Tell me why they did that…”

“Y/n, do you know who your parents are?”

“Of course not. They sent me to the school when I was…”

“When you were what?”

Excruciating amounts of pain began to fill your heart. You saw the point he was making, and it stung your heart in an abundance of different ways. Everything around you seemed to disappear as you tried to remember who you were before attending this school. All that was found was blankness.

The early morning sky that beamed with stars of different shades seemed to become brighter as everything began to click. Nature surrounded you in this moment of harsh realization. It was comforting knowing that possibly a forest god was watching over you in the greens of their garden, but nonetheless painful.

You whispered with a cracking voice, “Why… Why did they tell us our parents sent us here…?”

“It was a coverup. Japan has become innovative these past two centuries, meaning out with the old and in with the new. Jujutsu sorcerers were falling behind, meaning they would eventually die out. So, they resorted to pillaging children. Although our fight was short, I can see that you have great strength and intelligence with your powers. You must have been a newborn when you were taken; otherwise, you’d remember.”

So many emotions ran through your mind all at once. Sorrow, pain, anger, rage, weakness, all of it. You hesitated, “So... -So, I never even had a chance?”

Sukuna looked into your eyes, “No.”

You gasped, feeling as if your lungs were collapsing while your breathing grew erratic. Everything you ever knew was a lie, and everything you were ever told was a lie. Any relationships you ever had with teachers was a lie, while any relationship you ever had with your classmates was fake. Sukuna saw how you struggled to take this information in, but he didn’t know how to make it easier for you.

‘Is there even an easy way out of this information?’ He thought to himself. Sukuna always knew everything around him was not real, so he couldn’t imagine the things you were feeling.

“Why didn’t… why didn’t you tell anyone? Why didn’t you try to find a way out and save everyone?”

Sukuna snapped back, “All of those kids are brainwashed beyond oblivion. Did you forget what you tried to do to me a few hours ago? If I were a normal person, you would have killed with that thing you did with your hands; And If I tried to tell people everything they ever knew was a lie, I would be dead.”

You slowly crawled backwards as he moved forward, “Do you think I caused all of that destruction alone? No. I had the help of curses, who are the only damn things that see humans for the shit they are! Over the years I have been out here alone, training and preparing myself for when I can defeat even the strongest of sorcerers.”

When he realized how uncomfortable you had become by his advancing, Sukuna moved back. “There was no helping them. The only reason I told you was because you would be forced to believe me.”

He was right. As much as you didn’t want to admit it, Sukuna was right. They would all try to kill him if he told them what had known on all along. Humanity’s biggest fault will always be the fact that they are afraid of the unknown, and when someone tries to show them the truth of the unknown, they freak out in fear. The only reason you were not freaking out was because there was no unknown; you saw it all with your own eyes through his memories.

“Tell me, what are you going to do now?” He asked, slicing your thoughts in half.

That was a loaded question for the current situation, but it was a question that needed an answer. You cannot go back now, otherwise they would find out you know more than you should with how bad of a liar you are. For all they know, you are most likely dead right now and not worth looking for. You were just another slave to the elders’ horrific commands.

“I don’t know… Run away maybe? Get out the country while I can? But even then, sorcerers are all around the world. I would get caught and be killed eventually. Do the rest of the sorcerers around the world know about Japan’s doings?”

Sukuna scratched at his head, “I don’t know. I never tried to leave, but I was never bothered until now either.”

The sun began to rise, cracks of its light seeping through the forest trees as the night faded to the back of the forest. You bowed your head with a loud sigh, not knowing what your next move will be. Confusion filled your mind while the rising sun’s warmth worked to comfort you in this state of despair. With your emotions being thrown around like a tossed salad, the silence sounded so loud right now.

Sukuna broke the silence by hesitantly suggesting, “Stay here with me, y/n. Just for another day or two. I want to know more of these powers of yours. Maybe by then you’ll figure something out.”

You looked at him with such curious eyes, seeing him totally shift from the manic demon he was yesterday to this calm man who had a vengeful heart filled with pain. Crossing your arms, you asked with a sarcastic tone, “Where do you even live?”

“Are you suggesting I sleep in the woods like an animal?”

“Perhaps.”

He rolled his eyes while clicking his tongue, “Farther up in the mountains. I live by a hidden spring.”

You tried to stand up with Sukuna, leaning on the tree for support. He forgot that a rib or two of yours had been broken upon contact when fighting with each other earlier, making him cringe at remembering how quick he was to become defensive. “Here.” He turned around, getting on his knees. Sukuna motioned for you to get on his back, it being easier on your ribs for him to carry you this way.

Click here for a nice theme song. <3

Sukuna carried you to a log cabin he had built in the time he spent out here. For a few days, your aching body rested there as you thought of your next move. However, those thoughts eventually fled your mind. Days turned to weeks, weeks turned to months, and months turned to years. Time passed on as you stayed hidden away deep within the forest with Sukuna. Over time, his vengeance was forgotten with you at his side. All both of you wanted was to enjoy the peace of solitude together.

Everything had been so peaceful over the years. Sometimes you and Sukuna would bicker as lovers do, especially since you two were the only ones you talked to besides curses, but ultimately both of you were happy. That was until the world decided peace was never a real option for anyone in this violently terrifying world.

Morning dew clung onto the windows of the cabin you shared with your husband. It was the break of dawn as you awoke next to a sleeping Sukuna. He lowly grumbled at your movements, pulling you back into the bed by your waist. “What are you doing?” He quietly asked with a scruffy morning voice while hovering over you. Loose strains of hair covered your eyes, Sukuna moving them so he could have a better look at you.

You held onto the back of his neck with your bandaged hands, “I’m going to the springs for a quick wash.”

The shirtless man lightly kissed at your cheek, moving lower to your neck as he gripped onto your hips to keep you below him. As tempting as it was to stay in bed with him and enjoy some morning affairs, your bones ached from the hunting that was done the day before. With a roll of your eyes, you pushed the built man from your body as if he was a feather.

He let out a loud groan while moaning, “I should have never trained you to become that strong.”

“Oh shush, I’ll be back soon you whiney child.”

You put on a long, white yukata before heading outside to greet the horses you and Sukuna had tamed. “Good morning Ryko,” you sang while petting the horse’s neck before mounting her. You rode just a few minutes upwards towards the east, where the hidden springs lied. Winter was beginning to fade as spring slowly made its way into season, so hunting is hard for you and Sukuna.

Usually in the winter months is when your back and sides ache from your fight all those years ago with him. The best way for you to sooth your pains is to relax in the warm springs that nature provided in the mornings or late afternoons.

Upon reaching the springs, you jumped off Ryko and led her towards a tree to keep her tied at. However, you began to feel uneasy at how Ryko kept neighing and trying to back away from the tree. “Shhh, girl. Nobody is here.”

The sound of other horses made you eat your words. Your eyes widened as you turned, jumping out of the way at the sound of a metal mechanism clicking and firing. Ryko was shot in the head, her body falling over and bleeding out in the snow. Panic filled your body, being caught completely off guard. What were they shooting with and why was it so fast? When you looked up, you noticed the people on the horses had the same symbol of your previous school.

“Son of a bitch…,” you spoke, furrowing your brows at the sight of them. You had no weapons on you, forgetting to bring your bow and arrow for long distance defense. From the bottom of your lungs, you screamed out, “SUKUNA!!”

As soon as you said the name, the sorcerers began to panic, “She said his name!”

“Quick, kill her before he comes! She must be a witch!”

“What if he kills us?!”

“JUST DO IT!”

You were already on your feet, taking off as fast as you possibly could. As much as you wanted to fight with the physical strength you had gained over the years, you knew the helplessness of your abilities. Even if you could outsmart them and bruise their physical appearance, you were no match for 5 sorcerers with guns all at once with your jujutsu technique. You may be a powerful jujutsu sorcerer alongside Sukuna, but long-range fighting was never an option with your technique.

Speeding into the distance with all you had, the freezing temperature of the snow against bare human feet was only making it worse for you. You had hope that you could run into the woods just in time, but there is no shift in what a speeding bullet does to a human body.

While a few minutes away, the first shot had Sukuna on his feet. His eyes flung open, the nerve-wracking sound of a weapon he didn’t recognize that is not too far caused him to panic. His tattoos appeared as he walked out into the snow barefoot with only palazzos on. He began running into the direction of the sound, knowing he would be faster on foot than on horseback.

From the distance, Sukuna heard his name being screamed out by your voice, which struck fear into his heart. The scream was followed by another shot not even 30 seconds later. He picked up his speed, tears forming at the edges of his rageful crimson eyes.

When he appeared from the branches, the sorcerers were taking off. As much as he wanted to pursue them, he needed to find you first. Before he could even see you, the stench of blood coming from his left filled his nose. He turned, and everything seemed to go into slow motion. He ran at your side, seeing you struggle to breathe from the bullet wound in your chest.

“Y/N, Y/N SAY SOMETHING!” He screamed out, falling onto the ground next to you. He held you up, putting his hands over the wound to try to stop the bleeding, “Come on, come on stay with me. It’s okay, it’s fine-“

“Ry-Suk…I…,” you struggled to breathe, blood flowing out of your chest faster than Sukuna could react too. His tears fell onto your cheeks as his hands became covered in your blood. The white Yukata you were wearing was turning an awful shade of red.

He pulled your hand up to his lower cheek, closing his eyes so you can start a link between him and you. When it started, you transferred everything you had seen to his memories so he would know what happened without you having to speak. When he opened his eyes, your hand fell from his cheek as your body quickly lost energy.

Sukuna held you in his now bloodied arms, rocking you back and forth while whispering, “It’s alright, you’re fine. Look at me, I’m right here.” He watched as you slowly lost consciousness, your eyes losing the spark of curiosity in them that he adored.

You blinked a few times, each time your eyes getting heavier and harder to keep open. You gave him a meek smile and croaked out, “When the sun rises again, will you find me?”

Rapid tears fell from both your eyes and his as he leaned his head into your chest, “I’ll find you.”

You looked into the sky with lazy eyes before shutting them for the final time. Your neck fell backwards, and your breathing stopped; Sukuna felt your heart’s final beat. Feeling your soul leave your body, he let out a loud scream into your chest that could be heard from miles away.

He sobbed into your cold body, only to lift his head with a newfound rage that has set his body on fire. His tearstained face spoke millions of words, all of them meaning the same thing: destruction. He laid your body against Ryko, kissing your forehead and whispering, “I’ll be back.”

Standing up with your blood staining his hands and torso, he morphed into his full form. His lips spread into a devilish smile as he ran his hands through his hair. His speed was almost at light, taking off into the forest while chasing the horse tracks in the snow.

The sorcerers rode at a fast pace, but it wasn’t fast enough. Sukuna passed them up, turning on his heels to face the oncoming horses. When they got close enough, he raised both of his hands and grabbed onto the horses’ heads, pushing them down into the ground. Both the horses and sorcerers riding them died from the impact, striking fear into the other sorcerers following behind them.

“TURN, NOW!” One yelled out before their head was ripped from their body by Sukuna’s hands. He called out with a demonic look in his eyes, “Don’t be afraid to come out my friends!” Curses of all grades came out from behind trees, sending everyone into a panic.

“SPREAD OUT!” A female sorcerer yelled out, making Sukuna turn. He ran into the horse, sending her and the horse flying into a tree. She let out a loud scream of pain as the horse landed on her legs, rendering her powerless. Sukuna approached her, bending down to be eye level with her as she panicked.

He tilted his head, “The person you happened to kill was my partner. And a partner is a man’s peace, but when they are taken, they become a man’s rage.” He grabbed her hair, ripping her body in half. “If they cannot live, nobody can! Women, children, and men alike! IT’S GOING TO BE A MASSACRE!”

Curses killed the sorcerers left and right, slaughtering both them and their horses. Ryomen Sukuna has died, but the king of curses has been born. Curses obeyed his every command in fear of his jujutsu techniques and inhumane abilities. The beginning of his world domination had just begun…

Over a thousand years has passed since that day, which brings Sukuna to the present. Yuji was in conversation with Megumi and Nobara, while Sukuna was off wondering around in Yuji’s head. However, a certain name caught his attention.

“Yeah! I heard they use an ancient technique called ‘Somnium Nexium’, it’s only been seen a handful of times in the last few hundred years.” Nobara chanted while walking with her friends.

Sukuna turned his head at the sound, awakening on Yuji’s face, “I’m sorry, what did you say?”

“Sukuna, go back!” Yuji yelled, groaning at the annoying curse.

He snapped back, “Oh shut the hell up. I heard Somnium Nexium.”

Megumi spoke, “There’s a new student. They use that power.”

“I bet your old ass has seen it before,” Nobara laughed.

Sukuna growled, “Matter of fact I have, and this brat could probably kill all of you with just one hand.”

Nobara’s shoulders shot up at his words, while Megumi cringed at the fact he’s most likely right. Yuji was just interested in getting to see them like the others though. However, the day was near its end, and everyone was heading into their rooms for the night. Yuji might have slept like a baby, but Sukuna stayed up in his mind all night.

He wanted to believe there was a possibility that it could be you, but from what the kids said, other people have been seen using the same ability. Wanting to dismiss the idea, Sukuna tried to not think on it and instead walk around Yuji’s head to annoy him, but that failed.

Night faded into day as the stars kissed the sky good morning. Another day began, and nothing was out of the usual. Just Sukuna being pissed he’s still in Yuji’s body after all of this time and training per usual.

Yuji made his way out of the dormitories after getting dressed, heading outside to see where Megumi was. He was also hoping to run into the new student so he could get to brag to Nobara that he meant them first. While walking down the outside corridor, Yuji pulled out his phone to text the group chat. In the midst of typing, he bumped into a student wearing a navy Hakama with a black kimono, the traditional sword training outfit for students.

For those who enjoy some theme music.(again hehe)

“Oh sor- Wait a second, you must be the new student! I’m Yuji Itadori.” He quickly bowed, giving you a large smile. Sukuna snapped out of his thoughts upon hearing Yuji’s thoughts when running into you; He hastily said within his mind, “Enchain!”

The sun took its place a tad higher in the sky to where it beamed against you. Your skin had a warm tone to it as the sun reflected into your eyes to create a small glint. Bowing your head as Sukuna took over Yuji’s body, you raised your head with closed eyes and smiled, “I’m Y/n L/n.”

When you opened your eyes, Yuji’s body had switched into Sukuna’s. It startled you before remembering that he was Sukuna’s vessel; yet it also felt as if you have meant Sukuna before. “You must be Sukuna. I feel honored that the king of curses took over Yuji just to see me,” you said with tremendous amounts of sarcasm.

Sukuna was speechless, his breathing going shaky at the sight of you. “Is it really you?”

You raised a brow while crossing your arms, “What are you talking about?”

He walked forward, wanting to get a closer look at your facial features. However, him walking closer caused you to back up out of discomfort. Your back hit against the railing of the wooden pathway, making you nervous. You snapped with a serious tone while ungloving your hands behind your back, “What do you want?!”

There was no response, just wide eyes, and a wide mouth. “Hey!” You yelled, but there was no response. Out of fear, you pulled your hand out and tried to grab his wrist to show something to scare him, but he already knew your move. Sukuna caught you by the wrist, then examined it to see if it was the same hand you had before.

Your eyes widened at how he knew what you were going to do, making fear begin to take over your body. “Don’t be afraid,” he spoke while moving your hand to his lower cheek. “Just… try to remember me.” So many questions ran throughout your mind, such as how did he know that people’s faces are what she touches? Either way, you were too afraid to decline what he was implying, so you closed your eyes at the same time as him.

The connection opened, allowing you to go into his memories. You walked around his mind, seeing yourself from his eyes whenever you first meant him over 1000 years ago. The memories flashed before your eyes, not understanding why you see yourself and how that was possible. Every bitter, sweet, intimate, aggressive, happy, and sad moment he ever had with you flashed before your eyes.

Colors you had never even seen before flashed past your eyes, showing you every detail of every moment you ever experienced with Sukuna. You saw a memory of yourself holding a bow and arrow, aiming it at a deer from far in the forest. When you took the shot, it struck the deer into the side.

You relaxed your shoulders, sighing in relief at making the hit. Sukuna watched with his arms crossed, “There’s so many ways that I love you, but by far my favorite way to love you is to watch you.”

With the roll of your eyes and a small smirk, you blushed and playfully punched his shoulder, “Let’s go get our dinner.”

Sukuna “loved” you? The sensations your body felt were foreign, making you feel nervous. There were moments where he held onto your hand while taking a walk through the forest, followed by other moments of him training with you in meadows. The moments you would hug his bare torso would turn into moments of intimacy, while moments of petty arguments would turn into moments of him holding you.

Love was the only thing you could feel from these memories. It was love that drove him to commit his crimes, and it was love when he would sit alone and ponder on what he’d do if he ever saw you again. He imagined that he would hug you tighter than he ever did before, destroy the world with you, and tell you everything he didn’t get to tell you before.

A squeezing sensation pained your heart, making you become so overwhelmed that you ripped away from the link. Sukuna looked into your eyes, seeing that curious look he saw in your eyes all those centuries ago when you first meant him in the forest. Shaking with anxiety, you moved forward to slowly wrap your arms over his body. He followed into the embrace, squeezing your back with his muscular arms while crying into your shoulder.

It felt unreasonable to fall into being the person you were in a past life, but you felt all the things he felt for you back then. Seeing his memories opened so many things in your life, when all along you thought you were just some regular jujutsu sorcerer who is the new kid at this school. In truth, you were never normal; seeing his memories just proves that. You grew up having dreams as a child that were always too blurry to see anything, but looking back you now understand that those weren’t dreams; They were your past.

When you closed your eyes, everything in your mind went blank. Upon opening them, they looked the same but had a slight change of hue that was barely noticeable. You pushed Sukuna away from you, starting to feel your old memories flood back in. He looked at you with a confused expression, not understanding what you were doing until you grabbed his face.

Your hands held his cheeks as you examined his eyes, “Sukuna? Is it really you?” You moved his face to see all the angles of his structure, trying to see if this was him. “Oh…,” There was hesitation in your eyes before tears began to fall from them, “You found me…” Sukuna pulled you back into the tight embrace of each other’s arms, holding onto one another like the world is falling apart around you.

From behind the corner, Megumi and Nobara watched with worried looks painted across their face. She whispered, “I feel like something bad just happened.”

There was rage within you, feeling your insides ache at the memory of how you died coming back to you. You were still the same person before gaining your memories back, but now enlightened of who you really were. Sukuna pulled back from the hug, looking beyond your eyes and into your soul. He could see the hungry look of vengeance within you.

Sukuna felt his time nearing its end as Yuji was fighting to come back in. He quickly held onto your shoulders with a crazed look in his crimson eyes, “Y/n, in due time we will take our revenge. Me and you, we will destroy the world.”

The next time the sun rises for Sukuna will be the last time it rises for the world.

⥈⥈⥈⥈⥈⥈⥈⥈⥈⥈⥈⥈⥈⥈

[eroselless]

hopelessly devoted [1]

Pairing : Sebastian Stan x reader│regency au

Summary : When Y/N Brighton finds herself suddenly married to a strange older man, she thinks her life is completely derailed. Wha happens when she starts to get close to him?

Warnings : slow burn, age gap, fluff, a tad bit of angst, a little injury but not much Word Count : 3.6k

Notes : I'm sorry it took so long for me to get this out! I hope y'all like it! I rewrote it twice just so I could get it as perfect as I could. Constructive criticism is very much appreciated! I didn't expect to be writing a Part 2 BUT it should be up very soon :)

Also let me know if you want to be added to the taglist!

here's what I listened to while I wrote :)

find part 2 here!

As a young child, Y/N Brighton had imagined that she would have the most lavish of weddings. She had imagined walking down the aisle in the arms of her father, smiling at relatives as they watched her join her husband to be. She had hoped for a grand exchange of vows with him, ones that would leave the crowd in tears. She had even hoped for a choir to sing her in and hoped for petals to be showered on her and her beau as they left the chapel for their extravagant and much needed honeymoon. What she hadn’t imagined was this.

Y/N slowly walked down the aisle, with no one by her side. The chapel she was in was dark and the seats, instead of being filled with family, stood empty. There were no flowers in sight and the mood in the room was of sadness and melancholy. Her hands were clasped around nothing, a bouquet she had desired being absent. She quietly stood still in front of the man she was to marry, seeing but a stranger and not someone she had grown to love.

Viscount Brighton was a man of many flaws, just as any other human being. He loved to drink, he loved to smoke but most of all he loved to gamble. Many times he had won money, bringing it home to spend on his daughter and wife but many more times, he had lost and come home significantly more empty handed than he had been when he left. Viscountess Brighton had found herself one night, sitting in the seat of her husband’s desk. It felt as if smoke was steaming out of her ears as frustration built up inside of her. In front of her, there were piles of paper and in her hands she clutched the newest additions of the pile. There were bills upon bills upon bills, her eyes nearly popping out of her head as she added up the amount of money that her husband owed. What they had left in their accounts was almost nothing. Even the dowry belonging to their only daughter was gone.

She pressed the heels of her hands into her eyes, as if to stop the tears from flowing out.

“What have you done?” She seethed at her husband, who stood guilt ridden at the door of his own office.

“No w-worries dearest,” he began. “We can always sell a few things and we’ll be fine!” If looks could kill, the poor man would have been 6 feet deep in the ground.

“With the amount of money we have due, we’ll have to sell the house and everything in it!” The viscountess cried. Shaking her head, she dropped the pieces of paper on the desk and stormed out.

“How could you?” She asked once they were laying in bed. The lights were blown out as they both lay with their backs to the other. He could not answer her question. How could he? That’s the thing, he didn’t. He clutched onto the sheets of the bed as tears threatened to spill from his eyes, the guilt was beginning to feel heavy on his chest. He prayed for a miracle, he prayed for someone to come pull them out of the hole he had pushed his family into.

Y/N didn’t really know why there had been visits from a stranger to her house. She had been introduced to him briefly. His eyes were electric blue and he had a beard that was full but not too big or fluffy. His hair was a beautiful shade of brown and was always brushed to perfection. He always gave her tight lipped smiles and there was an eery feeling of pity behind each one. She couldn't help but feel attracted to him, despite him being almost the same age as her father. It was a little innocent crush. It didn’t really mean anything.

Lord Sebastian Stan was in search of a wife. He was the most eligible bachelor on the market, though he was quite older than most of the girls in age of marriage. He had never really planned to marry. He had gotten close many times but had never found the right woman to fill the seemingly gaping hole in his heart. If it hadn’t been for a trip to his native Romania, he wouldn’t have bothered to begin a search. He had gone to visit his grandmother, she was very much expecting he would finally have a maiden at his side. She had explained that if he didn’t marry, there was a possibility that his title and home would be stripped from him. He remembered how he panicked, not so much for the loss of his title but where would he go without his home? Where would he live then? It was as if fate was on his side when he had run into the hysterical Viscount Brighton. The poor man was desperate, searching for anything that would help him with the sinking boat he found himself on. Sebastian didn’t jump at the deal immediately. He couldn’t help but feel for the young girl who was essentially being sold away. But after much thought, he spoke to the older man and agreed to marry his daughter.

“Lord Stan has agreed on marrying you.” The viscount said to Y/N. It had been days after the agreement was finally settled.

“He needs a bride in order to keep his estate and seeing as how you are in the age of marriage, he has agreed to marry you even though you are without a dowry.” Her mother said, trying to be gentle with the words she said to her daughter.

Y/N simply looked at them with tears in her eyes. They had sat her down in the office where her mother had been sitting only a few nights ago.

“He said he will help the family with whatever we need in exchange for your hand in marriage.”

And that was that. Now Y/N found herself standing face to face to Sebastian as he whispered the words of I do. She watched as he stood there expressionless, staring down at the floor. His eyebrows were furrowed, as the priest recited the marital words to her. She was so caught up in his features that she almost missed her cue to agree to the marriage and echo him with the words of I do. Each slipped on a simple wedding band on their ring finger. There was a sigh of relief ringing out behind her as her family officially joined with him. Now they would not have to live out on the street, they were saved.

The ride to Sebastian’s estate was quiet. The only sound that was heard was the crunch of carriage’s wheel on the ground and the subtle sound of the pairs breathing. As she had expected, there was no celebration of the marriage after the ceremony, no shower of wedding rice or petals on them. There was only the silent signing of papers and the quiet goodbyes from her family. Here Y/N took the time to really look at him. He had a slight crease etched between his eyebrows. He had a mole on the left side of his forehead and his lashes didn’t quite curl up but still had a slight wisp to them. His eyes looked darker, they were like the deep colour of the ocean. They were a pool that, in a different circumstance, she would be more than willing to swim in.

“We don’t have to lay together,” Sebastian began, breaking the silence along with her long stare. “We each have our own rooms, so you don’t have to worry about anything. The maids will have everything ready by the time we get home.” Y/N nodded, taking in the information. Part of her knew he wouldn’t force her to consummate the wedding, he didn’t seem like that type of person but part of her still wanted the chance to sleep next to him, to get to know the person she was to spend the rest of her life with.

They soon arrived. The night was warm and the stars shone brightly above them. If they had wanted, a stroll through his vast gardens wouldn't have been a very romantic way to start the night. The mansion was lit up from the inside and Y/N couldn't help but find herself in awe of it. They had come through a gate and down a long road in order to reach the house. It had three towers with the rest of the building having been built around them. There was a grand balcony right above the main entrance. It was all very green, trees and bushes surrounding the mansion.

“Welcome Home, Lord and Lady Stan” The head housekeeper said, ushering them in from the night. Many of the staff stood on the stairs leading up to the front doors of the home. They kindly nodded at them as they slowly walked in. Y/N was shown to her room, just across the hall from Sebastian’s.

“If you need anything, don’t be scared to give us a shout.” The housekeeper told Y/N. Sebastian had followed behind, making his way to his room. He nodded politely in her direction before he slipped through his door, closing it behind him.

Y/N stood there for a second before letting out a breath she didn’t know she was holding in. She made her way into her room. It was big. Bigger than the one at her family home. The walls were a pale blue and the room had golden accents, with more variations of blue scattered around. There was a small table on one side of the room with a single armchair. On the table was the most elegant and beautiful tea set she had ever seen. When she went to grab it, it was warm. She poured herself a cup of tea and sat down. She blew on it as steam came up from the cup. She stared at the wall just above her large bed, reflecting once again on how fast the days changed.

It took her a while to acclimate. Sebastian had mostly left her to her own devices, leaving her to roam around the mansion alone. She would get lost every once in a while, asking maids to help her find her way back to her room. She wasn’t prohibited from going anywhere, Sebastian had made that clear to her. This was her home now and he wasn’t going to keep anything from her. She ate breakfast with him every morning, sitting across from him at a long dinner table. He would always mumble a quiet good morning, taking her hand and gently pressing a kiss to it. He couldn't bring himself to ever look into her eyes.

One afternoon, she stumbled upon the library. As a little girl, she would spend her time reading the day away. She never tired of the smell of old books. Her eyes widened when she pushed open the double doors of the library. She hadn't ever seen such a grand collection. There were many many rows of shelves and a flight of stairs that led to a landing where she could sit, surrounded by a few more shelves and a grand window. She spent the next hours exploring the rows, climbing high onto the ladders to reach the books on the highest shelves. She took her time, taking deep breaths and inhaling the comforting smell of the pages. She didn’t recognize many of the books, a lot of them being in Romanian or French. She delicately dragged her fingers on the spines of the books, careful when pulling them out to examine them.

She was searching the shelves for something familiar, when a book caught her eye. The title on the spine was one that she had heard of before but couldn’t quite remember what the story was about. It was high up, too high for her to reach on her own. She looked around the library, seeing if there was anyone that could help her reach the book. She sighed as she realized she was completely alone and would have to climb the ladder that was placed on a set of railings on the front of the shelves. She huffed as she hiked her dress up as much as she could, sticking her feet out to climb onto the first rung of the ladder. She grabbed on tight as she ascended higher and higher. She heaved slightly as she reached the right shelf, only to realize that the book was just barely within her reach. She frowned, trying to pull the book out with the tips of her fingers. Feeling her fingers slip slightly, she moved to the edge of the rung she stood on. A loud creek sounded through the library as she started to feel the ladder tip to the side. Finally grabbing the book, she tried to push herself back onto the ladder, only to jerk farther away from the wall. She felt her feet slip from under her, a panicked squeal coming from her lips. Her eyes squeezed shut as she waited for her body to fall and hit the ground with a painful thud.

Sebastian sat at his desk, looking through his small collection of books, in search for one in particular. His head was full of thoughts, not a single instance of silence. He had also needed time to acclimate to his new housemate. He tried his best to interact with her and to be civil but part of him felt like he was doing it all wrong. He remembered when he had first seen her, roaming her old home. He remembered the cream coloured dress she wore when her father first introduced them, before she was told of her fate. She seemed happier. He tried to make her happy but no matter what he instructed her handmaiden to give her, she still didn’t seem as joyful as she used to be.

In a way, he understood her. She was now living in a house with a strange man that she had only known for a very short time. She had left behind her family and her friends and with no official duties, she spent most of her time by herself. She was alone. He had tried to be husbandly, eating meals with her and bringing her along for strolls in the garden but still even then, she would not come out of her shell.

Over the weeks, he had grown used to hearing her steps through the halls. He had learned to enjoy the little songs she hummed when she accompanied him on walks in the garden. He had started to pick up on her small habits. She would always put her pinky finger under her glass before placing it on the table. She would tug at her left earlobe when she was in deep thought or when she was reading. He usually found himself scolding himself when he watched her walk about the mansion. He couldn’t help but feel like a villain who took any plans for her future away.

He resigned his search, deciding to make his way down to the library. He was in for a long hunt. He walked the empty halls, the only sounds being the clicks of his shoes against the stone floors. He came upon the doors of the library to find them open and saw his wife begin to climb on the many ladders in the library.

He watched as she began to shuffle to the edge of the ladder. Knowing fully well how this would end, he made his way up to her. His heart began to race as the ladder began to creak and tip. With a few long strides, he was at her side. He heard as she held her breath, waiting for the floor to come at her. He grunted as he slid under her, managing to catch her before she collided with the wooden floors.

Before this, he had never touched her before. He hadn’t really taken the time to look at her face. The skin of her bare arms felt smooth against his, the fullness of it feeling soothing. Her chest was heaving, just as his. The adrenaline was coursing fast through their veins. His eyes wandered her face, taking in each freckle and scar. He even noted the lone eyelash that lay on her cheek.

“Sebastian,” She cried, completely surprised. She pulled herself to her feet and out of his arms. She still held tightly to the book in her hand. Sebastian’s hand lingered on her shoulder, a small sign of affection. He looked over her, checking for any afflictions.

“Are you alright?” he asked her. She nodded, catching her breath. She had placed one hand on the shelf, wincing slightly. Her knuckle had bruised, hitting it on the ladder as she fell. Sebastian pulled it from the shelf, cradling it gently.

“You must be more careful,” he warned. She felt her stomach flutter as he stretched her fingers out in his hand. It almost felt like what she was doing was wrong, forbidden.

“I know, I’m sorry.” She mumbled.

“Let’s get you some ice for your hand.” He said and led her to the kitchens. It was only when he sat her down that she realized how dark it had turned outside. It was nearly nightfall. How long had she been in the library? She pulled a face when she felt the coolness of the ice hit her skin. Sebastian was kneeling in front of her, tending at her hand. She watched as he masterfully soothed her wound, even though her pain was almost gone.

“Thank you,” She told him when he looked up at her. “For everything.”

She said everything and she really meant it. Even though she didn’t have the life she expected, her family was being taken care of and that’s really what mattered. He nodded, smiling briefly before standing up. He held his hand out towards her, helping her up to her feet. They then walked up the stairs to their rooms. Stopping, Y/N turned around before opening her door.

“Sebastian” She called out to him, hand on her doorknob. He turned back to her. “Goodnight.” He smiled, his teeth coming into view.

“Goodnight, Y/N.”

They were to attend their first party together. The most elite were going to be in attendance, most of which Sebastian knew. They rode in the carriage in almost complete silence and then proceeded to walk in together. When she let go of his arm, he hadn’t exactly expected her to go to the big group of ladies that stood ion the far side of the room. It had seemed like she recognized some of the ladies waiting there. He stood at the entrance of the ballroom, watching as she interacted with them. She was laughing and smiling. Something he didn’t see often. He admired how the dress she wore clung to her frame. It was a gown he had tailored just for her, and now he couldn't seem to take his eyes off of her. Ever since the incident in the library, he couldn't get her out of his head. Something was blooming in the back of his mind. As music started to play, couples started to make their way to the dance floor.

Y/N watched as the girls from her old friend group excused themselves to dance with their husbands and fiancées. For s second, she had felt like she was still living her old life. She had caught up with her friends for a couple of minutes, the feeling of happiness returning and the sound of laughter escaping her. She wasn’t ungrateful for the grand favour Sebastian was doing in helping her family in return for her hand. She really wasn’t but she felt lonely and as her friends took their leave into the arms of their lovers, she felt the loneliness settle back into her bones. From across the room, her eyes met Sebastian’s. His eyes were more blue than ever. They sent chills down her spine. With a nod, he signalled to her. They met at the edge of the dance floor, joining the rest of the dancers. The tempo of the music was slower and the people around them were moving slowly to the same beat.

Y/N felt her breath hitch in the back of her throat as she locked eyes once again with Sebastian as they danced around each other. She couldn’t put her finger on whatever was growing in the air around them. The movements in the dance had them inches away from each other, never touching but always close. They twirled around the dance floor for what seemed like hours, narrowly missing each other. As songs came and went, Y/N found herself smiling and making jests at her distant husband. It felt like progress from where they had been just nights before.

For a single moment, time felt like it had slowed. Sebastian felt his heart race as he gave Y/N a last twirl and brought her to his chest. She looked up at him with sparkles in her eyes, a smile adorning her face. Many times he had stopped to admire her face but here under the chandelier, surrounded by music he felt like the luckiest man in the world. He felt himself lean down, just barely brushing his lips over hers. But then as quick as their moment had begun, it ended. He felt a bubble pop inside his head as he pulled away from her. Guilt had filled his mind once again as he grumbled and motioned her that it was time to leave. Y/N watched in disbelief as he stormed out of the room and out to the carriages. He had been so close and now he felt miles away.

tags: @lharrietg @carleywhittaker @tonystankschild@headheartbellarke @baebee35 @lady-loki-ren

[watchmegetobsessed]

Our song - Harry Styles

this one was inspired by the jingleball performance bc it was pure perfection and UGHH im obsessed.

dedicated to my dear friend @dontworrysunflower

disclaimer: the song Homesick by Dua Lipa is featured in this fic as an original work of Harry and the reader, but it’s obviously an existing song, I just thought that it would be the song they write

pairing: Harry x vocalist!reader

word count: 5.3k

masterlist

You’ve felt the adrenaline rush take over your body many times in your life and they were all different in some kind of way. The one you felt when you were about to write an important test in school, the one that bubbled through your veins when you got your first kiss. The one that rolled through your limbs and chest when you first performed in front of people that weren’t your parents and the one you felt when you got the news that you were chosen to tour with none other than Harry Styles as his vocalist, singing on his stage every other night in a different city and different country.

But none of those were anything like the feeling that takes over every time you stand on that stage, your microphone that’s labelled with your name right in front of you as thousands of people are screaming in the jam-packed arena. Though it’s not you they come to see and listen to, but you are part of the magic and it’s quite enough for you.

You could never be the one standing at the front with all the lights shining down on your frame, having every gaze in the place glued to you, listening to your voice. That brings the kind of anxiety you’re quite sure you wouldn’t be able to handle. You are perfectly fine standing in the back, being the support system while staying on the down-low as someone else shines at the front, in your case, it’s Harry.

You applied for the job with a reason, already having a huge appreciation for him as an artist, adoring his work so far, especially Fine Line. Upon hearing about the opportunity to be part of his tour, you didn’t hesitate to send your application in and following three auditions, you got the phone call that they wanted you on board.

He swept you right off your feet the first time you met him, but you didn’t expect less from him. Everything you heard about him being the most wonderful person to every walk the planet were proven to be nothing but the truth. You hit it off so easily and become close through the process of rehearsals. His odd little jokes, that funny laugh of his and the way he always peeks over his shoulder to meet his eyes with yours made you fall for him faster than you’d have ever thought you could.

Just as fast as your feeling for Harry developed, tour caught up on you and before you could blink twice, you were living on the road, always dressing from your suitcase, waking up in a different city every other morning.

The foreign studio feels a little odd, but still somehow familiar as you walk in with your water and notebook under your arm. Random studio sessions with Harry became a regular not long after tour kicked off. Harry’s creative juices were overflowing and he was aching to record his creations, constantly renting random studios near the hotel you lot were staying currently and one night, when some of you all were hanging out in his suit, he asked if you’d be down helping him record vocals for a song he’s been working on.

“I want to hear it with your voice instead of mine,” he told you leaning against the wall, a glass of whatever Mitch mixed him in his hands.

“Getting bored of your own voice?” you teased him, bringing his dimples out with the smile that plastered across his lips.

“Could say that. Are you up for it?”

There was no way you would have said no. So the next morning you found yourself in a studio somewhere in Sacramento, singing the vocals to a song no one else has heard other than you and Harry.

The tour has now reached Denver, you can’t wait to be on the stage tonight, but before that, you are having another quick session with Harry in the studio.

When you walk in, his head perks up from his leather notebook he always keeps on himself, filled with his scribbled lyrics. A smile stretches across his lips when his green eyes fall on your frame.

“Hey! Hope it’s not too early for you,” he softly says standing up from the chair as you put your stuff down to the small table in the corner.

“No, managed to get a good night sleep still,” you smile at him, taking a quick look around, though this recording room is just like the others you’ve been in.

“I think I figured out that part we struggled with last time. Changed up the ending a bit, would you mind giving it another go?”

You nod looking down at his notes, seeing the changes he has made in the vocals.

“Changed anything else?” you ask as you watch him get ready for the recording.

“Yeah, rewrote a few lines, think they are fitting better now.”

“Have you recorded them yet?”

“Will do now,” he tells you shaking his head.

Soon enough you find yourself standing behind the mic, headset covering your ears as you are waiting for Harry to start recording and the music to play in your ears. Once he shows up his thumb you do the same and a moment later the song you’ve heard last time you two were working starts flowing from the headset and you stare down at the notes in front of you, waiting for the moment when you have to start singing.

It takes you a few runs to nail it down, but when you finally do, you can see the satisfied grin on Harry’s face and you think to yourself that there’s nothing you wouldn’t do to make him like this anytime.

“That was fantastic,” he beams once you join him at the screens where you see your voice appear as a pattern over a straight line. Harry does his usual magic before leaving it be. “Mind assisting recording my part?” he asks turning to you with an excited smile.

Nodding you let him tell you what to do and once he is all set behind the mic, you start the recording and the song. You listen to him in awe. There hasn’t been a moment when you didn’t feel the shiver running down your spine when he started singing. You are convinced a choir of angels is hidden in his throat, because it’s hard to believe he is just as human as everyone else.

He sings the whole song three times before he joins you again, listening back to what you have so far. The song is coming along pretty well and you can tell by the time he finishes it, it’s gonna be perfect. Everything he does is just pure perfection, whether he likes to admit it or not.

“You know how it would be absolutely perfect?” he asks you on your way back to the hotel. The two of you grabbed a coffee as well, so now you’re sipping on the hot drink, enjoying the somewhat sunny weather.

“Hm?”

“I think it would be best if a female voice sang the whole thing and the male was just the vocal.”

“Who do you think would fit best for it then?” you ask, immediately thinking of singers that could be perfect for the song. It wouldn’t be the first time Harry would sell a song to someone else, so you’re not surprised he is thinking about this kind of change.

“Y/N, I found the voice already,” he chuckles and you give him a puzzled look. “You. You are singing the song, I don’t need anyone else.”

“I’m not a solo singer,” you protest.

“There’s no such thing as solo or not solo. You’re a singer and a bloody good one. I want you to sing it.”

“But it would go to waste, because I would never actually perform it.”

“How are you so sure about that?” he smirks slyly at you, immediately making you nervous.

“Harry, I don’t sing solo,” you shake your head stubbornly, but he rolls his eyes at you.

“You could just try it. Let’s just record the song next time with you in the lead and then we can talk about the rest.”

“I’m fine recording, but I will never perform it,” you tell him, but his look makes you think he has other plans.

When tour reaches Dallas, the song gets a version with you singing solo and Harry doing the vocals in it. And though you had doubts about the switch, listening back to it you can tell how much it helped. It really is better with a female voice, though you are still convinced it shouldn’t be you.

“Are you sure you don’t want to sell it to someone? I’m fine with that,” you ask him before the show in Dallas. You’re sitting on the table in his dressing room while he is painting his nails, his tongue poking out in concentration.

“I told you, I like it with your voice. Why is that so hard to believe?”

“Because I’m not a—“

“Fuck’s sake if you dare to tell me one more time that you’re not a solo singer, I’m firing you, Y/N!” he snaps, giving you a hard look, but you just laugh at his temper.

“It’s the truth.”

“Have you ever tried to go solo?”

“Not for years,” you admit and watch him screw the nail polish closed, pushing it aside, his hands lying flat on the table as he is carefully waiting for them to dry.

“So then how do you know you are no good at it?”

“Because I hated it back then, so I most likely would hate it now as well,” you state matter-of-factly, but Harry doesn’t seem amused by your answer.

“So you think you haven’t changed a bit in years? I hope you know that’s absolute bollocks.”

“Why are you so keen on making me sing solo?” you sigh, giving him a tired look. It feels like the two of you have been running the same circles since forever. It’s not his first attempt to get you sing more than just the vocals, he once wanted to do a cover and needed a partner because it was a duet and begged you for weeks to sing with him, but you didn’t give in. You just couldn’t.

“Because I think that you are a talented singer and I want you to feel the adrenaline rush performing gives you.”

“I do get that rush every time I sing behind you. That’s enough for me.”

Harry shakes his head pressing his lips tight together.

“That’s not the same as being in the lead. It’s a whole different world.”

“Yeah, one that makes me shit my pants,” you chuckle and he can’t push a smile back.

“Maybe we should just work on it. Your anxiety. I think we could actually make you feel better if we tried.”

“I still don’t know where this obsession with me being solo comes for you.”

Harry stands up, takes one last look at his nails before he steps closer smiling down at you softly and you bite into your bottom lip, realizing how close he is standing to you. His fingers tap in your cheek gently, running them down to your chin as he tilts your head up a bit.

“Just accept it, Love,” he smiles softly before stepping away and carrying on with his routine.

That evening, you stand at the back with the other two vocalists, eyes glued to Harry’s figure at the front of the stage, you watch him pour his soul out to the audience, interact with them and reach that state of mind you have never been able to get into. You know what he told you about performing is true, yet you are still terrified to do it yourself. It’s too nerve wrecking to have everyone look at and listen to you, so many chances to mess it up and make a fool out of yourself.

But when Harry’s eyes meet yours and he shoots you a warm smile, something shifts in you. The urge to have this connection with not just the audience and the song, but with him takes over your whole body and you make up your mind to at least give it a try.

Harry is ecstatic when you tell him later that night that you changed your mind. You see that sparkle in his eyes and it was already worth for you, just seeing him react like that.

“Though I have a few suggestions to change the lyrics.”

“You do?” he asks, seemingly surprised, but mostly amused that you had the balls to come out with it.

“Yeah. Just some tiny details.”

“Why haven’t you told me about these before?”

“Because it was your song. But if you want me to sing it, it has to be mine as well.” Harry stares back at you with a smile that’s filled with pride and joy, making your heart flutter in your aching chest as you think about performing solo.

“Our song,” he softly says nodding his head.

Arriving to Houston the two of you are quick to book a studio and work on the song. Harry lets you make any changes you desire on the lyrics, even says you did justice to it and that you should have spoken up earlier about your ideas. And then you record it.

It’s not that you have to sing the whole song and not just the vocals this time. You are completely fine with Harry hearing you sing, it’s the thought of performing it in front of anyone that’s not him, that’s what makes you turn into a wreck.

You record Harry’s vocals and once it’s all put together, you are blown by the outcome. You wouldn’t have thought Harry’s voice as the vocal would compliment you in the lead, but it’s just absolutely perfect and even you can’t find anything wrong with it.

“Love, this is what Heaven sounds like, I’m telling you,” he smirks at you from the chair beside you, playing the song for the tenth time, not able to get enough of the final product.

“You are so cheesy,” you shake your head, but feel the blush heating up your cheeks. His eyes linger on you a little longer before he turns back to the screen.

When the song is over he finally stops is so silence comes over the studio. Harry turns back to face you, his green eyes basically burning a hole into your head.

“So, when are we going to perform it?”

“I really don’t think it’s a good idea,” you sigh looking down at your hands fumbling with your shirt.

“And I do think it is. So I’m not stopping until you at least try it.”

Harry Styles gets what he wants. Always. And this time, no matter how hard you try to resist him, you just can’t deny this from him. Though it takes him time to talk you up, in Washington he finally gets you to give it a try in an empty stadium.

Most of the crew is out, since the building has been finished about half an hour before, so everything is perfectly set for tonight’s show when you walk out to the stage, following Harry in his heels. He asked the piano to be brought to the front along with a mic on it and another one on a stand next to it. The two of you quietly put on your earpieces, doing everything as if it was a usual occasion before a concert, only that this time the roles will be entirely switched.

“It’s fine, alright? No one is around,” he tells you when he sees how nervous you are to sing the song for the first time outside a studio.

“There are some backstage,” you mumble under your breath, not expecting him to do anything about it.

But he does. You watch him walk backstage, completely dumbfounded about what he is doing. He disappears from your sight and a few moments later you hear him shouting at the back.

“No one comes to the stage until I say so! Yea? Thanks!” he orders and then walks back as if he didn’t just boss around the whole crew.

“They will think you’re some kind of crazy celebrity,” you chuckle when he returns, a small smirk playing on his pink lips.

“Don’t care, Darling. Now sing you heart out for me.”

Harry sits on the piano bench, his fingers getting settled on the keys before he looks up to meet your anxious eyes.

“It’s alright. Just you and me, yea?”

Nodding you gulp hard and jump a little when he starts playing the melody the two of you have been working on for so long. You hear all the notes and you know you have to start singing, but you miss the opening. Harry stops and looks at you, as you move your eyes down to the ground, ashamed you messed up immediately.

“S-Sorry, I just—“

“How can I help?” he asks right away, not even caring about the fact that you messed up, focused on figuring out a way that would help you.

“I don’t know. I really don’t,” you sigh, feeling your nerves getting worse with each passing moment.

“Come sit next to me,” he then tells you motioning for you to join him on the bench.

“What?”

“Take your mic and sit next to me,” he repeats, scooting over to make you space. Hesitantly, you pull the mic out of the stand and walking over you sit next to him. “Now you are not in the center. Just listen to the music, watch my hands on the keys, okay?”

You nod, running your tongue over your dry lips as you hold the mic to your mouth before Harry starts playing again.

After the first few notes you close your eyes and when it’s time for you to start singing, Harry leans a little against you, giving you a kind of push to just do it. And it works.

It feels a little as if it’s not even you who starts singing, but it is. Your voice fills the empty arena along with the piano’s melody and keeping your eyes closed a little longer you let your mind settle. When the first verse ends you open them and watch his hands work on the keys, right as he starts singing the vocals, leaning a little forward so his voice reaches his mic.

It’s different. It’s electric and freeing, hear your voice through the massive speakers, to be in the lead and have Harry be just the support in the song. But it feels so right, better than anything you’ve ever felt.

Line after line, you hit all the notes and by the end of the song you are able to strip all your fears down and give yourself over to the music completely. As you sing the last few notes you feel Harry’s eyes on you and turning to face him, you are met with his warm, pride-filled smile and bright eyes, glued to you while his fingers press down the last notes.

The music dies down, the voice of the piano vibrates in the air a little longer until it completely disappears and the silence returns into the stadium.

“Love,” Harry quietly calls out for you and you turn completely towards him. “That was absolutely perfect.”

“You think so?” you ask, voice barely more than just a whisper, your eyes never leaving his gaze.

“I know so,” he huffs, smile widening. He brings an arm around your shoulders and pulls you into a hug, pressing a lingering kiss to your forehead as you let out a breath you’ve been holding in for way too long.

He doesn’t try to make you perform that evening, knowing well it was enough for one day, but he does make you sing it with him in each city in the upcoming weeks. Before every concert, he empties out the area around the stage and the two of you sit down at the piano, singing your song until you feel comfortable enough to stand next to the instrument instead of sitting next to him.

The tour reaches New York and Madison Square Garden is getting ready to host Harry Styles for two evenings. The place is massive and you find yourself sitting at the edge of the stage when Harry emerges from backstage.

“Looks wild, right?” he asks sitting next to you, his thigh brushing against yours as he gets seated.

“Yeah. Pretty amazing.”

“This place has the most magical vibe.” “Yeah?” Turning to him you watch him take the arena in, his eyes glistening at the sight in front of him. You know it’s not his first time performing here, but it’s nice to see the excitement in his eyes regardless.

That feeling returns to your chest, the one you felt when Harry told you he wanted you to sing the song. The urge to be part of this amazing something that’s so much bigger than you.

“H?”

“Yea?” he turns to you smiling.

“Can I… Do you think we could sing our song tonight?”

You watch the pure surprise and excitement wash over his face, his smile stretching across his face as he stares back at you in awe.

“You want to sing it?”

Shyly, you nod your head and in a heartbeat his arms lock around you, pulling you into the tightest hug. The two of you almost fall off the stage, laughing together at his dramatic reaction.

“Of course we can sing it, Love. Would be an honor!”

Harry is quick to let the band know about the addition for tonight’s set and though everyone seems surprised, they are all supportive about your solo. As the time goes and the concert gets closer, you can feel the nerves building up and soon enough, you start to doubt your choice to sing the song tonight.

Right before it’s time to go on stage Harry takes your hand and pulls you aside, taking your face in his hands gently, making you look into his eyes.

“I know you are doubting yourself, but just know that I’m very proud of you, even if you decide to not sing the last minute.”

“I could do that?” you whisper, your hands finding his sides and you let them rest on him, a way to ground yourself in the windwhirl of your thoughts.

“Of course. I wouldn’t want to make you do something you don’t really want. Though I know you will be amazing if you choose to sing.”

Nodding you let a weak smile appear on your lips and you notice as his eyes flicker down to them before he moves his gaze up to your eyes. He then pulls you into a proper hug before walking back to the rest of the band and vocalists.

Everything goes as usual and once again, you can’t take your eyes off Harry on the stage. Just watching him perform fills you up with life, enough to keep you from running away. About halfway into the set, as the crowd is still cheering after the previous song, Harry jogs over to you.

“You ready?” he asks over the noise and before you could think about it, you nod your head.

Two guys from the crew pushes the piano further to the front and they help to set everything up as you awkwardly stand at the side. Once your mic is in the stand you walk over there, heart hammering in your chest, hands shaking like crazy.

“I have a special song for you tonight,” Harry announces into the microphone as he makes his way over to the piano. “Please welcome the lovely Y/N here, who is gonna enchant you with a song we’ve been working on lately.”

The crowd screams and you allow yourself to look around with a weak smile. So many people, you think to yourself, everyone watching you.

“It’s called Homesick, and it means so much to us, so we hope you’ll like it Justas much as we do,” Harry adds before settling on the bench and his eyes find yours. “I’m proud of you,” you see him say, only able to read his lips since the crowd is screaming so loud. “Ready?” he asks and you nod, taking a shaky breath.

He sends you a warm comforting smile before glancing down at the keys and then he starts playing. 

Just like the first time, you close your eyes, forcing yourself to focus on the melody and nothing else. The lump in your throat is quite uncomfortable, but you open your eyes and see that Harry is looking straight at you, nodding in encouragement, as his fingers push down the keys to the notes right before you have to start.

“Here, where the sky’s falling, I’m covered in blue, I’m running and I’m crawling, fighting for you…”

Harry smiles wide when your voice flows through the speakers, filling the whole place, making everyone go quiet in a heartbeat as the song carries on. You feel your chest slowly deflating, the nerves cooling down with each sung note.

“You give me a reason, something to believe in, I know, I know, I know. You give me a meaning, something I can breathe in, I know, I know, I know…”

The chorus comes out perfect, your voice melting together with the piano and you finally feel your muscles relax as you slowly let go of every toxic thought that’s been tainting your mind. Harry leans closer to his microphone and his voice gently joins yours in the next verse.

“There’s a crack in my window, a bird in my room, angels all over that watch over you…”

Chills run down your spine hearing his voice, your eyes never leaving his gaze that’s fixated on your standing figure. You get lost in him and the song, something that came from the both of you, a piece of you and him. Standing there, singing this piece makes you feel closer to him than ever and you desperately want this feeling to last forever, hoping the song never ends though you know it’s gonna happen.

“When I’m walking on water all my dreams have come true. Still nothing means nothing without you…”

Homesick is exactly the feeling that bubbles inside you when you think of Harry. Because there’s this man you love so much, who is a home away from home to you, yet you still feel like you can’t be home entirely. Not in the way you’d want to. But standing on the stage in the spotlight, singing together with him as thousands of people are watching the two of you, yet you still manage to forget about them, for a moment, you feel like you finally arrived home. You are there, with him.

“Tell my heart to lie, but I know deep inside it’s true. That I wish I was there with you. That I wish I was there with you, oh I wish I was there with you.”

He plays the end of the song without tearing his eyes away from you, and there’s just a heartbeat of silence before the crowd starts screaming deafeningly, but that short moment… is yours and his.

Tugging your hair behind your ears with your shaky hands, your eardrums on the verge of breaking as you let out a laugh that was kind of a sob as well, relief washing over your body. Harry is quick to jump to his feet and rushing over he envelopes you in a tight hug.

“I’m so so so proud of you, Love. You were everything!” he mumbles, arms holding you so tight you almost lose your breath, but you want him this close, or even closer. You need to feel him, because it doesn’t feel real. His hold brings you a sense of existence only he can give you.

“Thank you, Harry,” you breathe out when he pulls back to look into your eyes, the screaming hasn’t died down even a tad little.

“No, thank you, Darling. You shined like the star that you are,” he grins, playing a sloppy kiss to your cheek before his arms fall off you.

You’d die to stay in this moment a little longer, but the show must go on. The crew pushes the piano back and soon enough, the next song starts. You stay in your spot for the rest, but you keep catching Harry smiling in your way, always making you blush.

The end of a concert is always a little hectic, everyone is all over the place. Still coming off the high you just experienced, you head to the dressing room you share with the other vocalists. They are going on and on about how amazing Homesick was, and you somehow still can’t believe tonight happened. Packing your stuff you barely notice that the door flies open, but you see Harry appear from the corner of your eye.

“Ladies, would you please give me a moment with Y/N?” he asks and the girls are quick to leave the two of you alone. You stand there, kind of dumbfounded, not sure why he is acting so dramatic. Once the door closes and it’s just you and him, he stares at you, chest heaving, his hair wet from his sweat, but he still looks breathtaking.

“Harry—“

“I’m gonna kiss you now,” he cuts you off, your breath gets caught in your throat as you stare back at him, completely frozen. Opposite to what he just said, he remains standing in the same spot and you’re not sure what’s happening. “Can I? Please say yes, I can’t hold myself back for any longer,” he then adds.

“Yes,” you breathe out without even thinking about it. In a heartbeat, Harry crosses the room, chest smashing against yours as he wraps his arms around you, lips crashing onto yours in a kiss that almost makes you moan into his mouth.

It’s all a hot mess, teeth clashing, hands all over each other before his palms run down to the back of your thighs, urging you to jump. When you do, you wrap your legs around his waist and let him walk over to the table nearby, so he can place you on top, standing between your thighs as he keeps kissing you hungrily, his tongue melting together with yours in this sweet chaos. It keeps going on and on, neither of you wanting to let go of the other, but you are eventually forced to stop, coming short of air. Panting wildly, lips swollen from his kisses, you look at him to meet his gaze.

“You have no idea how hard it was to stop myself from kissing you on stage.”

“What?” you breathe out.

“Y/N, I’m fucking crazy about you and seeing you come over your stage fright, sing that song… our song, fuck, that did some unbelievable things to me. Please tell me you felt the same thing!” He is begging, not just with his words, but with his eyes as well and it crushes your soul entirely.

“I did. Harry, I always do when I’m with you.”

“Fucking Hell,” he breathes out before kissing you again. “You are… everything, Love,” he mumbles against your lips and you can’t push down the smile stretching across your face, hearing him say the same words he said right after the song.

“You’ve told me that,” you tease him, his gaze meeting yours as he flashes you his famous half-smirk, heart fluttering at the sight of him.

[lollytea]

Girl Talk

(ngl I hate this sm. I wrote this fic yesterday, the file corrupted and i lost everything, had a breakdown, rewrote everything the next day because I am obnoxiously stubborn. Anyways Hunter and Luz content. Bon Appetit?)

(READ ON AO3)

“Okay, but what am I even supposed to say to her? Oh! Maybe I could write down some jokes on the back of my glyph slips in case things get awkward. Wait, no, I don't want her to think I'm not taking this seriously. I don't need to be goofy all the time just to hang out with her. I need her to know that I'm serious about her and this whole...romantic thing. And I know she gets upset when she thinks I'm making fun of her so...”

“Alright, so, get this. It says here that there was once this old witch who lived on the outskirts of Latissa and his whole thing was experimenting by mixing paints and magic together. Apparently the stuff he created was like....super powerful.”

“I mean, she said she likes me 'cause I'm goofy and funny and lovable and...and...and I'm sure there's other adjectives I could use but I'm drawing a blank here. So, who am I to deprive her of what she signed up for? But I can't just....ugh, I can't even think right!”

“It doesn't have a lot of info on his specific technique but I'm sure if we did some more research, we could successfully replicate his experiments. We're pretty good at figuring stuff out. Woah, wait. I wonder what would happen if we created glyphs with this paint....maybe it would enhance the spell's level of power. Oh, that would be so cool!”

Luz stopped pacing, the floorboards practically burning after she thoroughly wore down the surface with her frantic footsteps. She set a hand on her hip and turned a withering look on her guest.

“Call me coocoo but I don't think you're listening to a word I say.”

Hunter lifted his head to blink up at her, chewing on the end of a pen. He was sitting cross-legged on the floor, boxed in by towers of Eda's Wild Magic books.

There was a glassy look in his eye, as if he was trying to get his bearings after being abruptly yanked out of an alternate dimension.

He had been, in a way. Luz was inclined to call it “Booksville.”

When Luz first met Hunter, this sort of stuff was a big, huge No-No for him. She could've invited him to take a look at any one of those books, packed with information on that obsession of his and of course, he'd be crazy with intrigue but he would hesitate. If he even opened the book at all, he'd card through the pages with an almost jumpy sense of caution, as if the paper itself would sting his fingers.

Well, that ship had certainly sailed. It had taken him a while to get fully comfortable but nowadays, Hunter didn't ask twice before digging into the contents of Eda's books, soaking up every tidbit of every sentence until he had exhausted every page.

He had even brought his own index flags to mark his favorite passages. He had gone on a little rant earlier about how Eda was an outright maniac for dog-earring the page corners.

Luz made a mental note to never show him the state of her Azura books. He would probably cry.

Hunter had become so lost in the Wild Magic sauce, he didn't even seem to care about the fact that he was not supposed to be here.

Of course, Eda didn't mind that he was here. That is to say, Luz didn't technically tell her he was here. She and King were currently out, being menaces to society and all that fun stuff, as they usually were before Luz would sneak Hunter in.

So, to be fair, Eda had never specifically said that Luz was not allowed to let The Golden Guard of the Emperor's coven into their home.

It was probably fine, right?

Yeah, it was probably fine that Luz had been hiding The Golden Guard of the Emperor's coven in her bedroom like some kind of forbidden pet.

Speaking of forbidden pets, that precious red cardinal of his was perched like a Christmas decoration atop his shoulder. That little rascal did wonders for Hunter. He seemed so much cuter than he was when there was an adorable little palisman snuggling up to him.

Once Hunter had processed what Luz said to him, his features screwed up tight. He was offended.

“Whadd'ya mean I'm not listening? I bet you can't repeat anything I was just talking about.”

“Ugh! Yeah, Hunter, I heard you. Paints! You wanna start painting as a hobby and let me just tell you, I fully support your budding creativety and will hype up your work with my entire heart but please. Right now I am having a full blown Amity Calamity!”

“Yeah, okay, that is not what I was talking about. Also, I get that you're freaking out n' all but....what do you expect me to do about it?” He threw his hands about wildly, at a complete loss. “Man, I don't know anything about that stuff,”

“I don't knowww....” Luz groaned. “I just....ugggghhh.” She buried her head in her hands, ruffling her hair into oblivion, like it would miraculously stimulate her brain cells into action. It released some pent up frustration, at least. “I wish it was easier for us to just talk about girls together.”

Hunter perked up. “Talk about girls? Are you kidding? Of course we can talk about girls, dummy!”

“Wait, really?” Luz asked, taken aback by this apparent development.

“Yeah, for sure. One sec,” Buzzing with eagerness, Hunter dove into his stacks of books, emerging seconds later with a worn, dust encrusted volume. It was so ancient, the title had faded away but Hunter still put his finger to where the big letters should be.

“Notable Female Witches of The Savage Ages,” He rattled off delightedly. “They were considered the mothers of Wild Magic. Their style of spell was really quite advanced, see they--”

Despite her frayed nerves, Luz sill managed a weak laugh.

As insufferable as he could be sometimes, she really did like this nerd a lot.

“Okay, Hunter. Buddy,” She said gently. “This stuff sounds really cool and I wanna hear all about it at some point buuuut....when I say girls, I mean...y'know. Amity specifically.”

“Oh. Right. Yeah.”

Hunter's face fell with disappointment but he was quick to snap back into a look of cool indifference. He shut the book in his lap with a soft thump, set it aside and turned his full attention to Luz.

“Sooooo...” he began awkwardly, scratching at his ear. It could not be more obvious that Hunter wanted nothing to do with this discussion. But Luz appreciated that he was trying. “Girlfriend problems, huh? Shoot.”

Luz's cheeks darkened. “Heh. 'Girlfriend'. Yeah, that's...uh...” She was suddenly very inconvenienced by the existence of her own hands so she clasped them together tight to keep herself from fidgeting. “That is.....a word for Amity.”

Hunter frowned, puzzled. “Okaaaay? So, what's the issue?”

“Ohhhhhh, boy.” An ironic, long suffering smile stretched across her face. “Let me just tell you that there is a lot goin' on up here, pal.” Luz tapped her finger against her temple. “So if I'm gonna give you the full unabridged version--”

“You could summarize it.”

“You know I don't know how to do that.”

“Yeah, I know.” Hunter sighed. “Figured it was worth a shot. Okay, let's hear it.”

“Alright but this is gonna be a lot so I suggest you strap yourself in,”

Luz sucked in a deep inhale, with full intent to let the entire flood of thoughts cascade out her mouth.

Hunter's eyes snapped to the floor, like he was actually looking for a safety harness to attach himself to. Then he seemed to realize that was ridiculous, as he scowled to himself. Little Rascal chirped and he irritably mumbled something under his breath in response.

And then Luz took off.

“Alright, so!” She announced, clapping her hands together. “So me and Amity have known each other fooooor...a while now? Yeah, it's been a while. And we've been pretty good friends ever since and then one day, she rescued me from her scary mom and she had this black flowing cape and her voice went all low and then suddenly, huh. Doki doki, y'know?” She thumped a fist against her chest. “I was gettin' all feelings-y up in here,”.

“And then a little later I figured out that we were both feeling kinda feelings-y and I was all like,” She mimed a brain explosion. “Pshww....”

“Pshww....” Hunter repeated quietly, testing out the little sound effect on his tongue. “Doki...doki....?”

“Yeah. Exactly. Doki doki. Pshww.” Luz nodded, as if he had made a valuable contribution. “So, now we're both here in the same boat, fully shish kebab-ed by Cupid's arrow.”

“Hold up. What language are you speaking?”

“And things are....great? Nice? Sorta hard to believe but stuff actually happens. We hold hands a few times, we...” The volume of her voice dropped to a bashful murmur. “we kiss a few times. There was so many beautiful, amazing romance-y moments that happened, just like in movies, y'know?”

“Movies....?” Hunter's bewildered stare turned from Luz to the bird on his shoulder, as if he was going to get any further clarification from either of them.

“Right! But here's the thing. It sorta feels like all that stuff just went by in a blur. I don't even know how I did any of that. The hand holding, the smooches the....ugh! It was like I was on autopilot or something and now I have no idea how to operate. Now, no matter how hard I try to get the vibe right, I can recreate those moments. So now it's starting to feel like...I don't know how to do anything!”

Luz's arms were whizzing around like an out of control windmill.

“I mean, Sure, Amity takes the lead sometimes but I can't make her carry this entire....relationship? Flirtationship? Whatever it is that's happening here! I gotta act or something! But I've been thinking about it waaaay too much. I never know the right time to hold her hand, I never know if she wants me to tell her she looks cute or if now maybe isn't the right time or...it's awkward, okay?! I've been making it awkward 'cause I don't know what to do! I-I don't even know for sure if we're dating! We've never talked about it!”

The last sentence came out as a squeak and Luz realized she had used up all her oxygen and needed to take a breather.

Hunter had not said a word but Luz did not know what to make of that dissecting stare of his, that studied her with a mixture of confusion and fascination. Like she was some kind of peculiar animal. A flushed, panting, peculiar animal.

“So.” He said finally, holding his palm out for Little Rascal to migrate from his shoulder to his hands. “Why don't you talk about it?”

He asked like it was the obvious solution. Luz was a little irked by it, but she kept her patience.

“Oh, Hunter. Sweet Hunter.” She heaved an exhausted sigh. “It is not that simple.”

He still didn't seem to understand. “Well, why not?”

“'Cause it's--.....Uh.” Luz trailed off, twirling her wrist around as if expecting to snatch an eloquent articulation out of thin air.

“Okay. Lemme put it like this. Amity is....really special. To me. Sometimes I still can't believe that she's real and she's friends with me and she likes me and....whew.” She pressed her fingertips to her cheek, surprised by the warmth. Even thinking that sort of stuff prompted a blush or two but it seemed saying it out loud made her face scalding.

“Anyway, now that we're going through....this, everything feels so much more....fragile?” Her voice rose in pitch, uncertain if 'Fragile' was even a suitable word to describe her feelings. It was just a vague, wishy-washy concept to describe.

“Like I feel like I could break it all so easy, just by....” Wait, she knew. She had figured out her handle on this.

“Just by being me.” She felt an ache just by admitting it, but it was the truth. Luz exhaled unsteadily to compose herself, clasping her fists tight into the fabric of her shorts and she continued...calmly.

“I can't risk doing anything that's gonna push her or make her uncomfortable or scare her away or...y'know, ruin this.” She held up her palms with a heavy shrug. “I-I don't have a plan and it would be way too reckless to wing it. Who knows what would come out of my mouth? She tells me a billion times that my weirdness is what she likes about me but...it can just as easily be the thing she hates if I overdo. I can't overdo it.

Luz was expecting Hunter to look at her like she was dumb again, but surprisingly, he nodded. A slow, thoughtful nod, as he absentmindedly scratched Little Rascal under the chin.

As the silence filled a little longer, she was starting to believe he had nothing else to add, which was fine. She had wanted to rant her heart out but realistically, she couldn't imagine Hunter having any advice for her. This wasn't exactly his area of expertise.

“Hey, Luz.” He said at last, voice surprisingly breezy. “You know those books that you really like? Uhh, with the nice witch Azuzu or whatever,”

“It's the Good Witch Azura!” Luz snapped, hands flying to her hips. “And I know you just pretended to not know her name. You're just trying to be cool.”

“Yeah, yeah.” The corner of Hunter's lip tweaked upwards. “And wasn't there that other witch that you liked to pretend was Azura's girlfriend?

Luz scoffed, finding it utterly unbelievable that this obnoxious little man had the audacity to be so dismissive towards her favorite book series, when she had been sweet enough to smuggle him in here.

“She was not her 'Girlfriend', she was her 'Soulmate' and if you even listened to me talk about it, you would know that. For your information, her name was Hecate and she began as Azura's rival but over the course of the series, they developed a beautiful, unbreakable bond that was jam packed with heavy romantic subtext. I mean, even their declaration of their eternal friendship in Book Five, which was really emotionally poignant by the way, reads so much like a love confession, it's a crime. And it's like...Ladies! Just kiss already!”

“Okay. Right. Sure. I understood some of that.”

“I mean, I guess I've read a ton of Heczura fanfics to tide me over. It's hard to find a fic where they don't kiss. Hold on, you know what fanfiction is, right?”

“Yeah.” The light in Hunter's eyes dimmed. “You made me sit through that three hour long slideshow presentation, remember?”

“Oh, right,” Luz popped a finger gun. “That was fun,”

It was fun, but a lot of work. Hunter was pouting over losing a measly three hours of his time. Well, newsflash, nerd, Luz spent two weeks working on that. Nobody is getting their hours back.

“And what usually happens in those fanfictions?” Asked Hunter, propping his chin up with his hand, as Little Rascal hopped over to a pile of books. “How do they end?”

“I told you, they kiss. A lot of the time they look deeply into each others eye and talk about how they complete each other like two halves of one heart. And y'know, moments of miscellaneous fluff.”

“Uh huh. Interesting,” He mused, tapping his pen against his bottom lip.

Luz knew Hunter could be a little...eccentric but was he really analyzing fanfiction right now? Where did the sudden interest come from?”

“So, uh, besides Azura and Hecate, are there any other...boats(?) that you--”

“Ships.” Luz corrected him.

Hunter snapped his fingers. “Right. Ships. Basically love stories that you really like.”

“We talkin' canon or non canon?”

Hunter squinted at her, lost. Seems somebody was not taking enough notes during the slideshow presentation. “Both? A-all...?”

“Oh, well, there's a bunch.”

Luz had no intention of listing every single ship that had captured her heart. They would be here all week.

“I've spent my whole life reading books, watching movies and anime and--”

“Anime...?”

“Hunter, please!” Luz squeaked as calmly as she possibly could, but she could not deny that she had started to vibrate. “You have no idea how excited you just made me at the thought of teaching you about anime but I'd need to dedicate a whole day to that 'cause I need to meet Amity soon and I'm still sorta in crisis mode. So, let's stay on topic.”

Her brow furrowed. “Whatever the heck the topic is! Why are we talking about ships, Huntifer?”

He waved off her question. “Okay but how does the story usually end for all your ships? The book ones, the anime ones, all of them,”

“We've been over this with the fanfiction discussion. They kiss, Hunter. Geez, you want a diagram or something?”

“But what else?” He prompted.

“What do you mean 'What else?'”

Now this was just getting ridiculous.

“They kiss!” Luz said with a huge amount of emphasis. “And again, miscellaneous fluff. They'll do stuff like pick each other up and swing around, hold hands and....walk off into the sunset, y'know?” She waved off all that extra padding as unimportant to the conversation. (Though Luz did really enjoy miscellaneous fluff.)

“Well yeaaaah,” Hunter was giving off vibes of a grade school teacher who gave her little nudges in the correct direction but ultimately wanted her to figure out the right answer herself. She wished he could just give it to her because honestly, she didn't know where this any of this was going.

“But when exactly do they ask each other if they're dating?”

“Whaa?” Well, that settled it. He had paid no attention to the slideshow whatsoever. “Nah, nah, they don't do stuff like that. They don't have to 'cause they're already perfect for each other. All they gotta do is look into each others' eyes and they just...” Luz shrugged, feeling lightness bubble in her chest at the very thought. She had a feeling her smile looked pretty dopey. “They just know.”

“Right. And why don't you and Amity just know?”

The bubbles burst and the lightness turned to dead weight.

The question speared through Luz's gut. Her entire body went rigid.

She had known but...

She had been trying not to...

Not to think about it.

Because if she thought about it, she knew she'd cry.

But there is was. A culmination of every coil of underlying dread that had been gradually writhing in her stomach in a monster of anxiety, summarized in a short and sweet collection of simplistic little words.

Luz did not just know when it came to Amity. She was constantly taking shots in the dark. That is, if she was even brave enough to take a shot at all.

The two of them together were not as seamlessly synchronized as couples in love were supposed to be.

Her throat stung.

Her vision went cloudy with blotted tears but she managed to catch Hunter's stony expression break into one of sheer panic.

“Wh-- Luz! Hey!” He yelped, scrambling to pick himself up from the floor. He nearly tripped over his books as he stood and hurried over to close the distance between them. He made to reach out to her but his hand stopped, just as it was about to brush against her shoulder. It hovered there for a moment, fingers curling and uncurling with uncertainty.

“Luz, listen, I wasn't....I-I mean, what I meant was...uhh. C-c'mon, cut it out!” Hunter's voice crackled with desperation and despite crying her eyes out, Luz felt the watery chuckle at the back of her throat.

“Aww, does crying make the Golden Guard uncomfy?” She tried to tease but her words came out all wobbly.

In fairness to the poor guy, it probably did. Luz couldn't imagine that dealing with tears in a delicate matter, was ever something he would need to handle in his line of work.

For all she knew, this was his first time having to comfort someone like this.

“You don't get to make jokes and cry at the same time. You gotta pick one.” Hunter snipped, but his tone was not nearly as cutting as usual. Luz was almost tempted to call it soft.

Clearing her eyes with the heel of her hands, she finally felt that warm touch on her shoulder, and then another rest against her upper arm.

Somehow the gentleness cracked all her remaining composure and she dissolved into ragged sobs.

Hunter did not speak nor did he let go out her until she got every tear out of her system. He waited patiently, tracing circles with his thumb into her skin.

Eventually, her sniffles fell silent and her eyes no longer blurred. She took a deep breath and the following exhale was shaky but manageable.

“Are you....good?” He asked cautiously.

Luz nodded.

Hunter removed his hands so carefully, you'd think doing so would cause her physical pain. He must have heard once that people were more prone to being hurt when they were already upset and assumed it was literal.

“Do you really think that...Amity and I....” Luz's voice was low and quiet but her jaw was set tight. She refused to let her words be whimpered. She looked up, meeting Hunter's eyes. “Aren't right for each other?”

“What? No! No, no, no,” Hunter looked positively alarmed at the accusation. “Luz th-that's not even remotely what I meant by that.”

“Well, then I guess you accidentally hit the nail on the head.” Luz managed a strained, bitter little smile. “'Cause it's true.”

“Luz, c'mon,” Hunter groaned, exasperated. “Don't talk like that, you've got it mixed up.”

“No.” Said Luz, tone quiet, polite yet strikingly obstinate. “You were right, Hunter.”

For someone who loved being right, he didn't seem thrilled at all.

“When it comes to Amity, I don't just know. I don't always know what she's thinking or what she wants from me. After all this time, I-I shouldn't still be trying to figure her out,”

Luz wanted to figure her out. Every time she was in her orbit, she wanted nothing more to turn over every last piece of that girl and find every hidden gem.

But now, it like she was barricaded. Something was keeping her from moving forward, from discovering Amity.

“I mean, we've kissed.” The memories of Amity were turning more and more bittersweet by the second “I told her I loved her! We had our happy ending already! A-at least I thought it was a happy ending. But we're not acting like people who are made for each other are meant to act!”

“How do you even know how people who are meant for each other are meant to act?!” Hunter demanded, as though it wouldn't reach Luz's skull unless he raised his voice. “In all the love stories you've read, it always ends with a kiss, doesn't it?”

“And--”

“And miscellaneous fluff. Yeah, I get it.” Hunter shooed the detail away before clearing his throat.

“Point is, they never talk about what comes after. You don't read about all those awkward talks where they decide if they're dating or not and talks about what they're okay with and what they're not. It always just cuts to the perfect, shiny romantic stuff, all tied up with a bow and because of that,” He clutched Luz by the shoulders.”You don't know how to move forward in a relationship 'cause you've never had a frame of reference to help you along.”

“Hey, that's not true!” She tore away from Hunter's grip. “I'll have you know that I imagine my favorite ships as couples all the time,”

“Yeah and lemme guess,” He droned, setting a hand on his hip and launching into a mockingly saccharine tone of voice. “They understand each other soooo well all the time, they can practically read each others' mind and everything is smooth sailing and peachy all the time.”

“Yeah, duh.” Luz didn't quite what he was making fun of. “That's what being a ship is all about.”

“Okay, fine, maybe, but I cannot stress this enough,” He ran his fingers through his hair before making a cutting gesture with the side of his hand, directed at Luz. “You are not a ship.”

“Well, yeah, obviously. I'm only one--”

“I mean that the two of you aren't a ship! Listen to me, you're not Azura and Hecate. You're Luz and Amity. You're real people. You've got like a million different emotions and they're messy and crazy and you don't understand most of them.”

“Okay, Hunter, I get it, I'm a hot mess. You don't have to rub it in.”

“We're all hot messes, Luz!” He exploded. “Every single one of us. 'Cause we're real and not book characters.” He was pacing back and forth now as he ranted and raved, gesticulating like a madman.

“We gotta handle all the awkward conversations that don't fit into books. You gotta talk to real people to get them and you can talk to them for years and years but you're never gonna entirely understand them. In your love stories, it's all kisses and happy endings and it's shiny and sparkly and perfect and nerds like you Eat. It.Up!”

Hunter emphasized his point by poking Luz's forehead, shocking a startled laugh out of her. As wound up as he was, the noise surprised him too.

Her laugh was contagious and soon the room was silent, expect for the sound of quiet, breathy giggles.

One of the knots in Luz's stomach had untangled itself. Hunter did make a point that she could understand. Yeah, okay, maybe she had been a little too wrapped up in fiction to successfully navigate through her own life. Luz had never been the most logical person so it was comforting for a levelheaded counter-argument to whatever was currently inflaming her anxiety.

Obviously, this didn't fix everything. Now, she understood why this wasn't easy but that didn't mean she magically knew where to go from here.

Once the shadow of Luz's smile had finally faded away, she looked up and studied Hunter for a long while. Her gaze may have been a bit intense as nervousness began to creep into his features.

“H-hey. Uh. Sorry if I was a little too--”

“Huntifer, I think you might be on to something with this one,”

He blinked at her before brightening with relief, shrugging it off. “Oh. Yeah, maybe. I dunno, I guess it's worth some thought.

Astonishing how Hunter could switch from the cockiest, most obnoxious kid in the Boiling Isles to a remarkably humble guy. Maybe it depended on context. Or he was just embarrassed that he sorta lost control of himself in his impatience.

Luz nodded. “I'd say a lot of thought. But..I think things are still gonna be awkward. With Amity. I still don't know how I'm supposed to talk this stuff through with her.”

Hunter snorted, loosely folding his arms over chest and resting his weight on one hip. And just like that, with that simple change of posture, he looked full of himself again “You wanna know a secret that's probably not much of a secret?”

He beckoned Luz to lean in closer and said in a stage whisper. “Amity probably doesn't know either.”

Huh. Yeah, Luz knew that. She knew that at the back of her mind but...she hadn't really thought about it much. She was a little too preoccupied with her own inexperience.

Hunter's lofty grin softened. “So, it's a good thing neither of you are doing it alone, right? Don't you think you could figure out how together?”

Figure out how together....

The realization sank from the surface of her mind, and everything was processing very fast then suddenly, everything clicked.

Amity.

Luz knew Amity. Luz trusted Amity. Luz loved Amity. If there was any person Luz believed would stumble alongside her through things they didn't quite understand yet, it was Amity. And it occurred to her that Luz would help Amity in return without hesitation.

With enough notches and trimming and smoothing edges, if they worked through this together, Luz and Amity could click too. Maybe not perfectly, not for a while just yet.

But enough that they could make each other happy.

A swing of confidence so strong flooded Luz's system, she swore she nearly collapsed. She felt the grin tugging at her mouth.

She could try. She could absolutely try. They could both try.

“Is...that a yes?” Hunter asked, gauging her expression.

Luz nodded so speedily, it made her head hurt. But then she realized something else and she turned a very specific look on Hunter.

But before he could ask if she was about to attack him, she held up two fingers on each hand and then placed them on either side of her head so they jutted out just behind her ears.

“Man, I don't know anything about that stuff,” Said Luz, in what she believed to be an uncanny imitation of Hunter's voice.

He frowned. “What are the theatrics for?”

“You lied to me!” Luz was delighted.

“I-I didn't lie!” He loudly objected, pointed ears scorching bright pink. “That was just common sense, you doofus. You know, that thing you lack.”

“You know, that thing you lack.” Luz parroted, swinging her hips from side to side. Once again, her impression remained flawless.

“Don't do that!”

“Don't do that!

“Stop, you weirdo!”

“Stop, you weirdo!”

At the peak of riled up, Hunter floundered for a retort that Luz wouldn't shoot back at him with childish mimicking. But then he cracked and wound up sticking his tongue out at her.

Luz simply mirrored him and Hunter huffed indignantly, turning on his heel and stomping back towards his books.

He had barely made a few steps when Luz lunged at him from behind, draping her long, lanky arms around his shoulders.

“Wha—Hey! Get off!” He squawked, struggling to pry her off him as Luz squished her cheek against his.

“Huntifer~” She singsonged. “Can you please calm down for two seconds and let me say thanks already?”

Hunter knotted his arms and his scowl didn't soften but Luz didn't miss how he stopped trying to squirm out of her grip.

“Even though you were kinda rambly and all over the place, what you said helped. It helped a lot. I know this is something I can handle and I know that 'cause of you. Thanks, nerd.”

She waited patiently until she felt his shoulders loosen. And then he glanced back at her and there was a smile. A small, tight, subtle smile but it was good enough for Luz.

And then with a burst of adrenaline, she gripped him tighter and planted a big, wet raspberry on his cheek.

Predictably, Hunter blew his top. He screeched furiously and his hands went wild to push her off but Luz was stronger than she looked. And so help her, she would give Hunter this affection or die trying.

Dying trying did not seem unlikely, actually. Hunter had told her once before that if he ever murdered her, it would probably be her own fault. Luz could not argue with that.

“That is so gross!” He griped, once Luz had finally released him.

“You're gross~” She chirped, practically bouncing on the balls of her feet.

Hunter wiped the spit off his cheek with his palm before looking up at Luz with narrowed eyes

Luz did not have time to brace herself and suddenly she was tackled to the ground. She kicked and she screamed as Hunter dragged his disgusting wet hand across her face.

“GrossGrossGrossGrossGrossGrossGroooooss!”

Hunter cackled maniacally the whole time.

They carried on like rowdy toddlers for a while until Luz had to go meet Amity, leaving Hunter and his palisman to themselves.

It was too weird to admit out loud but he was disappointed that she was gone. Hanging out with her like this wasn't that bad. Talking with her, arguing with her, wrestling with her. It all made Hunter feel....so much like a kid.

Something that he had realized recently was that he still liked being a kid.

In spite of the doom and gloom of white of gold, of the clawed scars in his shoulder, of the spear that grazed his hair, a spark of childishness remained in Hunter that had never been entirely snuffed out.

It wasn't until he met Luz that he began actively trying to keep that spark alive.

The sun had long since fallen asleep by the time Luz returned and the moon was pooling in the sky. A little after sun down, he heard the downstairs door slam shut and the loud exuberant voice of The Owl Lady boomed from the floorboards beneath him. By the sound of it, she was celebrating a successful day's work. Hunter wondered what she and the cute little demon had managed to steal today.

His snoozing palisman was tucked snug in the crook of his neck, a pleasant warmth against his skin. It was a good idea to keep the bird close. If someone other than Luz came barreling into the room, he'd better have his staff on hand to magically conceal himself.

But once an hour passed and the chatter of the witch and the demon below gradually faded into loud snoring, Hunter presumed they had passed out on the couch. For the time being, he should be fine.

Hunter hoped that creepy owl tube thing wouldn't rat them out. Fortunately, Luz had promised that Hooty was willing to take a bribe but unfortunately, gossip spread fast in the Boiling Isles. Now The Golden Guard had a reputation for being a lunatic who visited the night market several times, buying dead mice in bulk.

He snorted to himself, combing through 'From Bones to Fire: A Study of Wild Magic Volume 2'. Everything he went through just to get his hands on knowledge.

Well, also to be young with Luz.

Yet another hour passed and somehow, being surrounded by his own obsession, Hunter got a little overstimulated. To give his brain a rest, he was now flipping through some tattered old magazine that Luz brought with her from the human realm. Some of the articles were practically gibberish to him but overall, it was okay. He learned he was a Scorpio. He didn't know what that entailed but it sounded cool.

He nearly jumped out of his skin as Luz burst into the room, announcing her return.

Startled, his palisman flew into a fluster, cheeping like crazy before it settled down atop his head. Hunter, meanwhile, had flung the magazine away so fast, it was like it had contaminated him, and snatched up the closest book to pretend he was reading it the whole time.

Thankfully, Luz didn't notice.

“Hey there, Little Rascal,” She cooed, prancing across the room and plopping down next to Hunter. “And hey, you little bookworm, you.”

“Bookworm?” Hunter knocked his shoulder against hers. “You looking for a fight, kid?”

“Whaaaat? Hunter, you wound me, I was just....Ohhh, my bad. I always forget that our bookworms and your bookworms are two waaaay different things.” She paused thoughtfully before shaking her head. “Actually, I don't retract anything. You look like a bookworm.”

“Yeah, well, you smell like a selkidomus.” Hunter smirked.

“Hey!” Luz bumped their shoulders. “Can you blame me? I've had one heck of a day with lots of nervous sweating!”

He was surprised that got him laughing but that tended to happen around her.

“So, how'd it go?” Hunter asked, even though he already knew the answer.

Luz's beam was as bright as a dozen of her light spells. The corner of her lip was twitching, as if she wanted to smile wider but it was physically impossible.

“We're dating.” She stated, no more than a whisper.

It obvious since the moment she entered the room, far bouncier and bubblier than usual but Hunter still grinned.

He had expected her to scream it from the rooftops, to grind his ribcage into powder with the force of her hug, to set off a riot of firework glyphs, spelling it out in lights.

No matter how she could have chosen to tell him, he would have been just as giddy as she was.

And yet, despite the lack of fanfare, somehow, it still felt so much like Luz. Though he knew that in the morning, she would tell the entire Boiling Isles, right here, right now, only Hunter knew. Something about that felt nice.

But the quiet serene scene was momentarily ruptured when Hunter spotted Luz re-adjusting herself out of the corner of his eye and he was immediately on high alert. Another raspberry, he could sense it.

“Luz, don't you d--”

It wasn't a raspberry.

The feather-light peck against his cheek was gone before he fully processed it, as Luz drew away with that big stupid smile still plastered on her face.

Hunter blinked away the surprise, looking to her with a raised eyebrow.

“What's that look for? In this family, we give each other hugs and kisses~”

He felt his lip quirk upwards as he scoffed, turning away with a shake of his head.

“That was so gross.”

“You're gross.”

“For real, it was even more gross than the raspberry.”

Luz burst into giggles and Hunter could understand why everything was suddenly a million times funnier to her. She will still fizzling with that giddiness that Amity had kissed into her and now it was all spilling out.

To be honest, listening to a teenage girl gush and squeal about her girlfriend did not seem like something Hunter would ever willingly subject himself to.

But this was Luz. His friend, Luz.

He lightly pinched the pudge of her cheek. “Heeeey. You wanna tell me all about it, don't you?”

Luz snapped her head over to gawk at him, astonished. And then the excitement took hold and her hands started flapping and she looked about ready to explode with delight. Her mouth was already flying open to give every solitary detail of her evening with Amity Blight.

But then she stopped, a crease forming on her brow. He caught that unreadable look she gave him and the way her eyes skimmed over the books that scattered the floor around them.

“Hmmm.” She stroked her chin with an over dramatic 'thinking' face. “Y'know what? I'll think I'll keep it all to myself.”

“Oh, really~?” Grinned Hunter. “I can only imagine all the romantic schmaltzy sickening stuff that occurred tonight. Miscellaneous fluff, right?”

Judging by the blood that stained her cheekbones, he must have been correct.

“Hey, Hunter.” She said quietly, resting her weight against his side. “You've been lost in your books for hours now. Would you mind telling me all about the most interesting you read about today? Reading myself is fine but it's way better to hear all about it from a bona fide nerd.”

Frankly, it was embarrassing how fast the giddiness practically electrocuted him and suddenly he found himself rambling. He rambled until his voice gave up but it didn't bother him at all because it was just Luz.

Luz hung on every word he said.

[fa-by]

Hi, Faby I'm finally free of homework. I loved your theory on all these years. I laughed at the memes. many CS say we have a version of Camila with all these years, but we don't have a similar version of Lauren but at the time that Camila and Lauren weren't together (after Camila left the group) Lauren kept thinking about Camila because she kept writing songs based on her relationship with Camila like all night. Can you make a song analysis of all night?

Hello to you, dear @camilalauren0327 👋🏼😄 I'm glad you're free from your homework 💪🏼 I'm also glad that you loved my interpretation and that you laughed at the GIFs.

So. About All Night, I can tell you it's track n° 11 of Steve Aoki's Neon Future IIIalbum. Both Laur and Steve loved the time spent together in the studio, and Steve totally loved working with her: “She’s got so many ideas and the problem is, they’re all good. She’s very meticulous. The attention to detail Lauren has is something I don’t find in many people. She’s very attentive to the detail. She’s got those ears, she’s got the sensibility and the vision, and I’m just totally inspired to be in the studio with her”.

As for the lyrics, were already there, but Laur rewrote them and wrote the bridge from scratch. Vocally speaking, she did all the backgrounds and vocally self-produced. So the vocal production? It's hers. It was her. Yeah. She's thattalented, and people still sleep on her. But anyway. Let's move on to my interpretation now, shall we?

Verse 1:

“My heart beats a little faster

When our eyes meet, in the middle of a crowded room”

Typical reaction of when we meet someone we like. You know? Heart beating fast as Laur says, along with butterflies in the stomach, cheeks blushing, palms sweating, adrenaline, dry mouth, palpitations, hot flashes, etc., etc.

“In knee deep, testing waters”

What does ‘in knee deep’ make us understand? That it wasn't an ordinary person that she just liked, but that it was a person that she really liked very much. *cough Mila*

“I've got a feeling, and I don't know what to do”

Why? Because she knew it was different and contrary to the past, she didn't know how to act.

Chorus:

“You got me paralyzed, and I think I like it”

As I think you know, ‘paralyzed’ in this case is intended as being blocked by a strong emotion (such as amazement). Mila got her paralyzed. Their situation and feelings were so strong, so deep/in knee-deep, that Laur was petrified by it. But despite this, as I said before, this was different. Unlike anything she'd ever felt before. And she liked it.

“Caught me by surprise, I'm not usually like this, no”

It caught her by surprise because she didn't expect it. And we know why she wasn't usually like that. Because she'd been in denial all her life. Because she'd always fought against these feelings.

“Got me paralyzed, don't think I can help it”

She couldn't. Even if she tried, she couldn't. She couldn't help herself.

“Why's it feel so right?”

Why did what she was taught to be wrong made her feel so good/right? Because it was. It was in general, but it was even more so with her. With Mila.

Post-Chorus:

“Let's keep this going all night

Going all night

Going all night

Going all night”

Freedom. Without thinking of tomorrow. Tomorrow's tomorrow.

Verse 2:

“The crowd fades, tunnel vision

In a daze, and the only thing I feel is you”

Because she was the only important thing. The only thing that mattered. All the rest? They were just surroundings.

“In perfect, syncopation”

Syncopation can be a rhythm, a passage, or a dance step. Syncopation in music occurs when a rhythm is unexpected and is played off-beat. It's like, an oscillation in a soft and not stiff way. It's an imbalance and prolongation of a note in the middle that creates an effect of, precisely, oscillation. Flamenco is the simplest first example that comes to mind for both musical rhythm and danced rhythm, but syncopation is used in many music styles. From the classical music of Mozart and Beethoven, to the ragtime ancestor of jazz, jazz itself, rock, metal, reggae, hip-hop, pop, house, salsa, etc.

To give you a practical example to help you understand better, count 5, 6, 7, 8 out loud three times in a row. From the fourth time, keep counting out loud and, at the same time, use the palm of your hand or the clenched fist on a surface to hear the rhythm yourself and understand how stable it is. Do this three times or even more until it’s natural for you to keep up the pace without having to keep counting 5, 6, 7, 8 out loud. Once you've done that, keep counting mentally and hit/tap 5 a little bit harder with a little pause, and then just 7, 8. It would be like: 5, no hit/tap, 7, 8.

FIIIVE, seven, eight - FIIIVE, seven, eight - FIIIVE, seven, eight.

You can slow down or speed up as you like, and this, dear @camilalauren0327 and babies, is an example of syncopation. If you guys want, to listen and understand better, I also found this for you: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=z-H6oXpF-tw.

But anyway. What's my point? Why explain all this to you? Because for many composers and producers, syncopation is a vital element because it helps them tie the rhythm and the melody of a song together. The use of syncopation in music in general, but more precisely in a song, makes the track different and even unique at times.

And now that you know this, Lauren did or didn't use a beautiful metaphor with a simple one-word to describe her and Mila? *she was so phenomenal and romantic 😍*

“Face to face, tell me do you feel it too?”

Sounds weird that Laur was wondering, right? Well, it actually isn't because this song is about the moment in the timeline they were in the Like Friends Dosituation. Laur was still in denial and therefore they didn't speak. She didn't know if Mila still wanted her or not, and most likely, it was just before Mila started her relationship with the mystery girl because it coincides with Lauren finally accepting herself and her feelings for her.

Chorus:

“You got me paralyzed, and I think I like it

Caught me by surprise, I'm not usually like this, no

Got me paralyzed, don't think I can fight this

Why's it feel so right?”

The difference between the first chorus and this, is the ‘don't think I can fight this’ here. As I said before and as we know, Laur had been in denial all her life and she’d always fought against these feelings, but this time it was different. Thiswas different because Camila was different. Hell, Lauren herself was different. The environment she was in was different. Different especially from home and from what she was used to there. Her feelings were different. More powerful. Nothing like the crushes she'd had on other girls in the past, and she knew, because she knew, that she was going to lose this fight. Here, or rather at the time at that moment, she was simply admitting it to herself.

Bridge:

“But maybe I should wait

Let it fall into place

'Cause I keep going over

The things that could come from me feeling this way (Way)”

She was having second thoughts here. Her fear took over. Fear is the most powerful tool in the world. It makes you do unimaginable things and it makes you not do what you really want.

“And I don't wanna play (I don't wanna play)

This emotional game (This emotional game)

But when you pull me closer

I cannot deny that I want you to stay”

BUT, she finally gave in. She overcame her fear by finally admitting to herself that she wanted her, and not just physically. The ‘stay’ is tricky because if it's read just like that, it only means a physical action, but for Camren? It means so much more. An example that comes to mind now is the ‘It's almost 2AM and I can't ask you to stay’ that we find in Feel It Twice. For them, the ‘stay’ is not just a physical action. It's deeper. It means staying with each other. It means staying/being together.

After the bridge, we have the post-bridge and then the chorus again (in which that raspy, mature high-note occurs on the “I cannot deny this love”, which honestly leaves me dead every time) which I've already explained, so that's it, dear @camilalauren0327. All Night is a song about Laur's acceptance of her feelings for Mila.

I hope you liked it, and, I don't know where you live, but I hope you're having a wonderful summer or a beginning of winter. Sending you a hug 🤗

For you guys, on the other hand, I hope you too are having a wonderful summer or a beginning of winter wherever you live 😊 I'll try to keep answering your asks whenever possible until I get home in September (damn places with no connection and only one wi-fi).

Always remember to be kind, to others and to yourselves. Be a good example. Be patient. Be safe and take care of yourselves. Don't let our ship sink. Keep shipping them, but please respectfully 🙏🏼 Sending you virtual love and hugs 🤗🤗🤗 I love you, babies. Always with love, F ❤️

[shoutaaizawas]

Hey! Congrats on the anniversary! Can we get a Todoroki ceo!au with the prompt "What gives you the right" please?

thank you so much!! thanks for the request 💖

↳ shoto todoroki x reader → just business

event: au prompts summary: you have been todoroki’s secretary for years. when you try to move on from your feelings for him he doesn’t like it. word count: 2,039 tags/warnings: ceo!todoroki, light angst, fluff, happy ending a/n: rewrote this like twice but im happy with how it turned out

You were Todoroki Shoto’s secretary and had been for a few years now. He was the CEO of Todoroki Enterprise so working for him was no small feat. It was an important job. The longer you two had worked together the easier your job was, you understood Todoroki and he understood you.

Many times throughout the day he would ask you for something and before he could finish his sentence you’d be handing him a file. You were perfectly in sync.

It wasn’t just professionally that you got along but you really liked Todoroki as a person. Working so closely with him for all this time you got to see more of him than most.

Sure he was handsome and rich, that’s what the world saw. But knowing him first hand you knew he wasn’t a playboy like most assumed and he wasn’t exactly the most charming person. You didn’t mean that in a bad way but he just wasn’t a flirtatious person like most thought. He was very blunt and accidentally hilarious.

He could be incredibly oblivious despite his intelligence. You couldn’t count how many times you had seen women flirt with him and it went right over his head.

He was kind and caring even if he didn’t show it off.

What most people knew nothing of was what he and his family endured in their youth. Shoto’s childhood was very troubling and a lot of what happened in it stuck with him whether he realized it.

Shoto was an amazing person and it was hard for you to not fall in love with him. Even harder was keeping your feelings hidden. There was no way he could ever feel the same about you so you decided for your own sake you needed to move on.

Normally you worked a lot of overtime, you didn’t mind it. If Shoto had to stay late you had no problem staying with him and helping him so he could try and get home at a decent hour. It wasn’t like you had much to do anyway and you loved being around him. In a way the late nights were a good thing, ordering takeout and sitting in his office with him helping him with whatever task he was working on.

But tonight you had a date, it took you a lot of courage to finally try and set one up.

“Todoroki,” You said entering into his office. “I’ll be heading home at five today, I can’t work overtime.”

“Oh, okay.” He said looking up at you. “Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, I just have a date.” You told him. You didn’t like saying it out loud.

“Oh.” He said, his tone was odd. “Actually I need you to stay and help me with a project.”

“Wait, what?” You said. “You literally just said okay but now you’re telling me I can’t.”

“Well no I’m saying no, and if you want to leave early this will be your last day working here.” He said.

“What?” Your voice almost broke. Shoto Todoroki was you boss, yes but you considered him your closest friend and he always treated you as such. He had never talked about firing you not even as a joke. Your heart dropped and you felt sick. You had no idea where this was coming from.

“You can work late or not work here at all.” He repeated.

“What gives you the right?” You said, tears welling up in your eyes. You hated how unprofessional you felt right now but he was being unfair out of nowhere. “I have come into work early every day, stayed late whenever you asked and even when you didn’t. I have worked holidays and weekends at the drop of a hat and the one time I ask to leave on time you tell me no or you’re going to fire me?”

It seemed Shoto realized the damage his words had done, his expression softening as a tear slid down you cheek. Before he could speak you were out the door.

If Todoroki decided that your years of loyal work meant nothing than maybe it was time to find a new job.

You left, going home, tears running down your face as you did.

It was bad enough how in love you were with Shoto but when you try to move on he tries to stop you. How cruel was he?

You did everything you could to cheer yourself up as you got ready for your date. Listening to your favorite upbeat songs as you put on your makeup and picked out your favorite dress.

You were supposed to meet your date at a restaurant so you found yourself at a table awaiting him. You were early, it was a habit of yours to always be early to things. As the time went on it was now seven o’ clock and there was no sign of your date.

Being late wasn’t an attractive trait but it was fine, it wasn’t like you had to marry this guy. You were just trying to branch out to get your mind off of one person in particular.

Then you found yourself waiting for five minutes, then ten, then twenty, with no texts from said date. If that wasn’t bad enough the looks that the waiters and other customers were giving you was the cherry on top.

You day had already been terrible and it seemed it was only getting worse.

Taking a deep breath trying to hold in the tears you stood up and left, thankfully you hadn’t ordered anything. The walk home was perhaps the most pathetic moment of your life, tears streaming down your face you wondered if your day could get any worse. Then it started pouring.

By the time you reached your apartment building you were freezing, cursing the fact you didn’t bring a sweater to cover you dress that didn’t give you any warmth.

It seemed things could get worse you thought as you saw Shoto standing in front of your apartment door. You considered turning around and leaving but he spotted you before he could.

“There you are.” He said. “You’re soaked, what happened.” His eyebrows pulled together in concern.

“What does it look like!” You didn’t mean to yell but your day had been awful and you couldn’t hold it together anymore. “I got stood up in a restaurant full of people then it started raining while I walked home all after I got fired by my best friend!”

Shoto looked at you with a sad expression.

“I don’t want your pity, go home.” You said pushing past him before putting your key in the door.

“Wait, please don’t go.” He said as you attempted to shut the door on him after you entered. “Please, let me try to explain.”

You stared at him, you were so upset it sound like a great idea to slam the door on his face but the way he looked at you with those puppy eyes you couldn’t manage it.

“You get a minute.” You said opening the door for him to enter.

“Okay.” He said following you in. You stood there staring at him.

“Hurry up.” You said as he stared at you, taking in your appearance.

“I acted unprofessionally today, but not only that I was a bad friend to you. Your not just an employee to me, you’re my best friend and it was wrong of me on many levels to act the way that I did. I didn’t mean what I said and it was wrong of me to say it. You’re not fired, I could never fire you. I don’t deserve all the work that you put in not only for me but for the company and you’re an irreplaceable employee and friend and I’ll do anything to keep you at my company.” His words came out steady but in a sincere tone. You wondered how many times he rehearsed his words before you got home.

“I’ll come back but only if you answer one question.” You said.

“Anything.” He said.

“Why did you refuse to let me leave for my date?” You asked.

Shoto’s face went through a few expressions before settling on a fearful one. You wondered why that seemed to be the one question he didn’t want to hear.

“I-” He started but stopped, you had never seen him so speechless. “I didn’t like the idea of you going on a date with someone.”

“Why?” You questioned. Shoto took a deep breath before speaking.

“Because I’m in love with you and I have been for years. I know you don’t feel the same way. It was wrong of me to let my feelings get control of me and to intervene.” He said. “How did your date go?”

You stood there speechless. Shoto loved you. He loved you and thought that you didn’t feel the same way. You didn’t know where to start.

“He stood me up, Shoto.” You replied. His expression instantly turned to one of anger. It seemed to click for Shoto, you were home early with red eyes. All of the clues added up.

“What the hell is wrong with him?” He said. Shoto looked more angry than you had seen him in a long time.

“It’s okay, Shoto.” You said.

“How is it okay? How could anyone be stupid enough to miss out on spending even a moment with you. You’re absolutely the most perfect woman I’ve ever met.”

“It’s okay because you’re here.” You said taking a step closer. It was hard to even remember the embarrassment you felt not long ago with him standing here in front of you.

Shoto looked confused, which wasn’t surprising. It seemed you’d have to be straight forward as possible.

“I love you too, Shoto.” You said, now there was barely any space between you. “I’ve loved you for years. I didn’t want to go on a date but I thought I had to move on because you didn’t feel the same.

“Can I kiss you?” He says, he’s already leaning down to you but you knew if you said no he’d stop.

“Yes.” You said, leaning up to meet him.

The kiss is passionate, his hands are tangled in your hair and he’s holding you like if he let’s go he’ll never see you again. Your hands grip the back of his blazer.

“I love you so much.” He says between kisses. “You’re too perfect, I’d be lost without you.”

His words melt your heart and you wonder how one of the worst days of your life has turned into the best one.

“I’m hungry. Let me cook you dinner.” You said as you pulled back.

“Let me order take out and you can warm up in the shower while it gets here.” He says.

“Okay, that’s a pretty good idea.” You say.

“Thanks, I’ve picked up on it from all of your good ideas.” He says.

It’s kind of cheesy but it still makes you blush. You shower and you thank Shoto for his idea as the chill starts to leave your body. By the time you’re out clean and in you favorite pair of sweats he’s sitting on the couch with the food.

You cozy up to his side and he wraps an arm around you. It’s entertaining trying to cuddle and eat at the same time. At one point you get sauce on his shirt and you both laugh.

“I’m sorry I didn’t say it sooner.” He says, you’re now cuddled up properly now that you’re done eating.

“Me too.” You reply. “For two smart people we can both be pretty dense it seems. But we’re together now and that’s what matters.”

“We have all the time in the world now.” He says, hand stroking your hair. “What if we took a month off, traveled the world together. We could see all the places you always talked about seeing.”

“You’re the boss and I certainly wouldn’t complain.” You say smirking up at him.

Shoto leans down to kiss you again. The thought of spending time with him and traveling like you always wanted to sounds like a dream.

“Then we better start packing tomorrow.”

taglist:  @sugarmaplewings-fics @lilkiwisfinest @ewwis @kandy1410 @moonlightaangel @winnies-headcannons @bakugousidehoe @paintedr0ses1 @toobsessedsstuff @spellboundxizi @softkatsuki @x0doodlebug0x

[self-proclaimed-chaotic-good]

I’ll Be Seeing You | Robert Fischer x Reader (Oneshot)

Prompt: Dream

Fandom: Inception

Words: 1354

A/N: Been meaning to write some stuff for some of Cillian Murphy’s characters and had rewatched Inception. I started to think what else that technology could be used for, and this fic came about. I rewrote it twice because I make things complicated on myself and the final result is always the easiest to write.

-

The mind is a complicated maze and there are many that make it a profession to navigate through them. A few, however, go deeper than that. While others interpret and study the mind, thoughts and ideas could also be extracted or planted.

You knew you were in a dream. You were standing at the George Washington bridge, leaning against the railing and watching people come and go. It was a place you went to often as a student when you wanted to think. But, you knew you weren’t physically in New York. You were in a hotel room in London where you had to attend a business meeting.

The last couple of months had been stressful, but hopefully, with the new deal, it would all be worth it. You breathed in deeply, the smell of salt and exhaust would have been filling your nostrils. As you exhaled, you turned to walk back to your old apartment.

Your feet carried you to a familiar part of the neighborhood and you felt a bittersweet taste in your mouth at the sight of it. The mom-and-pop businesses, people jogging, students walking home from school, the art running along the wall. You missed this place.

Once you had gone up to your apartment floor, you saw a familiar figure. Tall and lean man with neatly styled hair and a tailored suit.

“Robert?” you said in surprise. Why was he here?

He turned, those haunting blue eyes greeting you as he smiled. “(Y/n), I was hoping to catch you,” he said.

“Why are you suddenly here?” You walked around him, keys at the ready to open the door.

“You must be thinking of me,” he joked, “Or how else would I be here?”

“I don’t know.”

You opened your apartment door, cautiously letting him in. Since it was your dream, you could always manipulate a few things if it gets out of control. Until then…

“Now, why would I be thinking of you?” you wondered out loud, plopping down in an armchair.

Robert shrugged. “You must’ve missed me.”

“I don’t,” you answered sharply.

He looked around your apartment and sat himself on the couch near you, leaning back as if he owned the place. Your eyes scanned his form, wondering why he had showed up. He looked the same as the last time you saw him, back when he was trying to follow his father’s footsteps. So much had happened since then.

“So, what have you been up to lately?” he asked casually.

You crossed your arms. “You know what it is already.”

Robert huffed out a laugh at your stubbornness. “Humor me, (Y/n/n).”

“You used to hate it when I do. Nothing was funny to mister Robert Fischer, successor of daddy Fischer’s company,” you said sarcastically. “Nothing was right. Nothing was easy. Nothing was ever enough.”

He sighed in defeat, leaning forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “Look, I’m sorry. There were things I’ve said that I shouldn’t have said. I was angry and stressed and it clouded my thinking. I’m sorry, (Y/n), and you were right to leave me.”

You felt your heart squeezed at his words. It was what you had always wanted to hear from him all these years. After you broke up, you had not spoken to him ever again. You moved away and started your own business that had been gradually thriving.

He stood up, shrugging off his suit jacket and walked over to one of your many bookshelves where you had a couple of picture frames placed. Graduation pictures, birthday polaroids, and a few framed certifications and achievements on the wall next to them.

“I’ve been reading about your business in the news. I’m happy for you,” he said with a genuine smile, pointing at the picture that you took with the starting crew of your business.

“Thank you.”

He moved on to the books that filled the rest of the shelves, running a slender finger over the spines and stopping at the small photo albums. You quickly stood up as he pulled one out that you were sure he was familiar with. He flipped it open and was greeted with a picture of the two of you from college at a bar with your friends doing a pub quiz. He smiled, taking his time at looking at each and every photo that you had foolishly kept. This physical one was still in a storage bin, but it didn’t mean that it no longer existed.

“I miss you,” he whispered, blue eyes flicking towards you as you walked up to him.

You crossed your arms again. “You never called,” you said softly, and hating yourself because of it. Now was not the time to feel small.

He slid the photo album back and turned his body to face you. His eyes roamed your face, as if trying to memorize it, hands slowly rising to grab your arms. Then, he slowly led you towards the middle of the living room, leaving your side to fiddle with the record player that he remembered he had gifted you for your birthday.

Billie Holiday’s voice filled the room as Robert walked back to you, and offered you a hand.

“May I have this dance?” he asked, wiggling his eyebrows.

You laughed, looking away so he wouldn’t see you smile, but it was too late. You relented, taking his hand and allowing him to gather you in his arms. He began to sway with the music, resting his head against yours.

“I miss you so much,” he muttered again into your shoulder.

You sighed, wrapping your arms tightly around him. “I miss you, too. I hate that I do, but I can’t stay mad at you for this long.”

The two of you stayed like that until the song finished. Then, Robert pulled back, holding your face in his hands.

“Come back with me,” he said.

You frowned. “What do you mean?”

“Wake up,” he said firmly, “Please. Wake up.”

You blinked in confusion. Suddenly, there were flashes of the streets of London. You had gone to have a quick walk to think when it started to rain heavily. The roads were instantly flooded, cars splashing water onto the sidewalks as they drove past.

Non, je ne regrette rien started to play, echoing around the room and seemingly not having any source. Robert looked around, eyes widened in panic.

“Please, come back with me,” he pleaded.

A car turned a corner near you and lost control.

“I… okay. But I don’t understand-” you said as the music grew louder.

You had been frozen in place as the car skidded onto the sidewalk, then…

Darkness.

Robert closed his eyes and you did the same, forcing yourself to wake up.

-

Non, je ne regrette rien was playing softly as you woke up. Your body felt heavy and your limbs were too stiff to move. You blinked, your eyes adjusting to the light as you looked around. White walls, white curtains, white blankets, white bed with metal railings, an IV drip in your arm and a cast on your leg. You were in the hospital.

You heard someone sigh in relief next to you. The music stopped and a thin man with dark hair came into view. The person that was next to you walked up to him and shook his hand.

“Thank you,” he said to the man.

“No problem, Fischer,” the man said. “About time we use this stuff for good.”

“Robert?” you strained to say with your dry throat.

He whipped his head around, showing his disheveled hair and bags under his blue eyes. The man looked between you two and offered a small smile, packing his things and left without a word. Robert rushed to your side, gently picking up your hand as if it might shatter with too much force.

“What happened?” you asked. “How did I-”

Robert shushed you, pressing the button above to call in a nurse. “I’ll explain later, love. You’re back now,” he said, slowly standing up.

“Don’t leave.”

“I won’t. I’ll be nearby. I promise.”

[sevlgi]

replay

requested: no

group: twice

pairing: jihyo x fem!reader

genre: fluff

contents: camp counselor!au, summer camp sweethearts. [18/33]

warnings: none

synopsis: Will your return to summer camp as a counselor be a replay of your only love story?  

a/n: you can probably tell i’ve never been to summer camp before

word count: 1.7k

The first time you fell in love, you were 15.

Back then, you had never had a relationship before, and it wasn’t exactly too high on your list of priorities, either. You were at that point of your life where you thought you were never going to fall in love.

And then you met Jihyo.

The only word you could possibly use to describe her is beautiful- you still have a few pictures with her, and if she looks even the slightest bit like she did back then, she must still be stunning. Huge eyes glimmering with light, and the prettiest smile you’d ever seen in your life.

You only had 2 months together, but that was enough to never forget her; that was the first year you actually asked to go back to summer camp. You didn’t have any form of contact with her, so all you could do was hope that Jihyo yearned for you enough to go back to camp too.

Thankfully she did, and you spent another 2 blissful months together, sneaking kisses in your bunk beds and hiding from counselors, catching fireflies together at midnight and teaming up for every activity you could.

She was all of your firsts- first girlfriend, first kiss, first time. And you wanted her to be your last, despite how unrealistic it was. 

It was almost the same the next year, but that was the last time it could be; once you turned 18, you knew you couldn’t go back. You asked for her phone number and rewrote it on your arm in Sharpie every night, hoping with all your heart it would become permanent.

But you wrote it down wrong.

You texted her the day you got home, and the person who responded was definitely not the beautiful girl you loved. In a fit, you threw your phone at the wall, then pored over its cracked screen every night, trying to find some way to find Jihyo again.

After nearly 4 years, nothing.

To say the slightest, you’ve moved on from what you brush off as a first love, something that was never meant to last. You’ve had other girlfriends, other boyfriends, in an attempt to fill the void Jihyo left behind.

This year, your parents refuse to let you date around for the entire summer again. This year, you’re going back to the place where it all began.

Back to summer camp.

“Y/N Y/L/N?”

Smiling, you bow and shake hands with the pretty woman who greets you; from what you remember of your phone call with her, her name’s Nayeon. “Yeah.”

“Welcome, thanks for coming so early,” Nayeon grins, brushing a lock of brown hair behind her ears. She doesn’t look like a particularly outdoorsy person, but then again, you don’t either. “We don’t have many counselors this year, but you’re going to be overseeing cabin 4 with Jihyo.”

Your blood practically freezes and you stop in your tracks, Nayeon sending you a confused look when you stop walking. “Jihyo?”

“Yeah, Park Jihyo. Do you know her?” she frowns, opening the gate for you. The camp is basically the same as you remember it to be, though the cabins have all been painted gray instead of the beige from 4 years ago. “She’s only started being a counselor this year, you can’t have had her before.”

“No, I...” Your fingers tighten on the suitcase as you wave mindlessly to some of the other counselors you pass. “I don’t think so.”

“Alright. Can you find cabin 4 on your own?” Nayeon asks, tapping on the plastic of her clipboard. “We’re going to start prepping for the kids tomorrow, but we’ll have a bonfire and dinner together tonight. Get to know Jihyo, you’re going to be rooming together for a summer!”

You nod, sighing, “Sure.” Cabin 4 looks the same as all the rest, except for the faded number 4 painted on the door.

Nobody’s inside, surprisingly. Like you remember, there are 6 bunk beds and corresponding cabinets, a doorway leading off to the bathroom and one more leading to the room you’ll share with the other counselor.

That room is much smaller, of course- there are just 2 twin beds and 2 tiny cabinets, one of the beds already made and the cabinet already filled with clothes. Sighing, you set your suitcase down in the narrow space between the beds.

“Y/N?”

Disbelief colors your expression when you turn to find an all-too-familiar face; just like you expected, Jihyo is still absolutely beautiful. She’s lost a little weight and grown up a lot; now, her hair is dyed a pinkish lilac, skin radiant and full lips glossy. “Jihyo. It’s actually you?”

“What the hell,” she breathes out, stepping into the room and examining you as if she still doesn’t believe you’re real. “I thought I’d never see you again.”

No reply is needed as you crash into her, your fingers tangling into the back of her hair as you hug her close, the familiar smell of her perfume making your eyes sting just the littlest bit. After 4 years, she still smells like delicate lilac and jasmine.

She pulls back a bit too quickly than you’d like, stepping away awkwardly and giving you a half-smile. “So. How’ve you been?”

“Ah. I’m... good, I guess. Missed you.” That’s such an understatement, you want to tell her. It’s stupid that you want to cup her face in your hands again, see if she still tastes like waxy vanilla chapstick. 

Jihyo smiles, rubbing her arm and shifting onto one foot. “Great. Um, do you have a girlfriend?”

Your mind shuts down at all the possibilities of the meaning behind that question; could it be that she still feels the same? Maybe she has a girlfriend now, or maybe... maybe she feels uncomfortable around you? Her eyes give nothing away, so you blurt, “Yeah. Uh, nothing serious, though.”

“Same,” she answers, nodding her head oh-so-awkwardly. “Uh, I’ll let you get settled. See you at dinner?”

“Sure.” Part of you wants to ask what she’ll do for nearly 4 hours, but you watch her leave hurriedly, wanting to wrap your arms around the lingering scent of her perfume.

The first week is awkward, to say the least, though the arrival of the kids makes it a bit better. They talk a lot and move a lot, enough to keep the both of you occupied until it’s time to sleep.

You’re always stuck minding one kid or another out of the 6, so there’s really no time to talk to Jihyo at all. At mealtimes, you end up sitting with another counselor named Momo, a bubbly Japanese girl who apparently is friends with Jihyo.

Tonight, the other counselor has offered to stay with the kids who don’t want to go to the bonfire while you accompany the 2 that do; you end up just talking with Momo the entire night.

“You like Jihyo, don’t you?”

“What?” You frown as you turn to the other counselor, mouth agape at how much she apparently has picked up.

She smiles, handing a toasted marshmallow to one of her kids. “We can all see it. You don’t have a girlfriend, do you?”

Tucking your knees into your chest, you shake your head and sigh, “No. I thought she’d feel uncomfortable around me, since we used to be... you know.”

“Why would she?” Momo cocks her head, handing you a s’more despite you not asking for one. “Jihyo doesn’t have a girlfriend either.”

“What?”

“Yeah.” The blonde shrugs. “She kept telling me that she hoped she could find the girl she fell in love with here, so I guess that’s you? She’s been single for years, I think she’s still hung up on you, Y/N.”

You don’t mean to bolt to your feet so fast, but Momo doesn’t look surprised. “Watch the kids for me.”

The wind whips at your face when you sprint, almost tripping over the stairs leading up to the cabin. The 4 kids inside look up, surprised, when you yank the door open, Jihyo’s eyes the widest when you grab her wrist and lead her to your shared room. “Y/N, what’s-”

“Please tell me if this is a mistake.” Your fingers still curling around her hand, you step closer, eyes searching for a sign to stop. Closer, closer, closer-

Jihyo is the one who finally closes the gap, stumbling forward until her lips meet yours. It’s awkward, of course- you haven’t even seen each other in years, never mind kissed like this. But you get the hang of it quick enough, pushing back with just enough pressure.

Her cheeks are red enough to make her look drunk when she comes up for air, lips the tiniest bit swollen. “I thought... you had a girlfriend?”

You shake your head, panting slightly for air. “I don’t. I thought you were uncomfortable around me, so I said... I told you I was over you. I’m not, Jihyo, I still have feelings for you.”

“Okay.” She pauses, tongue darting out to lick at her lips again. “So... what do you want me to do about it?”

The smart thing to do would be to talk, but you’ve never exactly been rational when it comes to Jihyo. “Kiss me,” you smile, pushing the door to your room shut. “And try to keep quiet.”

[youngclaire]

One Last Final Goodbye

I rewrote sending Claire back through the stones at the end of book 2 but from Jamie's POV. I thought it would be a nice way to ease myself into writing these two. This is very book compliant, I actually bad the book open next to me whilst I wrote this in order to translate it from Claire's POV to Jamie's and it was a lot of fun. It's not a copy of the fuller chapter, it's been shortened down in places but the essence is there. I've also removed bits and pieces. Uhh yeah...all dialogue in this belongs to Diana and the book I'm just responsible for remixing the words. Anyway, I hope whoever bothers to read this likes it :)

(This is also my first fic in this fandom with these two so don't expect it to be perfect, it probably isn't)

- - -

He wouldn’t stop for anything; not food, water, or rest. He keeps the horse at a constant gallop at all times, scared that if he paused or hesitated for even a moment he would lose all courage and go neither back or forward.

I shall see my wife safe, is a mantra that keeps him riding. If he is to die tonight or on the battlefield tomorrow, he would not take her down with him; not her or the innocent being she carries inside her.

The stones come into view just above him. A cursed salvation of granite and Jamie tries not to see them, his gaze fixated forward. Behind him, Claire lets her displeasure be known, protesting against the idea. Jamie steels himself against them, clenches his jaw and gallops harder, fighting the urge to give in. This was the only way to see her safe and unharmed, he tells himself.

She protests still, even while he urges her up to the ruined cottage. She doesn’t realise he has no intention of parting with her right now, he just wants time to breathe, to think, to let the panic and worry abate. He sinks to the ground, his body cold and his mind racing.

“It’s alright,” he thinks he hear himself say. “We have a bit of time now; no one will find us here.” He shivers, though from the cold, and wraps his plaid around him.

God, he could still see it; Dougal’s lifeless eyes, the blood pooling out of him, the shock on Willie Coulter’s face. How long before everyone knew? How long before everyone found out he had committed familicide?

Jamie’s head falls forward onto his knees, a tiredness washing over him, fatigue clutching at his bones and eyelids. Tired as he was he could not sleep for fear of the images in his mind’s eye.

His breath comes out in ragged pants and he can barely stand the sound of it. He feels Claire’s warmth and presence beside him, uses it as something to anchor himself to.

What happened in that room and who knows wasn’t the priority, while Claire had yet to explicitly say so Jamie’s fate waited for him on Culloden Moor. Tomorrow he will die and all this will cease to matter. Claire will be safe.

His breathing eases back into its natural rhythm, the panic wilting away from the edges. He’ll take hold of Death’s hand, gladly accept his destiny knowing he did one thing right at last.

“I won’t go, Jamie,” she says, as if she’s read his thoughts. “I’m staying with you.”

Jamie shakes his head. She couldn’t persuade him, he couldn’t change his mind. He needed to do this.

“No,” he says. The firmness bites at him, makes him wince. He hopes she can hear the gentleness that lies beneath it. “I must go back, Claire.”

“You can’t,” she cries. “Jamie, they will have found Dougal by now! Willie Coulter will have told someone.”

Aye, that was a fact he had resigned himself to, a fact she must resign herself too as well. He grieved for Dougal, for the second father he had, but Jamie had done what he’d done- he would take whatever consequence waited for him behind that door. She talks of fleeing to France but it’s no use, he’s chosen his fate, set his heart and mind to it, accepted it. A traitor twice over, a rebel, a murderer…The English will hunt Prince Charles. The English and the clans will hunt Jamie. He was dead either way.

“Claire, I am a dead man.”

He watches the tears freeze on her cheeks. “No,” she says but the effect is lost, she knows he speaks the truth.

“I wouldna get very far anyway.” On its own accord, his hand runs through his red hair that makes him a beacon at all times. Not exactly inconspicuous. “I can save you, Claire,” With his other hand he brushes away the tears that continue to fall. “and I will. That is the most important thing.”

Then he will go back. If he finds he cannot do it for himself then he will find it in him to do so for his men.

“I think I can get them away,” he says thinking the plan through. “Even if it’s known what I’ve done, none will stop me wi’ the English in sight and the battle about to begin.” The plan visualises in his mind and he nods to himself. “I will bring them safely away and set them on the road toward Lallybroch.”

“And then?”

Well…wasn’t that obvious?

“And then I will turn back to Culloden.”

He lets out a breath, strong and final as his decision. He catches Claire’s worried look and gives her a smile.

“I’m no afraid to die, Sassenach,” he says, but then he thinks of that door, black and foreboding, the unknown behind it. “Well…not a lot, anyway.”

He hears a sound a human being should never be able to make as arms fling around him. He finds himself surrounded by Claire, caught in her tight embrace as the scent of her overwhelms him. He clutches her back, trying with all his might not to succumb and cry.

“It’s all right, Sassenach,” he says into her hair as she cries once more. “A musket ball. Maybe a blade. It will be over quickly.” A lie, they both know it, but Jamie will them both to believe it. He’s seen men die in battle, knows how horrifically slow it can be but it was better than waiting for the hangman’s noose, that would be the one thing that does not lie behind that door.

“I’m going with you.”

Lost in thought he barely registers it but when he does he reels at the notion, startling backwards.

“The hell you are!” He has a plan, damnit, and not even Claire will deter him from it.

She displays her argument but he will not listen to it, will not give it thought.

“No!” he says. “No, Claire!”

How could she suggest such a thing, knowing what they both knew? How could she be so selfish?

“If you’re not afraid, I’m not either. It will…be over quickly. You said so.”

You said so. What he said was a lie, did she not see that? A lie to comfort them both.

“Jamie- I won’t…I can’t…I bloody won’t live without you, that’s all!”

He had a thousand things to say and none at all. His mouth opens and closes before he shakes his head. Through the gaps in the ceiling he can see daylight dwindling, night approaching. The sky is painted red. Blood of a battlefield, blood of childbirth.

He reaches toward her, pulling her close. He knows where this fight comes from, if the tables were turned he would say the same thing, knows because he feels it too.

“D’ye think I don’t know?” His voice is soft, a whisper. “It’s me that has the easy part now. For if ye feel for me as I do for you- then I am asking you to tear your heart out and live without it.”

She lets out a whimper, clutching him closer. He fingers stroke her hair, whispering soft coos towards her.

“But you must do it,” he finally says, feeling his stomach twist and turn. “Ye must.”

“Why?” She is angry, considerably so. Confused and hurting. “When you took me from the witch trial at Cranesmuir- you said then you would have died with me, you would have gone to the stake with me had it come to that!”

He had said all that, and to this day, it remains true. He’d have rather died than to be parted with her.

“Aye, I would,” he says. “But I wasna carrying your child.”

The reason he is allowing them to part.

She is surprised, shocked, frozen in place as she looks up at him in bewilderment.

“You can’t tell,” she says at last, shaking her head. “It’s much too early.”

It makes him smile, brings amusement to him.

“You havena been a day late in your courses, in all the time since ye first book me to your bed. Ye havena bled now in forty-six days.”

She hurls insults at him, shocked he even managed to keep track of such a thing during a war but he had for hope they would have a second chance at raising a child and for fear that it would end like this.

“It doesn’t mean anything,” she tells him, rattling off reasons for why she might not have bled. It’s no use, she forgets he’s seen her so before, studied all the tell-tale signs of her body changing, committed them to memory.

“Claire…” His voice is quiet, not sounding like him. “Tomorrow I will die. This child…is all that will be left of me- ever.” He reaches for her hands, needing some part of her to hold. He casts his gaze to their joined hands, running his thumb over her fingers. “Claire, I beg you, see it safe.”

He keeps his eyes downcast while he waits for her answer, scared she’ll say yes, scared she’ll say no. The silence feels long and he shuts his eyes against the twisting of his stomach.

Finally her answer comes.

“Yes.” A whisper in the darkening cottage. “Yes. I’ll go.”

He nods, swallowing back the lump in his throat, hearing the sound of a flower stem snap.

.:.:.:.:.:.:.

After telling her to sleep, she doesn’t sleep himself. Time seemed wasted on that and they didn’t have much of it left anymore. In a few hours he will take her to the fairy hill and part with her forever.

He wanted to rage at the unfairness of it all. To brandish his sword and yell and scream and cry but he knew there was no point to it. He knew that what he had been handed was more than fair, that not many men live the life he’s led and are allowed to be rewarded in such a way.

Lord, ye gave me a rare woman, he had said to her, quoting what he would say to God when he met him. God! I loved her well. He had, he could really say that. He took this woman, in all her unbated strangeness, into his broken hands and within her found company and peace, a place to call home.

She loved me well, too, he adds, watching her sleep for the last time. Content and safe, here in his arms and their fortress of cloth. He had healed him with her touch and love and perseverance. Picked a broken man off the floor and carried him through towards the light at the end of the tunnel no matter the setbacks. She really was a rare woman, his sassenach.

He wraps his arms tighter around her, murmurs a quick thank you in Gaelic to God and to the fairies for dropping her into his life.

Pressed against her, safe in their fortress of clothes, her skin warming his bones, his eyelids grow heavy and he succumbs to sleep as the first inklings of tomorrow break across the sky.

.:.:.:.:.:.

She was gone.

Disappeared in the same manner in which she had appeared. Gone through the stones and back to Frank.

Jamie presses his hand against the stone. The hard granite presses back on his wound, her mark, the letter C, reminding him it was real, she was real.

Her arisaid lies on the grass, forgotten in their haste to love each other one last time. Jamie picks it up, bringing it to his nose, inhaling her scent still lingering on the tartan. Tears fall on their own accord as he prays she made it back, prays that she and the bairn are safe.

A cannon in the distance booms, startling the birds and startling him. It’s beginning.

He is hesitant to move, to leave the place of their last coupling, his last connections to her.

Yet destiny waits for him on Culloden Moor, along with his men. He pictures the thirty men waiting for their laird.

There is nothing he can do for Claire now but there is something he can do for his men.

He kisses the inside of his fingers, presses it to the stone and bids his soulmate one last final goodbye.

[avenger-hawk]

Tagged by @altraes (thank you, it was fun to do this~)

List the first lines of your last 20 stories (if you have less than 20, just list them all). See if there are any patterns. Choose your favorite opening line. Then tag 10 of your favorite authors!

                                                       *

(I wrote the first paragraphs because my first lines alone don’t make much sense lol)

1- ACQUIESCENCE (Minato/Itachi) my first fic ever. darkish but just a little, angsty. I’m proud of it cause another author wrote a sequel to it.

 to ac·qui·esce: to accept, agree, or allow something to happen by staying silent or by not arguing. A flurry of leaves, swept away by the autumn wind, caught the Hokage's attention while he took off his large hat. That time of the year should have been warmer.

2- THE WILL OF FIRE (Shiita, Danzo/Shisui, Danzo/Itachi) This was dark and shiita fans didn’t like it lol.

 Just like his owner, Danzo's studio was dark and dusty. The man didn't look as old as Hiruzen, but he was twice as scary; thus would think a boy of Itachi's age. Not him. He was not allowed to be afraid.

3- WHAT HE WANTED (Itasasu) Even tho I rewrote it cause I didn’t like how I initially characterized them and their dynamics this is my most popular fic. Maybe because it’s a post-ending, canon divergent, fix-it kind of story. Maybe because it’s Itasasu and I put so much love into writing their dynamics and, also, in giving Sasuke a good ending since canon didn’t do him justice.

Sasuke is where everybody wants him to be: in Konoha. With the battle and the arm he also lost the urge to fight. He's had enough of traveling. He's tired of chasing and being chased. So tired that even if he meant every word about starting a revolution, being the Hokage and build a new era, he had wondered, though only for a moment, if he would be able to really accomplish such tasks all by himself.

4- IN POWER WE ENTRUST THE LOVE ADVOCATED (Itasasu) THis is my second most popular fic. This one too was written after the ending and tried to give Sasuke justice. I planned to write a sequel but I got busy with other projects and lost interest in it.

The gates open, letting the shinobi in after a successfully completed mission. Being on duty the following day Sasuke declines his team mates' proposal to have dinner together, the reddish sunset light forcing him to squint as he walks towards the Hokage's office.

5- PRESSURE (Itasasu) Taken from In Power that can be read as a standalone oneshot.

Itachi wakes up to the sound of pouring water.

6- IN DREAMS (Itasasu, Izuna/Sasuke, DARKFIC). This is one of the darkest things I wrote. The Izuna/Sasuke crackpair was for @admiral-izusasu. The plot, the dynamics, everything has a double, or triple reading, plot related and metaphorical for other, real-life issues such as knowing people online, and emotional abuse from narcissistic people. I wrote it when I was fighting against one of these psychos, on tumblr itself, so this fic has a personal meaning for me. But also the plot and the canon divergent ending thing is cool, I think it’s one of my best fics, even though I coulnd’t care less about izuna.

They say that nature will always find a way. After the end of the war flowers keep blooming like nothing happened even if the light is fainter, filtered from the tall branches of the Shinju tree, now grown into a forest spread all over the world.

7- SOMBER CREATION PALE DESTRUCTION (Madara/Sasuke dom/sub-ish). Darkish? Who knows, I write darkfish stuff all the time. I was (and am) very proud of this fic, the canon divergent turn it took (who am I kidding, it’s really cool lol) and the weird relationship/dynamics these 2 created. So I didn’t update it anymore, because doing so would break their thin balance. Ssssh, don’t tell me it doesn’t make sense, I don’t believe you xD

History teaches that Madara Uchiha died at the hands of Hashirama Senju. Their statues were erected in the Valley Of The End where their battle was fought, where the shinobi god ended his best friend's life in order to protect the village they founded together. No one knows that Madara didn't die there.

8- IN THE DARK (kakashi/Sasuke, mob/Sasuke noncon). This is a very dark oneshot that I’m proud of, cause it ‘explains’ canon Sasuke personality in Shinden and later, and that I use as prequel for many fics, like WHW but also OFAF and Broken Things (see later for both).

Things never went as Sasuke wanted. After the war it's no different, although everything seems fine at first, Team 7 finally at peace with each other, the war ended and the village that Itachi protected, even as a dead man, safe. Nevertheless he is arrested when he's still in the hospital.

9- VICTIMS OF PEACE (Shisui/Sasuke dom/sub-ish) I am so proud of this fic, of its non massacre universe, of the dark-ish slow burn relationship between Shisui and Sasuke I wrote, tentatively at first cause no one did it or thought much about it, and because that non massacre filler was bad, but still it was inspiration. I know shiita fans hated me even more for this cause shisui is only paired with itachi, and also itachi/itasasu fans were disappointed but still. This is maybe the fic I’m most proud of.

If a traveler arrived from a random village in the Fire Country he would certainly notice how different Konoha was. He would not be able to pinpoint exactly why at first, because the buildings, houses and shops are similar, just like their gardens, fields and animals. Only after some thought he would understand that the difference is in their people: other villagers are relaxed and casual, even loud. Children run around the streets, chasing each other, playing tag or hide-and-seek. Their fathers bring them presents and their mothers buy them new clothes.

10- OF FEATHERS AND FANGS (DARK Narusasu) I received a lot of hate for this one, which makes me proud of it even more. so many naruto stans were butthurt by my characterization of him as a possessive not sunshine selfless boy and their dynamics as crazy.

Jiraiya used to complain that the first sign of getting old was waking up at night for no reason and not being able to fall back asleep. For Naruto, this only happened after the war.

11- BLACK ROSES (Itasasu, dom/sub-ish) Smutty Bloody Darky Hokage Itachi/Anbu Sasuke oneshot

Because of his farsighted politics, his loyalty towards his allies as well as his iron fist against his enemies, Itachi quickly became one of the most respected leaders in the shinobi world, and because of his unequaled diplomatic skills, along with his vast culture, impeccable manners and refined appearance, he became popular among nobles, including the Daimyo, whose official visits increased since the Uchiha rose to power.

12- NELL’IPOTESI GRANDE (=IN THE BIG HYPOTHESIS) (MetaMoro, not Naruto) I’m very proud of this one cause it’s a psycho-pass inspired longfic set in a retrofuturistic Italy with a totalitarian consumeristic regime. But that fandom is so shitty and they all hate me cause I called them homophobic fascists so no one cares. The excerpt is translated too.

He’s reminded of Pirandello’s* words as he’s riding the automatic taxi across the city, exiting the center towards EUR. COmpared to Milan with its skyscrapers, multilevel streets, automatic cars and incessant novelties, the capital is basically the same as it was portrayed in old illustrations: renaissance and 20th century buildings, seagulls, pines among the Roman ruins, sycamore trees on the Lungotevere, that was probably already busy with traffic when people travelled on horse carriages. (*an Italian writer)

13- DA UOMO A UOMO, MANO NELLA MANO (from man to man, hand in hand) (Metamoro) lol I was hated a lot for this one too. tbh the hate I received in the Naruto fandom is nothing compared to this other shitty fandom

For an artist like Fabrizio, mainly focused on expressing what he has inside, public relations are the hardest part of his job, especially when it’s about events where, instead of fans, of whom he perceives the sincere affection, other artists and professionals are invited. His experience taught him that most of them are hypocrites ready to jump on the winner’s bandwagon as quickly as to throw mud at the loser.

14- STRENGTH THROUGH WOUNDING (wip) (Obito/Sasuke, Obito/Itachi, dark.-ish) 

There is something nostalgic in the eerie way the boy's screams resonate through the dark cavern-like hideout, their pain bouncing from one curved wall to another, their anguish filling their crevices. It’s like hearing his past self from an external perspective, like Madara did. Which is fitting, for Obito is Madara now.

15- WORDS UNSAID (wip) (Kakashi/Sasuke) 

A black flame that cannot be extinguished: they had been warned about Amaterasu by Jiraiya, but seeing it was impressive nevertheless. The whole area was surrounded by black flames and the rain pouring hard could nothing against it. They found Sasuke there, surrounded, imprisoned by black flames that were extinguishing themselves, so they found a breach.

16- BLEEDING ME (Metamoro vampire/priest darkfic) No one can understand this in the Naruto fandom but it’s an AU interpretation of the Da UOMO A UOMO character dynamics where one is an emotional vampire-like person. I’m very proud of this fic tbh.

According to folk stories the forest was so big and full of dangers that God himself put a church where it ended, so that its priest would protect the people living nearby. It was a small, white building that didn’t match the typical stones and wood brownish ones of that region, with no stained glass windows or fancy columns, spires or gargoyles, only crosses with skulls and bones, and an engraving in an unknown language.

17- WILD CHILD (Metamoro cop/drug dealer AU). At this point I hate that fandom so much but I like my ideas and I write only for my girl whom I met in that very shitty fandom.

Everything seems bigger in children’s eyes. Like the playground in the courtyard of the church, with its slides and swings that for Ermal’s siblings were the setting of countless imaginary adventures which they told him in detail, enthusiastically interrupting each other, when he picked them up after school.

18- TRUE COLORS (Itasasu, dark, dom/sub) By now I’m only interested in writing dark IS and I enjoyed writing this one lol

"I knew you had it in you. You're a sadistic control freak. Even more than me." Orochimaru's voice resounded in Itachi's ears. Again.

19- OF FEATHERS AND FANGS 2: TO REPAIR WITH GOLD (Dark Narusasu). Cause I didn’t piss off NS fans enough I guess? lol this is ongoing and I like this idea so much

It's a rainy day in Konoha but no one seems to notice. Everyone is focused on the Hokage delivering his eulogy.

20- BROKEN THINGS (Shisui/Sasuke) My latest creation, I’m so proud of it cause it’s Shisasu again, my rarepair! and it was supposed to be a oneshot but it got longer because they have such a cool dynamic that things just happen and get longer.

In the Land of Water summers were hot and damp, autumn and spring were damp for the frequent rains and winter was no less, with its cold temperature and ubiquitous dampness. It wasn't a problem for Sasuke though.

                                                                       *

Tagging: @renamon15 and all the other authors I can’t remember right now and who want to do this, tag me back so I can read your first lines lol

[writingbakery]

“an andorian, a bezoid, & a tessian walk into a bar”

another one of my favorite works is here! i originally wrote this for a different fandom, & rewrote it to fit here. i’m in love with this story, it’s one of my absolute favorites; please leave me feedback about it! a second part is in the works ✨ taglist; @secondhand-trash @redbeanteax @togasknifes

[some notes: denki is an andorian, a very tall race of aliens who are very nimble, skilled silent warriors when needed. hitoshi is a bezoid, from a mining planet, broad, tough, good with any sort of weapon but mainly guns, & you are a rare species called tessian, lil shapeshifting aliens that were often sold as slaves way back in the day on illegal black markets due to their skill! ULC means universal language chip, & the fleet is my version of the interspace police! ]

[pairing; poly!shinkami x reader]

[warnings; space jokes, cussing, dangerous scenarios, extremely Buff Aliens, violence, angst, fluff]

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

if you asked hitoshi shinsou what he would describe as a perfect day, he would tell you this: waking up in his quarters on the isla bella, the smooth glide of their ship through space flowing uninterrupted. there are no parts that need replacing, no angry merchants on their tail for undelivered merchandise, nothing but the clean quiet of the stars & the faint glow of space flitting through the small window by his bed, denki fast asleep against his chest. he’d card his fingers through the andorian’s glimmering gold hair, kiss along the slope of his nose & bask in his quiet beauty. that would be a perfect day for him; lounging in bed with his freakishly tall, giggly lover without a care in the world.

the last thing he’d consider to be a perfect day is running across the burning - literally in flames burning - sand of a deserted planet with two grogorians firing photon lasers at his skinny ass, skidding between the roaring flames of the ground beneath him & the sting of the lasers with denki screaming unintelligible commands & curses in his ear via comm. he’d consider that a bottom of the barrel kind of day.

you can probably guess which kind of day he’s having.

cursing under his breath as he slips between the burning flames, he does a cursory peek around the open desert, eyes searching for the opening that denki was furiously insisting “was right there, hitoshi shinsou for the love of god open those damn sultry bezoid eyes and LOOK” - he refuses to acknowledge the compliment, focused on the seven million fucking grains of sand & his boyfriends panicked voice in his ear when he finally spots it. a haze in the heavy heated air, almost like a mirage, a split in the vast landscape that led down somewhere dark, hidden. he lets out a sigh of relief loud enough for denki to hear, a sign that he’d found the entrance, before a photon blast skims just past his ear, leaving a three inch skidded burn across his cheek.

oh right. the grogorians.

stealing from the grogorians was the stupidest goddamn idea denki had ever come up with, which was saying a lot; once, he’d thought the seven suns on Naboor all rose & fell at the same time, shrieking in hitoshi’s ear about “planetary instability” & “socio-economic collapse” for a full ten minutes before he saw the suns rising & falling one after the other, in turns. that had been a field day, not one hitoshi was eager to repeat. the grogorians were fiercely territorial, completely tucked away from modern civilization & technology, & were at least seven feet tall. you could fit two shinsous in one of their chests; he wasn’t quite ready to see that up close.

ducking & weaving across the barren landscape, he slides through the slit in the ground with practiced ease; he’s run for his miserable life far too many times at this point. he can hear the grogorians shouting above the hole in the ground, too big for them to pass through, & he winces as his ULC - universal language chip, something kaminari had insisted he get implanted- deciphers the strangled words into curses he can understand. he’s really glad his parents are dead, because whatever blood curses the grogorians are spitting at his family tree sound awful.

the cavernous tunnels he’s slid down into are cool, spacious; coned lights illuminate the rocky path deeper & deeper into the planet. its all but deserted, the only inhabitants the two grogorian guards he’d narrowly escaped from. denki’s voice filters in through the comm again, calmer now that hitoshi was safely inside.

“we’ve got twenty minutes max before their distress signal goes through,” the andorian warns him, tracking the surrounding space around the planet from the isla bella. “follow the main tunnel straight through. the crown should be there. ten minutes to get there, i phase you straight out, we fucking book it into warp drive & we’ll be seven million credits richer by tomorrow morning. and you can finally treat me to dajang.”

hitoshi rolls his eyes despite the fact that denki can’t actually see him, trudging through the tunnels a little wearily. “remind me again why i always have to be the one getting shot to hell & back?” he grumbles as he walks, no real heat to his voice.

“you love my ass too much to risk it getting shot at, baby you know that,” denki laughs through the comm, ever poking fun at hitoshi’s expense & he’s sure to give the andorian a long, drawn out sigh before switching off the comm & pushing further into the darkness.

denki’s right though, hitoshi muses as he moves, his eyes glinting violet in the lamplight. the bezoid would rather die than see denki in any veritable danger, keeps him up on the ship to guide him & yank his ass out at the first inkling of a problem.

he’d been protecting the stupidly tall, wildly cheery andorian from the first day they’d met, cooped up in some stuffy bar off V-7. he’d had absolutely zero self-preservation skills even then, picking a fight with a damned Dervisian of all people, just because the man had insulted his shirt. hitoshi, not overly fond of watching handsome morons get punched in the face by meatsacks twice their size - & maybe he appreciates the long, toned legs & pretty face a little more than he lets on - steps in with ease, no matter how short he feels between the two of them. the dervisian cracks a height joke, because he’s an asshole, denki stabs him in the shoulder with a four inch dagger he pulls out of his too tight pants - & of course hitoshi spends far too long wondering just how he managed to fit it in the first place, mind all fuzzy - & they somehow manage to kick off an interspace bar fight. wonderful.

once the dust has settled & the chaos calmed, hitoshi finds himself with three new bruises, a cut cheek, & an armful of very grateful andorian.

“i hear the fleets coming. wanna get married?” denki wiggles his eyebrows suggestively, & hitoshi chokes on his own spit.

“what for? they’re keepers of the peace, not wedding officials,” he manages, glaring up at the - stupidly tall, stupidly pretty - andorian that’s managed to wrap himself into his arms.

“if you’re married they can’t deport you. i’d really like to avoid interspace jail,” denki winces, & hitoshi snorts.

“or we could run, like normal deviants of the law,” he points out, much to denki’s chagrin.

“and where is the fun in that?” the andorian pouts, & hitoshi knows he’s screwed.

four years, seven interspace incidents, four run ins with the fleet, & one rusting junktrap of nuts & bolts they called a ship later, they were inseparable. one complete idiot with a penchant for charming the pants off everyone around them & simultaneously launching them into trouble, & his over exasperated, eternally exhausted boyfriend, who was consistently saving his ass. they were an unlikely duo, but they worked like magic, & despite the fact that he had to risk his ass every damn day, hitoshi was pretty happy. him & denki made a little solar system all their own, a shining sun & its orbiting planet, & he likes that. he’s happy.

as happy as a thief for hire could be, really.

the problem with their particular profession, however, is that denki is basically one big ass radar for trouble. if something can go wrong, it will go wrong, disastrously so, & hitoshi is always caught in the middle of it, fleeing for his life with someone shooting at his ass (it’s always his ass, & he can never understand why. )

it’s for that reason, & that reason only, that hitoshi is the one creeping down the dark, deep tunnel, his nerves frayed as he keeps his eyes trained on every nook & cranny surrounding him. he can see the faint glow of an upcoming room ahead & hurries his pace, eager to grab the crown & escape, maybe finally treat denki to that dajang he’d been whining about - he’d never been fond of the strangely shimmery, horned fish, but if it made denki happy, he wasn’t going to complain.

the tunnel opens up into a small, brightly lit room, warm & pulsing with energy. the grogorians kept the crown here for good reason, the sheer amount of dead souls crafted into the metal & jewels enough to make anyone’s skin crawl. hitoshi gingerly steps closer, hands twitching at his sides as he moves into the light and - wait a minute.

wait a goddamn minute.

there’s a person on the raised pillar, small & decidedly not threatening. your little body is curled loosely around the crown, shivering gently, & hitoshi realizes several things all at once:

one, the tiny body is a tessian, and a young one at that, a couple years younger than himself.

two, the grogorians have definitely arrived earlier than scheduled. fuck. he clicks on his comm to hear denki screaming incoherently about danger, & winces heavily.

great.

third, the booming, heavy rumbles of the grogorian ship - & denki’s frantic yelling - has woken you up, the little tessian, arms still caging the crown close to your chest as though seeking out its warmth.

up close, hitoshi can see a smattering of pink freckles dusted across your honey gold cheeks, bright, messy hair falling into big, bright eyes. you yawn, then blink, eyes flashing & settling into a light, rosy pink at the same time your little fluffy ears twitch atop your head, a matching color to your eyes. your tail twitches slightly, four light gold rings wrapped around it, & it’s obvious you’re about young adult age. you yawn again, a tiny, unfiltered squeak escaping you at the sight of hitoshi in front of you.

you’re absolutely adorable. hitoshi is absolutely fucked.

dimly, he registers denki’s panicked shouts & the shaking of the tunnel walls, can feel the ground trembling beneath him, & he snaps out of his reverie to glance at the crown again. said crown is tucked up against your torn shirt, tessian hands - so delicate, so cute - keeping it close.

“hey, hey! don’t touch that! there’s like, eight thousand dead people in there,” hitoshi scolds before he can think, & you simply cock your head, confusion written all over your face.

“no, don’t squeeze it tighter - stop it! hey! are you even listening?” he seethes, reaching out a hand to snatch the crown away. you shift back quickly, frowning just as deep as hitoshi as you hug the crown even closer. it’s clear you can’t understand a word hitoshi is saying, & the grogorians have started some sort of blasting contest right outside the caverns.

great.

hitoshi swears under his breath, racking his brain for any sort of solution. “hitoshi shinsou, you are ASKING to die, they’re blowing the fucking cave open! can i phase you out yet? you too busy admiring that handsome face of yours in the stupid crown’s fucking reflection?” denki sounds hysterical, voice on the verge of near meltdown & hitoshi knows he’s out of time.

he’s got two options: stay & deal with the grogorians, or run.

he runs.

leaning forward, he tucks both hands under your armpits & yanks you forward, tosses you over his shoulder, & books it out of the tunnel.

he can barely hear anything over the blood rushing in his ears, your tessian wails, & one denki kaminari screeching like the world’s ending.

“phase me out phase me out PHASE ME OUT-“ he’s shouting above the din, phaser blasts surrounding him on all sides, & he doesn’t stop running until he feels the familiar pins & needles of the transporter, turning them into a mess of glittering gold dots that wink out just as a grogorian fires right where hitoshi’s head had been.

he slams into the floor of the isla bella with a groan, denki immediately in front of him. he sits up slow, careful not to shift too abruptly & disrupt the reanimation process, when denki snatches you right out of his arms.

“hitoshi what the fuck, you were only supposed to grab the crown, not adorable little tessians! and what were you doing down there, young alien?” denki has gone into full andorian mode, pinching your little tessian cheeks as he sits you in his lap - hitoshi’s just glad he’s got the sense not to do that to him.

you still can’t seem to understand, tilting your fluffy bright head of hair as you stare up at denki. you chirp, then hum, one hand reaching up to pet denki’s head, before smiling brightly.

denki coos. hitoshi snorts.

“i found them sleeping on the crown. they can’t understand us, they don’t have a ULC, so i just grabbed ‘em & ran,” hitoshi explains, getting up to ensure that they were in hyperspace, blasting millions of lightyears away from the grogorians. he chances another glance at the tessian sat comfortably in denki’s lap; you’re a little dirty, clearly having been stranded in the caverns a few days.

denki frowns at hitoshi’s back, brushing over the phaser burn on the ass of his pants with one hand as he speaks.

“the poor thing must be terrified, being surrounded by all that. switch your ULC to interpret mode, at least we’ll be able to understand them, & talk to them,” denki says quietly; looking down at the fluffy bundle of tessian in his arms. hitoshi can already see the gears turning in his head.

once they’ve switched settings, denki speaks.

“what’s your name, sweetheart?” he asks softly, clearly trying to make you comfortable.

the series of chirps & coos you let out shift almost in midair, turning themselves into words that hitoshi can actually understand.

“[y/n]? [y/n l/n]? oh that’s so cute! tell us, [y/n], why were you down there all by yourself?” denki prods, voice still soothing & calm. you, the tessian - [y/n], hitoshi thinks, too precious - sit up a bit, animatedly speaking now that they can understand you better. the squeaks & chirps are downright adorable, & hitoshi has to look away from flailing hands & a sunbeam smile to center himself again.

“and what were the lot of you thinking, sneaking down there? your whole little tribe, just gone, huh? i’m so sorry, sweetheart,” denki winces, & hitoshi can sympathize - tessian tribes were tight-knit little groups, & losing them meant a death sentence for whoever was left behind. they were pack creatures, always in need of others. hitoshi can see the gears turning, & he speaks before the andorian can.

“no, denki.”

“toshi! look at them, aren’t they the cutest thing you’ve ever seen! we have to keep them!” denki all but wails, pulling you so close to his chest that your cheeks squish together. you don’t seem concerned in the slightest, just giggle against denki’s face. hitoshi’s resolve weakens a little.

“we’ve got no space, denks, not to mention we’re not exactly the safest group for them to latch onto,” hitoshi protests weakly, even as the andorian pouts at him.

“we can’t just leave them alone, they’re so small, & no one will protect them!” denki is dangerously close to tears, & hitoshi never does well with a crying denki. he opens his mouth to protest again, try & make his point, but just then you yawn again, slow & long, the tiniest of squeaks escaping you & when you open your eyes again, they’re gold just like denki’s hair, your ears matching.

hitoshi’s determination evaporates.

“fine, fine, we can keep them. but if anything happens to them, it's your fault,” he grumbles, settling into the pilot's chair to monitor their progress.

denki cheers. you chirp happily.

hitoshi bangs his head on the control panel.

what have i gotten myself into this time, he thinks dully, but deep down, he knows he doesn’t mind. not too much.

───── ⋆✩⋆ ─────

after finally managing to pry the crown out of your hands & delivering it to the client - hitoshi doesn’t even wanna know what the creepy old Lavastian wanted with it, he’d had to take three showers under the hydrospray to get the itch off his skin - they’ve set a course for the driard system, to rest before their next assignment. being that their work schedule is so…flexible, it gives the trio a little time to get adjusted. and by adjusted, hitoshi means getting used to having you, a fluffy little alien, hanging off him at all hours of the day.

he’d thought that denki was clingy, the andorian typically seeking out hitoshi’s hands to hold or shoulders to rest his head. his people were affectionate that way, much different than hitoshi’s bezoid counterparts. he’d adjusted though, sacrificed personal space & eventually, had grown both used to & comfortable with having denki draped over him like a blanket at all times.

[y/n l/n] is an entirely different species - literally & figuratively.

firstly, you’re a clinger. where denki lounges, you squeeze with - surprisingly - strong arms & legs, wrapped around hitoshi’s frame like a verealis vine.

you’re so touchy you’ve got denki beat, & the pair of you seem stuck in some sort of exceedingly needy, relentless cuddle war. hitoshi’s got his money on you, even if he doesn’t admit it.

secondly, you’re scarily helpful. you seem to turn up right when hitoshi needs something adjusted deep in the ship, or when denki can’t seem to locate something correctly on their navigational screen. you’ll shapeshift into a teeny, tiny ragran rat to scurry through chambers & fix a wire, or tap on the control panel just so to show the correct star system, & its quite frankly impressive.

hitoshi’s starting to think you were made for them, just a little.

normally he leaves the sappy shit to denki, the andorian’s well flowered language easily explaining all his emotions & thoughts. but there’s something about the little tessian that shakes him up a little, changes the dynamic. denki doesn’t mind one bit.

he relishes in hitoshi’s newfound sweetness, even if it’s just a “that wasn’t completely awful, great job, babe,” or “you know, that shirt isn’t as hideous as i thought. brings out your eyes.” he knows hitoshi is simply trying his best, knows that words never got very far on his home planet.

you like that he’s quiet though, for some reason. you chirp & chatter enough for the both of you whenever you’re together, silly stories of whatever disasters you & denki had gotten into on the ship - hitoshi’s suspicious you’re both responsible for the six broken panels along the corridors, impromptu games of touch & go be damned - or telling him memories of your time on Tessero, your home planet. you’ve got an easy way of speaking, soft & languid & it calms him down like no other, settling into his bones & dimming the chaos in his mind for a little while.

your cuddliness extends even to when you’re asleep, tucked up neatly between denki & hitoshi in the big bed of their quarters. you’re a calm sleeper, curl up tight into a little ball with the pair of them draped over you, like a tiny tessian heater. it’s sweet & soft & so fucking domestic that hitoshi has a hard time believing it sometimes. he’d even started pressing kisses into the top of your head as he moved along the ship, much like the gentle ones he presses to denki’s lips. he’s not scared by it, per say, but he is a little surprised; he’d always been a little closed off, reserved. you had snuck up on him swiftly, without him even realizing. he finds he rather likes it.

the few days of travel before you reach the driard system are calm, simple evenings of dinner & talking together as you all soak up the simplicity of space. somehow, it’s comforting. you’re a twinkling, bright little star amidst their solar system, & hitoshi likes that. a shining sun, its orbiting planet, & the brightest little star.

───── ⋆✩⋆ ─────

everything goes to shit once they step foot on Ovalia 7.

the leisure planet is tucked at the edge of the star system, a quiet haven for those always on the move. it’s denki’s favorite place to go after a successful deal, & they serve the best dajang this side of the galaxy. hitoshi likes that no one ever speaks to them there, everyone wrapped up in their own little vacations.

denki books them a room at their usual spot, ignoring the innkeepers curious glance at the request - one big bed, a nice tub, window view, & hitoshi’s certain he thinks you’re all a couple. the thought doesn’t bother him, & he realizes with a jolt that they act like one, all three of them. they cuddle & hug & kiss, & hitoshi sits on that a moment before shrugging it away. if denki didn’t mind it, neither did he, & he focuses once more on relaxing.

they’ve just settled into a local restaurant, plates full of dajang & ocuro & everything else that tickle their fancy when hitoshi hears it. heavy steps, familiar ones, although he can’t quite place it in the haze of relaxation. he ignores it in favor of feeding you some of his mulrag, the spiced meat a clear favorite with your tessian palate & he can’t help his grin. he lets denki feed him a warm bite of dajang, rolling his eyes at the andorian’s little smile & affectionate pinch of hitoshi’s cheek. everything is nice, sweet & lazy in the warm air.

and then all hell breaks loose.

eight of the biggest fucking grogorians hitoshi’s ever seen in his life burst through the door, weapons armed & faces set in such hostile expressions that everyone is scattering. denki hauls you up & to his side, dragging hitoshi by the collar until you’re all crouched behind the bar, hidden from view. “i should’ve known they’d track us,” he all but whines, peeking over the wooden edge of the bar. a photon shot quickly makes him duck down again, cursing lightly. “plan?” he asks behind clenched teeth, tugging you closer.

hitoshi pauses, weighs his options.

“the two of you book it to the ship. i’m going to distract them,” he says quickly, thinking back to the conversations he’d been eavesdropping on earlier - thieves never took a real vacation, always on the lookout for something new to snatch.

two very drunk, loud Avarians had been seated just behind them, rambling on about the very expensive, very valuable statue hidden deep in the recesses of the abandoned temple just off the main road. many had tried to steal it, but had always gotten stuck deep in the underground channels trying to escape. the elders guarding it weren’t exactly friendly either.

a plan starts to form in his head, one that would both enrich them & save their asses from this absolute mess. he’s quite proud of himself, if he’s honest.

then a bottle explodes just above his head, & he jolts into action.

he fires a few warning shots at the wall behind the grogorians, turning & racing out the door in a clear attempt to lead them out. the grogorians take the bait easily, & he races down the road towards the temple as you and denki sneak out the back of the restaurant.

the temple is huge, dusty & a little worn around the edges. the priests guarding the door take one look at hitoshi shinsou, panting & shooting over his shoulder at several grogorians & lose it, screeching & running for cover just as he’d expected. he pushes through the open door with the hostile aliens right at his footsteps, racing through the dark corridors deeper & deeper into the bowels of the temple. halfway down denki clicks onto the comm, hastily spitting directions & instructions as the grogorians start shooting again. “this is all your fucking fault! i told you stealing from them was an awful idea!” hitoshi shrieks as a laser just misses his shoulder, ducking as he runs.

“oh sure, blame me for making sure we stay employed!” denki shrieks right back, your chirping frantically frantically filling the background.

hitoshi feels the heat of another photon bullet just barely graze against his ass as he books it down the narrow hallway, cursing every single god & denki kaminari for the absolute mess he’s been roped into. over the comm link he can hear the andorian yelling muted commands as he leads hitoshi through the vast hallways, the relic just within arms reach.

“i’ll phase you out once you have it!” denki starts, before hitoshi starts shouting again.

“i’m not gonna PHASE through solid rock, denki! just hold off, i’m coming!” he yells through the comm, feet skidding across the rough terrain as he snatches the little gold statue right off the podium. concerned little chirps & squeaks flood the comm, & hitoshi halts all his movements to swear loudly.

“[y/n l/n], you keep your adorable little ass on the ship, you hear me? don't even THINK about it-“ the ground shakes with another blast, the heavy yelling creeping from the farthest corridor.

hitoshi curses every single god & denki kaminari twice. and then he runs.

the maze of corridors gets more & more confusing as he bolts through them, solely relying on denki’s guidance in his ear & the gunfire right on his heels. finally, finally he can see sunlight again, pushing through the open door & stumbling into the street again - right into the waiting trap of about ten grogorian soldiers.

great.

they’d cornered him on both ends, trapping him in their space. denki’s shouting frantically, something about shield interference & blocking & hitoshi’s stomach sinks; they’ve got him.

“go to warp drive.” his voice is so sharp it shocks denki right out of his panicked rambling, the comm quiet.

then a furious “what the fuck did you just say hitoshi shinsou? we’re not leaving you-“

“take [y/n], & go to warp, denki! go, i can hold them off for a little while! the verlo sector, it’s rural enough that they can’t track you!” he bites out, eternally grateful that the grogorians don’t have ULC’s. he eyes them for a moment, takes a breath.

“i love you, denki kaminari, you crazy motherfucker. i love you. i love you too, [y/n]. take care of him for me,” he says softly, lets himself choke up a little, grants himself that one weakness. then he clicks his comm off, draws both his guns, & snarls. “let’s go, assholes! i don’t have damn day!” he shouts, keeps his voice level & confident.

and then he starts firing.

left, right, over his shoulder, he’s never shot so many times in his life, & its still not enough. there’s grogorians on every side, dodging every blast & hitoshi’s resigned himself to dying on this shithole lesiure planet, never seeing denki’s stupid bright smile again, or hearing your laugh.

and then he hears it, loud & wild & it makes both his heart soar & stomach sink.

“STOP SHOOTING MY BOYFRIEND YOU FUCKING JACKASSES!”

there stands denki kaminari in all his andorian glory, six foot six of anger & pent up chaotic energy standing just off the side of the gunfire. he gives hitoshi one big, blinding smile before he’s shooting right alongside him, the pair of them back to back as they fire.

“where’s [y/n]?” hitoshi calls over the sounds of the blasters, too emotional & charged up to address the fact that denki came to save him, denki who always, always stayed on the ship.

“i told them to monitor us from up there! once we take out these shields i can phase us up, i brought the control sleeve!” denki yells back, twisting & ducking as the grogorians rain fire on them.

the pair of them are deadly, lethal even, taking down one hostile alien after another until their guns run out. hitoshi curses at the dead weapon, tossing it to the side as he prepares to fight the remaining six grogorians hand to hand. beside him, denki gets into a similar stance, eyes narrowed sharply in defense.

“enough!” a voice bellows, harsh & loud, ringing out across the entirety of the street. hitoshi pauses, dread building up in the pit of his stomach. the grogorians part, & he hears denki gasp beside him.

the grogorian leader steps out slowly, every step sending a thundering rumble across the land. “you steal from us, fight us at every turn. your intolerance is shameful,” the alien snarls, fury written all over his face. hitoshi doesn’t point out that the grogorians stole that particular relic from the Astonians, & the fact that they’d been chased, not chasing. he has a feeling the man wouldn’t appreciate his sentiments.

“i will kill you myself ! your arrogance knows no bounds!” the alien thunders, hands reaching for the sword tucked into his belt. its easily the size of hitoshi’s entire body, & his blood runs cold.

“since we’re about to die, it’s time i fess up. i’m the one who broke your music box,” denki whispers behind him, hands clinging tight to the back of hitoshi’s shirt.

“oh for god's sake you idiot, we’re about to die & that’s what you tell me?”

“i’ve always loved your ass in these pants. skinny or not, they give you shape,” denki says tearily, & hitoshi nearly screams.

“denki shut up, for the love of space - stop fondling my ass, we’re about to die-“

a set of angry, loud chirps interrupt them all, the grogorian leader turning & snarling. hitoshi stops breathing.

there, in all your tiny tessian glory, stands you, [y/n l/n], clad in hitoshi’s favorite leather pants & denki’s too big sweater. your eyes are narrowed, an expression of pure fury on your face that hitoshi’s never seen before.

it’s a little hot. denki seems to agree, if the gasp he lets out is any indication.

the alien laughs, staring down at you almost in amusement. “come to watch them die, little one? i could probably get a hefty price for you, couldnt i? maybe pleasure slave, the markets always up for those.” you chirp angrily. hitoshi sees red.

“don’t you fucking touch them-“ he snarls, all traces of fear gone as he shoves the grogorian back, fists clenched. behind him, denki spits, eyes lit up with that special kind of rage hitoshi only sees when he's really caught up, the anger boiling in his blood. the grogorian shoves the pair of them back so hard they go sprawling in the dirt, his voice a growl as he steps towards them. “you dare touch me?” he bellows.

behind him, you let out a sound somewhere between a screech & a growl. and then you start shifting.

hitoshi knows that you can shift into any number of things, he’s not stupid. but they’d all been limited to small, cute things, adorable & easy to hold.

the form you take on is neither adorable or small.

a sixteen foot, scaly dragon stands before them, with the face & claws of a lion & the fiery rage of a bat out of hell.

hitoshi screams. denki nearly pisses himself.

the grogorians scatter, shouting & running & you pick them off easily, picking one up between your claws & tearing him clean in half. the rest die in a similar fashion, tossed against buildings & burned alive when they get too close to your flaming breath. the leader dies last, your sharp fangs tearing him limb from limb until he’s a tattered pile of mush at their feet. its singlehandedly the most horrifying, yet gratifying thing hitoshi’s seen in his life.

you shift back to your original form easily, small hands & cheeks covered in blood. there’s a bit of grogorian in your hair. you smile up at them like nothing happened, let out little chirps & squeaks & hitoshi is stunned, really.

denki pulls the bit of grogorian away from your fluffy ears, before wiping the blood off your cheeks & tugging you into a kiss. it’d be cute, if there wasn’t so much carnage around them. you smile up at hitoshi, chirps out something about love and tribe and home.

hitoshi pulls you into a hug, kisses the faintly bloody fluffy hair, & laughs.

“let’s go home,” he agrees easily, takes denki’s hand & thinks, for a moment, that he’s complete.

denki smiles so bright it puts the sun to shame, & you giggle into his chest, cheery as a star.

all the bits align just right, he thinks, & leads his little solar system home.